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mt-musings · 7 days

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Inherit the Night - 16

Hubert glanced over to where the little Abyssian girl sat in the back of the classroom, hunched over half a dozen books and pages of scrawled equations. She’d remained in the same place since the professor had dismissed them for the day several hours earlier.

She looked up as he leaned over her shoulder, a smudge of ink across her cheek.

“Hubert? Do you need me to move? I can go to the library—“

“No, I simply wanted to see what you’ve been working on so diligently.”

“Oh,” she said, ducking her face to hide her flush. “Nothing really.”

“It seems you are struggling with your calculations.”

She flushed a deep crimson, dropping her gaze back to her papers. “It’s fine. I just have to tell the professor magic’s not really for me.”

“What exactly is it that you’re struggling with?”

“What?”

“What are you struggling with? Perhaps I might be able to explain it in a different way.”

She stared at him for a moment, brows furrowed. “Hubert, I couldn’t—“

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. It was the first time he’d seen her look even a little bit frightened.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to do math with letters in it.”

“These are quite simple—“

“I don’t—I’m just going to tell the Professor I can’t do it. I’m better at swinging a sword anyway.” She started closing all her books, shuffling her papers into her bag. Her face was beet red, her shoulders curved in on themselves as if she wanted to disappear.

“Wait,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I—I could help. With the basics. You seemed to have some affinity for casting during training the other day. It would be a shame to see such talent wasted when it could benefit Lady Edelgard.”

“It’s okay Hubert, really. I have kitchen duty, I’ll see you around,” she said, flashing him a smile before shoving the whole lot of papers into her desk and scurrying out the door. He waited just long enough to be sure that she wouldn’t turn around and circle back before pulling the papers out she’d so hastily stowed away.

There were pages of scribbled out diagrams and equations, all written in a cramped scrawl that was, at times, hard to decipher. There were notes from class too, carefully copied from the board, though the notes she’d taken from lecture were riddled with spelling errors and scribbled out portions.

“Why are you going through Cecily’s desk, Hubie?”

He started at the sound of Dorothea so close next to him and turned to glare at her. She just ignored him.

“If you needed to borrow notes you could have just asked.”

“I—she was struggling with some basic equations and I wanted to see where she was going wrong.”

“Why didn’t you just ask her?”

“I offered my help, but she said she was just going to drop her studies and I couldn’t allow that.”

Dorothea cocked her head to the side. “Oh?”

“She has talent. Even if academically she’s a bit…behind.”

“She told you, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s never been to school before. Yuri only taught her how to read and write a few years ago.”

Hubert turned back to the pages, brows furrowed as he re-examined the pages. It was clear to him then that the spelling errors were phonetic, that she wrote the notes out as they sounded during class. He noted the careful, yet clumsy formation of the letters. At the way the notes copied from the board mimicked the professor’s slanting script. At the pages of scribbled out equations.

He had been perhaps three when his father had started him in lessons with a retinue of tutors. By the time he was seven he could read and write better than most twelve-year-olds. By ten he was learning advanced spell craft.

He’d never much thought about the education of commoners. He had supposed they all learned how to read and write, for it was such a fundamental skill, just like arithmetic.

“Don’t be hard on her, Hubie. She’s trying hard enough already.”

“My intention is not to chide her for errors. As I said, I wished to offer my assistance.”

“That’s sweet, but I don’t know if she’ll take it. You know how she likes to keep to herself.”

“I am aware.”

“Just—perhaps it would be better to just let her be, Hubert.”

Hubert didn’t respond, instead returning the papers to their former place. He didn’t know why he cared in the first place.

~~~

Claude looked up at the slight knock on the door, brows furrowing as he recognized one of Cecily’s runners. She rarely entrusted her missives to the Alliance to anyone else, though she’d been sure to introduce him to any that she trusted enough to make the journey in her stead. It was just another one of her safeguards, one he might have made fun of her for during their time at the Academy, called her paranoid. Now he couldn’t express how much he appreciated such paranoia.

The girl who strode into his study was slight, with short-cropped black hair and deep, blue eyes. Cecily had sent her twice before, more than any of the other five runners she’d made him memorize.

“Lord Riegan,”

“Lark.”

She dug through the lining of her jacket and produced a wrinkled, carefully sealed slip of parchment. He took it without any further preamble.

It was all another layer of precautions, after all.

“There should be a hot meal down in the kitchens and I’ll see that you’ve got more than enough supplies to make it back. Does she expect a reply?”

“I dunno, I wasn’t given it directly.”

Claude just nodded, doing his best not to betray his apprehension at her answer. He waited until she’d retreated and the door had swung shut once more before turning back to the letter.

It was closed with her usual seal, one he knew to be disguised as a thick silver ear cuff that she rolled across the wax to make the distinct band of foxglove.

He broke the seal, unfolding the missive with apprehension. It was already a poor sign that she hadn’t come herself—injury hadn’t stopped her in the past, nor bad weather or skirmishes. It usually denoted some sort of upheaval in her little underworld operation—rival spies attempting infiltration, a cocky upstart hoping to seize the ring for his own.

It never went well for them.

Her handwriting was harried and messier then usual. She’d never had a neat hand, never quite mastering cursive or print, instead adopting a random amalgamation of the two. Combined with the intricacy of the code she sent everything in—it was practically illegible to anyone who didn’t have a very clear idea of what they were looking at.

It took him longer than usual to translate, due in part to several portions where the ink had been smeared over in her haste.

Plan went south, MB captured. HV insisted on trade. Ironclad, the bastard. MB will explain everything. Won’t be able to return to Derdriu for the foreseeable future. Couldn’t be helped. Will send word when I have trustworthy eyes and ears in place, could be a while.

I am safe, do not intervene. Do not respond until route secured, will confirm in next missive. Watch your back, play neutral as long as you can.

I’m sorry, I didn’t have a choice. Given one, it would have been you.

PS, tell Lorenz he owes me money and I told him so. X

He stared down at the letter for a long time. He felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. He’d expected an outline of troop movement through Varley territory, perhaps an update on the skirmishes at the edge of the Tailtean Plains and the newly formed Fhaerghus Dukedom.

It had to be bad if Hubert had been the one managing the trade.

The last line bothered him for some reason. It wasn’t the first time she’d included a message for another of the Alliance elite, though usually it was for Lorenz’s father, with whom she got on with surprisingly well, or Hilda and by extension Holst, whom she’d sometimes send messages from Balthus. It was nearly always something extremely important, like troop movements or supply shortages that effected their territories. Never simply a quick ‘I told you so’ or a joke. Especially to Lorenz.

It had to hold a double meaning.

He stood, venturing to track him down and find out exactly what it could mean. She was always precise with her words, more so since the war—whereas Yuri could spin marvelous tales, could pull out a story for every occasion, Cecily could tell you one thing while her words said the complete opposite if you hadn’t the context to piece it together.

Perhaps that was why her and that elder Gloucester got along so well. He’d always had the suspicion it was merely to irritate him personally.

He spotted Lorenz in the parlor, nursing a cup of tea as he went over a stack of reports.

“Lorenz?”

“Yes? Ah, Claude, how are you doing this evening?”

“Why do you owe Cecily money?”

“I don’t—oh! That was a jest. We had a friendly wager about how many varieties of roses the Imperial gardens housed. I told her it was well over a hundred. She insisted it was forty-seven, not including hybrids.”

“Ah.”

“Why? Did she say anything else?”

“Nothing I can yet confirm.”

“Well, let me know the next time she arrives, I still have some of that floral tea she prefers set aside. She left before I had a chance to give it to her.”

“I—You got it.”

“Claude?”

“Yes?”

“Are you quite sure you’re alright?”

“I—yeah, of course.”

“Very convincing. My door remains ever open to you if you wish to talk.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Of course.”

He ducked out of the parlor, fighting the bile rising in his throat.

She was in Enbarr.

She was in Enbarr and Yuri would explain everything.

She’d given herself in his place. She must have, if he was free and she was unable to return to Dedriu. Hubert had played the pair of them like a fiddle. Their one, glaring weakness was each other, it always had been.

How exactly she’d expected him to wait, to do nothing—he couldn’t just leave her in the Empire’s clutches. Then again—then again he could hardly mount a rescue effort in the heart of the Empire without completely forgoing any hope he had at remaining neutral, at least in visage.

He shut his office door, too hard, and slumped back in his chair. He dropped his head in his hands, racking his brain for anything he could do to fix it, to bring her back. Not only was she an incalculably vital resource with both her and Yuri’s combined network of ears throughout Fodlan, but she was his friend, his drinking partner, his confidant. He trusted her, more than he perhaps trusted anyone else in Fodlan. Maybe because she’d made her trade in subterfuge and secrets but appreciated the truth more, in whatever fraction he could give it. Maybe because she’d long ago ferreted out his true heritage and never once used it as a bargaining chip, even though it could have been used to ruin him.

Maybe because she could nearly always make him laugh, no matter how infuriated he was by the roundtable meetings or the constant pressure on their borders.

He’d wait, at least until he heard exactly what had happened from Yuri, to tell the others. It wouldn’t serve anyone to break morale. Lorenz in particular, he knew, would be devastated. For all their bickering at the Academy they’d grown close since the war. She’d often had to pass through Gloucester territory and he’d insisted she’d at least stop in for a proper meal every time one of her runs took her past his estate. He knew she’d changed her mind about him after seeing how the villages in his territory prospered, compared to those she’d grown up in in Faerghus, how, for all his pompous orating, he and his family did genuinely care for the common people.

~~~

Growing up there had only been one person in Sylvain’s life that didn’t give a damn about his crest. One person that didn’t treat him with deference because of it or shirk away from his presence.

One person who’d paid with their life for bothering to treat him like everyone else.

Or at least he’d thought.

The girl standing shyly next to the House Leader of the Ashen Wolves didn’t have the blue-black hair of his memories—hers was a shock of white that faded to lilac. But her mismatched eyes were the same, even under snowy lashes, as was the scar from the claw wound on her right cheek. She didn’t look at him, or indeed anyone as Yuri spoke animately with Professor Byleth, instead leaning against the window sill and pouring through a large book.

She was so small. He would have expected her to be much taller, considering her mother had been fully six feet tall and she’d always been tall for her age. Was it from malnourishment? She looked far, far too thin, her face sharp when it had always been round and healthy.

“Dimitri—that girl. Doesn’t she look familiar?”

“Yuri’s sister? Not particularly.”

“Doesn’t she look like Sersh?”

“Sersh?”

“The girl—remember the girl who broke her arm when you were visiting when we where kids?”

“The little kitchen girl?” Dimitri asked, not unkindly, but it irritated him just the same. To everyone else she was just a little servant girl but to him—she’d been his friend. If his father had had his way she would have been more, though that had only lead to her brutal death.

Or so he’d thought.

“Yeah. She had eyes like that.”

“Sure, but she didn’t have any scars and her hair was black. And didn’t you say she died? It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“Probably,” he said, though he didn’t mean it. After all, Dimitri had met her before she’d gotten those scars, before she’d nearly died protecting him. Before any of the nonsense with crests or arranged marriages or murders in the night.

She’d just been a little girl then.

He waited until Professor Byleth and the boy finished speaking, waited until they’d walked away. The girl remained, still absorbed in her reading. He wondered if she’d even realized Yuri and the Professor had left.

He only hesitated a moment before striding up to her, heart hammering in her chest.

“Saoirse?”

She froze ahead of him, every muscle tensed as if preparing to bolt. That was enough confirmation that he was right, that it wasn’t just some sort of sick coincidence.

“Is it really you? I thought—I thought you died,” he said, voice shaking.

She turned, slowly, to face him, all the color drained from her face. She stared at him with wide eyes, looking as if she might burst into tears.

“I might as well have. The girl you knew did.”

“Sersh—“

“Don’t call me that! I can’t do this, Sylvain, I’m sorry,” she said, taking a quick step back. He reached out without thinking and grabbed her wrist. She dropped her book in fright.

“I need to know what happened. You just…disappeared.”

“Let me go, now. Please—“

“Just talk to me, I need to understand.”

“The lady made her position quite clear, Gautier.”

Sylvain jumped at the sudden appearance of Hubert von Vestra. Cecily used his surprise to yank her wrist free, cradling it with her other hand as she took half a dozen steps backwards, eyes never leaving him. Hubert stepped in front of her, blocking her from his view.

“Shove off, Hubert, this has nothing to do with you.”

“On the contrary, I believe you harassing a member of my House has quite a lot to do with me.”

“I wasn’t harassing—I just wanted to talk.”

Hubert raised a brow, his amber eyes boring into Sylvain’s, a clear challenge.

“Do you wish to speak with Sylvain, Cecily?” He asked without braking his gaze.

“No,” she said quietly. Sylvain’s heart sunk at the slight tremor of the single syllable.

“You heard her. Best be off,” he said, staring him down until he turned to go. Hubert stooped to pick up the book and handed it back to her, brows furrowed.

Sylvain glanced back before rounding the corner to see Hubert ushering Cecily away, one hand protectively at the small of her back. She wrapped her arms around herself before giving him a smile, even as her brows remained furrowed, anxiety clear on her face.

But clearly not anxiety at Hubert’s presence as he watched her shoulders relax.

~~~

They’d fallen into a sort of mind-numbing routine. Cecily awoke at dawn after an hour or two of sleep, only to find Hubert already at the small dining table with breakfast laid out, the smell of coffee overtaking the space. He’d acknowledge her with a nod of his head before turning back to the papers in front of him. She’d pick at whatever was in front of her before retrieving a book, usually some vapid romance she’d had Issac, the day guard, pick for her from the library. It served a dual purpose—to disarm Issac and lull him into thinking she was a dull, silly girl, endearing him to her, and to annoy Hubert and keep him from getting any sort of read on her, something she knew bothered him to no end.

She’d already gone through the entirety of the recommendations she’d received from Lorenz in the past few months. He’d used to lend her paperbacks to read once he’d finished them so he’d had someone to talk to about them. At first she’d thought it frivolous, but it had become a comfort, upon her visits, to enjoy a cup of tea and discuss something that had nothing to do with the war before turning back to the horror. Claude had liked to make fun of them for it, but Hilda always enjoyed joining the discussion, recommending far steamier titles than Lorenz’s sense of propriety allowed, not that it stopped him from reading it.

Her heart hurt at the thought of her friends. Would she ever see them again? Had Claude gotten her message yet? Would Lorenz be able to attend the stupid wedding under the guise of Gloucester being pro-Empire? Would it be wise of him?

She glanced out the window, glaring at the sun shining defiantly in the sky. It would be hours until it was dark enough for her to sneak out again. She only ever did so after the lights in Hubert's apartments across the garden went out, usually around three in the morning. She turned her own lights off at varying times between eleven and one, careful to never be too consistent. She knew he watched her room, could see him, sometimes, silhouetted next to the window.

When he was asleep, though, it was easy enough to cloak herself in shadow and climb to the roof. The guards were few and far between and easy to duck. She'd explored most of the roof, orienting herself from the map Peregrine had given her and noting any points of interest, what times the guards' shifts changed. But mostly, she found a quiet, secluded spot and watched the sky for an hour or so, and enjoyed a bit of wind on her face, the illusion of freedom.

There were no big plays to make until Paloma and the rest were settled far from Arundel's lands, until Hubert got what he wanted, until she dug something up dangerous enough to renegotiate.

Of course it was hard to dig anything up when locked in a fancy little jail cell. She wondered where Yuri was, if he was safe. She missed him terribly. When would she be allowed to see him again?

She thought idly of running away for the hundredth time, knowing it was too dangerous--she couldn't risk Yuri's safety, and now she couldn't risk the rest of Abyss.

She still hoped it was the right play. It got them away from Arundel, from the skirmishes, made sure they were fed and housed, but that was only if Hubert held up his end of the bargain. Which, of course he would, as it tightened the rope around her neck. But it kept them close, close enough to look after and far from the front lines, far from Arundel's agents that had been slowly picking them all off for four and a half years.

And it would let her set up another Roost, another outpost, another trusted group to gather and dispense information. It just involved biding her time, which she'd never been much good at. Even when she'd filled in for Yuri the first time he'd gone to the Academy, she'd struggled with the distance of leadership he so effortlessly maintained.

No, even at thirteen, she preferred to work alone. At least she'd become better at delegating.

It was about all she could do, now.

She sighed and dropped into one of the chairs next to the fire in the sitting room, dropping her head into her hands. She was not built for captivity, even if it was far more comfortable than the metal tables she'd been chained to as a child. Still, she'd been able to be patient then, to wait for the right moment.

She'd just have to do it again.

~~~

He had not planned on being caught skulking around in Abyss, and certainly not by Cecily. She flashed him her usual warm smile, raising a brow. His eyes flitted over her clothes—not her usual uniform, but rather a ragged pair of men’s trousers and a loose tunic, both of which were covered in dirt and no small amount of blood.

“What are you doing down here, Hubert? You’ll ruin your shoes.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“Oh! Yes. It’s not mine. I had to deal with a rat problem. Are you looking for something? It’s easy to get lost if you don’t know the passages.”

“I’m not lost.”

“It seems you are. Students can’t just wonder through Abyss. It’s not safe”

She was still smiling, but there was something steely behind her mismatched eyes, something that made him doubt that the ‘rats’ she’d been dealing with were actually rodents.

The Savage Mockingbird wouldn’t keep someone around simply because they were cute.

He felt himself flush at the thought. He didn’t think she was cute—objectively she’d be very pretty if it weren’t for the thick scars on her face and if she ate regular meals but—She wasn’t—He didn’t—

“Are you okay? You look flushed. I hope you’re not catching a cold. Just come with me, I’ll take you back.”

“I’m fine—“

“Hubert, I’m telling you, it’s best if you return Topside.”

I t wasn’t a request. He decided it was better not to argue.

~~~

Hubert sighed as he perused the unfamiliar shelves, wishing he had some semblance of an idea of what he was looking for. It had been easy in school—they’d read all the same sorts of things: books on poisoning and chemistry, thick histories and volumes on dark magic. She’d also favored books on botany and horticulture, but now—

Now all she seemed to read were the paperback romances. He was half convinced it was to prevent him from knowing any of her genuine interests, some sort of misguided attempt at convincing him she’d somehow become shallow and stupid in their time apart, no doubt to lull him into a sense of complacency.

Or perhaps she did simply enjoy them, needed an escape from what had become of her life. Which was why he found himself in the library’s romance section, which he hadn’t even known existed, with a list of the titles he’d seen her reading so as not to duplicate them. He’d thought of sending one of the pages to do it, as he had with his initial reading list and the ready-made clothes he’d bought for her to wear, rather than the rags she’d arrived in, but he’d decided to do it himself. Perhaps it would give them something to talk about, rather than wallow in uncomfortable silence.

They hardly spoke, even though he made a point to have breakfast with her each morning and dinner when he could. He knew he’d hardly have the opportunity for such time after the wedding, once she’d be sequestered to the estate. He knew there would be a part of him that missed it, even with the lengthy, uncomfortable silences. He’d at least miss their chess matches over dinner, ever-silent, but nonetheless stimulating. Sometimes he swore he saw a spark of her old self over the board as she toyed with him, an echo of the perfectionist who reveled in competition, but it was always quickly buried when he tried to get a better look.

He glared at the rows of books in frustration, not knowing where to begin.

He’d known he would be a lousy husband, but he thought he’d at least be able to be competent in such base, simple things as choosing a book she’d enjoy. The least he could do was provide her with a comfortable cage, and he hadn’t managed to even do that.

Perhaps she would prefer the manor. He was sure she’d prefer seeing him far less.

“Hubert!”

He fought the urge to groan at the sound of his friend’s familiar voice. Instead he turned, not hiding his irritation.

“I never thought you were one for romances? Or are you perhaps looking for inspiration?” Ferdinand asked, a teasing edge to his voice. Hubert glowered at him.

“I assure you, I am not. I was looking for something suitable for Cecily. She has been favoring them of late.”

“Ah, well I find that far more believable, if I’m honest. She always struck me as a romantic.”

“How absurd,” he scoffed. Cecily was the furthest thing from a romantic.

Ferdinand gave him a rather piercing look before snatching the list from his hand and scanning it. “Are these the ones you’re looking for?”

“The ones she’s already read.”

“She has excellent taste.”

“Does she?”

“Oh, Hubert,” Ferdinand said, shaking his head as he turned back towards the shelves. He scanned them for a few moments, pulling out a small stack and handing them to him. “Here. These are all well-plotted and similar to what she has been reading. I’d recommend this one in particular,” he said, and Hubert disliked the way he smiled as he said, it, as if there was a joke Hubert was not in on. Regardless, he accepted the stack without thanks.

“I have reports to finish,” Hubert said curtly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Say hello to Cecily for Thea and I.”

Hubert turned on his heel without saying anything else and stalked to his office, dropping the books on his desk before slamming and locking his door. He thought he’d feel better with Cecily at least safe in the palace, that it would be enough, knowing that Arundel couldn’t get his hands on her. Instead he was constantly reminded of the harm she’d suffered in the interim since the Academy, the hardships and pain, the fresh cruelty he’d inflicted on her in the attempt to save her. He didn’t think the guilt would weigh on him so heavily, that he was even capable of it after all the horrible things he’d done in the name of Edelgard’s dream, things he’d done without an ounce of regret.

Perhaps it was because it wasn’t in strict pursuit of her mission, but his own selfish desires. Perhaps it was because he knew himself to be at least partially responsible for the girl he’d inadvertently fallen for withering into this shell of a woman he hardly recognized.

He dropped his head into his hands. He wished he was as heartless as others believed, as heartless as he pretended to be. Maybe then such things wouldn’t weigh on him in the wee hours of the night.

He glanced at the stack of books, grabbing the one Ferdinand had singled out. He had no interest in reading it in its entirety, or much at all, but he wanted to know the reason he’d seemed so smug with his choice. Had it been Dorothea who’d suggested it he’d simply assume it was filth and she intended to embarrass him, but he doubted Ferdinand favored anything so risqué, even with Dorothea’s broadening influence.

He skimmed through the description and the first few pages before tossing it aside in disgust. It was some sort of forbidden romance between a noble mage and a common apothecary from warring nations, their desire for each other superseding the conflict and their difference in station.

Ferdinand clearly thought himself clever.

He wondered if it would appeal to Cecily. He found the whole idea of it to be trite drivel.

Still, if it made her happy…

He pulled out the maps he’d been working on before his detour to the library, burying his pointless thoughts. He had a war to win and a new system of governance to help enact. He hadn’t time for such trivial matters of the heart, especially when their pursuit was doomed from the start.

#hubert von vestra #hubert von vestra x oc #yuri leclerc #sylvain jose gautier #dorothea arnault #fire emblem three houses x reader #friends to enemies to lovers #slow burn

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softyoongiionly · 3 years

Text

chapstick

based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on.

Jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Genre: fluff, smut, established relationship, jungkook has a man bun idk what else I could possibly want

Warnings: language, explicit smut (18+ only plz), oral (male receiving)

A/N: Hello yes, I am mess. I wrote this in like four hours and it’s unedited but wow wow wow wow I am GOING THROUGH it for Jungkook. Anywayz, I love u. here u go

Jungkook is in a bad mood today.

He’s been awake since 6am, he hasn’t eaten since mid-morning and, he’s been practicing for over 12 hours.

Worst of all, everyone else seems to be in a good mood.

It’s not that he hates when his hyung's are happy, it’s just that when you’re in a bad mood- sometimes the shriek of someone’s laughter can feel intrusive.

“Alright!” Hoseok’s voice hits the practice mirrors and with Jungkook feeling oversensitive, he cringes at the sound of it, “Let’s go again from the top!”

Jungkook sighs through his nose, stretching his sore back for a moment before getting back into formation.

“Jungkook-ah! Push a little harder in the second half ok?!”

Hoseok is in dance-mode and therefore he has no idea how loud he’s being.

Jungkook purses his lips and nods, taking a deep breath before shaking out his hands.

“Yah! Jungkook?” Hoseok calls, facing the mirror, his eyes searching for Jungkook at the back of the practice room.

“Yeh.” He grunts, barely looking up from the floor.

“Did you hear me?”

He nods, his hands fumbling around in the pockets of his sweatpants, “Push harder in the second half...”

The rest of the boys seem unphased by his uninterested demeanor. They are no stranger to exhaustion.

“Alright- let’s go.”

For what feels like the 100th time today, Jungkook moves through the routine as if it were second nature. The movements feel robotic and the muscles in his arms are beginning to turn to Jell-O. The strands of his hair are covered with sweat and, he’s thankful for his newly procured undercut for lessening the amount of heat he’d normally feel after working out this long.

He feels gross though.

Normally, he enjoys working this hard but today he isn’t feeling it. In fact, the strain between his brows is getting a little painful as he really tries his best not to frown.

The new choreography is intense and as much he likes the challenge- after the 100th time of running through it, he’s starting to get frustrated.

Panting through his nose, he holds his position at the end of the routine before Hoseok finally calls it.

“Yahhhh! That was a lot better huh? You guys did good.” He praises, clapping his hands, “Now go get some water and then we’ll run it again...”

Jungkook sighs hopelessly, letting his head fall back on his shoulders. He cringes at the feeling of sweat collecting on his skin, wanting nothing more than to make it back home to his shower.

Amongst other things...

Grabbing a bottle of water off of the table, Jungkook has to work very hard not to crush the bottle in his hands as he eagerly gulps down what he can. He finishes the bottle in record time and as he reaches for a second one, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check it.

Tweety: hiii I hope you’re having a good day! Do you want to takeout tonight? I got caught up at the school and, I didn’t pull anything out.

Jungkook feels his tight chest loosen up a bit as he sees your text come through.

You made a comment one day that he ‘gives off bugs bunny vibes’ and he responded by comparing you to Tweety bird.

Needless to say, the nicknames are dumb but you guys think they’re cute.

Bugs: takeout sounds good. I’ll be there late tonight though :/ I hope you had a good day too. Miss u.

Jungkook has just enough time to respond to you before he is wincing at the sound of Hoseok corralling everyone back to the practice floor.

Again, again, again, again, and again...

He’s so tired by the end of the circuit that he’s starting to feel throbbing in his temples. Headaches are a common side effect of over-exertion and just as he is getting ready to beg to go home, they are calling it.

“Ok ok- good job! You’ve worked hard everyone. Let’s rest for a day and then resume on Sunday.”

Jungkook feels his entire body deflate with relief at the last words parading out of Hoseok’s mouth.

His day is finally over.

He reminds himself to never wear new boots to rehearsal again because he can’t feel the tips of his toes and his fairly certain there are blisters on the of his ankles.

“Are you riding with me?” Jimin asks him on the way out of the practice room, his voice decorated with exhaustion.

Jungkook doesn’t fully pay attention to his question, his eyes already trained on his phone.

“No, I’m getting my own car.”

Jimin looks confused for a moment before a small smirk comes over his face.

“Are going to see her?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond quick enough, his mouth parted slightly as he types out his message to you.

“Aren’t you worried what people are going to think? You’re over there a lot...”

Jimin isn’t being judgmental with his questioning and Jungkook knows this. He can hear the genuine concern in his voice and understands that his hyung is merely looking out for him.

“I don’t really care what people think anymore.” He answers honestly, ensuring that he keeps his tone as polite as possible.

Jungkook’s had to worry about the opinions of others since he was 15. As grateful as he is for his career, he is growing tired of being unable to make his own decisions. His gaze hones in on the tattoos covering his fingers and forearms and remembers a time not too long ago where he was required to hide them. Putting a band aids on his own self-expression didn’t feel good and he sort of promised himself that he wouldn’t allow the expectations of others to stop him from doing what he wanted.

Or seeing who he wanted...

“You’re getting bolder with age.” Jimin notes, somewhat proudly as his eyes flicker over to him, “You really like her, don’t you?”

Tweety: miss u toooooo. I ordered ramen

Bugs: I just got out. I should be there in 20 minutes. I’m so hungry

Jungkook feels his cheeks heat up at Jimin’s question and rather than answer him, he just kind of shrugs, his mouth turned up in a small smirk.

“Yah, don’t hold out on me-”Jimin bumps his shoulder, tilting his head in an attempt to get him to look his way, “We’ve known each other for how long?”

Jungkook slips his phone back into his pocket and adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“I think the answer is obvious hyung.”

Jimin rolls his eyes playfully, “If it’s so obvious then why don’t you just say it.”

The two of them lean against the wall of the lobby, waiting on a notification from their drivers that they are outside.

Jungkook bites his lip, in an attempt to reign in the grin that threatens his face.

“I like her.”

Laughter trickles out of Jimin’s lips as he bumps his shoulder, “Why are you shy all of the sudden? Is there something else I don’t know?”

Yes.

There was something else Jimin didn’t know.

Jungkook hasn’t told a single soul since it happened.

He’s so incredibly private and after meeting you, he only has more of an urge to keep things to himself.

“There’s nothing.” Jungkook mutters, his eyes eagerly looking checking his phone for the driver notification.

“You’re lying to me.” Jimin calls him out, “What is it?”

Jungkook shakes his head, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. He licks over his lips and immediately regrets the fact that he forgot his Chapstick.

How’s he supposed to kiss you, if his lips are chapped?

“Jungkook-ah, tell me-” Jimin whines, tugging on his sleeve.

He merely snickers finally and shrugs him off, shaking his head, “There’s nothing to tell. Why do you think I’m hiding something from you?”

“Because I’ve known you for almost ten years and I-” Jimin begins before a knowing smirk comes over his face, “Wait- you’ve slept with her haven’t you?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen a bit, taken aback by his bold statement, “Someone’s going to hear you, why are you asking questions like this?”

His hyung giggles, deeply satisfied with his discovery, “You have, haven't you?”

Jungkook feels the threat of a smile come over his face again, “Why do you want to know? It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters-” He shoots him a pointed look, “Because we’re best friends? And I want to know. When did it happen?”

Jungkook is feeling a little bit bolder, unable to help the pride he feels that he was finally able to experience an intimate relationship, “Which time?”

Jimin’s eyes widen before he slaps Jungkook on the arm, “Which time??? You’ve done it more than once?”

“Shhh-” Jungkook whisper yells, his brow furrowing, “We’ve been seeing eachother for 6 months. Why do you look so surprised?”

Jimin chuckles this time, glancing behind him, “I just- I don’t know...it was your first time, wasn’t it? I just thought you’d make a bigger deal of it.”

He shrugs again, a smirk still lingering, “It was a big deal- to us. I thought you guys would just figure it out eventually.”

Ever the nosy one, Jimin slinks a little closer to him, a bit of mischief in his eyes, “It’s fun huh?”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, brushing him off playfully, “I thought I was supposed to be the youngest.”

Jimin ignores his comment and just looks at him expectantly.

Giving up on holding out, Jungkook finally gives him what he wants and replies.

“It was fun.”

Jimin offers his signature bit of laughter again but before he’s able to interrogate him any further, Jungkook finally gets the notification that his driver is here.

“I’ll see you Sunday, hyung.” Jungkook gives him a short wave before adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

Jimin smirks and flutters his fingers in his direction, “Have fun.”

Jungkook just shakes his head, groaning to himself as he finally leaves the building.

Slumping into his seat, he shuts his eyes for a moment and tries his best not to fall asleep. Thankfully, his desire to eat his weight in ramen paired with his desire to see you keeps him from passing out.

You and Jungkook have been together for a while now and although the initial nerves surrounding seeing him have lessened slightly, you still want to look good for him. Thankfully for you, when it comes to impressing your boyfriend- less is more.

Slowly but surely, he has revealed his preferences to you but they have slipped out casually. He doesn’t ever want you to feel like you have to look a certain way for him.

But you do know he likes black.

And you do know he likes when you wear oversized pieces.

The harsh bit of winter also makes dressing in gigantic hoodies and thick socks a lot easier anyhow.

So you opt for something along the lines of cute but comfy and tend to your hair the easiest way you know how.

Jungkook also loves it when you don’t wear any makeup. But he’s never told you directly, you’ve just figured out based on the way he gets all starry eyed every time you wash your face at night.

The ramen is all set up in the living room and you’ve got one of the Christmas movies the two of you started the other day, ready to play.

By the time you hear a knock at your door, everything is ready for a cozy Friday night with your boyfriend.

Upon opening your door, you are met with the sight of Jungkook- sweaty, soft and slightly sleepy standing there in all of his glory. He’s dressed in grey sweats and a big white t-shirt, his hair tied up messily atop his head. Along with the smell of sweat, you can faintly make out the remnants of his cologne and it stirs something deep inside of you.

Jungkook’s eyes scan over you briefly, offering a small smile as he leans in to peck your cheek, “Hiiii...”

He sings the greeting, patting your hips as he quickly steps into your apartment.

“Hello,” You sing back, giggling a bit, “Did you guys just now finish up practicing? Didn’t you start at like 7?”

Jungkook winces as he begins slipping off his big clunky boots, leaning back against your front door, “Yeah. I really thought they were trying to kill me- I did the new dance so many times, I lost count.”

Pouting your lips, you take his bag off his shoulder and hang it up on your coat rack.

“I’m so sorry.” You murmur, shaking your head, “Did they give you tomorrow off at least?”

At this, Jungkook grins, nodding as he does, “Yeah, I was going to ask you what you were doing tomorrow cause I thought maybe you’d want to hang out. Our night was supposed to start a lot earlier...”

He looks regretful and even slightly annoyed.

He’s been having this issue a lot lately where his prior obligations and engagements seem to mean nothing to his directors, which never used to be a big deal but, now that he has you in his life- he never wants to let you down.

“I’m free all day-” You reply happily, before narrowing your eyes at him, “I have one condition though-”

Jungkook looks intrigued, cocking his head as he steps forward, “What’s your condition?”

“I need one of these...” Pointing to your lips, you pucker them and make grabby hands at your boyfriend.

He laughs softly, shaking his head as he closes the space between you, “I just got here and you’re already using kisses as collateral now huh?” His voice gets a little lower and before you can reply, his gently places his lips on yours, sighing out through his nose as his flutter shut.

Once he starts kissing you, you aren’t really able to think of a coherent response. Leaning into him, you hum lightly in your throat, tucking your lips between his.

However, when you attempt to slide your hand up the exposed skin of his arm, he winces and pulls away.

Groaning, you can’t help but giggle, “I know- I know... ‘babe, I’m too sweaty. Let me just shower really quick and then I’ll promise, I'll kiss you so much better’...”

At your attempt to imitate his voice, Jungkook starts laughing- cute nose scrunched up with delight.

He kisses his teeth, “You know me too well. I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook leans in again and kisses you on the cheek before disappearing into your bathroom moments later

After his showering, he comes out in a baggy t-shirt and some sweats, his hair freshly blow dried and piled up on his head in a messy bun.

He scarfs down his dinner in record time before the two of you settle back against the couch.

You can feel him looking at you as you giggle at the TV but he doesn’t let his eyes linger very long. He just kind of stares for a moment before simply tightening his grip around your shoulders. He feels so warm beside you that you seriously wonder how long you’ll be able to stay awake with him being the human equivalent of a weighted blanket.

When your laughter erupts again, Jungkook leans in to pop a kiss on your check, which broadens your smile that much more. It’s only for a moment before he turns back to the TV, seemingly satisfied with his actions. However, you decide to return the favor and smoosh your lips against his face, eliciting a snicker from his throat.

You snuggle into him more, grabbing his arm that’s resting on the couch beside you and wrapping it around so that his hand is resting your lap. Leaning your head against his chest, you slowly began tracing over the markings on his skin lightly brushing your nails against each unique line. Jungkook’s eyes are trained on the TV and despite his blank expression, you can see the goosebumps forming on his skin.

Regardless, you just keep going, allowing your fingertips to trace over the letters adorning his hand. Using your nails, you trace between each of his fingers, before interlocking them your own. Once you’re holding hands, Jungkook squeezes slightly, brushing his thumb along your skin which then prompts you to finally to turn to the side and look at him.

He grins softly, still not glancing your way but choosing to offer a playful comment instead, “You’re not watching the movie...”

You laugh softly, reaching out with your free hand and tilting his face towards you.

“We’ve watched this movie four times-” You retort, “Besides I’m pretty sure I remember you promising me that you’d kiss me properly once you were out of the shower.”

Jungkook’s grin broadens, his doe-eyes alight with defiance, “I’m pretty sure you promised yourself that for me- I don’t remember agreeing to it.”

You scoff in mock offense, “Damn ok. So it’s like that huh? I buy you ramen and yet this is how I’m treated. I’m calling the UN...”

Jungkook laughs a little harder now, the sound a little sharp but intensely endearing, “It’s that serious for you?”

Pouting, you nod, “It is that serious.” You’re about to say something else before you brush your thumb over his lips and notice the dryness there, “Did you remember to bring your chapstick today?”

He immediately sucks his lips between his teeth and given that his ability to speak is no compromsied he simply nods, his eyes wide with false innocence.

“Mhmmm.” He lies

“No you didn’t!” You exclaim, laughing a bit as you press your thumb against the thin line of his mouth, “Babe, it’s so cold outside- your lips are going to start cracking.”

Unfurling his lips, he lets his head fall back on his shoulders, “I know, I know-” He whines playfully before his head snaps back up to yours, the same glint remaining in his gaze, “You have some right?”

You roll your eyes, “You know that I do.”

He snickers, quickly leaning in to kiss your cheek, “Can I have some then?”

Playfully shoving him off, you rise from the couch and shake your head, “I’m giving you one to keep in your rehearsal bag,” You shuffle over to your bathroom, “You better use it!”

He laughs as he hears your demand echo down the hallway before calling back, “Hurry jagi! They are so dry- I can feel them! They are so close to cracking!”

Seconds later, your hurling one of your many lip balms into his lap which he catches just before it hits him.

“Put it on...” You demand pointedly and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think I can-” He sighs dramatically, holding the lip balm out to you, “You have to do it- all of the moisture in my body is slowly fading away...my lips are trying to suck it all up.”

Giggling, you cross your arms, shaking your head, “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Y/N! Please!” Jungkook chokes out, “Before I waste away...the winter-” His eyes bug out of his head, as his hand clutches his chest, “the winter jagi- it's going to dry me out completely.”

Finally snapping, you grab the Chapstick out of his hands before asserting yourself into his lap. He laughs, resting his head against the couch cushions whilst his hands sneakily find their way to your hips.

“You’re so annoying...” You grumble, still giggling yourself as he puckers his lips dramatically.

“I’m only following your recommendations.” He insists, making kissy noises at you, “Balm me up baby.”

Uncapping the chapstick, you press your chest against his before starting to drag it over his lips. As you get to work on helping him, his mischievous gaze slowly softens until he’s looking up at you with stars in his eyes. Carefully, you make sure every inch of his mouth is covered with balm, paying special attention to the corners and his lower lip. As you finish up, you put the cap back on set on the couch cushion.

He rubs his lips together, humming in satisfaction.

You smirk, “Better?”

Jungkook nods his Adams’ apple bobbing in his throat as he feels you shift on his hips.

“Make sure.” He murmurs, puckering his lips, his eyes starting to swim with arousal.

You lean in, unable to refuse him before capturing his mouth in a kiss. Rotating your head, you slowly deepen the connection between your lips, drawing a sigh from the boy beneath you. You can feel his thumbs rub ever so gently against the back of your hips as he leans fully back so that your chest is resting on his.

He nudges your nose, allowing his tongue to brush against the bottom of your top lip, requesting entrance into your mouth. You accept him, licking along his tongue, a shiver running up your spine as he sucks slightly on the top of you.

Jungkook really is a filthy kisser but you’d never guess by just looking at him.

He’s quite sure his face is growing numb, his only focus on the way you’re making him feel and a somewhat annoying pain on the back of his head. His ponytail is digging against the wall, causing unnecessary discomfort to wash over him. Still kissing you, he reaches behind his head to pull the hair tie out, allowing his hair to fall freely around his face. You take the opportunity to slide your fingers between the strands, scratching gently at his scalp and causing a slightly shaky breath to leave his lips.

He loves when you play with his hair.

You use both hands now to tuck it behind his ear before using them to slide down the length of his arms. Finding his hands on your hips, you lace your fingers with his and bring them back up so they are pinned against either side of his head.

The making out didn’t get him fully hard but as soon as he feels his hands pinned against the head of the couch, he feels his dick twitch almost painfully in his sweatpants.

Smirking into his mouth, you delight in the sudden halt to his breathing. Subtly, he pushes his hips up a bit when you start kissing your way down his chin and throat. Jungkook summons all the resolve he has and goes perfectly still when you start placing soft kisses along the expanse of his throat. You feel the ache between your legs worsen when you feel his fingers tightening against yours. Jungkook is a very sensitive person, both emotionally and physically. Over the time you’ve become intimate, you’ve slowly uncovered all the little spots that drive him crazy.

And you’re determined to kiss every single one.

“You had a hard day huh?” You murmur sweetly, kissing up the right side of his neck.

All he does is nod, his eyes falling shut as he feels your lips getting closer to his earlobe.

Placing another kiss at his hairline, you slowly kiss along the bottom half of his ear before capturing it between your teeth.

His breath immediately leaves his lips in a shaky mess, his eyes squeezing together as the grip on your hands tightens.

“I think I should help you relax after you’ve worked so hard don’t you?”

He has no idea what you plan to do to him but, he honestly couldn’t give a fuck.

He’s too hard, too wound up and too into to you to ask any meaningful questions.

Jungkook merely nods, not trusting his vocal abilities at the moment as he waits for your next move.

A smirk comes across your face as you suckle lightly on his earlobe, knowing how much he likes it before using your lips to descend back down his neck.

You lean away from him to get a closer look at his expression. Smoothed out in pure pleasure but also tightening slightly at the discomfort brought on by his throbbing dick.

His eyes are still closed as you release your grip on his hands and he keeps them that way even as you move to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” You tease and he merely grins, shaking his head.

“Then why are your eyes closed?”

He doesn’t open them and instead allows a breathless bit of laughter to leave his lips, sound almost exasperated.

“I feel dizzy.”

His simple responses elicits another desire within you that intensifies your goal to make him feel good.

“In a good way?” You check, playfully pinching his stomach as you slowly pull up his t-shirt.

He goes back to nodding, his hands coming down to assist you with your task. His hair flops haphazardly as the material of his shirt messes with it. You take a moment to admire how incredibly beautiful he is when he settles back against the couch, your mouth going dry at the sight of him. Flushed face, pouted lips, defined muscles and hardened nipples lay before you, and you are a little unsure of where to put your lips first.

Although it doesn’t really matter, your destination is the same regardless.

Deciding on another spot that drives him crazy, you allow your fingers to brush along his ribs before leaning in to kiss over his defined chest. Jungkook’s hands are laying limp against the couch but when he feels your lips nearing his nipple, he turns them so they are able to grip the edge of the couch. Sucking his nipple into your mouth, you let you tongue rub against the peak of it. Jungkook sighs loudly from above you and you can’t help but smirk as he still doesn’t allow himself to moan.

It’s a quirk you’ve noticed and you feel like it’s likely left over from the long-discarded idea that Jungkook has regarding his masculinity. No matter how often you tell him that making noise is perfectly ok (and really hot) he still waits till he can’t help himself.

And to be honest, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy pushing him towards that point.

After you finish kissing his chest, you begin trailing your wet lips down the middle of torso, taking a moment to suck over the soft skin of his not so softly defined stomach.

“All those hours in the gym are really paying off-” You mumble against his skin, brushing your fingers over his abs, “You look so strong...”

At your compliment, his lips part, one side of his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

“I wanna look good for you.”

It’s quite a ridiculous statement really.

Jungkook would look good no matter how many visible abs he had but you know he likes the praise none the less.

So you shower him with it.

“You always look good for me.” You assure him, kissing along the band of his sweatpants now, “I’m proud of you for working so hard.”

He grins a little more, leaving his eyes mostly close but allowing them to peak open a bit to watch you sink to your knees.

“Thank you.”

He swallows back the threat of hyperventilation as he feels you spread his legs, his eyes closing completely once again.

If you weren’t able to make out the sound of his breath picking up, the movement of us chest certainly would have given it away, his pecks heaving a bit as he tries to relax.

But as you begin gently massaging up his legs, Jungkook realizes relaxing might not be possible.

At least not at the moment...

He’s stained the seam of his sweatpants with precum which would upset him if it were any other substance but with his dick being so hard, he really can’t find himself to care about anything else.

Tucking your fingers beneath his sweatpants, you begin tugging them off of his hips, relieved that he isn’t wearing any underwear.

Jungkook takes another deep and shaky breath through his nose, tilting his head back again as he tries to center his thinking.

But you’re kind of driving him insane.

Starting at his knee, you kiss all the way up his inner thigh, taking in the scent of his body- indescribable and mouthwatering, just like him. You stop just before his dick before repeating your actions along the other leg.

Jungkook’s stomach is caving in at the teasing but he does absolutely nothing to urge you further.

He likes the torture.

“Is there anything you want me to do while I'm down here?”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip at your question, knowing that you’re going to make him ask for it but feeling shy regardless.

“Yes.” He breathes

You brush your fingertips over his balls, his hips only slightly twitching at the sensation.

He’s trying to stay calm, not wanting to get so ahead of himself he blows his load before you’ve even started.

“What is it that you want me to do?” You murmur, leaning in to breathe against his length.

You’re expecting him to stall and use every other word to ask for what he wants but instead, he surprises you.

“Suck on it...” He whispers, taking a deep breath before exhaling on the word, “...please.”

Smirking to yourself, you wrap a hand around him- feeling him throb within your grip before kitten licking over the tip of him. After ridding his dick of all the precum, you decide to end his descent into madness and suck him into your mouth.

You start slow, licking up and down the length of him, your core aching at the taste. Jungkook’s nails are digging into the couch cushions as he feels your movements, his teeth starting to chew on the inside of his bottom lip.

Bringing your hand into the mix, you guide a flexible grip up and down up, using your lips to suck on the tip of him, your tongue tracing the curves of his frenulum.

Jungkook’s lips part in awe as he feels the combination of moves on his dick, his toes curling against the shag carpet. He knows that his vision will be swimming but he wants to watch you so badly, he decides to finally open his eyes.

As he predicted, his vision is spotty and the dizziness he felt earlier is nothing compared to the way he feels now.

It all becomes irrelevant though when he locks eyes with you. Your boyfriends normally innocent gaze is completely glossed over with lust, his mouth hanging open as he stares down at you, the same smirk slowly returning to his lips.

Sucking off of him, you use your hand to jerk him off as you address him, “Does it feel good?”

He bites his lip, his face and chest decorated with the flush of arousal as he nods.

“Why are you so quiet then?”

For whatever reason, your question tickles him and drunken giggle bubbles up past his lips,

“’ss too good.” He explains, shaking his head at you, “I don’t know how to say anything...”

Logically, he understands that you aren’t talking about him necessarily saying anything but more so referring to the lack of noise he’s making. However, he knows very well that he’s going to be moaning for you soon, especially when your mouth returns to his dick a second time.

When he feels you palm his balls, his eyes fall shut again, his hips twitching all over the place when you resume both sucking and jerking him off.

Jungkook knows he’s biting his lip really hard when he starts to taste a bit of blood but he doesn’t care, the pleasure he’s experiencing overpowering any semblance of pain.

“Y/N” He whispers, “I’m getting really close.”

His warning makes you swoon because he sounds so desperate and yet he’s being considerate, not wanting to intrude your mouth with the taste of him.

Despite the fact that, that’s all you want.

You merely moan against his length, signaling for him to let go whenever he wants, your speed increasing all the while.

“Fuck...” He whispers again but the word sounds like it got caught in his throat, “Fuck...fuck...fuck.”

Hearing him swear makes the wet disaster in your shorts much worse but you wanna make him cum so badly, you ignore it completely. The sound of him nearing the edge is enough to take him all the way in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him harder.

Finally, he breaks- a whimpering skipping past his lips, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth. As much as you want him to moan for you, you don’t want to stop your motions long enough to tell him.

He throws his head back against the headrest, his eyes opening wide as he stares up at the ceiling in amazement. His body jerks as the first wave of his release hits your tongue and rope after rope, you swallow everything he gives you, sucking him through his orgasm and until the sensitivity becomes too much and he starts squirming beneath you.

You suck off of him, allowing his softening length to rest against his lower stomach, which is now trembling with his heavy breath.

Jungkook pants, still staring him at the ceiling and while he’s coming down, you kiss along his hips, letting him take his time. Whilst you’re kissing up his happy trail, one of his hands reaches out to brush over your face. Its then you notice that it’s clammy and a bit shaky so, you take a moment to press a kiss over his knuckles, trying to encourage him to look at you.

“You’re shaking.” You whisper and before you know it, you can hear that same drunken giggle coming from his lips again.

Your boyfriend looks down at you, a deep sense of amazement in his eyes as he laughs still, a bit delirious.

“Yeah well-” He shakes his head, still trying to get his wits about him, “You should have a talk with your mouth about that...”

You giggle now, resting your chin on your hand as you admire how fucked-out he looks. His hair is a mess and he is covered in a light layer of sweat and if you’re being honest, you really want to jump his bones all over again. But you know he needs a minute.

“I just wanted to help you relax.” You claim innocently to which he just shakes his head, gesturing for you to get on the couch.

“Come here.”

You scramble up towards him, sitting beside his exhausted body and before you know it, he’s pulling in for a kiss, his smile creeping back when he feels your lips.

“You’re amazing.”

He sounds silly but sincere all at once, kissing softly at your lips before nudging your nose.

You smile back into the kiss, mumbling something of the same nature to him.

The two of you kiss one another for a moment until Jungkook is pulling back, allowing his dark gaze to scan over your face, eyes suddenly full of determination.

“I think it’s time you relax too now, don’t you think?”

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should��ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too.

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever?

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas!

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

517 notes · View notes

fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Text

Hayloft- Ezra x Reader

AN: hahahahahahah hello.....So I know that have have shit I was supposed to write but life has taken every bit of creativity from me so I’m not sure if I’ll ever actually write those. So I am sorry if you have been waiting forever for me to post a story. I’ve also made the decision to close my requests indefinitely unless I change my mind because I just don’t do well with them, sorry. BUT, I struck gold and got the idea for this fic and before I lost the inspo I wrote like a mad man all yesterday! So I do hope you enjoy! And yes, I did get the idea while listening to Hayloft by Mother Mother

Also this is going to be a two part story, I am currently working on the second part and it should be posted tomorrow morning most likely. And I made a playlist, if you’d like to listen to it (I am open to song suggestions to be added!)

Ao3 Link

Masterlist

Words: 3.1k (this a beast for me lol)

Warnings?: not really, AFAB reader, mentions of a stroke, Ezra’s charm (that needs a warning), bad poetry formatting (sorry tumblr destroyed how I had it in my Doc)

The itchy scratchy feeling of the hay digging through my nightwear was worth every uncomfortable second if it meant I could continue to sit here and listen to the man across from me, with his eyes that held galaxies and voice the carried the lilt of the most wonderful song, with that unplaceable accent. He was worth being tired in the morning from staying up all night up here in the loft of my family’s small barn. He was worth all the sneaking around and small meaningful glances sent each other’s way when no one else was paying attention, the brushing of hands when handing something to the other. I wouldn’t change anything about this unless it meant the small glances or the gentle brushing against each other didn’t have to be hidden from the others, if it meant that I could just be with the hypnotic man across from me with his hair as dark as the freshly tilled ground at the being of a harvest minus that one soft looking patch as white as a newly hatched chick’s down and a smile so crooked and white that it felt almost as if he was casting a spell over my very heart and soul. He was worth the pain of picking hay from my hair and clothes in the morning when I have to sneak back into the farmhouse, while already missing the touch of his rough and calloused but gentle hand. It was all worth every bit as long as he helped me forget everything just for the time being.

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Living on K-5 was rather simple. The planet was neither big nor small and it was known for its fertile soil that could grow just about any plant whether it was native to the world or not and once one harvest season had finished the other started as the weather always was spring-like with perfect growing conditions. Not many came to stay and those who did worked their entire life in planets many fields of harvest. To the few that actually knew the name of the forgettable planet called it the bread box of the known universe. Though the planet was known to very few people throughout space, the planet’s harvests could be found on just about any other planet or moon feeding just about everyone.

The farmers of K-5 were known to have bigger families on the premise of needing hands to work the land for food of their own and for money. The farmers also knew that most of their children would leave the planet and look for better elsewhere, and would hope beyond hope that at least one of their children would settle on the sad planet and continue working their farm. Though if luck would have it there might come a ship every so often with people willing to lend hands and work the land if they were compensated well enough. Most that came were floaters looking for something to do in between prospecting jobs, others were looking for a quiet place to finally settle after a long life.

My father had been one of 12 brothers and he was the only one to stay and take over the meager farmer his father and his father’s father had set up on a small corner of the planet. My father never really talked about his siblings, only ever calling them stupid for leaving the haven that was K-5 for a world they had no place to be in. My mother had been brought here by her mother, who had been a floater. They had made acquaintances with a farmer a town or so over and had lived there as farmhands as that family’s children started dwindling as they left. I have been told that my mother had a fire to her that no other on the planet had, that she was a woman of grace and humility, which is rare in space these days, something I was told I inherited though I’m not so sure I believe. We were a small family, I had two older brothers, twins identical in only their looks. Joshua, a dreamer as my father put it spitefully saying he inherited that from our mother, while his brother Anthony took after our father with his pessimistic view of everything including the world outside of our farm and K-5. I always counted Joshua lucky, he was able to sneak out of our small farmhouse late one night only leaving a note on my bedside table saying goodbye as he left one of the few ships to land on our soil. Father always resented me much like he did Joshua for multiple reasons, one of them being that it was the reason mother had passed, as Anthony informed me one night when asked, another reason being that I supposedly looked like a carbon copy of her, as I was told by the few farmers that remembered her, and lastly and most importantly was my fascination with the outside world. He hated that “Joshua did nothing but fill your head with fantasies.” He hated that because of our small family we needed all the farmhands we could get and that I would always sit with them listening to anything they would tell me, though few would say much as the floaters tended to be a quiet breed, preferring to keep to themselves.

In our town, the floaters and drifters were usually pointed to our farm when looking for work and usually met with my father before I ever had a chance to meet them, most ignoring me throughout their short stay, anyway. If we were lucky we would get one or two by the time harvesting or planting time had come around and they were always roomed in Joshua’s old room, now cramped from shoving multiple cots into the room rather than one small bed. The room was furthest from mine, which made it hard to sneak into to and talk with those who were willing to feed my curiosities. Having been caught and reprimanded enough times by both father and Anthony I had to learn how to be light-footed and sneak around unseen, though I believe that after awhile Anthony has given up on trying to ‘knock some sense’ into me and just doesn’t try anymore.

Life was the same for me day in and day out nothing much changing other than the faces and names of the floaters staying on our humble farm. Excitement in our corner of space was far and few between, leading me to seek it out through any means possible, and more often than not it was the few books I was able to get my hands on them being rare as they were, were exceptionally hard to find new stories. Though luck would have it, I was able to get my hands on three battered books whose covers were so worn and dirtied over the years that any image or words depicted were hardly seen. Of everything on my solemn planet, these were what kept me sane, even if I had read and reread each dozens of times. Though their covers were faded, the titles were imprinted in my mind. I treasured my well-loved copies of Pride and Prejudice, The Hobbit, and Frankenstein and kept them close to my heart while also hiding them from my father for fear of how he’d react to them. Though I love every book I owned, it was the newest in my collection that meant the most to me, for it was the first thing that brought the man I long for and I together, a rather small but thick copy of a collection of poems and stories written by Edgar Allen Poe.

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Waking up on Saturdays were the only time when I didn’t mind having to roll out of bed and deal with the early hour chill. Saturdays were the days that I got sent to town to collect groceries and odds and ends for the farm from the weekend markets. Father learned early on that I had the same touch as my mother when I came to finding the best bargains and deals, so he began sending me in his stead while he and Anthony ran other errands or helped the current farmhands do morning chores.

This Saturday wasn’t much different, upon waking and changing into the day’s clothes, I pulled my hair out of my face before stepping out of my room to head to the kitchen to find the list of what was needed on the counter along with the money needed. As usual, I went through my Saturday routine of making a thermos of coffee before pocketing the money and grabbing my bag. I slip my thermos into the side pocket of the bag as I slip the strap over my shoulder, before grabbing the list and scanning the contents as I walked to where my boots were stored next to the door. While glancing through the list, I started to slide my boots on before stopping. In a small section at the bottom were a few items that were reserved only for the few saturdays that the supply ship stopped in our area of the planet, which was very rare if ever. The supply ships were sent to the planet every couple of months with limited supplies and it landed in certain areas to sell what ever cargo it had brought, only to leave when empty. Only the ships usually were emptied after the first two or three stops and this area was usually one of the last stops, making the ships rare and highly sought after in the area. So the fact that our area was finally getting a ship after almost a year and a half without one was a huge deal. A rather large part of me hoped that there would be floaters on the ship willing to be hired out for farm work, especially since the lack of a ship has made my small family have to tend our meager fame with only the three of us because of the lack of farmhands.

Upon arrival, the town was already bustling with life. Quickening my pace, I went to the center of the town where the new supplies always were held, and upon arriving I made quick work of crossing off everything on the list in hopes of having time to browse for myself. Luck seemed to have shown mercy down on me today as everyone I talked to was fair in prices and after crossing the last item off the long list I still had enough money to buy something for myself and give father change without him being any wiser. Smiling I chatted with a few townspeople and other farmers as I browsed the market, and as I came to the last stall I had yet to look in the market. Having near given up and about to turn from the stall, my eye caught something that had fallen from the makeshift table. Upon picking it up I nearly cried with joy having found what I could only hope to be the next tattered book to add to my collection. Flipping the book over in my hands and flipping through the pages my smile grew as I called the seller over. We haggled the price for a couple of minutes before he accepted my offer with a murmur and taking the money and while turning to begin my journey back to the farm I heard my name being called a couple of stalls over. Looking up, I smiled politely when I noticed it was Mrs.Robertson, taking a deep breath and sighing it back out before making my way slowly over to where she stood.

Mrs.Robertson was a stout woman that had a smile that never seemed to leave her face. She was a lovely woman whose lemon pound cake was well-known amongst the area’s farmers and always had a warm cup of tea and an open ear for whoever walked through her kitchen door, even after her stroke that took all mobility in her left arm. While I have always enjoyed her company, especially as a child when I was longing for a mother figure, recently talking with her always ended with her trying to push her oldest son and I together. Her oldest and youngest sons were the only two of her five children to stay on the planet, and while her youngest had already married and had a couple of children, her oldest didn’t seem to have interest in doing the same, even if she swears that he infatuated with me. Father continuously tells me that he thinks the marriage would be a good idea, even as I tell him it wouldn’t work between the two of us.

So as I walk over to her and give her a hug in greeting I prepare myself for another attempt at matchmaking. Instead after parting from the one-handed hug, she had given me she motioned over her shoulder to a man who was standing there with a crooked smile that seemed to hold every last bit of charm left in the universe, and Mrs. Robertson, without missing a beat spoke up, “I was just explaining to this lovely newcomer that your father is always looking for new people to help with the farm and was just about to point him in your farm’s direction when I noticed you,” as Mrs.Robertson continued to rattle on I took the chance to glance back to the man behind her, only to find that his woefully dark eyes were still watching me with more mirth than I had seen in years. Looking back to Mrs.Robertson quickly hoping that no redness would grace my cheeks, though I knew it was there anyway. She quickly stepped aside and motioned to me introducing me before the man, if at all possible, smiled wider and stuck out his hand introducing himself as Ezra. As I stuck out my hand to shake his I opened my mouth to give him a polite reply only to be shocked into silence when instead of shaking my offered hand he raised it to his shining smile and graced the back of my hand with a kiss. Now I was absolutely certain that there was red dancing across my cheeks, if not my ears as well. Not able to take returning the gaze the man, I know knew to be Ezra, seemed to be piercing my very soul with I turned to Mrs.Robertson, thanking her and wishing her well before turning to Ezra who was still watching me and giving him a shy smile and tilting my head in a motion as to say ‘follow me’.

Ezra seemed to be quiet as we walked throughout the town head back towards the farm, though that might have been because the small talk and greetings that were being thrown my way from those from the area that I was friendly with. When we finally broke from the town and the only sound was the dwindling chatter of the market and buzzing of the local wildlife. Though I was startled to a stop from the previous silence by the man as he spoke melodically and seemingly wit purpose,

“In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed; But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him, with a ray Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream, that holy dream, While all the world was chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night, So trembled from afar― What could there be more purely bright In Truth’s day-star?”

Having turned to face the man confused, but noticing he was looking towards the sky with a smile, though one smaller than the one he was sporting when you both had made your introductions with each other, this one seeming more blissful rather than purposefully charming. It was only now though that I noticed the absence of his right arm as his left was moved to his face to shield his eyes from the ever glowing sun. Turning his head back to look at me, his smiled widened again before noticing my slight confusion.

“Sorry flower but I couldn’t help but to notice the collection of stories and poems in your hand there, and thought to quote a poem by our dear morose friend Poe. I find his works to be a tad too depressing for my likes but somethings just stick with your very person,” Ezra drawled before sticking his hand out, “May I?”

Unable to really respond as I was still in slight shock I was only able to nod and pass the book over. Where upon gracing his fingers Ezra was able to skillfully thrumb through the book, mumbling quietly to himself with a smile, “It has been quite sometime since I have been able to visit our friend Poe here or any of my other long dead friends I’m afraid,” he paused for only a moment sticking the tip of his tongue between his lips before giving a small quiet winning cry, “ Ah hah! Here you go, ‘A Dream’ by the one and only Edgar Allan Poe.”

Handing the book back with it open on a specific page and there it was, the poem in which he had just quoted in full. Smiling down at the page, before looking back at him with a somewhat astonished look I dog eared the page before sliding it into the bottom of my bag, “No one else around here really reads anymore. At this point I thought I was the last one in the universe to do so. It….it would be nice to actually talk about reading with someone, though regretfully I just met Poe today so we are not quite as well acquainted as you two seem to be,” looking back up with a smirk and remembering my thermos I grab it out of my bag before lifting it up in offering. “Coffee? Its not quite hot anymore but it is probably still warm.”

With his ever wide smile, Ezra stepped up next to me as I slid my bag back into place and gave a small polite nod, “I would love to do nothing more than share what I am sure is the perfect brew with you, darling flower.”

(If you want to be tagged in part two, let me know in my inbox! Also if enough people are interested I am thinking about opening my inbox to talk and expand on this world I’ve created? Anyways I hope you enjoyed! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are always appreciated!! Much love and Happy 2021!)

(Also if you figured out what I based the planet I created off of please tell me, I’d like to see obvious I made it lol. And if you’d like a hint it’s in the USA)

#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra (prospect) x you #Pedro Pascal #Prospect #ezra x female reader #the second part may have a little spice #considering the song i based this off of #but not alot bc i have found I suck at smut #but it might be hinted at or briefly described?#anyway i am kinda happy to be back writing wise #ive missed this

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highsviolets · 4 years

Text

of hyperdrives & hands: engineer!reader x obi-wan

summary: you’re fixing the hyperdrive on the Negotiator when a mysterious being pays you a visit.

word count: I honestly have no idea bc i wrote this whole thing on my notes app in the car lmao. (sorry if the formatting is weird/there are typos!!)

rating: G. but also, this is basically a love letter to Ewan McGregor’s gorgeous hands.

A/N: fulfilling a request for the lovely @aty-cgca7! ily, chasity! I hope it’s everything you were looking for 💖 also I know nothing about engineering or computers or hyperdrives so don’t come for me y’all 😂

of hyperdrives & hands, a fic by corellians-only

Brow furrowed in concentration, you squint in the hazy light. Reaching up to your forehead with your left hand, you slide your fingers across the surface of your skin, batting away renegade wisps of hair that had fallen away from your bun.

Maker, but it was warm down here, in the maw of this behemoth ship. You curse softly to yourself as a bead of sweat hovered perilously close to your eyelash, threatening to obscure your vision as you strain to locate the loose wire that had sent you onto the Negotiator in the first place. Hadn’t your father always warned your that space was cold? When you told him you had joined the Civilian Engineer Corps to help with the war effort, he had even cracked a joke about adding extra layers to your uniform.

You frown. Clearly, accomplished pilot though he was, you father had never been in the hyperdrive control center of a Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer.

Catching your distraction, you shake your head. No. You needed to focus. Now was not the time to question your father’s supposed space travel wisdom. There’s a job to be done. Hyperdrives did not fix themselves.

There she is. Rather than simply becoming disconnected, the wire had split in two, snapping under the pressure from the processing core directly above the unit. This was going to be more complicated than you thought.

For a few hours, the only sounds that filled the room were soft snip of wirecutters and the gentle thrum of the engines. As you start re-routing the stray wire, your mind begins to wander.

You had heard stories about Star Destroyers with entire hangers of processing cores for the shields alone. That their nav computers were the most accurate in the galaxy. That their holo encryption system was unbreakable (it wasn’t. You had written and sliced a viral code into their data key a few standard months back, just to see if you could). This was your first time on such a warship when it was in space, and while it was impressive, at the end of the day, it ran like any other ship.

Tali had been even aboard General Secura’s flagship, the Liberty, for a supply dump once and she swore that their weapons systems were the most flawless thing she had ever seen - barring General Kenobi, of course, she had added with an impish grin tossed your way.

Your not-so-subtle crush on the dashing General was an open secret among your platoon of female engineers. Most of them assumed it was because he was pretty and famous — he was on nearly every holomag cover, after all — but you knew better. You knew he was a good man. His hands told you so.

The first time you had seen General Kenobi, you had been playing in the undercity of Coruscant when a boy a little older than yourself had stopped to ask what you were building with the rubble left behind from an explosion caused by the nascent Black Sun cartel a few days earlier.

“I don’t know,” you had responded belligerently, upset at your endeavors having been interrupted - and by a boy, no less. “Why do you have a braid in your hair?” you continued. “I thought only girls had braids.”

The boy had adjusted his stance to stand up taller. “I’m going to be a Jedi,” he proclaimed. “I’m Obi-Wan,” he offered with a smile. His eyes flashed suddenly, and with a quick thrust, his hand extended into the dusty air. A sheet of durasteel that had been hovering precariously at the tip of the heap was now suspended in midair, mere centimeters from crashing down on your head. Even in the grim half-light of the slums, you could see sapphire eyes earnestly fixed on the hunk of metal. Strong, lithe fingers gestured gracefully. The object fell with a great crash a few meters away.

You could only stare in awe.

The faint sound a male voice calling had caused him to twist his head and listen. “I have to go.” He frowned. “Master Qui-Gon is calling me. I hope I see you again some day.”

He bowed slightly, then turned and trotted back toward his Master.

You had never been quite able to forget the teenager with pretty hands who had saved your life.

Nearly two decades later, you had seen him again. You and Tali had been sipping cups of caf before your shifts in the makeshift mess hall of a personnel loading area when you sensed his presence. Not in a Jedi way - you didn’t have a lick of Force sensitivity, you knew - but in the way you noticed that everyone seemed to speak a little softer and trail their eyes after the passing figure in white armor.

He had strode past the the two of you, hardly sparing a glance at two female civilian engineers and pointedly ignoring the sheer weight of the gazes trained on him. Later, over a pint of lomin ale, Tali has raved about his hair, and how “he had a shoulder to hip ratio that was sharper than a vibroblade, didn’t you notice?”

You had taken a sip of your drink and laughed good-naturedly at Tali’s antics. You had noticed him, to be sure, but you had been transfixed by his hands, not his muscles.

Back in the days before the war, when you were still a little girl, your father Aves had always told you to take note of a being’s hands. In the present moment, you smile as you refit the access panel on the hyper drive’s core reactor as a the memory comes to mind.

Even though he was a good father, Aves had been a man of mystery. Whatever it was he did for a living, it had blessed him with an intimate knowledge of guns, starships, and computers, and he had passed everything he knew on to his “blazing sun,” he used to call you affectionately.

“Blazing sun,” he would instruct you, “you can tell a lot about a being by their hands.” When he was satisfied he had captured your attention, the impression of a smile glowed across his face. He resumed cleaning his carbine rifle as he spoke, his voice low and smooth. “You can tell a lot about a being by their hands,” he intoned again. “Their trade. Their social class. How they hold a weapon. What kind of weapons they use. If they can pilot a ship. If their mind is focused or skittish.” The tall man had shrugged gently, an action that seemed counterintuitive to the grade A contraband blaster now resting comfortably in his expert grip. A new power pack slapped into place with a precise snap. “If you ever want to know someone” — he tucked a stray hair behind your ear tenderly, the other hand still clutching the blaster — “look at their hands.”

You begin tapping out routine codes on the core reactor to test the replacement wire. The various combinations of letters and numbers in basic and binary were muscle memory, and you stared in awe as your own fingers punch in the digits seemingly of their own volition.

Yes, it was General Kenobi’s hands that most enraptured you, you decided. Slender, calloused (you supposed - not that you had ever had the pleasure of testing that theory for yourself), extensions of strong, well muscled arms that indicated a strong degree over his motions. He had held them so softly at his sides that day in the mess hall. They had gestured animatedly as he walked alongside a clone commander, a graceful arc to his movements that made you think he would be a good dancer — or a formidable fighter.

The klaxon of an alarm drives you from your reverie. “Oh, kriff.” The latest code you had entered seemed to have caused the wires to short circuit, tripping an internal safety alarm.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff.” You continue to swear violently as you all but run over to the central computer console and entering a code to kick-start a program to halt the shrieking din. Within the minutes, the alarm bells stop, and you sag against the console in relief.

“Is something the matter?” a rich tenor voice asks from behind you.

Immediately you tense. In a singular, practiced motion, you pivot on your left heel and whip your blaster into your right hand simultaneously, turning to face the voice in a fighting stance.

“Freeze!” you call into the shadows. Your eyes scan the cavernous room methodically before settling on a spot a few meters in from the doorway where the light seems distorted. You take aim with your blaster.

“Justice, freedom, faith,” the disembodied voice replies calmly from the same spot.

Your eyes narrow. Whoever the being was, they had given the correct password. But the upper-class Coruscanti accent didn’t belong to anyone in your platoon, and who else would be prowling around the underbelly of General Kenobi’s flagship? There had been faint rumors of a lightsaber wielding Separatist operative. Maybe they were coming to sabotage the ship? Well, not on your watch.

“Step into the light,” you order, durasteel edging into your voice. “Keep your hands above your head.” The contours of the blaster are cool, comforting in your grip, soothing the blood rushing just beneath the surface.

A tall auburn-haired man steps into the light, arms raised. “Will this suffice?” he asked wryly, amusement playing across his features as you feel shock and embarrassment creep up your neck and onto your cheeks.

Stars above. I almost shot General Kenobi. A thousand thoughts race through your mind faster than light speed - some witty, some pragmatic.

But of course, what slips out is neither of those.

“Fierfek, you startled me,” you manage to spit out instead. It’s only your steel will that prevents you from collapsing from embarrassment on the spot. Feigning nonchalance you decidedly do not feel about almost murdering a war hero and childhood crush, you holster your weapon and turn back to the console.

“I gathered as much,” he returns, amusement still coloring his tone.

The room fell silent for a few moments as you run system diagnostics.

“What is it you’re working on?” This time, he’s so near you can feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. Well honed reflexes are faster than your brain, though, and it isn’t until you feel a gentle pressure on your elbow that you realize it’s raised to jab him in the throat.

General Kenobi’s chuckle seems to fill the room. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to kill me?” he murmurs. A shiver runs up your spine despite yourself and you feel your stomach start to coil.

You stare at the data steaming on the console until your eyesight begins to blur. “That depends. Are you trying to kill me, sir?” Maker, but you were mouthy today. What was wrong with you?

Kenobi releases your arm dropping his to his side. Immediately, you feel bereft somehow with the loss of his touch.

Peering over your shoulder, he asks, “hyperdrive problems?”

Kriff, does that man not realize what he is doing to you, muttering in your ear like that? Of course he doesn’t, you dolt, you tell yourself; he’s a Jedi. Not his fault you’ve had a crush on him since you were nearly eight years old.

“A replacement wire short-circuited the system and triggered an emergency code,” you respond as evenly as you can manage. A fresh sweat breaks out across your forehead as another complex code dances across the screen.

“What code is that?” He reaches out as though he could absorb the masses of data contained in the system through osmosis. Maybe he can. You’re not a Jedi.

The movement serves a different purpose for you. Something wet and bright glistens as his hand moves into the blue light of the console.

“You’re bleeding.”

He glances down and grimaces. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Blood is starting to gather around an incision slashed across his right hand.

He opens his mouth to retort no doubt, but you beat him to it. “Don’t give me that bantha dung about Jedi business.” A grease stained finger jabs in the direction of his chest.

Kenobi’s face remains impassive. When he doesn’t respond, you roll your eyes, and, tugging at his elbow, drag him over to the glow lamp near your workstation.

He continues to scrutinize you, and you look down at yourself, wondering what he’s staring at. Your coverall sleeves are rolled up, there’s sweat gathering at your collarbone, and you feel the grimy mixture of dust and stale perspiration coating your face. You’re a hot mess if there ever was one.

Resolutely, you ignore the flush on your cheeks and the steel of his gaze and rummage for a bandage in the care pack attached to your hip. Several excruciating seconds later you find one and tear it open.

It’s when you’re grasping his hand in one of yours the he finally speaks. “I’ve seen you before.”

His cool composure inspires a sudden flash of irritation. “You seem rather certain sir,” you say as you apply a bacta salve.

“Because I am,” he responds mildly. His hand grips yours tightly when you apply the bandage, and you almost asphyxiate on the spot. You were right — his hands are calloused.

“Well, consider this your repayment from saving a girl from durasteel in the Coruscant under-levels about twenty years ago,” you answer with a quick smile. It’s hard to be angry when Obi-Wan Kenobi is in effect, holding your hand.

Reluctantly you release him from your grasp, letting your hand drift down to your side.

The General inclines his head in thanks, then glances back at the computer. “Is the hyperdrive fixed, then?”

You nod, stuffing supplies back into your pack. “I modified the code and replaced the wire so it should be okay.” You meet his eyes. “I’ll be with the ship until it returns to Coruscant, so if there any problems I’ll be available to assist, sir.”

You turn to leave, but he reaches out and catches your hand. “And who do I have to thank for such diligent caretaking of both my ship and my hand?” he inquires. His touch is like satin against your dirty hands and you grin in spite of it.

You consider for a moment. “A blazing sun,” you tell him.

You smile as you make your back to your quarters. Yes, you could tell a lot about a person by their hands.

#obi-wan x reader #obi wan x you #userkarina #obi wan x reader #prompt request #cristina writes #cg's og's #character: obi wan kenobi #star wars fic #obi-wan fic #aty cacg7 #never am i ever writing in present tense the TYPOS omg

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a-forgotten-spirit · 4 years

Text

Love Isn’t An Illusion (5)

Pairing: Todoroki x Bakugou, Todoroki x Reader x Bakugou, VERY SLOW BUILD

Summary: Studying, exams and lead up to the practical exam

Words: +-6600

Warnings: Anxiety, stress, overthinking, feelings of pressure, over working, unhealthy habits, over studying, not eating, not sleeping, getting thinner, (aggressive) caring Bakugou, Monoma, angy boom boom boy, fear of failure, swearing

Tagged: @kittycatspervertedheart @lemorrite @gwendlynn @marleps @thicctati2 @saitamastamaticsoup @succulent-momma @aurorahoneybuns @imjusttireddudes @misconceptualised @ochabby @katsukisuwus @gayverlinq @star-witchs-blog @fallbb123

A/N: I wrote this for the fans. I do not own My Hero academia or the characters, I don’t own most of the plot for this story, I had watched the show and re-written the dialogue and plot as if the reader was the main character. Everything is centred around the reader. Please comment, makes me happy. Ask if you wish to be tagged. I’m thinking of making a patreon for exclusive fanfics and commissions, comment/ask/message your thoughts.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

_______________________________________________________________

Chapter 5 Y/N P.O.V

Once Aizawa left the room Kaminari and Mina were yelling within seconds “It’s true we haven’t had much free time” Tokoyami but in. I’ve had heaps of free time, you just cut out sleep and boom like 9 hours of studying ready for you. I had come first in the midterms so I couldn’t fall behind now.

“As someone who ranked in the top ten I'm not that concerned” Mineta smiled spinning in his chair. It was quite often my brain ignored that he was athletic and semi-decently smart. Though his personality ranked quite low in the class so overall he wasn’t doing exceptionally well.

“What you’re tenth in the midterms” both Kaminari and Mina yelled out in unison. They were the bottom two, I couldn’t imagine the stress of that. I can’t deal with being first not to mention being last. I think I was going to faint, just thinking about it sent shivers down my spine.

“Ashido, Kaminari. We still have time to study and we’ll all get to go to the training camp together” he had ranked fifth I had completely forgotten about the camp far too focused on not failing I must have excused that from my memory. I was glad Midoriya brought it up, now I was forced to converse with my parents at a later date. “Right” he questioned with a smile, hands clenched and happy.

“Yes, as class rep, I have hopes we will make UA proud” Iida was in third place in the class. How was he holding it together, I wanted to ask him for his secrets. To give me guidance. I needed the help, I needed to train. I had so little time.

“It’s pretty hard to fail if you just pay attention in class, isn’t it” Todoroki’s voice was so bland and he spoke, his words were true. Like there was no way I could fail, right, right? I could feel my heart beating so quickly. Todoroki had ranked sixth in the class, how was he being so calm. I was stressing beyond belief.

“Why you gotta cut me down like that” Kaminari was holding his chest, kneeling on the floor. I nodded, I felt the same. Everyone in the top ten seemed to calm and here I was in first place having a small crisis. I thought I had gotten over my nerves but not at least not for my education.

“Hey don’t worry you two, I can catch you up to speed on certain topics if you want” Yaoyorozu was so nice, maybe I would ask if I too could join. She ranked second, I needed to ask her as well as how she wasn’t stressing. Was it the fact she wasn’t number one? Was it something else? Did she not care? Anyone give me an answer. I had study sessions but they slowly died down with the class. I was collapsing and I needed support. Mina and Kaminari took her up on the offer. “I’m afraid I won’t be any help when it comes to the practical though” she sulked, an aura radiating off her from the corner of the room as she sat down in her chair.

“I’ve been studying but can you help me out too, I’m having some trouble understanding quadratic functions,” Jirou asked holding up her book. I too had struggled with them, a whole night of rewriting them, listening to a youtube video about them and then reading about them had solved that issue. Jirou ranked eighth in the class.

“Tutor me please, classical Japanese is killing me” Sero had his hands above his hand in a ‘praying’ formation, he ranked eighteenth. Classical Japanese was a lot of work but again some videos and all-nighter. I think I had got it to a T, though what if I had missed something… My lord what if I had missed something.

Ojiro walked over his shoulders slouched and hand in the air like he was volunteering “Is their room for one more, I’m falling behind a little” at least he was honest. Ojiro ranked ninth so he was still in the top ten but I could see his stress. I was listening in from my desk as my hands shook.

They all asked in unison for help and Yoayarozu looked stunned for a moment, her hands coming to her lips as her eyes sparkled “This is wonderful” she shouted, her seat moving back as she jumped up, hands in the air happily. How could she be happy at a time like this? “Yes let’s do it, ok we can hold a study session at my residence over the weekend” she smiled hands clasped together.

“Seriously, I can’t wait to see your fancy digs” Mina smiled as she bounced over. Yaoyarozu looked so happy, a blush forming along her cheeks, hands fisted near her face. Her smile was beautiful, she was beautiful. How could she be smart and pretty?

“I must call mother and ask to set up the great hall, it’ll be the perfect spot” Did she just say great hall, she was joking right. She didn’t have that kinda space just laying around. “What kind of tea does everyone like, I'll make sure we are stocked” everyone looked about as shocked as I was, sure I knew she was rich but this was just wow. She continued to go on about what her family drank and that if it wasn’t to your liking she would buy some. Such a good host and we were still at school.

“Sounds like I should be studying with her” Kirishima smiled at the group forming at the back of the room, he was ranked sixteenth. I couldn’t blame him, she seemed so confident and wise. How was she so happy, how was she able to make time for other people when she too had to study. Sure I could do it a few weeks ago but right now? A week before the exam, how was she doing it?

“Think I don’t know enough, maybe I should beat the lessons into your skull” Bakugou growled out, he ranked fourth. He was another I forgot was smart. He was always so loud and angry but he did care dearly for his education and becoming the best so it made sense why he was like that. Bakugou looked so angry teeth grit and eyes wide, was he mad that Kirishima even suggested going with someone else.

“I'm counting on it,” Kirishima smiled and nodded happily to the seething Bakugou. I don’t often see Kirishima without a smile, he was always so happy. Give me tips, please. I was on the verge of passing out, whether it be from stress, sleep deprivation or the four cups of coffee wearing off I wasn’t sure. “God I wish I was Y/N. Not a care in the world” Kirishima sighed and I watched as everyone turned their attention to me shaking at my desk.

“Yeah I know right” Sero agreed his head down, I heard a few more agree. Lord if only they knew how fast my heart was beating at the thought. “I don’t know how you can even get 100%” there was so much pressure, my head was spinning as I felt faint.

My hand rose, shaking as I shook my head “I am very stressed” I stuttered and everyone stopped turning to my shaking figure as I went to stand and my legs wobbled. “I think I’m about to have a heart attack,” I said calmly and sighed out unevenly.

“What, why, you’re so smart. Our study sessions were like you were a teacher. I don’t know how you find the time” Mina jumped to my desk as I stood up straight, my hands coming to rub my cheeks the end of my sleeves dragging along my skin.

“Yeah, you are incredibly smart” Kaminari agreed. “I could never come first” he sighed and everyone slowly walked over. I was rubbing my face still, slowly and shakily. They all thought I was so smart, I had so much pressure. “How do you have time?” he asked.

“I don’t sleep” I looked up, my eyes baggy and black. I might as well have been a walking corpse. “I studied over 300 hours for the last test. I can’t even imagine the time I’ve put into this one” I shivered and saw wide eyes and feared looks. “Am I allowed to the study sessions as well?” I asked slowly.

“I think you need some sleep” Yaoyarozu spoke and came to rub my back calmly. I could fall asleep to this, I could fall asleep standing I was so tired. “But if you want to come you are more than welcome” she smiled nodding. “I’ll make you some nice calming tea”

I grabbed her hands bowing my head “Thank you” I whispered and looked up seeing her happy face smiling, she was pretty “If I could marry you, I would” I whispered and she flushed as I heard some laughter. “I’m not joking, the idea of studying with calming tea is marriage material and no one can tell me otherwise” I bowed again. She blushed more and bowed back.

Then came lunch, we all walked to the lunchroom and sat down. We all sat at one big table and when I sat down I brought out my notes books and pens. This was half an hour I got to study, the lords are truly smiling upon me. As I began to write I could feel eyes on me.

“Are you not eating?” Mina asked slowly pointing down to my book “You can take a half an hour break to eat Y/N” I looked down to my book, I was hungry. When had I eaten last? I wasn’t sure yesterday, maybe. The day before. I was far too stressed and busy to eat.

“Well it’s an extra half an hour” I answered and saw the looks I was getting. “I have to do my best you know” I clicked the lid of my pen to the bottom of it and began to write again.

“When was the last time you ate,” Bakugou asked and I turned, we were sitting next to each other. He had asked me last time as well. He took a lot of care for his body, his athleticism was proof of that. Why was everyone so worried for me?

“Um,” I paused and tried to think about it “I had some rice, Saturday” I questioned and shook my head “I’m fine though, really” I smiled but even that was using energy my body didn’t have.

“Are you kidding?” Kirishima asked and I looked down shaking my head “I could never” he whispered and looked over my body. I too looked down, was I getting smaller? I pulled on my UA jumper and then flattened it to my body. There was a lot of excess fabric but I liked my jumpers bigger.

I saw a bowl placed in front of me as books were moved out of the way “Eat” Bakugou demanded and I looked down to the bowl of rice with soup and noodles, odd but it looked good. I shook my head and smiled about talking when I was handed some chopsticks. “I said to eat” he growled.

My stomach growled loudly, I hadn’t noticed just how hungry I was “Thank you” I whispered and placed my hands together in a thank you for the food. Picking up the bowel I began to eat and saw him eating something else he had brought. A few mouthfuls and I placed it down. “Thank you again” I went to grab my book but my hand was stopped.

“Eat it all” he ordered and moved the bowl back “You look dead” he added and took another bite of his food. I touched my face, did I look that bad. The noodles had a nice spice to it and were about to shake my head once more when I was glared at. Giving up I continued to eat until a loud banging was heard.

“Oh sorry, your head is so big that it’s hard to miss” it was the preppy boy from 1-B, the one who was a real jerk ward. I lowered Bakugous’ bowl and watched how this would play out. He was rude and had a grudge against 1-A. Maybe he hadn’t gotten in or maybe he just didn’t like us.

“You’re the kid from class 1-B. Um. Monomo right?” Midoriya asked rubbing the back of his head with wide eyes. Had he hit him, from the sound I thought it was the table, it was quite loud? Why was he talking to our class again? “That hurt” Midoriya yelled as he continued to rub the tender area at the back of his head.

“You guys stumbled across the Hero Killer” Now I was more interested in the conversation, the whole table was. “Just like in the sports festival, class 1-A isn’t happy unless they are the centre of attention but you know you aren’t in the spotlight because people think you’re good heroes, right?” even his voice was annoying. Did he only come here to make fun of us, was that it? “It’s just that you keep getting into so much trouble. Here’s food for thought someday the rest of us might get caught up in your mess and then we will all become victims as well” his smile was wide and menacing. He did have it out for us. “What kind of horrible villain will you bring down upon us?” he continued.

“Are you done?” I asked my eyes slowly looking over to him, too slowly to not be creepy. He seemed to sense it too. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your insecurities right now” I continued and he looked offended. Wait, did I say that out loud?

“Excuse me” his eyes widened and he huffed turning his eyes towards my own, trying to explode my head, or maybe he was constipated. I rose and eyebrow in confusion as some of my fellow class chuckled. “Say that aga-” he was cut off.

I watched as the redhead walked up, slapping him upside the head within a second he was on the floor holding the spot, now he knows how Midoriya felt. “That’s not funny Monoma, you heard what happened to Iida, chill out”

“Kendo” Iida called out his hand up about to respond again. She seemed to be everywhere the little rascal blonde went. I was about two seconds away from sticking him in an endless cube for twenty minutes.

“I apologise for him. I’m pretty sure there’s a hole where his heart should be'' she began, he should apologise for himself. Though when I looked down I should see him dangling in her grasp, did she knock him out? “So I was listening about what’s going to be on the big final practical. I heard it’s going to be combat against robots like the entrance exam” everyone straightened up now far more intrigued with the new information “One of my friends who is a few grades up filled me in. You know, cheating but oh well” I could beat them, right. I got in on recommendation so I didn’t know but I fought them in the festival and they seemed pretty easy.

Midoriya began to mumble to himself as I picked the food back up and looked down to my notes, the book was closed seconds later. Bakugous’ hand retreating as he pointed to the food in my bowl. I continued to eat, he did care about people in strange ways but still cared nonetheless.

“What kind of idiot are you Kendo” so the preppy boy was awake again. My eyes rolled by themselves this time. “You just gave away our whole strategic advantage” he whispered angrily his head rising, eyes wide as his smile. Was he ok? “This was our chance to finally pull ahead of that class full of idiots” another slap to the back of the head and he was out, being pulled out by Kendo who was calling him an idiot. A true saviour to class 1-A. Before lunch ended I made sure to give Bakugou his bowl and chopsticks back, thanking him again and asking if I could come to his study session. He agreed, a shrug but still agreed.

After lunch, everyone was talking about how the practical would be easy. It was only the exam they were now worried about. I was still stressing about every second but that was my problem. “It shouldn’t matter whether it’s robots or actual people, why are you morons so excited” the question was directed to Kaminari and Mina, they were offended by what he said but their words died down when he began to shout “Shut up” he got angry so quickly, I don’t know how he did it. “You need to learn how to control your quirk, you got it” I had to admit he had a point, they did need better control and out of everyone in the class, I think he was in the top for harnessing his quirk. “Hey Deku” his voice growled, this was the most I had heard him talk in a while. “I wanna know what’s going on with your power. I saw the way you’re using it now and I want you to know it’s seriously pissing me off” his eyes were narrowed and hands in his pockets. The training exercise, just like how he moved, had he been bottling this up for a few weeks? “I won’t have another half-ass fight, like the festival, we will be getting individual scores in the upcoming finals. New rankings” his teeth grit and his hand rose quickly pointing to the scared looking male “So we will all know exactly where we are standing. I’ll show you how much better I am and Todoroki, I’ll kill you too” with that he walked from the room, the door slamming shut.

My hands came to my cheeks once more “Am I not seen as a threat” I whispered and saw a few faces at my stress. “Oh my, does he not see me as a threat” I whispered “I was the one who beat him” I added and sighed “Although not through physical strength” Bakugou didn’t see me as a threat. I fell into my seat, my head on the desk. “Oh no,” I sighed my forehead against the wood.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen him that worked up,” Kirishima told the class then walked over and I felt a hand on my back “I’m sure he sees you as a threat, the other two are just” he paused and I rose my head slowly “people he doesn’t like” my head came crashing back to the table.

When the weekend rolled around, a group of us met at Yaoyarozus’ place, it was massive. Sure, I knew my house was big but this was something else entirely. We stood in awe, I had managed to get some sleep the night prior, regretted it in the morning but I had a bit more energy for the day ahead which I didn’t regret.

“I knew her family had cash but I didn’t know she was this rich” Kaminari voiced all our thoughts, we all nodded in unison. It looked like her house went on for acres, and I didn’t doubt it did.

Moving forward to press the bell a voice came through and the gates were open. All six of us walked to her house, large and beautiful. I didn’t understand the need for space but I could appreciate it. We were moved into the ‘great hall’ and we all sat down. Jirou, Kaminari and Sero on one side and Mina, Ojiro and I on the other books ready and awaiting our host.

It was strange seeing the others in normal clothing and I looked down seeing the baggy jumper, black ripped jeans and boots I wore on my days off. Though the boots I had to imagine, taking off our shoes before entering the house. I wouldn’t want dirt in here either.

“I could not feel any more out of place right now” Ojiro voiced and I nodded and Sero agreed verbally. It was a beautiful house and well taken care of. I couldn’t believe this is what Yaoyarozu came home to every day.

She walked in pushing a tray of tea, she was wearing a red shirt and white shorts. Even though they were ‘normal’ clothes she still looked proper in every way. She was so nice to let us over to study, honestly a gift to my week. Hours of studying went by and I got ahold of everything, I needed to do more. I was given calming tea as I shook and stressed.

“Marry me” I turned my eyes wide and hopeful. Yaoyarozu was a goddess in the body of a human. She had laughed and continued with the lesson. Over the weekend I met with that group of a day and Bakugou and Kirishima at night. A little over twelve hours of study with other people a day and then my study at home.

“How are your notes so neat?” Kirishima asked leaning over to look at my notes in the booth, having met in a cafe. I looked down, my notes were mostly colour coded for different things, having many pens and highlighters.

“I have a fear of failure” I stated and he nodded. I helped the two organise by colour coded and it seemed to help Kirishima get the hang of a few things “Look, cover, write, check” I wrote down on a posted note for him, sticking the paper to his book neatly. “The motto I live by, or just keep doing it until it’s engraved in your brain for eternity” I smiled and Bakugou nodded in agreement.

“So manly” he nodded and started my technique, this went on for a few hours until we parted ways and I let him borrow one of the study books I was done with having memorized it. He looked about ready to cry “I owe you my life” he bowed and I laughed.

Going home, eating something and then back up to my room to continue studying. Every day this week I had worked on my quirk. Expanding my area, how long I could do it for, how many things I could create, size, density. Everything had to be perfect. I worked night and day to be the best. I was going to stay in the top spot. I could do this. I hoped, begged.

The weekend went quickly but the night before the exam I slept more hours then I did the whole week, waking up I felt ‘refreshed’ and ready. I practically sprinted to school my head high and my mind ready. I had an illusion of the answers beside me, to make sure I didn’t forget anything. Answers I had studied and worked my ass off. The first exam was long and I powered through the answers, seeming to know every single one. I didn’t stop writing for the entire time, I was proud of myself.

The third day was finally over, I felt my heartbeat again “Alright pencils down, the last person of each row bring the answers to me” My page was collected and I felt a weight off my shoulders. I was breathing again, was oxygen always this good?

Yaoyarozu was then bombarded with Kaminari and Mina thanking her, I said it but I wouldn’t bet she could hear me over them. They had answered every question which was good to hear. They gave it a go. Later that day Kirishima had asked why I thanked Yaoyorozu and then the class was surprised to know I went to both sessions with the groups and then studied more at home.

The practical was still to come, I looked down at my hands. Was I ready? I had trained so hard every day, was I ready for this? I shook my head then nodded, yes, I was. I had gone up against villains, murders, Nomus and won. I can beat a few robots… There were no robots.

We were all in our hero costumes standing in front of the teachers. I was shitting bricks, to say the least. “Now then, let’s begin the last test, remember it’s possible to fail this final. If you want to go camping, don’t make any stupid mistakes” Aizawa warned. I was petrified, were all the teachers going to watch us?

“Why are all the teachers here?” Jirou questioned, good now I didn’t have to talk, a small sigh left my lips in relief. I thought it would only be Aizawa, maybe All Might if we were lucky not all of them.

“I expect many of you have gathered information and believe you have some idea of what you’ll be faced with today” I froze, we weren’t fighting robots were we? Of course, it would change for our year, why wouldn’t it?

“We’ll be fighting those big metal robots” Kaminari shouted leaning back as if to allow as much sound from his body as possible… he most likely did do that. His hands were out and Mina joined in happily smiling.

I watched as Aizawa’s scarf ruffled then Principal Nezu popped out “This year's test has been changed for various reasons” he smiled, I felt my heart sink. I was right, I was too right. Why was I right, why couldn’t we just fight the robots? “The test now has a new focus” he lowered himself with Aizawa's’ scarf and the help of No.13 “It’ll be hero work of course but also teamwork and combat against actual people. So what does that mean for you, your students will be in pairs and your opponents will be one of our esteemed UA teachers. Isn’t that fabulous” I was going to throw up. My hands were shaking as I put my hand over my mouth to try and get myself together.

“Additionally your partners and opponents have already been chosen” I was mad at that. If I lost because of my partner I was not going to be impressed. “They were determined under my discretion based on various factors including fighting style, grades and interpersonal relationships” this wasn’t going to end well. I was so sure, I was going to win but the idea of having to not only watch myself but someone else was a lot of work. “First Yaoyorozu and Todoroki are a team” he smiled pulling his scarf up “Against me. Then we have Midoriya paired with Bakugou” they turned to each other and I could feel the tension circle our group. “And their opponent is”

A loud bang and there was All Might in all his glory suited up and ready to fight “I am here” his fist was out and my heart fluttered in fear. I was so glad I wasn’t them. It was good to know I wasn’t going to be fighting the top hero and a little insulting knowing I was the first by grades and in the festival. I tried not to take it personally… I took it personally. “To fight” first Bakugou and now the teachers. “You’re going to have to work together boys, if you want to win” his smile only grew with a chuckle.

Teachers P.O.V (third person)

The teachers began to talk about the exam, explaining why it needed to be changed and how. Some teachers were against the idea but the topic of the league of villains attacking once more quickly changed their minds, why wouldn’t it? The heroes in training need to be ready if anything ever happens. Hero Killer Stain may be gone, but for how long, how long until someone takes his place? Everyone was now on the same page about the students fighting the teachers.

“Right, now let’s talk about the teams” Aizawa held a pile of papers in his hand, looking down at the first team “First, Todoroki, he’s doing quite well generally speaking but relies too much on brute force. Yaoyorozu is an all-rounder but lacks the ability to make spur of the moment decisions and apply them. Therefore I’ll erase their quirks and take advantage of their weaknesses” with the simple explanation all the teachers had agreed happily. It was fair, one liked to take control while the other feared to make decisions by erasing their quirks they would have to work together. “Next for Midoriya and Bakugou I’m leaving them to you All Might,” said male looked confused a little taken back by the conclusion of his pair. “In this case, I didn’t pair the two based on ability or classwork, I went with relationships. I know you’ve got a soft spot for Midoriya, please ensure that they learn something” Aizawa pointed out and.

“I will do my best” All Might nod in affirmative. It would be hard for the number one Hero, he did have a soft spot for the green-headed successor but he also had a soft spot for the explosive teen who loved to cause damage. He was nervous but would do what he needed.

“The next group is Anyama and Uraraka, I picked this pair based on relationships as well. I have never seen them talk and in the hero world you will need to pair with random heroes, they need to learn to pair with whoever” Aizawa explained then looked to No. 13 “I have paired them with you, both their quirks will be easy to fend off with your own and they will need to think outside the box”

“I see” No 13 pondered then nodded “I look forward to facing them, I hope they can work well together” she concluded with the other teachers agreeing. As she was given the papers to learn more about them and how their quirks worked.

“Forwarding on, Ashido and Kaminari this pair is based purely on grades. They are the lowest in class but seem to work well together. They both need work on their quirks so this is why I'm pairing them with Nezu. They need to think outside the box and quickly as well as together” Aizawas’ eyes turned to Neku who was smiling and quite happy to take the pages of the two students' information.

“Very good thinking” Nezu nodded his eyes growing narrowed and smirking “I am quite excited to face these two in the exam” everyone knew Nezus’ past and his slight dislike for the human race.

“Moving onto Tsu and Tokoyami both strong quirks but both are long-distance fighters, preferring to stay back. Relying heavily on their quirks. So Ectoplasm” Aizawa’s eyes moved to the Pro who nodded indicating he was listening. “Your clones will provide close combat as well as distance. They need to work on thinking quickly as well and not relying on their quirks”

“Understood” his creepy voice spoke out into the room, a man of few words as many knew him. The pages were handed over easily and his eyes began to scan the information. Sure all the teachers had taught them but any extra information was useful.

“The next pair is based purely on fighting style and speed, Ojiro and Iida. They work well in teams and can talk to anyone, they rely on speed and technique. This is why I'm pairing them with Power Loader because they will have to move faster, think as one and make sure they watch what is going on around them all at once” another explanation down.

“This will be interesting” Power Loaded nodded and Aizawa knew he had a smile on his face even though this headgear was stopping most from seeing. Aizawa had spent a lot of thought and time working on these pairs.

“Kirishima and Sato are with Cementoss, I paired them on strength and they have close grades as well as their quirks are both short term. Both friendly and enjoy working in teams. Let’s see how they fare against Cementoss who can change the location outlook in a matter of seconds” Aizawa smirked to the fellow Pro who thought for a moment and then nodded.

“I wouldn’t hurt them as much as the other students if I go for a hit and they need to work on speed and agility. A very good pairing Eraserhead” Cementoss nodded and took the papers. He too began to look through the information provided, he had taught them and only saw Kirishima at the festival using his quirk.

“Koda and Jirou are with Mic as they both rely on sound to use their quirk, it’ll be hard to use sound when someone is yelling over the top of them” this pair was easy to see the potential for a fight. “Koji will be required to talk more and build teamwork, Jirou will be tasked with helping him”

“Yo yo that sounds awesome Eraserhead. Perfect pair for me indeed” the loud hero smiled and nodded bobbing to music that wasn’t playing as he grabbed the papers and put them down in front of him with ease.

“Shoji and Toru will be placed with Snipe. Their quirks are stealth-based and with someone shooting at them it will be hard to stay quiet and move in silence” Aizawa conducted putting the two pages together and hitting them against the table to make them even before handing them over to the hero who only nodded.

“That leaves just me” Midnight smiled and placed her head atop her hands, her smile turning into a smirk “With Mineta and Sero am I correct,” she asked licking her lips.

“Correct. I put them with you as Mineta can get” he paused shaking his head “Distracted while Sero is mostly speeding. Both with different fighting styles and outlooks on being a hero plus I found out they both look up to you” Aizawa answered with ease handing over the last pair of pages.

“I do look forward to breaking them” licking her lips again she nodded and sighed out. Placing the pages down “Are we done? So soon” she questioned, that was a short meeting but if the pairs were decided it was to be expected.

“No, there is one more student” Aizawa sighed and everyone was paying full attention “Y/N” he breathed out and everyone nodded. “Her quirk can be used in any situation and against any quirk, plus they can become physical. She could simply put an illusion of herself and no one would know the difference” he looked down to the paper seeing her face in the picture “I don’t know what to do” he answered honestly “She was first in the festival and first grade-wise, I heard the other students. She hadn’t slept in days to study for the test” the teachers all nodded.

“Her quirk is a problem, she could easily get past any of us” Cementoss nodded adding his input into the conversation. Everyone sat in silence as Aizawa looked down to the paper with all her details. She was a perfect student for UA.

“She athletic as well” everyone turned to Snipe, the teacher who had taken her as a sidekick for a week. “She beat me in hand to hand” that stopped the teachers. “Her quirk works on thinking, she showed me something that” he paused and shook his head and licking his lips behind his mask “She had a conversation with me while also talking to a coworker at the same time. Her mind was doing two different things simultaneously while also keeping up the illusion”

Midnight shook her head “That takes extreme power, in the festival her illusion looked so real. I believed it” She added nodding her head, a hand coming to her chin to think. Cementoss agreed.

“She doesn’t rely purely on her quirk but also does. No matter who she went against, if it was a formal and acknowledged physical fight, if someone managed to beat her, I would be quite impressed” Snipe nodded as the other teachers agreed. Snipe was the only one who knew of her ‘weakness’ but he would never tell and even if he did it wouldn’t matter she knew everyone here.

“I have an idea” Principal Nezu spoke up thoughtfully and all the teachers were open ears for the suggestion “What if we all went against her at once. It would prove she’s been working on her quirk, how many things she can create at one given moment. How quickly she can think and act” it was a good idea but the idea of it was unfair. “It may seem unfair to the child but we don’t have another option” all the teachers agreed, though some not looking as determined as others. “Though she has one rule” why would she have a rule and no one else, her test was already quite unfair. “She must show at least one teacher her true self during the exercise, she needs a challenge” the teachers felt bad but it was for her good. They had to test her as hard as they could. Even if she took down two maybe three teachers they would be impressed.

“Then it’s decided, Y/N goes against all of us, at once”

Y/N P.O.V

Once all the names were called out with their pairs I looked around and was confused. I was guessing they put a group of three, had they forgotten about me? Was I not seen as a threat that much that they just excluded me? “Um” I put my hand up and the class stopped talking turning to me. “I wasn’t paired,” I said slowly smiling as I did, an awkward smile and I could see the confusion of my peers.

“You’re a special case Y/N” Aizawa looked me dead in the eyes and I nodded slowly, my eyebrows drawn in confusion as I waited for an answer pursing my lips. “You will be fighting” I nodded and smiled, OK, so I wasn’t getting kicked out or something.

“OK” I nodded slowly and looked around “Am I joining a pair or something” I looked around and saw pleading faces for me to join groups. I had to be joining a group, there was no other way to complete the test or was someone going to have to do it twice, would I do it alone?

“You will be competing alone” Aizawa added carefully and I felt my hands shake slightly, I could beat them. I nodded still confused. All the teachers were taken. What weren’t they telling me?

“Am I getting a teacher brought in or something or is a teacher doubling up?” I asked looking over everyone before landing back on Aizawa for the answer. Everyone was silent as the teachers waited for the answer and my peers listened in.

“You are very strong” Aizawa began, this didn’t sound good. Bakugou and Midoriya already had All Might who was the top hero. Was I going to be fighting Endeavor or something, Best Jeaniest maybe? I felt my heart begin to race “After some talk and decision making we decided that you” he paused and then looked straight at me with a smirk “Will be fighting us all at once” I felt my eyes grow wide and gasps were heard behind me as my heart sank.

I was going to be fighting them all… at once. Alone. Someone catch me. ________________________________________________________________

Chapter 6

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calamariimpossible · 3 years

Text

Magicians on the internet, crypto, and the email that broke me.

This is a continuation of a twitter thread that Muz (@mzkrx) started to write out in his car but then when he plotted out his thoughts, it made more sense to him to put it down in a blog format rather than a thread. You'll find out why as you read through.

Stuck in the car for half an hour so I'm gonna do a thread (Editor's note: Now a whole-ass blog post) about a strange email I got recently.

So I was casually watching magic tricks on YouTube. the funnest part of which to me is reading the comments. YouTube commenters love explaining how they think the trick is done and it's fun to read through their theories and connect dots between similar tricks, etc.

And then one time as I was scrolling I noticed a comment that didn't make sense. It was a string of an almost sentence. Intelligible enough to not be random words but odd enough to read like a trigger phrase for something.

The closest I can describe it as is like the string Zemo used to wake up the Winter Soldier, but with some syntax to it. Like "many thermos wiggle throughout exotic harbinger of circle ascending fuchsia entrapment".

Initially I thought nothing of it, but then I kept seeing them in these magic trick video comment sections. They're never the same string, and it's always under magic trick videos. from different channels even.

Hmmm.

The profiles that posted these comments are also always blank accounts with zero videos and no profile pic. Just their name. I felt like it was too much of a coincidence for these comments to only be under magic trick videos.

I also knew that the world of performance magic is thick with secrets. That is to say, there is deliberate obfuscation of information whenever you try to go online to find out how a trick works.

Magicians get together online and share information with each other just like performers of every other sort as well but the amount of code and doublespeak they use is an order of magnitude more annoying to decipher compared to say, an engineering message board or a gamedev forum.

Knowing that, I thought maybe this almost parsable gibberish I keep seeing everywhere was also some kind of code these people were using to talk to each other.

So I started investigating.

First things first, let's just Google one of the phrases. Maybe that's enough?

And it sorta was.

Pasting them onto the search bar lent me to only 1 result (wild!) and it was a website that looked really dank. Like geocities dank. Annoying neon colours and badly margined jpegs of tarot card images everywhere and a big bold header text that said something to the effect of:

"Congratulations, you've found our hidden message. This portal is only for those seeking knowledge beyond what is on the surface. Continue below."

* * *

I haven't been doing well. I feel like I say that too much. I say it on Patreon, on my personal podcast, whenever any of my friends ask me how I'm doing, pretty much everywhere. I feel very heavy. I understand I'm not the only one feeling like this during a pandemic.

Duh.

But I have this other version of worry that I can't quite articulate until right now: I'm scared I won't be funny anymore. Anwar and Farid can attest that even during our recordings I don't feel up to being funny. I question my jokes a lot. I barely enjoy telling them. I'm worried I'm letting everyone down.

To me, silliness and absurdism as virtues only make sense when the world has trace amounts of injustice and wrongness that training ourselves to see it in our everyday helps us remind ourselves of what is just and fair. The more we consume silliness, the more we are able to recognize silly and point it out. So we don't ignore it when things go wrong, so we talk about it, manage it. So we can take care of each other.

Maybe I can't be sure if we're all up for taking care of each other right now.

* * *

"Continue below" seems instructive, but it wasn't. Like I mentioned, the margins were haphazard and the CSS was all over the place. Some jpegs were straight up cropped off.

Meaning I can't be sure what "below" meant. But there were clickable images and text so I was readily intrigued.

It was tantalizing. Did I stumble into some secret order of Extremely Online Magicians? Maybe I'll finally find out why there aren't many female magicians out there. Maybe it's some sort of secret initiation to a secret message board full of secrety secrets. Secretly.

Y'all.

I didn't click on any of the linked images or anything. I closed the tab. That was the end of that.

An earlier version of myself would gladly run headlong into this rabbit hole to find out more and sink hours into some goddessforsaken labyrinth of links. But the current version of me recognizes this for what it almost certainly is: an abandoned roleplaying game.

Back in the early 00s when the internet was the realm of nerds and nerds only, it was full of people who loved sharing things for sharing's sake. It used to be punk rock to maintain a blog that only talked about snails or have a lo-fi YouTube channel that uploads biweekly 3-minute news about your house, or manage a little message board where people roleplay as wizards who rummage around the net looking for clues.

That last part was a thing I remember being actively involved in. In '03, a group of online friends and I wrote up a scavenger hunt of sorts where we sent people through various blog pages that we have where the goal is to just dick around and have fun. We wasted each other's time for sure. Hundreds of hours of it for literally no gain at all but for some laughs and fun memories.

The internet isn't like that anymore. People don't share something online for sharing anymore. Not really. There's this idea that if you put stuff out there, you want people's attention because numbers are good. You get a lotta reblogs and RTs and Likes which means people Like you.

If you don't have a lotta numbers, you don't matter. If you do, everyone has to talk about what you said or did because it's 'News' now.

Isn't that kinda gross, you think? That we need people to interact through an app to be sure that we're Liked? I say "we" but I mean me. I've successfully poisoned my brain to believe this to a certain extent too and it's not good.

I felt myself physically react when I closed that geocities magician website tab. I shuddered because my brain went from "this is cool" to "I gotta let people know I found this" to "this'll get me hella RTs" to "ew Muz why did you think that" within 3 seconds and I was disgusted with myself.

As a dude who started my online presence on YouTube and parlayed it into my real life comedy/writing career, I've believed for a long time that doing good work and putting it out there is what it takes for a working creative to make it because that's what I did. So there's this idea that making stuff and having it be seen is some kind of virtuous.

But it's not anymore. People pick fights with children for clout. Newspapers post about people's tweets as if its important. People are investing in crypto, a thing that literally only exists as electrical waste on a grand scale. We're boiling the oceans to yell at each other over nothing and exchange bits of code everyone agrees has ever-rising value but doesn't. Everyone is making and eating junk, it feels like.

So am I making junk? Have I just been making useless junk for literally over a decade now? Is that what I've been good for this entire time?

* * *

So the email.

It was a response from a company I applied to for a job. I applied as a creative writer and they're an advertising agency.

Receiving emails from a prospective employer when you're in need of a job is exciting! So soon after I applied, too. Wonderful. Here's what it said:

We just received your application today but would love to extend the opportunity for you to participate in the Case Competition as a prerequisite of your job application for Creative Writer position with [REDACTED] and stand a chance to be a winner for cash awards up to a total worth of RM1,800.

Yea.

They want me to enter a competition where I compete with other candidates to get a chance of being hired.

This company saw how many people applied for a job with them, and decided to dangle some cash and throw it over the fence to see which candidate will fight for it the most.

I didn't expect to feel vomitous after reading an email but that did it. I almost dry heaved. That's where we are now.

Recruiters see a glut of applicants and decided to play Fall Guys. These people watch Istana Takeshi and think Takeshi is the good guy. It hurts. It hurt me. That email caused me pain.

I can't at all empathise with recruiters who think this was okay to do. They really believed that creative writers will do a little dance for them just for money.

Look, I know we all need to eat. But I can also hate that people undervalue the work of creatives to this painful extent.

I don't give a shit about earning a lot of dough. I just wanna make things that tickle people. I want you to smile more.

That's the whole point of that weird little YouTube comment that led to the quirky website. That's the whole idea of making silly videos and dumb tweets and memes. We just want you to laugh.

But it seems people think so little of joy that they'll do whatever they can to avoid legitimately supporting and paying for stuff that gets them through the day. So much so that they want free work from us for the potential of maybe being able to get paid for more work. It breaks me, man.

I hate that I cannot make a living just trying my best to make people happy.

That's the best way I know to take care of you.

I know I don't just 'make junk' for a living. People have messaged me personally that my work has helped them get through tough times in school, in their relationships, at the office and I am eternally grateful that they took the time to tell me that.

I just also wish my feelings about my work aren't easily brought down by the majority of people who insist its worthless. Even if sometimes those people is me.

So forgive me if I won't be funny for a while. I'm gonna need some time to process this. Thank you for reading. I love you.

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lightanddarklove · 4 years

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Connverse Week Day 2: Singing

Singing while Sloshed

Rated: Teen | Tw: Drinking/ Drunkenness

This is obscenely long for what was supposed to be a drabble so I'm just going to link @susoftjockau, they’re incredibly wholesome and cute.

Edit: I may have gotten a few things wrong because I posted at 3 am, & this is an unbeta’d work. Also, being that I am not affiliated with the SJ AU, I don’t know if Fiona’s personality at all fits within its standard. If there’s another cheerleader character that her actions would make more sense for, I can totally change it. Its Connverse focused after all.

The first song Steven's riffing on is "It's Only Love" (though you may know it as Michelle) by The Beatles. The second song is "Love Like You," Steven Universe's extended credits theme.

I am continuing this for thursday’s prompt, together, as I orginally wanted them to have a conversation in the morning but at 3 am I had to call this done. I wrote over 4k words in one day that I was off from work and I can’t be doing that again, or staying up later, haha.

Lastly, the idea that Steven only likes sweet alcoholic bevs is hardwired into me, as someone who hates beer and wine, I think he wouldn't like them either. I mean he doesn't like energy drinks for stars sake (he makes a face when drinking one in Kevin Party), what about beer would be appealing when he can have wine coolers and ciders?

Anyway, feedback makes me smile, even if you tell me about typos or that I could be doing something better. Please let me know of I neglected any tags I should mention. Thanks for reading!

Edit 2: Tumblr mobile ate this post so when I got back home and tried to fix i the format didn’t have my readmore, so if you reblog it won’t be as much of a wall of text anymore. Sorry!

A night at a party for College-age Steven and Connie results in one too strong drink, a clumsy walk home, and embracing each other through the tears. Hurt-Comfort in the Soft Jock AU. Established relationship, but no significant physical intimacy. Rated T for drinking and one use of mild language. Some depression talk and self esteem issues too. Teen.

Steven had been sitting at a table, enjoying the music and sipping a soda in a red plastic cup until all that was left was ice. He was waiting for Connie to finish her conversation with Natalie across the room. He bobbed his head lightly to the music playing from the speaker by the doorway. He was smiling at Connie until Fiona came to sit down in front of him. He sat up a bit straighter and looked at her.

“Hey Fiona,” he said.

“You sticking around, Universe? Or you itching to get out of here,” asked Fiona.

“I wouldn’t say I’m itching to get out of here,” he replied. “But Connie and I were looking to leave soon.”

“Do you want another drink before you go?”

“Well, I did already have 2 wine coolers earlier, so I think I’m done for the night.”

“Really,” she asked. “I mean, how long ago was that? Like 10?”

“10:30,” he replied. “But I have to get home soon, anyway.”

“That was almost 2 hours ago.” She said. “You can have another drink. I’ll be right back, wait here. You like soda and orange flavor, right?” She began to stand and he tried to wave her back.

“Don’t trouble yourself for me, Fiona.”

“If you like soda and fruit juices, you’ll like it. You can barely taste the alcohol, the way I make it. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll make one for each of us.”

“Well, ok.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, just past the speakers. He tapped his foot and glanced back to Connie, who had leaned into Natalie as their conversation continued. Natalie had on a wry expression as she finished telling Connie something, and Connie threw her head back and laughed. It was nice to see Connie be more comfortable with herself after a few years in college. To see her laughing at a party and not have himself be the cause of it was a good feeling. Steven can’t help but feel his chest swell with pride. He smiled at her but didn’t try to get her attention yet.

With a clink, a glass was set down in front of him, Fiona sliding in from his peripherals. The drink didn’t look bubbly, a brown-orange tone with a few ice cubes and a lemon wedge hung over its rim. The glass looked like a juice glass, not designed to hold over 10 ounces, and it wasn’t full, so he assumed it was about a 6 to 8 oz drink. Fiona had her glass in her hand as she sat next to Steven with smirk.

“Ready to try something new, Steven?” Fiona asked. “Take a sip without the lemon first, then squirt it if you want it more sour.” She raised her glass, waiting to have him give her a cheers with his.

He lifted the drink and clinked hers, quietly saying “Cheers,” before bringing it to his lips. Sweet and sour was the first flavor he noted, and then mostly orange, with some cola blending in and a minor alcoholic tang. He was pretty sure the base of the liquor was tequila, but there were other flavors he couldn’t identify, since he was pretty new to trying drinks. He nodded and smiled after the first sip. “It’s good.”

“You like?” Fiona replied, voice coy.

“Yeah,” he said, and with two gulps his drink was almost gone. She snorted, seeing how quick he had downed the cocktail. He gasped quietly, the burn in his throat stronger than the flavors had made it out to be.

“Careful there, Universe, or you’ll be on the floor,” Fiona remarked. “You aren’t a lightweight, are you?”

“Its fine,” he replied, downing the last sip. His eyes drifted back to Connie who was quickly approaching from across the room, brows knitted in concern, and Natalie behind her. He moved to stand from the stool and stumbled slightly, not expecting to be feeling the alcohol so quickly. Connie moved her arms to steady him.

“You ok?” she asked, eyeing him over. Steven gave a dopey smile and leaned on her slightly.

“Heeeeeyyyy Connieeee,” his voice turning sultry and mellow. His lowered pitch sent a chill up her spine, but she pushed the feeling that thrilled her down and rounded on Fiona, glaring.

“What did you give him?” Connie barked.

“It looked like a Long Island Iced Tea,” Natalie said from behind Connie.

“I call it…” Fiona replied, pausing for effect and waving her half-finished drink in one hand, “a Strong Island Iced Tea. It’s got more tequila and sours than the standard.”

“A Long Island Iced Tea,” Connie half-shouted, exasperated. “Are you kidding me, Fiona? That has 5 kinds of alcohol in it!”

“Whoa,” Steven remarked quietly but with his lowered tone it made Connie feel warm in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t know that. You’re so smart, Connie.” Her cheeks burned with blush as he said it with such adoration.

“He’s hammered,” Natalie crooned, half-way hiding a chuckle, before straightening up and gesturing her hand out. “Gimmie his keys. He shouldn’t be driving anywhere tonight.”

“I’m not hammered, jus’ a lil’ tipsy.” He slurred. He swayed slightly as Connie fished through his Jacket pocket. “Gimme an hour and I’ll be fiinnneee.”

“Definitely not,” she replied firmly, but not harshly. She handed Natalie Steven’s car keys. “You can stay with me tonight, ok? Sleepover?” He gasped with excitement.

“Sleepover!” he warbled hazily. “With Connie. You’re so sweet.” Her face felt hotter, as she gripped his hand in hers.

“Thanks for this, Fiona,” Connie said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “See you later.” Fiona grinned and waved.

“Don’t dare take advantage of him,” Natalie called, starting to walk back toward the party-goers. “I’ll find out. And make sure he hydrates.” She took out her phone and sent a group text to Steven and Connie, I have your keys, come get them after you’ve slept it off.

“I got this,” Connie replied, exasperation clear in her tone. She looked back in his face at his reddening eyes and put on a plating smile, trying to speak more kindly. “Let’s go get some rest, ok? You look tired.”

“You’re the best, Connie.” He said, glowing with inebriation. She began to lead him out when he started to serenade her, causing her mild blush to spread to her ears, face beet red. The tune was recognizable, a reworked Beatles cover.

“Connie, my sweet

You have made my heart feel joy complete

My Connie.”

“He doesn’t normally do this in front of others,” she called, voice slightly shaken with embarrassment to the partygoers as she led him through the entryway. “Please ignore us and have a good night.” They passed through the main doorway of the off campus housing as he continued his song.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble”

His French pronunciation was faltering. She knew he was at an intermediate Italian level. But in trying to speak French, it sounded like he had tried Duolingo for an hour and was making a fool of himself pretending he had been doing it his whole life. He pitched forward again and she had to nearly dive to keep him upright. She hoisted as much of his broad shoulders and chest over her smaller frame without attempting to carry him outright as he sang sweetly in her ear, legs stumbling behind her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you

That's all I want to say

Until I find a way

I will say the only words I know that you'll understand”

She lead him on sidewalks, trying to take the most direct route to her dorm and avoiding uneven surfaces as best she could. Her blush had died down, mainly because other people weren’t watching them. The way his warm frame leaned against her dragging the thrilling feeling out of her again, making her heart pound firmly against her ribs. Still, she tried to keep focus and lead them out of the chill night air as quick as she could.

“Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

I need to, I need to, I need to

I need to make you see

Oh, what you mean to me

Until I do, I'm hoping you will know what I mean

I love you”

“You’re so sappy,” Connie replied, voice quiet. “I know that you would do his sober, but I just wish this kind of thing was just for the two of us, you know?”

“I want you, I want you, I want you

I think you know by now

I'll get to you somehow

Until I do, I'm telling you so you'll understand”

She leaned against him as she held his hand outside of her dorm, fumbling with her keys as she kept her left hand gripped tight to his right.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

And I will say the only words I know that you'll understand

My Connie.”

He faltered a bit as they came through the doorway, smacking his left arm just above his wrist as she lead him upstairs to her room. Connie winced at the sound. She was grateful her roommate Carly was out of town for the evening. She still probably will hear about it, the rumor mill ran strong on this campus, but at least Connie was spared from more embarrassment this evening.

“You done now?” she asked. She sat him down on the bed and dug through her closet for his spare pair of sweatpants she kept there.

“Uh-huh,” Steven replied, voice thick and alluring. “Thanks for takin’ me back, Strawberry, I know you always lookin’ out for me. I’m lucky I have someone like you. Love you.”

She shivered at the praise, avoiding his eyes as she set the pants down on a clean patch of floor.

“You need to drink some water and take some aspirin before bed.” Connie ordered. “Stay put, I’m going to get both of those things.” She pulled her own pajamas from the corner of the bed and closed the bathroom door behind her. She grabbed the aspirin bottle from the cabinet and set it on the counter. Glancing back to ensure that the door was fully closed, she peeled her outfit off quickly and tugged her PJs on. Grabbing her hairbrush and two pills from the bottle of medicine, she backed outside. Steven still sat on the bed, swaying lazily.

“Hiiii Connnniiieeee.” His voice had drawn back up to its usual tenor as he greeted him. She smiled.

“Hi Steven, stay here for a minute, ok?” She replied. “I’m going to the kitchen, and I want you to wait because I don’t want to risk you falling on the stairs.” She placed the brush on the pants she had set out and kept the pills clutched to her palm by her ring and pinky finger.

“Yooooouuuu got it!” He gave a thumbs up.

She darted out of the room after he confirmed he would stay, and hurried down the stairs. She pulled 2 water bottles from the fridge, both eco-friendly bottles that she and Steven had shared before. After grabbing clean reusable straws from the drying rack to put in the bottles, she marched back upstairs. She left her door open and found Steven had taken his shoes and jacket off in the time she was gone. He laid on his stomach, feet crossed and head propped up on his arms across her bed diagonally.

“You’re cute in your PJs, Connie.” He caught her off guard with that compliment. But she crossed the room anyway and sat next to his head. Despite how lucid he sounded, it was best he got some water in him before going to sleep.

“Thanks, but can you sit up for me? I have some medicine I need to give you and then I’ll brush your hair.”

“Yay! Sleepover activities!” He propped himself up onto his elbows and stuck his tongue out, leaning his head back for the aspirins. She was glad he trusted her this much, but it was a bit worrying that he was so lax. She hoped he would always keep himself safe as he dropped the two pills into his open mouth and pressed the straw of the bottle to his tongue. He leaned on one hand as he took the bottle from her in the other, sipping the water through the straw. If he was always this trusting while drunk, someone could take advantage of him, and that thought scared her. She wanted to think about anything else, so she gently took his curls in her hand and gave them a gentle stroke. A chill went along his back and shoulders and he made a little excited noise.

“I want to brush your hair,” she offered. “Can I take your hair tie out?”

“Mmm-hmm,” his response came around the straw. With a gentle tug the hair tie was out and his curls came loose, framing his maturing face. She stood, watching him as she moved toward the brush on the floor. He finished his sip and let out a contented sigh. “I hope I haven’ been too much trouble, Berry.”

“What?” she asked as she got the brush and came back to sit next to him.

“I’m all loopy, an’ you’ve been takin’ care of me.” His response was quiet but mostly coherent.

“I know you would do the same for me, drunk, sick or whatever, Biscuit,” she replied. “I’m not upset that you need help. It’s ok to ask. Now I’m gonna ask that you sit in front of me so I can brush your hair.”

“Kaaay.” He called, setting the water down on her end table. She gasped as he suddenly rolled off the bed and landed on his left forearm and knees, not reacting quite fast enough to catch himself with his hands. It was still impressive he hadn’t fallen onto his face.

“Steven-“Connie scolded.

“Huh?” he sat up and scooted his back up against her knees.

“Don’t be so careless,” she replied. “You scared me. And drink your water, please.”

“I can do that,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle and then rested his head touching her knees. She flipped his hair up onto her thighs, accessing the ends and began brushing. He hummed contentedly. “You’re great, Connie. I’m glad that this all didn’ go badly.” Her brows furrowed with concern as she worked through his tangles. “Was scared, ya know? If you weren’ keeping me calm, I might’ve been the angry drunk type, an’ made a mess of things.”

“I-“ Connie felt her hands shake slightly as she tried to muster a response. “That could happen to anybody, you shouldn’t worry too much…”

“Buh my powers, if ‘m not careful, I could hurt somebody, then I’d get expelled, or arrested, fer sure.” She gripped the brush tightly and accidentally pulled back on a knot. He hissed quietly through his teeth and she dropped the brush. His shoulders trembled slightly and she heard a sniff. She dropped down onto her knees, hugging him from behind.

“No Steven,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.” He sniffed again, putting his water down and scrubbed at his face.

“Turns out… I’m actually a sad drunk,” he joked, and turned to face her. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and he gasped. “Oh nooooo… now I’ve made you sad. I’m sorry. ‘m so sorry. So so sorry.” He turned around fully, kneeling and held her tight to his chest. Fat tears dripped down his cheeks. She clutched to his shirt, resting her head on his shoulder and let her own tears fall.

“You don’t- you shouldn’t feel like it’s- it isn’t your fault,” she stuttered.

“I made you cr-cry,” He bawled. “I’m always hurting people, even wh-when I don’t meeean to.” She took a steadying breath, trying to defuse his turbulent emotions.

“You’re allowed to forgive yourself, Steven,” she replied, looking up. Her eyes still shone with wetness, staring into his face as he looked away.

“I- I- embar- rrassed you, I made you cryyyy, and- nd I burdened you with my prob-blems,” he hiccupped. “I shouldn’ be here- I need to-“He moved to stand but Connie held tight.

“No.” she ordered. “You should stay. You’re upset and you’re allowed to be. You can talk to me about anything. Please don’t go. I’ll worry if you leave.”

“B-B-but…”

“Please,” she repeated.

That was convincing enough. He wilted into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder. Any sign of resistance melted away into fatigue. A few trace sobs shook his frame before they quieted. She kept one hand on his shoulder and grabbed Steven’s water with the other. She pulled away long enough to press the drink into his hands. He nodded, sitting down fully and drinking quietly. She sat in front of him and ran one hand through his hair, and gave him gentle strokes on his upper arm with her opposite arm.

“You look like you’re stewing.” She remarked gently. “Having a few drinks doesn’t make you a bad person. Asking for help doesn’t either. I’ll gladly have a few embarrassing stories about me if it means you get to go home safe tomorrow. Letting you leave by yourself and get hurt would have been far worse than anything else that could have gone wrong. You deserve to be safe, ok?” He nodded meekly, finishing the drink with a loud slurp. “You aren’t asking too much to be here. You don’t deserve to feel like a burden, and no one I know would ever say that about you.” He quietly leaned forward, dropping the empty bottle to the space between his thighs and went to press his forehead to hers. She obliged him.

“Thank you,” he half-whispered.

“Now, are you steady enough to stand, or will you need help getting changed?” she leaned over to where the sweatpants she had put out for him earlier sat and pulled herself close to him after grabbing them. He opened his palms to her and let her place them in his hands.

“I think I got it.” His face was tinged with blush at the suggestion. He pressed his right palm to the floor, moving to stand. She pulled herself to her feet first and offered him a hand up. He threw his pants over his shoulder and took his hand. She smiled gently at him. He fondly returned the gesture, steadily making his way to the bathroom door.

“Oh wait, I just want to grab something out of there,” she called, hurriedly stepping in front of him. She snatched the aspirin off the counter and put it away, grabbing makeup wipes and a compact mirror from her medicine cabinet. She stepped out, gesturing behind her. “It’s all yours. Please be careful, maybe sit on the toilet to get changed? I don’t want you to fall.”

With a sigh he nodded. He stepped through the doorway and closed it behind him. She leaned against the wall next to the door and took a make-up wipe out, swiping her mascara streaked eyes before opening the compact. As she worked the wipe across her face she herd Steven’s gentle singing come through the door, just over the sounds of him changing.

“If I could begin to be

Half of what you think of me

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

When I see the way you act

Wondering when I'm coming back

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you”

She recognized the song as being something he had said the gems had sung for him when he was young. It stung that he might think these kind of thoughts about himself. She swallowed hard.

“Love like you

I always thought I might be bad

Now I'm sure that it's true

'cause I think you're so good

And I'm nothing like you”

“Steven, I promise that isn’t true…” She called through the wall. She heard him stand and move toward the door.

“Look at you go

I just adore you

I wish that I knew

What makes you think I'm so special…”

She stood as the door opened and embraced him. He leaned forward into her and sang quietly into her neck. She held him close and rubbed soothing circles into his shoulders. He swayed gently into her touch as he crooned.

“If I could begin to do

Something that does right by you

I would do about anything

I would even learn how to love

When I see the way you look

Shaken by how long it took

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you

Love like you

Love me like you…”

They stood in silence for a moment and just enjoyed being held by each other. After a bit, she lowered her hand and took him by the wrist, leading him to the bed. After he sat, she took her garbage and placed it near the head of the bead and cleared her night stand.

“You’re going to be on the outside of the bed tonight.” She remarked quietly. “I’m the big spoon this time. Just let me know if you start to feel sick. I don’t care if I’m sleeping, I will hold your hair back.” He nodded. “How do you feel right now?”

“Not great, but, better than before,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m going to try and make it better. Lie down, ok?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He obliged without protest. She grabbed the comforter, tucked him in and crossed the room, shutting the light off. She stepped over him and lied down by his left shoulder. She untucked that side of the bed to get herself firmly snuggled into the weighted blanket, and nimbly re-tucked them both in.

“Night, biscuit.” She murmured. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied. “Night.” He turned to face away, pointing his face toward the trash bin in case his stomach lurched in protest while sleeping. She rubbed few more gentle circles into his back and let herself be comforted with his warmth beside him. He heard her breathing even out before long, hoping that sleep would come easier with her beside him. It wasn’t long before the heaviness in his heart was outweighed by heavy eyelids, and drifted into slumber.

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

Morning came, as it always did, a bit too soon for Connie’s liking. She gave a quiet sigh through her nose and lifted her head to check on Steven, who she could hear was snoring quietly. He had turned in the night to lie on his back, and his calf draped over her lower legs. His expression looked peaceful, but dark circles still showed on the pale skin beneath his eyes. Craning her neck, she could see the bathroom had looked as she had left it, as did the trash bin. It was unlikely seeing these two things in place that he had gotten sick in the night and not woken her.

She laid back down, pressing her face into the soft skin of his upper arm. He smiled contentedly but stayed asleep. It was a Sunday, so no pressing commitments for either of them. She could let him rest and deadlines for Monday be damned. She draped her arm across his torso, and let herself melt into the bed. She told him he deserved to be safe, and she never felt safer than with her next to him. Hopefully, the reverse was true, and she could help him to feel safe and loved. For now, what he needed was sleep, and she wouldn’t deny him that peace. He gave her joy and that was precious to her. So she would help however she could, and that meant staying in bed. She would take it any day.

#Connverse Week #Fanfiction #JambudWeek #Connverse #Steven Universe: Future #SU Fanfic #Steven Universe #Connie Maheswaran #SU Soft Jock AU #my precious gem child #drunkfic #hurt/comfort #non-betad #my writing

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cluttermind · 4 years

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Without A Parachute (6/15) - Feels Like This

Summary: Emma worked tremendously hard to give herself a better chance. From group homes, to living in her car, to ivy league student, this English Major’s only solace was escaping her reality through books. One night, Emma comes home to find a small package with only her name on it written in beautiful calligraphy. The package contains a thick, brown leather journal. Emma soon learns that the fiction she writes in the journal eventually becomes reality. Will Emma learn to control this gift, or will she fall too fast into the temptation to change too much? With the help of her good friends August, Robin, and Elsa, and the mysterious, intriguing bartender of The Jolly Roger, Emma discovers just how easy it is to lose control, and how difficult it is to pick up the pieces.

Rating: M

Words: 24,187 total / 6,381 Ch 6

Read on ao3: Beginning | Current

Note: I'm SO sorry this took longer than I had anticipated to write. To make up for the delay it's a slightly longer chapter with a lot of fluff and some smut mixed if (so if that's not your thing feel free to scroll through that part). I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading, for your comments, and for your support. Stay safe out there everyone! I’d definitely read this one on ao3 for formatting since I might miss some italics here

When it feels like this, like a light came on

And you look at me like I’m all you want

I got everything at my fingertips

How can I resist when it feels like this?

-Maisie Peters, Feels Like This

“You had one fucking job! She told you exactly what to do, wrote it all out for you, you incompetent monkey.” A dark figure shrieked at the man in the hoodie, Emma’s necklace digging into the palm of a tightly clenched fist.

“She’ll do what you need her to. It was enough,” the man responded.

“That’s up to Him to determine,” the figure said. “You have no idea what He’s capable of.”

“I can handle myself you bitch. I played my part. You and I both know that you’re no more of a pawn in His game than I am.”

“You’re just a pathetic excuse for a man who had nothing better to do. Apparently you’re not even capable of a quick fuck. You’re an expendable sidekick. He created you thousands of years ago to run His errands, to do His dirty work. I can give Him what he wants and He can help me get my revenge and even now after all this time you’re still useless.”

“I. Played. My. Part. You’d be nowhere without me.” The man closed the distance between him and the dark figure. “You’re just mad you can’t bring her down by yourself. You need Him. You need us and that kills you.”

“At least I have a reason, you’re just evil,” the figure snarled at him.

“And that is exactly why you like me.” The man stepped closer to the figure, closing the distance between them, his tone resembling something close to seduction although the animal-like hiss still remained.

“He won’t be happy,” the figure responded, ignoring the man’s advances.

“It was enough. Just wait. The darkness in her is bound to consume her. It’s only a matter of time.”

“She’ll pay for what she did.”

***

Two weeks later, midterms were finally over which meant spring break had finally started. Emma and Killian had been texting regularly, usually late at night and in the morning when Emma wasn’t drowning under books or in class. She barely slept. Whenever she finally calmed herself down from exam stress enough to close her eyes every night, the nightmares she had shook her to her core and kept her from sleeping. So she was looking forward to a break.

It was Friday. Most students had already left for hometowns or vacation destinations to escape the cold, including Elsa, August and Robin. Campus and Collegetown were nearly empty. Killian had suggested they go out to dinner to celebrate the end of her exam period and kick off her spring break. The thing was, Emma had no idea what this dinner was.

Was it a night out between friends?

Was it a date?

Were they grabbing a slice of pizza around the corner?

Were they going somewhere nice?

Were they walking?

Were they driving?

Was she driving?

Was he driving?

Did he expect something after?

Emma nervously stared at the two dresses she owned hanging in her sorry excuse for a closet. Elsa, unfortunately, left for break the night before and since Emma wasn’t sure what this dinner was she didn’t ask her friend if she could borrow a dress. So she opted for the flowy pink dress Mary Marget helped her buy for her high school graduation and pulled her hair up into a ponytail to keep her from looking too overdressed. After her last night out, she opted for shorter heels that she had a better chance at balancing and walking in even though they would inevitably cause her pain.

Still having about half an hour before Killian was supposed to pick her up, she fiddled her hands nervously as she paced her small room. Compared to his beautiful apartment in a building he owned, Emma’s ratty, run-down, strictly-a-place-to-sleep college apartment was an utter embarrassment. It was the cheapest thing she could find and the only thing she could afford and the last thing she wanted Killian to see.

Quickly, Emma shoved a change of clothes, socks, sneakers, pajamas, and her toiletries into her backpack (a little presumptuous but honestly a night away from an apartment that she had been having endless nightmares in that was empty except for her was something she welcomed, and maybe even hoped for). She threw her bag over her shoulder and left her apartment, walking toward the Jolly Roger.

She got there with 15 minutes to spare. It was mostly empty so she took her usual spot at the bar, setting her bag on the chair next to her.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asked.

“Uhm just a Coke, thanks,” Emma responded. “It’s Will Scarlet right? I think we met briefly before.”

“Yeah! It’s . . .” Will paused, clearly not remembering her name.

“Emma,” she smiled.

“Right! Emma. The Captain’s friend,” he noted, as if he was trying to commit it to memory. Will handed her the soda she asked for. She paid and sipped it slowly, hoping the bubbled would help settle her nervous stomach. They engaged in small talk for a bit, Will telling her some funny stories about patrons he observed. He was actually quite funny and the jokes were a welcomed distraction.

“Swan?” Killian had just come down from his apartment. He had traded his usually rock-star black for a more romantic blue for the evening. He donned dark navy dress pants and a matching vest over a pale blue dress shirt, black dress shoes, a black black belt and a black leather jacket. In one hand he held his keys and his phone; in the other he held a single red rose. “I was just about to leave to pick you up.”

She stood from her spot at the bar. “Oh right, sorry. I was ready early and my apartment was getting too quiet so I figured I’d just meet you here.”

“You look beautiful, love.” He sweetly kissed her cheek and handed her the rose.

Emma blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she took the flower. “Thank you.” Date. Definitely a date.

Killian turned to Will. “You good here, mate?”

“Yup, have fun!”

Killian picked up Emma’s bag from the chair it was on and slung it over his shoulder, as if the fact that she had an overnight bag hadn’t phased him at all. If it did, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, it hadn’t phased him at all. They had spent nearly every night talking to each other until one of them fell asleep. He missed her. She hadn’t been to the pub to study for her exams as she wasn’t sure she was capable of handling the rush of memories that might flood her mind upon returning here for the first time since the incident while also having to deal with midterms. He missed her voice, her laugh, the way she kissed him, the way she smiled at him. He missed the easy rise and fall of her chest as she slept against him. Killian was far too deep into this for his own good but the effect she had on him was unstoppable. All at once she lit his world on fire and kept him grounded.

“Shall we?” He asked. Leading her out of the pub, he rested one hand on the small of her back and walked her to his car.

Emma was barely able to form words, lost in her own thoughts. Exams were over. He was taking her on a date . He brought her a rose . She felt so free that it was like she was breathing fresh air for the first time. Emma could count on one hand the number of dates she had been on (meaning the one she was currently on). No one in high school was interested in dating the foster child or the girl who lived in her tiny car. People barely gave her the time of day, let alone got dressed up for her or bought her a rose. It wasn’t until Killian had started the car that she was able to find her voice again.

“You look nice, Killian.” She smiled at him, still holding the rose close to her, cherishing the sweet gift.

“Some might even say devilishly handsome ,” he smirked.

“Hah.” Emma snorted and rolled her eyes. “Remind me not to feed your ego ever again.” Killian laughed. It was the sweetest sound Emma had ever heard. “So where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, love.” They sat the rest of the short ride in comfortable silence. Emma’s heart was fluttering in a mess of excitement and nervousness. Eventually he pulled the car up to BoatYard Grill, a beautiful restaurant right on the water. It was a perfect balance of classy and casual, and even though it was too dark to be able to look out and really see the water, there was something magical, something romantic, about the feeling of the lakeside air.

Parking the car and slipping out of the driver’s seat, Killian jogged around to Emma’s side to open the door for her. “Milady,” he said, offering her a hand that she happily took with her free hand (one still held the rose that she refused to let go of).

She giggled as she got out of the car, Killian closing the door behind her. “Why thank you, Captain .”

Killian kept her hand in his as he led her to the restaurant, telling the hostess that he has a reservation under Jones. He made a reservation for her . There were little things that Emma had never experienced growing up in the foster system. Dinner reservations was one of them. And Killian took the time and made the effort to plan an evening. For her. For them. Oh Swan you’re really in it with this one.

They were seated at a quiet table for two in the back of the restaurant. Killian ordered a glass of wine. Emma stuck with water. Even though she had a pretty solid fake, she hadn’t been too keen on drinking ever since -

“How was your last exam today?” Killian asked.

“Oh fine. Intro to Psych is pretty easy. It feels so nice to have a break for a bit.”

“Are you heading home for break?” He asked, curiously. As much as they spoke, Emma never talked about home.

“Uhm.” Emma hesitated, unsure of whether to tell him the truth. The last thing she wanted was for Killian to look at her differently. But he was someone who had seen her at her worst and held her through the night when she was desperate to not be alone. “No. I, uhm, don’t really have a home. I grew up being shuffled around foster homes in Minnesota until I was 16 and lived in my car for two years so I could finish high school in one school just to have a shot at an Ivy League.”

“Emma I’m so sorry.” Killian reached across the table, resting a hand on hers. She didn’t see the typical pity in his eyes that she had seen in others who knew her story. She saw sympathy. Still, Emma wanted to change the subject and remembered the University of Oxford shirt he had given her to sleep in once.

“So you went to Oxford?”

“Aye, for a year. Then I spent two years mostly traveling and sailing before my grandfather stopped funding my escapades and told me to get my act together. So I came here and decided to open the pub.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Killian welcomed the interruption when their waiter came to take their orders. This wasn’t a story he was itching to share, let alone share on a first date. Once the waiter left, an older woman popped by the table after the waiter left.

“Killian, my boy!”

Killian stood to hug the woman, “Angela, it’s good to see you.”

“How’s your grandmother doing? Where in the world is she now? It’s impossible to contact her these days!”

“Belize? I think? At least that’s where the last postcard was from.” Killian shrugged. “How are you?”

“Oh just fine. Business is good, Jim is good, although he sure does miss having your grandfather around.”

“They were always up to something.” Killian said, fond memories of his grandfather and Angela’s husband betting nickels and dimes in poker every week at the lake house in the summer and, once he opened the pub, taking up their designated seats at the bar nearly every day.

“And who’s this pretty lady?” Angela turned her attention to Emma.

“Angela this is Emma, my -”

“Girlfriend?!” Friend! He was going to say friend! Fuck! What if Emma bolts? Emma and Killian both blushed furiously. “You know Jim and I were just saying that it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone.”

Killian cleared his throat, scratching behind his ear, clearly flustered. Emma, who was still slightly able to form a semi-cohesive thought interjected. “It’s nice to meet you Mrs . . .?”

“Oh sweetie just call me Angela. He’s a special one you know?” She jabbed Killian in the chest playfully.

Emma smiled up at Killian. “Yeah. I know.” Killian grinned back at her.

Angela noticed their attention was clearly on eachother. “Well I’ll leave you two to enjoy your evening. Just holler if you need anything!” With that they were alone again and Killian reclaimed his seat across from Emma who was giggling.

“She seems lovely.” Emma noted.

“Aye, she is. Sorry about the whole -”

There were two ways this conversation could go. Emma could play it safe or she could take a risk.

“Oh it’s fine. Although my real boyfriend would probably be quite upset to hear that I kinda liked the sound of it.”

Killian raised an eyebrow at her and leaned in closer to her. “Well, Swan, you could tell your other boyfriend that when I win your heart, and I will win your heart, it will be because you want me more than you’ve ever wanted someone before.” His voice had dropped to a place reserved for only the most erotic utterings. He smirked at her and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. Emma swallowed hard. Killian’s words sent a shiver up her spine and her heart into a frenzy. They sat in silence for a moment, eyes locked on each other as if time had stood still while Emma sat there, needing a minute to process his words, his voice, his eyes.

“So your grandmother is in Belize?” Emma asked, eventually.

Killian chuckled, settling back into his seat. “Aye. She’s an archeologist. She spends most of her time in Central and South America, especially since my grandfather passed.”

“And your parents?”

“My mother, Alice, left when I was 5. She drove us to school to drop us off one day and then never came back. My father,” Killian sighed, taking a sip of his wine, “my father was a complicated man. I don’t blame Mum for leaving the way she did. He owned a pawn shop in Dublin that his grandfather had opened but I think he secretly hated it. He was drunk more often than not. He died when I was 19.”

Emma gave him a look, a look that, all at once, said I get it , and I’m sorry , and neither of us ever have to be alone again . She reached out and tenderly touched his hand, brushing her fingertips over his knuckles. Emma wondered if his death was why Killian never finished at Oxford, but something about the way he spoke about his father made her think there was more to that story that he seemed relieved to avoid. Their moment was interrupted by the waiter bringing them their food.

The conversation flowed easily over dinner. Killian told her he was intending to major in fine arts, he told stories about him and his brother, Liam, and the antics they got into during summers at the lake house, and about sailing with his grandfather. Emma told him about the book she was reading, a beautiful fiction novel about a pandemic and those who survived and those who didn’t and how a traveling group of musicians and actors kept the arts alive with concerts and Shakespeare plays called Station Eleven , which led her to telling him about her love of Shakespeare.

“So do you have any spring break plans at all, Swan?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got a few dates with McDreamy lined up and a growing pile of library books stacking up on my floor. What about you? I imagine business will be pretty slow this week.”

Killian finished his glass of wine. “Aye, it’s always pretty slow during breaks. I was planning on leaving Will in charge for the week and escaping to the lake house.”

“That sounds like a nice break.” Emma noted.

An idea popped into Killian’s head. “I wouldn’t mind your company if you’re looking for a change of scenery.”

“Really?” Emma asked, sounding a little more hopeful and excited than she had planned.

Killian chuckled. “Aye. I think you’ve had a rough few weeks and have earned a bit of a break. Plus I quite miss having you in my bed.”

“Hm. A tempting offer. But will there be grilled cheese?”

“Aye, love. Whatever you want.”

“And ice cream?”

“Swan, we can go to the store once we’re done here and I will get you anything your heart desires.”

Now it was her turn to make him blush. “Anything?” She gave him a very insinuating look from across the table.

Killian leaned forward again, enjoying this game of flirting. “ Anything your heart desires.”

***

Quickly, Killian paid the bill and they made their way over to the supermarket. Emma, to his dismay, tossed in every unhealthy thing she could find, including a box of brownie mix that she insisted they bake to have with the vanilla ice cream that would inevitably be tossed in the cart. All he could do was laugh and watch her. She was like a kid in a candy store who never once let go of the rose he gave her.

Killian had seen Emma at her lowest point, watched her go to war with herself over what happened to her, watched her suffer for weeks while attempting to study for exams he knew were causing her stress. He knew she wasn’t sleeping because she’d send him random texts at all hours of the night. He figured it helped her feel less alone so when he woke up every morning, he replied to every single one, no matter how silly or ridiculous or sometimes incohesive it was.

This Emma, happy, free, with a light that radiated from every inch of her and filled even the darkest parts of him, was the Emma he wanted always to remember, the Emma he wanted to spend his days trying to bring out.

While she debated which PopTarts she wanted, Killian slipped away to run to the pharmacy section. Not that he expected anything, but he picked up a package of condoms. A gentleman is always prepared , he told himself. Oh who are you kidding, you want this way more than you should .

Killian returned to find Emma stuck deciding between two flavors of PopTarts and shoved the box into the cart before she could see them. The last thing he wanted was to think he invited her just so he could have sex with her. Really, Killian would be fine with spending the entire week watching Netflix with her in his arms. And apparently baking brownies to have with vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream and who knows what else.

“Just get them both before you give yourself a headache,” he joked. Emma tossed both boxes in. This woman is going to cost you a fortune . She gave him a bright smile and kissed him. In the middle of the aisle. Not caring for a second who saw them.

“Thank you. For everything, Killian,” she said when she finally pulled back, leaving Killian breathless.

And she was worth every damn penny.

***

Killian pulled into a long driveway leading to a beautiful home right on the lake. It had to be at least 2 acres of property from what Emma could tell in the dark. The house was pretty far from any neighbors and the trees lining the edge of the property on either side hid any evidence that other people even existed. It was perfect and exactly what Emma needed. They grabbed a bag of groceries each and headed inside. The first thing Emma did was ask Killian to put her rose in some water for her.

From the entrance you could see all the way to the back of the house which was essentially just a wall of windows. In the living room there was a large overstuffed couch in front of a fireplace and a large TV fit for the best kinds of movie nights snuggled in front of the fire. As tempting as it was to jump on the couch they still had bags to bring in. Emma might have gone a little overboard on the snacks.

“Do you think we have enough chips?” Killian joked, putting the third bag bag of chips in the panty while Emma unpacked bags on the island. He suddenly realized that he completely forgot what bag -

“Think we have enough condoms?” Emma joked back. She found the box he so slyly tried to hide from her while unpacking a bag containing a ridiculous amount of candy for the movie nights they planned on having.

Killian froze, blushing so furiously even the tips of his ears were red. Emma broke out in hysterical laughter. This was quite literally the last thing she had ever expected would embarrass Killian, the king of flirting, the master of inappropriate comments, the professional smoothtalker, the dreamy bartender who had girls fawning over him constantly, with a voice that could, quite literally, get any girl to drop their pants for him.

“I’m glad you find this so funny.” He looked at anything except her, scratching behind his ear.

“This is just so not you, Jones,” she said, pulling herself together. “Well actually this -” she waved the box “is you. Trying to slyly slip them in without me noticing is definitely you. The blushing though!”

Killian snatched the box from her. “A gentleman is always prepared, Swan.”

Emma stepped towards him, slinking her arms around his waist. “Very smooth, Jones.”

He tossed the box onto the island and wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t want to -”

“I know.”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

Emma’s hands slid up Killian’s chest to rest on his shoulders. “What if I want to?”

“Then I’d be quite happy to oblige your desires, Swan,” he purred.

“When did you even get these?”

“During the great PopTart debate of 2020.”

Emma chuckled. “Right.” Her hands ran along the collar of his shirt, her eyes avoiding his. “There’s something you should know.”

“About PopTarts?” Killian asked, confused.

“No, you idiot.” Emma took a breath, her hands again resting on his shoulders as she tried to calm the nerves causing her heart to beat faster, trying to find the words to tell the obviously experienced man standing in front of her that she was a virgin, that she, quite literally, had no idea what she was doing. But god , she wanted him. All Emma could think about was the way he kissed, the way his hands felt on her hips when they danced. “No one’s ever taken me on a date before. So if this is going where I’m hoping it’s going you’ll be my first.”

Killian’s heart broke for her. How could someone so beautiful, intelligent, strong, funny, kind, and lovely never have experienced what it feels like to be loved, to be cherished, to be adored? All he wanted to do was show her that.

He kissed her softly. “Come with me.” Killian whispered against her lips before pulling away. He took her hand, making sure to grab the box that started this, and led her up the stairs to the master bedroom he had taken over when his grandmother gave him the run of the house.

With each step, anticipation bubbled in Emma’s stomach. It was a spacious room, with doors leading to a balcony that overlooked the lake, a king-sized bed, and a door that led to the master bathroom. As much as she had touched herself reading illicit stories on the internet or watching porn sites or, recently, thinking about Killian, nothing could have prepared her for the look in Killian’s eyes as he closed the door behind them, tossed the box onto the nightstand.

His hands traveled down her arms before he kissed her deeply. Emma’s fingers worked at the buttons of his vest, eventually sliding it off his shoulders. Killian’s lips traveled down her neck, his stubble softly tickling her. She sighed when his lips found her pulsepoint, tiling her head back as her hands found the hair at the nape of his neck.

Killian slowly unzipped her dress, kissing her shoulder as it dropped to the floor, leaving Emma standing before him in nothing but her heels, white lace bra and matching panties. “Emma,” he whispered, taking her in. His hands roamed her back while his lips returned passionately to hers.

Emma’s entire body was buzzing, lit on fire from Killian’s kisses. Quickly, she undid the buttons on his dress shirt as he walked her backwards towards the bed. She smiled against his lips when her head hit the pillow. Her fingers danced their way down his spine. Killian trailed kisses down her body, kneeling before her on the bed as he took her shoes off. Emma moaned. “Fuck that feels goos. Those were killing my feet.”

Killian chuckled, settling back between her legs. “You can tell me to stop at any time, Emma.”

“Can you please stop wearing pants?” She teased, toying with the waistband of his dress pants.

He kissed her before standing to remove his shoes, socks, belt and pants. Emma missed the heat of his body on top of her. In the time it took him to strip down to his boxers, Emma had gotten into her own head.

What if I’m not good enough?

What if I do something wrong?

What if it hurts?

What if I’m not exciting enough for him?

What if I’m too loud?

What if I’m not loud enough?

What if he doesn’t enjoy it?

Emma was so stuck in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Killian was again on top of her, bra now off and on the floor until he pulled her out of her thoughts. “Emma?” His face was inches from her breast. He could tell she was wrapped in her own thoughts.

“Huh?” She realized she had completely zoned out into her own thoughts.

“Are you nervous?” Killian asked her, laying on his side next to her, his arousal pressing against her thigh.”

Emma turned her head to look at him. “Yes,” she whispered. His fingers danced over the soft skin of her stomach.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Her hand touched his cheek, reassuring him that she wanted this, that she wanted him .

He turned to kiss her palm. “Don’t overthink it. Just focus on me. Focus on my voice. Let yourself go for me, love.” Killian’s voice dropped. “Let me make you feel good.”

Emma’s heart was racing. She nodded, taking a deep breath. His hand gently cupped her breast, massaging gently.

“You’re so beautiful, Emma,” Killian said, nearly moaning at how soft her skin felt in his hand. He lowered his lips to take her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Emma’s hands tangled themselves in his hair.

“God I’ve dreamed about this.” Emma admitted, moaning softly. Killian grazed his fingers over the waistband of her panties, smirking against her skin.

“Swan, you have no idea.” Most of Killian’s nights ended with thoughts of Emma and all the wonderful things he wanted to do to her, do with her. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day you came into the Jolly with a fucking textbook.” His hand slipped below the waistband, his fingers sliding teasingly over her wet folds. Emma gasped. “You’re already so wet for me, love.”

“Just for you,” Emma moaned, arching her back as Killian’s finger brushed across her clit. Slowly he teased light circles over her, quickening his pace whenever she moaned for him. “Killian. . .”

The way she moaned his name nearly drove Killian into a frenzy. “Tell me what you want, Emma,” he purred against her ear.

“You . . . inside,” Emma breathed.

“We’ll get there, my love.” Killian chuckled, capturing her lips with his, their tongues crashing together in a messy, delicious dance. He slipped a finger inside her, eliciting a groan from Emma. He ground his hips against her thigh, needing to relieve some of the pressure building in his cock. Emma’s hand snaked between them. Cautiously, she stroked him over the soft material of his boxers. Killian groaned against her mouth. “Fuck, Emma.”

He wanted to tell her not to worry about him, that this was about her, but the nights he spent thinking about how she would touch him made this first moment too much for him to form a comprehensive sentence. Killian gasped at the feeling of her hand slipping beneath his waistband and wrapping around him. In response he slipped a second finger into her, pumping in and out a little faster.

Emma’s head was spinning with the intoxicating sensations racing through her body. She stroked her hand over Killina’s full length until she could take it any longer. “Fuck, Killian-” she moaned. “So close.”

“Come for me, Emma,” he growled, thumb finding her clit to help her over the edge. Emma fell apart, her orgasm coming in waves over her as she cried out Killian’s name into the darkness of the room, pleasure possessing every inch of her body.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she saw Killian watching her and blushed furiously. “Hi.” She gave him a shy smile.

He smiled back at her. “Hi.”

Emma kissed him, softly at first and more passionately as she started to come back to herself. “I want you.”

“Emma . . .” Killian hesitated, wanting to make sure this was really what she wanted. And god did he hope it was what she wanted.

“Please.”

He reached for the box on the nightstand, rolling onto his back next to her. Emma watched as he opened the box to pull out a foil packet. His hair was a mess, sticking out in different directions and falling onto his forehead, and somehow he looked sexier than when he had every strand in place to match the very put together look of his vest and dress pants. His breathing was slightly labored with anticipation. He had a tattoo of an anchor on the top of his arm by his shoulder.

Killian lifted his hips to push his boxers off and Emma’s breath caught in her throat. Killian noticed Emma’s staring and raised an eyebrow, smirking at her. “See something you like, Swan?”

Emma’s face turned bright red. “Maybe.”

Killian kissed her quickly before returning his attention to the foil package. He carefully tore it open and rolled the condom down his length while Emma pulled her panties off, tossing them to the floor. Killian settled between her legs, resting on his forearms to keep his weight from crushing her beneath him. Her arms wrapped around him holding him close to her.

In that moment, the rush of passion, the unbearable heat between them slowly dissipated into a loving tenderness, a gentle caress of warmth surrounding them.

“Go slow,” Emma whispered, a soft encouragement for Killian not to stop.

“Aye, my love.” His hand reached between them, guiding himself into her slowly. Emma hissed slightly, her nails digging into Killian’s back. Immediately he stilled. “Emma?”

“Don’t stop.”

So he didn’t. He pushed in slowly until he was fully sheathed, whispered profanities falling from his lips. Killian dropped his head, placing a sensual kiss to Emma’s shoulder. “How are you?”

Weird. Full. Stretched. Those were the first words that came to Emma’s mind. She needed a second to gather her thoughts. Killian had the self control of a saint at that moment. He gave her the time, the silence, she needed, playing with the ends of the long, blond hair (really to distract himself from the desire to pull his hips back and push back into her because fuck she felt incredible).

When she adjusted to his length: Good. So good. More.

“Killian,” Emma whispered against his shoulder, “you feel so good.”

“Fuck, Emma.” Killian groaned, pulling his hips back slowly before pushing back into her. Emma let her eyes close. Her hands knotted in his hair, keeping him close to her. “You feel incredible.”

She moaned softly in response and Killian picked up his pace, pushing into her a little faster, a little harder. “Yes. Killian.”

Killian muttered profanities that could make any sailor blush, his self control slipping from his grasp. He kept a steady pace, not too slow, not too fast, hitting her in just the right spot over and over. Nothing compared to the feeling of Killian inside her, the way his hips rolled effortlessly against hers, the way his lips moved against her shoulder and her neck as he whispered dirty nothings to her, edging her on.

“Emma, god I can’t-” Killian moaned against her. “I’m gonna -”

She used his words against him. “Come for me, Killian.”

And with that he came undone above her, coming with a cry of her name and nearly collapsing on top of her as his orgasm shook his entire body. Emma’s hips rolled against his, working him through it, working him down. Her hands softly stroked his hair, now slightly damp with sweat.

He slowly pulled out, kissing her forehead softly, allowing his lips to linger there for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

Emma whimpered at the loss of his weight on her, comforting like a weighted blanket. It wasn’t long before he came back from the master bathroom, condom discarded and a warm, damp washcloth in hand that he used to gently clean between her legs. Emma signed softly at the pleasant contact. He tossed the cloth into the laundry bin and settled back into bed next to Emma who turned on her side to face him, cuddling close.

“How are you?” Killian asked.

“Wonderful.” Emma admitted, relaxing against him. Her thoughts began to intrude on the moment. “Did you. . . Did you like it?”

Killian nearly scoffed. “I should be asking you that!”

“I asked first.” Emma teased. This was easy. This was them. Silly bantering. Caring words.

He chuckled, playing with her hair, nuzzling his nose against hers. “How could I not like it? It was with you.” Emma blushed. “Now you have to answer.”

Emma shrugged. “Eh. It was fine,” she toyed.

Killian’s jaw dropped. “You little minx.” Emma broke into a fit of giggles and he playfully swatted at her ass. “You take that back!”

She kissed him, playfully, smiling against his lips. “Yes. It was -” She paused.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s silly.”

“Tell me.”

“It was almost as good as my dreams,” she admitted, partially teasing him, mostly being sincere.

He grinned. “Glad to hear I wasn’t the only one dreaming of this.”

They took turns showering. Emma was exhausted and, honestly, not quite up for round two just yet so Killian gave her some space. When she was done, she changed into her pajamas and pulled out her glasses and Station Eleven to read while waiting for Killian to return to bed.

“Glasses suit you, love.” Killian commented when he emerged from his shower in nothing but a towel.

Emma smirked, half hearing him while she was engrossed in her book. “A towel suits you.”

Killian chuckled, pulling out pajamas from the dresser. “You haven’t looked up for a second.”

“Shhhhhh. Two characters just disappeared. I need to know what happens.”

He pulled on his pajamas before collapsing on the bed next to her. Killian watched her for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration behind her glasses. She was beautiful. Always. She was beautiful when she was dressed for work, when she was dressed for a night out with her friends, when she was lost in concentration, when she was frustrated, when her hair was damp and she was getting ready for bed, when she was dolled up for a date, when she was nervous, when she was confident, when she was teasing him, when she was vulnerable with him, when she was exhausted, when she was dancing in the middle of the aisle in the supermarket.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Her said softly, almost to himself as he traces patterns absentmindedly on her thigh over her pajama bottoms.

Emma looked down from her book at him lying next to her. She closed the book, marking her space with a torn piece of paper she was using as a make-shift bookmark, before turning the light off and settling down next to him, her nose inches from his. “I’m glad you invited me. I really did need a break.”

“Aye, I know love,” he said before kissing her softly.

“Thank you, by the way. Dinner was lovely.”

“It was my pleasure, Swan.”

Emma rolled onto her other side, her back pressed against Killian’s chest. She held his arm close against her as their legs tangled together in a way that was nearly impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began. “Goodnight, Killian,” she whispered softly, her eyes fluttering close as exhaustion began to take over her.

Killian breathed in the comforting scent of her lavender shampoo. “Goodnight, my love.”

That was the first time Emma had slept through the night since the incident. Warm and safe in Killian’s arms, she never wanted to leave.

#Without A Parachute #cs ff #captain swan

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tellthosewithpowersafeintower · 5 years

Text

This is Davey, By The Way

Summary: Davey writes Jack a letter from the Refuge. So maybe he's a little in love with him and maybe he wants more than anything to know they're all going to be okay and maybe, maybe he's a little bit gone over Crutchie too and doesn't know what to do- but he'll be fine.

He will.

...And if he isn't, Davey has a few things he would like to know he said to the boys he loves one last time.

Trigger Warnings: The Refuge. Violence, references to blood/injuries, child abuse, very very brief allusions to period-typical homophobia

Notes: Holy heck it's finally here! Hi friends, and... welcome to my newest AU becoming a series. I was originally nervous about whether I should post this for Strike Day, but here we go. A huge shoutout to @all-the-lovely-newsies because I LOVE THEM and they were the first person to listen to me talk about this when I sent them like a couple paragraphs rambling about my ideas

Go take a look at @jackie-think-about-it. They made me art for this fic (an art writing combo pair)! I am so happy right now, it's so beautiful, please go give them love they're just... the sweetest and I love their work so much. Thank you so much!

A quick note: this is a Davey in the Refuge/his Letter From The Refuge AU, and in it his father had his accident at work a few months sooner and thereby Davey knew Jack, Crutchie, and the rest of the boys better by the time the story starts. I've really loved writing this and I look forward to sharing it with you all

(read it on ao3, I like... really prefer the formatting on there asdfghjkl;)

Dear Jack,

The harsh scribble of a pen on paper was as subdued as he could make it. The lanky, dark-haired boy was hunched over, perched on the edge of the top bunk. He was curled up, taking up as little space as he could manage and a mix of sweat and blood stuck his faintly damp hair to his forehead. His eye was beginning to bruise, colors pressing deeper near to the side of his nose, and two large blots of bruises were visible stretching both sides of his jawline. Davey Jacobs inhaled, a shuddery, ragged and stared down at the first words he'd managed.

The room was cold, and dark, and any sense of light seemed blotted out in an almost starless night distanced by solid stone walls, cell bars, and an island walled off from the rest of the city. The shame of New York City. Davey hesitated, tapping his pen to his chin, once, then twice. He sighed and scribbled it out.

Jack,

No. Davey groaned quietly and after rapidly removing his second attempt furiously scrubbed at the paper. His wrists were marked with neat white lines from too-tight cuffs and he wondered idly if they'd look worse in a few hours time. Had it really only been a few hours since he'd stood in the Square, side-by-side with the others? Had it really only been hours since he last heard Crutchie laugh, watched him help Les tear a pape with his crutch, or felt his heart stall in his chest in terror when the bulls showed?

His sleeves were rolled up past his forearms and his vest was strewn awkwardly and torn around the edges. Some of his buttons were torn off and most every sense of the prim, neatly done school clothes and decorum had been entirely abandoned. Davey had no idea where his tie might even be.

He rolled the pen between his fingers, hands trembling faintly before he huffed and pressed the tip and started to write again.

Dear Jack, Greetings from the Refuge.

Better. Davey sighed, ribs seizing painfully in protest. Dirt and soot smudged along his cheeks and face, and when he glanced down and around the tightly packed bunks and hunched, gaunt bodies he heard someone cough. Davey grimaced. He supposed it was a fitting intro.

How are you?

He paused and bit his lip. He pulled his leg up to his chest to brace himself and he hissed sharply. Davey's breathing went ragged and he tried to purse his lips to quiet it, his ribs twinging and vision swimming dangerously. This... Davey was more bruised than he'd ever been before. He ached in more ways than one. A thought struck him and he lurched forwards, pen shaking in his hand as he ignored the sudden spasm of pain in his chest.

Is Les okay? I suppose I wasn't much help yesterday.

Davey ground his teeth and breathed in sharply through his nose. This wasn't- this wasn't working the way he wanted it to. He reached up to scrub furiously at his eyes.

He really hoped Les had gotten out before the worst of it. The other boys had been in the midst of chaos, full out panic and screaming, and Crutchie...

Crutchie.

Maybe if he'd moved sooner they could've-

No. He couldn't go there. Davey dropped his gaze and felt his fingers twitch before he picked up the pen and tried to press on.

Les needed to be okay. He had to be okay because if he wasn't Davey- a harsh choked sound tore its way from his throat and he clamped a hand over his mouth, breathing in sharply. He went rigid, body going taught at this fierce shushing from the boys below him. He opened and closed his mouth, something twisting in his chest and he wanted to apologize. His mouth was dry and when he opened his mouth no sound came out.

He didn't think the kids here or the guards would talk too kindly to stammered apologies anyway.

(He didn't think they would take too kindly to the way sound and light burned too much too much too much and some days for all his smarts he couldn't make a noise. He didn't think the guards would like the way he blurted things out without realizing it was not supposed to be spoken and send senseless things casually and didn't like lifting his head to met someone's gaze.)

Snyder soaked us real good and went for Crutch.

Davey blinked, eyes flicking wider and he chewed at his lip nervously. Oh! Oh, right.

Oh, uh, Jack? This is David

He faltered and swallowed hard. "No," the word was a murmur but his voice was cracked and rougher than he expected. The tall boy pressed closer to the scrap of parchment and traced out in neat script.

This is Davey, by the way.

Davey breathed his name and found the faintest hints of a smile on his features. Davey. Something about the way it fell from Jack's lips made something flutter inside his chest. He didn't think he'd be anything but harsh inflections of 'David' in days to come. He flinched at the thought and made a noise of pain at the way his ribs shifted unpleasantly. He wouldn't be all that surprised to find if they were badly bruised.

He wanted to hold on to being Davey as long as he could.

All these guards, they're just rude. They say jump, boy, you jump or you're screwed.

Davey winced back. He shouldn't- he shouldn't say that. The words in his head sounded suspiciously like the newsboys' voices swelling in his head. Voices he wanted to cling to.

Jack knew that.

He'd been here before- he'd gotten out.

He didn't need to worry about Davey. He and Crutchie, the boys, they shouldn't- they didn't need to worry about kids like him.

But hands faintly trembling and something swelling in his throat, Davey couldn't bring himself to erase the words glaring up at him.

The food isn't so bad, not so far Since so far they've brought us no food!

That... there was at least one positive, right? He made a noise and deadpanned in a murmur as he wrote:

Ha. Ha.

Davey had never been much good at humor. He'd never really understood it, and he wasn't really sure anyone would find it all that funny. He raised a hand to swipe the hair out of his eyes and felt his lips quirk into a sad, bitter half-smile.

I miss the newsies Sellin papers in the evening, And a partner at your side.

He bit his lip and tried very hard not to cry. Being draped under the arm of Jack Kelly, hearing the echoing cries of "strike" when all there was was bright laughter and friendly pats and being yanked into lingering embraces, all the echoes of vibrant unending life. Maybe he was poor at hawking headlines, but he'd loved it. He'd loved the-

The next words came without thought, scratching themselves out before his brain could catch up. The pen was shakier and moved faster in his hand than he expected.

No strike or blood to pay to just get by. Any way, you know what? The square took a fair bit of thought: Coax the bulls and get goons to the window. They were scared so they took the first shot!

An army of cops and goons- that couldn't be coincidence. It couldn't be coincidence that they'd taken brutal force against kids. They'd been ready to arrest whoever they could get their hands on first, to hit kids and cart them away with cold iron cuffs pinched against too soft skin. It couldn't be a coincidence they were lying in wait to pounce on the kids the moment they took a stand for themselves.

Crutchie had gotten out. Davey could only hope he was okay. The Delancey's had shoved him pretty hard but- but Crutchie was tough as nails and had landed a few good hits of his own and the boys had him. Crutchie had gotten out and, grasping for his crutch, had made it out of the Square with Race's help long before Davey finally let himself scream.

He couldn't go there (and maybe it hurt a little that it was hard to think of Crutchie without seeing horror and tasting fear fear bitter, biting terror and lungs burning but unable to scream).

He didn't want his last memories of Crutchie to be the way he saw him last so he tried to grasp- a witty comment, the way a proud half-smile curled on his features after perfectly Crutchie snark

Crutchie who made Davey's heart do stupid flips and feelings he had no idea how to decipher because what even were feelings and why didn't they make sense- Crutchie who smiled and laughed like pure sunshine and yellow, beautiful, beautiful golden rays and Davey didn't know where to start but Crutchie was nice.

He missed them so much he ached in ways he didn't know people could ache and he didn't like it.

The cops appearance at the Square couldn't be a coincidence, the adults lying in wait to stop and smother any light or spark of life. It was too well-planned for that, Davey knew behind narrowed analytical eyes, and he thought the boys would be smart enough to realize that too.

He took a deep, steadying breath and shoved his other thoughts as far back to his mind as he could muster (he didn't want to remember) before scrawling out his next words.

It was hell for a night.

Davey felt his finger twitch, a compulsive jerk when he realized the curse had just escaped him, inked neatly onto paper. He could imagine his parent's disapproval- but all Davey managed was a tired smile.

It seemed silly and a thousand miles away by now.

That doesn't mean we've lost our fight! Pulitzer's regime's coming down, And then Jack I was thinking

Davey's words crashed to a stop, and he felt as though the atmosphere around him had shifted. He froze. His breath was heavy and he blinked furiously against the burning of his eyes.

We might just go, If you were staying? We could run away an evening To the theater, or away And if Crutchie'd come

The words spilled away, faster and faster, and that book-smart, smart-mouthed boy who'd fumbled into the streets with a slew of words echoed in his eyes. A lifetime of too many thoughts held away aching to be let out one last time.

Maybe Davey had spent too much time with Jack and his dreams of Santa Fe, but when he closed his eyes for a moment he wondered what it would be like. Beyond the cold damp walls and shuddering concrete, Jack and Crutchie's laughter filling the back of the theater. Just the three of them, together, somewhere beautiful and perfect.

His eyes flicked open and he remembered a too similar cry- was it only a day ago?

And if Crutchie'd come we'd seize our day

He let out a shuddery breath. It sounded perfect. It sounded like a date, the ones stolen for boys and pretty girls and maybe Davey wasn't supposed to want a stolen night of kisses with a boy, let alone two, but he didn't care.

He could do it. One night of stolen moments with three friends, and maybe, maybe they wouldn't think the same and all it would be is friendship but he would take anything if it came from them. Anything at all.

When he curled his fists, he wondered if the same need to cling to that dream of just a night of Jack and Crutchie and him was the reason Jack had never given up on Santa Fe.

Santa Fe.

The seeds of a dream, not a plan. But there was something so comforting, achingly perfect about that. If a place was Jack's, and Jack's want for home, somewhere to love and breathe and belong then Davey knew his was Jack and Crutchie. Without a doubt. Maybe he was a little too late for that.

Maybe Jack and Crutchie deserved better than a kid who was street stupid and stuttered eagerly through long explanations about whatever oddity fascinated him the most, oblivious to the fact no one else seemed to care, and shied under attention and burning eyes and fumbled with words when um's and uh's and uncertain odd syllables twisted on his tongue.

Once the strike makes-

The door skidded open and the reaction was like a gunshot. Boys jolted upright, leaping into position. His pen jerked hard, dragging an ugly line but Davey didn't have time to think about that. He desperately shoved the materials out of sight, hands trembling as he flung a mess of whatever cloth was nearest over his lifeline. He swung around, eyes wide, watching the looming figure who'd entered, held his breath and silently prayed.

When he stumbled back to his space in the bunk, Davey was bleeding. Badly. He was still shaking, feeling freshly forming bruises and aches he wasn't sure how to start to describe and he had to shut his eyes tightly to try and still his swaying his vision. With shaky hands, he fumbled in the dark and felt a weight of relief drop as he exhaled when his hands found the crinkling parchment of the letter. He drew it close and let his eyes rove down it and tried to smile.

Leaning into the candlelight, Davey ran a thumb along the dent and harsh scribbled line off the page at the end of his earlier phrase and winced.

Swiping blood to try to keep it from getting in his eyes, he coughed, or sobbed, some short painful noise that was gone as quickly as it came.

Damn this place.

The garbled curse was all he could muster. He didn't know what else to say. Shakily, he flicked a hand and tried to scrub the scarlet scattered drops off onto his pants and Davey somehow manage to keep blood off the paper. He swallowed a choked cry.

I'll be fine

He bit his lip hard and pushed on, hoping he could get himself to believe it.

Good as new

He didn't think he would be okay.

Look there's one thing I need you to do Newsies taught me what it all means to look after each other

I've never had friends, Jack, he wanted to whisper with that faint twinge of awe he felt hours earlier. I've never had no one like Crutch and you.

Eyes setting with determination, he scribbled out his next message.

Please tell all the fellas for me to protect one another The end

What was this, a novel?

When he heard a rattling cough and the bed creaked dangerously, Davey had to force himself to breathe. He didn't think he would be able to come out of here.

The strike had to go on.

Davey wasn't going to be there to see it.

So he set the pen to paper and hoped his smarts might be enough to give the boys one last push.

Your friend Your close friend

Davey swiped away a few shaky tears, breath hitching. And, selfishly, he decided on something he needed for himself. He breathed out and scrawled out with every ounce of care he had left.

My love, Davey

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heta-fics · 4 years

Text

The Wanderer pt.2

By @proliferationinthecrypts

Taken from the diaries of Dr Elliot Rutherford.

Okay. I think I’m losing my mind.

Let’s review how we got here, huh?

I just read through my last entry, on my first session with him, and since then, a week has passed. Things still make fuck all sense, and have kept me too busy to write more until now. I’ll summarise key events as follows:

The two men who gave me the scant initial papers on Grandpa have told me a little more about him. They dropped by- once again, unannounced- and kept me in my office for a good half hour. Grandpa got good feelings about our first session, they told me, and that he would be happy to have regular appointments with me. They also handed me a sleek, grey ring binder, which, apparently, Grandpa wanted me to have.

These events transpired yesterday morning. It is late evening, now. The grey folder sits next to me, read through twice, but not understood in the slightest.

The same two men who visited me yesterday came over again, about 3 hours ago. They’ve just left, after I’d given them everything I had.

To break it down, the men (I can’t keep calling them that, so let’s just name them Teeth and Baldie - they never gave me their names, anyway) had a tension in their bodies that wasn’t present the last few times we’d met. Before, Teeth and Baldie had always been relaxed, but never ignorant. They were alert, and concise, but never snappy. Tonight gave me a nasty shock. Teeth was red in the face, and Baldie a sickly grey. Teeth explained, after checking thrice that my room was sufficiently sealed off from the outside, that Grandpa was missing. That this morning, somewhere between 5:30 and 7:00 am, the apartment he was renting in Redbridge had been broken into. The place was a mess, Teeth said, broken bottles, cabinets flipped over, and bloody smears on the kitchen floor. Grandpa, and his possible attackers, still haven’t been found.

It was soon after this that Baldie tore into Teeth’s explanation, hitting me with question, after ques- tion. Had Grandpa told me his whereabouts? Did he leave any indication of his current address in the folder (at this, Teeth hissed something like “We went through that folder with Grandpa before we let him give it to this guy, remember?”) Had I discussed his case with anyone? I answered ‘no’ to every one. Baldie asked for my notes from my first session with Grandpa, and I complied. While Baldie paced around my office, scanning the pages, Teeth said something that I found very interesting-

“[Baldie], have you checked the news? We need to determine whether that blood belonged to [Grandpa].”

Baldie’s reply confused me even further:

“Yes, and no, I haven’t heard anything from any of our colleagues. And no, I’ve found no stories,

anywhere in the world that would indicate that the blood is his.”

Teeth simply nodded at this, and proceeded to ask me yet more questions. He was calmer than

Baldie, but still talked with a clipped urgency of a man who definitely was not 100% alright. “What religion is [Grandpa]?”

“Jewish. He was wearing a yarmulke under his hat, when I first saw him. I don’t know what type he is. I think he might be a rabbi? Or maybe he was one? He either told me, or wrote about it in, you know, the folder.”

“What ethnicity is [Grandpa]?” “Uhh...”

“How old is he?”

“I don’t know-“

“How old is he?”

“Somewhere between 60 and 65.”

“No, how old is he?”

“I don’t know?”

“Who have you chatted with about him?”

“No-one.”

“Which of your friends did you leak his address to?”

“What?”

I was grilled on quite a few things, from my political background, to my general knowledge. Teeth asked how much I’d read of the grey folder. At that time, I’d read the entire thing through once, and I told him as much. He listened, almost unblinking, as I told him everything I remembered. The scans of faded medical records in a stunning variety of formats and languages. The black-and- white photos Grandpa (presumably) had annotated with things like “Me as a (slightly) younger man.”. Handwritten URLs for cookery websites, for recipes Grandpa has said he “thought I might like”. Recommendations for books (one, I remember him writing, being a “poor translation of the original Aramaic, but you’ll get the gist”). Honestly, that folder could be the focus of its own thesis, but I won’t go into it now.

To conclude, Teeth and Baldie left after they were sure I wasn’t hiding anything from them. They told me to lay low, and be wary of my surroundings for the next week or so. They slipped me a phone number I was to call, they said, if anything odd happened, or if I found anything more about Grandpa.

The interrogation wasn’t what pushed me into losing my shit, though. No, that was what happened 20 minutes ago. Just before I could finish tidying my desk, and packing my rucksack, there was a knocking on my window. I was jumpy, after Teeth and Baldie’s visit, but I downright screamed when I snapped around, and saw a face peering at me. Hanging from my window ledge, barely keeping his purchase on the drainpipe that runs down the front of my building, was Grandpa. I feel bad, now, because this was the first time I’d seen him sans eyepatch. I understand why he wears it, now, and why it’s so big - the right side of his face is almost entirely marred by pink, mangled scar tissue. I know that he was burned (although what he wrote of this in the grey folder still makes no sense to me), but seeing his full face for the first time, glaring at me from the window ledge, almost made me piss myself. After realising who my night visitor was, I ran over, and opened the window.

After helping him clamber into my office, he embraced me. He wouldn’t stop apologising. When I asked him what for, he only hugged me tighter. When he finally let go, he dashed for my door, and then locked it. He’s pulled my ‘patient’ chair over there now, to sit beside it. He has a handgun. He says we can talk, but we need to keep quiet. I’m gonna try to needle something out of him, and determine what kind of situation I’m in right now.

(look in The Wanderer tag for pt. 1)

#The Wanderer #hetalia fanfiction #rated t #historical #mystery #aph oc #hetalia oc #submission

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studyacai · 6 years

Text

school starts for me again in about a week so i thought i’d make a quick post of some of my ‘back to school’ resolutions! most of these are quite general but some are very specific to me personally, so those maybe won’t be as relatable to others, but these are just my personal resolutions for the new school year.

1. make sure my notes are kept organised

currently my school notes are an absolute nightmare. some of my class notes are on my laptop, others i wrote down in an assortment of notebooks, sometimes i’ll write them on lined paper and then put them in my folder, and then when i come to revise i can’t find them anywhere! even worse, i never know when i should and when i shouldn’t be writing notes while the teachers is talking (because sometimes what they are saying will just be reiterated on handouts or on my school’s google drive, and they often talk so fast i can’t write anything down in an understandable format, just messy short hand), so there are several parts of my courses that i don’t have any information for outside of my confusing textbooks! making sure i have clear and concise notes organised all in the same place is really important for me this next academic year.

2. use my free periods wisely

i find my school environment very overwhelming for my mental health to the point where it’s difficult for me to focus in class snd i’m physically incapable of work, so last year i was using over half of my free periods in a week to just read or watch youtube videos to try and give my brain a break before having to go back to class again. that worked fine last year but if i really want to step up my academic performance in the next year i really need to start using the majority of my time away from class while still in school working, and save my rest periods for at home. for me personally i don’t think it’s going to be possible for me to work in every single one of my free periods without being completely overwhelmed, but i’m going to aim to use at least five out of seven of my free periods a week do some kind of school work

3. pay attention to what i’m eating in school

i am extremely lazy when it comes to what i’m eating at school, and on a regular day i’ll find myself eating some fruit at first break and just a pastry or something similar for lunch. i feel like i really need to prioritise making sure at least three days a week i have some form of packed lunch and i’m not just eating fruit and pastries at school every single day because that definitely isn’t good for my body or my brain. part of the reason i dont pack my lunch is because i leave for school at 6:00 and my lunch break isn’t until 1:00 so the food is just sat getting gross in my locker for seven hours, so if anyone has any recommendations for some good school lunches that won’t go bad i’d really appreciate them!

4. keep off my laptop during lessons

i don’t do it all the time but certainly during some of less engaging classes (cough cough philosophy) i have a tendency to switch between my class notes and the tumblr/buzzfeed/goodreads tab i happen to have open in my other browser. its a really really bad habit of mine so next year i’m planning on setting a website blocker on during the classes i have a tendency to browse during to try and prevent the temptation of doing something more fun than taking class notes.

5. think before i speak

this one is extremely personal to me and i don’t think many people will relate to it, but next year i feel like i really really need to focus on what i say in class more. growing up, i was ignored and talked over a lot by other people, so when i do have a group of people listening to me and i start to feel a little more confident in that social situation, i tend to say things without thinking about them. this isn’t an issue when in social situations but in class discussions i’ve often said things i regretted (whether that be oversharing personal information or revealing information that wasn’t mine to share), and it was extremely detrimental to my mental health last year, causing many panic attacks. next year i want to try and only contribute in class when it’s necessary to the lesson and after thinking carefully through my words when sharing

#a level studyblr #studyblr #studying #studyspo #studyspiration #a levels #a level english #A level English Lit #a level english literature #a level psychology #a level philosophy #philosophy studyblr #psychology revision #psychology studyblr #mine

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justawaychan · 5 years

Text

Gin-san and The Parfait

Note: Hey guys! I wrote this horror (?) fanfic for Gintoki’s bday 2 yrs ago. I finally edited it so I’d appreciate it greatly if you guys can give me feedback! It’s my first time writing a horror one, and tbh I imagined this story line in video/manga format. Please don’t be too harsh on me! Thank you and enjoy!! ^^

Lesson 1010:

When Your Doctor Tells You To Lay Off The Sweets, You Should Probably Listen To Him

“Parfait, parfait~

Strawberry, strawberry~”

Gintoki hummed mindlessly as he opened the door to the restaurant, ready to order his all-time favorite dessert. To his surprise, a perfectly concocted parfait with fresh strawberries and strawberry/chocolate Pocky sticking out on the side was waiting for him on the bar counter. A shiny silver spoon was laid out next to it.

“HO HO HO ~" He mused.

"I guess the owner finally realized what a valuable customer I am!”

He jumped to a seat at the bar, pulled the dessert close to him, and admired its beauty with twinkling eyes. A minute later, he finally grabbed the silver spoon, kissed it, and readied himself for battle. He started with a spoonful of strawberries at the top, chewing every bit of the fruit slowly, savoring its sweet yet tangy flavor. He headed for the Pocky after, dipping the chocolate-covered tips into the strawberry cream, biting them piece by piece. Once the garnishes were gone, he unceremoniously dove right into the main course. Spoonful after spoonful, bite after bite, Gintoki showed no signs of slowing down. After all, hesitation in battle could be deadly. The only time the White Yaksha would stop was to loudly sigh in satisfaction. It was during one of these interludes, as he leaned back on his seat, that he finally looked around the restaurant. It was empty and eerily quiet - there were no annoying yelling of the regular Amantos, the stuttering of the new waitresses in their short frilly aprons, or the crying of the grade school kids who wanted to leave and play at the park nearby. Odd, he thought, but Gintoki being Gintoki, pushed the uneasiness to the back of his mind and refocused on finishing his parfait. He was midway putting another spoonful in his mouth when it happened:

click

ti-nk

B A N G G G G G G ! ! !!!

the lights went out.

“Cho-cho-chotto…" Gintoki stuttered, trying to reach the bar counter from the floor. "A-a-ano…”

Silence.

“Yo-Yo-You se-se-see, I have ni-night blindness and I dropped my spo-spoon and I still have some pa-parfait left and I don’t want to be rude and not fi-finish the whole thing CAN YOU HEAR ME???!!!”

Silence.

“Ha! This is so funny! You’re really funny!! This is a great prank!!! HA HA HA!"

Silence.

“O-O-Onegai… just le-le-let me finish my parfait and I-I-I’ll be on my way…”

Silence...

H E A V Y B R E A TH I N G

...more silence.

“G A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A H H H H H H H ! ! ! ! ! ”

d a s h

crash-bang!

kreen ~ jin-gle!

B A M M M M M M

Panting heavily, with his hands on his knees, Gintoki barely kept himself from collapsing to the ground. He looked up and noticed a crowd of people staring at him and whispering, but the loud pounding of his heart prevented him from deciphering what was said. Passersby glared at him for taking up too much space on the sidewalk, mouthing the word "crazy" as they walk past him. Not wanting any more attention than he already had, Gintoki stood up straight, dusted his yukata, and casually walked off.

"F-Funny old man!" He shouted at the restaurant, nervously glancing at the people watching.

"I-I'll definitely get you next time! Ha ha ha!"

What transpired back there was nothing but a simple, random power outage - at least that was what Gintoki wanted to believe. It was just his luck that he was all alone when it happened, no big deal. Still, Gintoki's adrenaline hadn't gone down yet. He speedwalked away from the restaurant, checking behind him a few times to make sure no one was following him. He only slowed down when he couldn't see the diner anymore. Calm and relieved, he started wondering when their next job would be since rent was due next week, which then reminded him that he still owed Otose-san last month's rent. He scratched his head; all this thinking was going to make him bald. He then wondered whether he could sell his hair, but thought against it because who on Earth would want a naturally permed silver hair anyway? He realized, at this moment, that the street he was walking on was empty, and he, yet again, was alone. He then saw Madao up ahead, sitting on a flattened box in front of the convenience store with nothing on but his sunglasses – no shirt, no pants, no nothing. He was surrounded by his usual dark, gloomy aura, and Gintoki wanted nothing to do with it, or him. Looking straight ahead, he hastened his pace.

“Oy,” Madao called out softly. “Gin-san...”

Gintoki ignored him and proceeded onwards.

“Oy~ Gin-san, how was the parfait?”

Gintoki, unrelentless on his purpose of ignoring Madao, treaded on without a glance towards the latter's direction. He turned right at the corner at the end of the street, then another right on the next. It was about a mile past the store when he started to slow down. Finally able to collect his thoughts, he remembered what Madao said.

How was the parfait? echoed in Gintoki’s head.

How was the parfait?

Gintoki came to a halt. Sweat formed on his forehead, with some already trickling down his face. He could hear his heart race back up again. He looked around and found himself in a yet another empty street, dark and desolate.

Good grief, he thought.

Did everyone decide to stay at home today?! The dramas don't start til 8 pm anyway! What, do they all have hemorrhoids and need to-

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

He was in the middle of his ruminations when he heard loud, heavy footsteps coming from his left. He saw through his periphery a dark alleyway from that direction, and a dark silhouette moving towards him.

-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

The footsteps were getting louder and closer. He heard heavy breathing, but whether it's from the stranger or from him, he couldn't tell - his pounding heart was too loud. With adrenaline kicking in, he only had a few seconds to decide whether to run or fight. Whoever it was, he knew he could take them on, given they were human, or even Amanto. But, his mind interjected. But if it's a g-ghost...

-tap-tap-tap-tap-

Gintoki decided running was the only option for him in this situation. After the incident at the restaurant, it might be an omen from the gods that he, like everyone else, needed to stay home tonight. He tried hastily to move his feet - left, right, left, right - but they won't budge.

-tap-tap-tap-

Desperate, he punched his thighs a few times as some kind of reset. Gah! This is not a video game! Why the hell are you guys lagging now that I need you to work?!?!?

-tap-tap-

Left with his only other option, he gripped the handle of his wooden sword.

-tap.

The footsteps stopped. Gintoki was getting ready to strike back when he suddenly heard a familiar voice.

“Dono, have you seen Madao?”

“O-Okita?” Gintoki blankly asked.

“Haiiiii…” Sougo replied, coming out of the darkness eating ice cream.

“Wha-What the hell are you doing in a dark, creepy alleyway eating ice cream?!?” Gintoki shouted. “…scared the shit out of me…”

“Oh, did I scare you? My bad~” Okita said half-heartedly. “Anyway, have you seen him? MADAO.”

“Ma-Madao? Wha-Why are you looking for him?”

“Well, he’s kind of a prime suspect right now,” Okita answered as he licked his ice cream.

“P-Prime suspect...?”

“Uh-huh.” Lick. “Allegedly, he killed the owner of the restaurant by the station. The employees last saw him with the owner, and they seemed to have been arguing about paying for a parfait or something.”

“Re-restaurant by the station? Pa-parfait?” Gintoki repeated.

“Yeah, the one you go to a lot. It was just chaos this morning – blood everywhere, body missing, employees were in shock. Some of them even passed out, had to go to the hospital by ambulance.” Okita explained, still eating.

“T-This morning? But I was just there… an hour… ago…” Gintoki gulped, his words trailing off.

“Dono?” Okita took his focus off his ice cream, looked up, and watched Gintoki with interest.

“N-Nothing. About Madao, I-I haven’t seen him at all.” Gintoki replied, his voice cracking towards the end. Okita stared at him. Gintoki averted his eyes away from Okita’s gaze, and tried to act as nonchalantly as possible. He started humming the new song that Otsuu-chan released, making a mental note to beat up Shinpachi later for getting it stuck in his head. He even started to mumble about the new Jump coming out this month. But Okita kept his stare, one side of his ice cream starting to melt. Gintoki, feeling the pressure of not telling the truth, was thinking of excuses to use to get out of the situation.

"Okita, I-"

“Well, if you do see him, give me a call. I’m going to head back to HQ. Hijikata might be looking for me and he’ll give me hell if he saw me eating ice cream while on patrol. Not that I care though,” Okita interrupted, licking the melting part of his ice cream before finishing it off in one bite. “Jah ne~”

“M-Mhm, jah ne...” Gintoki mumbled, waving goodbye to Sougo. He started walking towards the Yorozuya again. He couldn't fully comprehend what Okita told him and didn't really want to. Moreover, he didn't understand why he lied in the first place.

“Oh, Gin-san!”

Gintoki turned around, ready to come clean to Okita just in case he figured it out.

“ H O W W A S T H E P A R F A I T ? ”

"G A A A A A H H H H H ! ! !” Gintoki screamed, running as fast as he could away from the streets and into Otose-san's bar. It wasn't Okita who called him back in the alley. For a second, he thought he saw Madao's face. Scratch that, he was sure it was Madao - who couldn't recognize those sunglasses of his? But if it was Madao, Gintoki thought, why the hell was he looking like a ghost and screaming at me like a damn banshee? How the hell does he know about the - ?

Gintoki became aware then how dark the bar was. Around this time usually, the old hag and Catherine were busy getting ready to open up shop, with regular customers coming in right after work.

“Gin-san…” someone in the dark called out. “How was… the… ”

Gintoki blinked, clumsily opened the door, closed it behind him, then sprinted up the stairs into his apartment. He slammed the door shut, locked it, then double locked it as if his life depended on it. Feeling safe and secured, his breathing started to come down. He collapsed into the couch, and started to take off his yukata, thinking how great a shower would be right now. He couldn't believe the amount of sweat he produced in a short amount of time. He was halfway inside the bathroom when he noticed how unusually dark the apartment was. He gulped. His instinct told him to run, but his pride wasn’t letting him. This was his house after all. He wasn’t about to let his house scare him off, not one bit. He tried turning on the lights, but either the switch wasn’t working or the bulb burnt out. Damn Kagura for always leaving the lights on! Gintoki complained. So he started looking for candles. He looked everywhere – the drawers in the kitchen, the cabinets, on top of the fridge, under the sink – he found none. He started to panic.

“Cho-cho-chotto. Thi-This is my house! Why am I sc-scared?!? Hahahahaha..."

Then he heard feet shuffling.

“H A H A H A H A H A H A,” he laughed maniacally while slowly finding his way towards his room. When he found the door, he quickly opened it, leapt inside, and bolted it. He pressed his ears on the door, straining to listen for more footsteps. It was quiet. He breathed a sigh of relief. He felt heat radiating inside his room and noticed how brighter it was getting. With one hand still on the doorknob and the other on his sword, he slowly turned around.

P O P ! went the confetti canons.

“ H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y ! ”

Everyone shouted, though discordantly, with some already singing the Happy Birthday song. He could hear Shinpachi’s tone-deaf singing; Zura’s obnoxious laughter, telling Elizabeth how he thought of this surprise party for Gintoki but Kagura yelling at him for taking credit for her idea; Kondo's annoying laughter followed by him choking after getting kicked by Otae; and Sa-chan declaring herself as Gintoki's only-needed present. Everyone chatted away, mostly complaining about how long they waited in the dark, and how there better be food because they were starving. Tama then started passing out plates in the back as if on cue. The room was so loud and lively that the guests didn’t notice how silent and pale Gintoki had become. After all, in front of him, holding the cake, was none other than Madao’s half-illuminated, grinning face.

“How was the parfait, Gin-san?”

#gintama #gintoki #sakata gintoki #happy birthday gintoki #fanfic #fanfiction #gintama fanfiction #horror #comedy #anime #manga #edited

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