#the jacket home and she shoves it in her wardrobe and insists that she’s going to get it adjusted for me and she’ll let me know when it’s- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostbeam · 4 months

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all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter | dabi/touya todoroki

You go to the store for the ingredients you need to cook for him tonight. You pick up the small cake you ordered from the bakery down the street. You wrap the vintage leather jacket you found for him at a thrift store despite his insistence upon no gifts. Everything is going according to plan, for the most part.

That is until you hear his name from the mouth of the news anchor on your television as she describes the events of a villain attack somewhere in the city. From where you stand at the stove, you freeze, listening to the report. You’re too afraid to turn and look at the screen, knowing that if you see him, you’ll break.

notes: hiiiiii so this is a repost from last year because I unfortunately did not have time to finish dabi’s birthday fic and then I remembered I deleted this one from tumblr bc I suddenly hated it ajshsjhdjd but anyways I edited it a bit but it’s also on ao3 (unedited but I’ll do that later) soooo yeah happy birthday to my greatest love or whatever (gross)

warnings: minors dni, no smut but implied sex, f!reader, blood and injury, angst, hurt/comfort, dabi picks reader up

words: 2.7k

Dabi returns home to you on a Thursday afternoon. He carries a beat-up overnight bag not filled with much since most of his wardrobe now lives in your closet, his toothbrush sits next to your sink, and his stash of fancy chocolates lies inside one of the drawers in your kitchen.

He drops the bag at his feet as he steps through the door, the key you made for him hanging around his pointer finger as he slams it shut with one foot, opening his arms for you to greet him with a hug.

His arms wrap around you tightly, walking you backward as he buries his face in your neck. He’s been gone for a little longer than a week, off on a mission for the league in a few cities over, a mission that you are completely unaware of. As far as you know, Dabi was visiting his family.

“Missed you.” You murmur against his neck. Dabi lets out a deep breath, preparing to pull away to look at your face. He cups your cheeks in his hands and grins.

“Really?” He questions. You reach your hands up to rest over his wrists.

“Mhm,” you nod, “did you miss me?”

“What do you think?” He rolls his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. When he pulls away, he drops one hand to your waist and pinches your cheek with the other. You swat his hand away, glaring at him, but it only makes him smile.

“I think maybe you did.” You shrug in his arms, “You know, judging from all of the random pictures of cats you saw on the street, and the constant messages asking what I was doing, and all the times you asked for pictures—”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He shushes you again with another kiss to your lips, deeper and hungrier than before. You’re breathless when he pulls away.

“You totally missed me.” You tease, pulling away from him and walking past him to the door. He sends a slap to your ass that makes you jump as you walk by, shoving him away so that you can pick up the bag he abandoned when he arrived.

“Doesn’t look like there’s much in here.” You comment, judging by the weight.

Dabi hadn’t packed much for the mission, just enough to get by in the shitty hideout that Shigaraki had set up for him. But you aren’t meant to know about that, so Dabi lies.

“I dropped some stuff at my place.” He shrugs as you look inside. You pull out a cheap box of black hair dye, looking up at him.

“Your roots are showing?” You question, and he nods.

“You cover them up the best.”

“Oh, yeah? How can you know that? Are there other people dying your roots for you?” You cross your arms over your chest. Dabi wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in.

“Maybe.” He smirks. You let your jaw fall open, pushing on his chest. But Dabi keeps a tight grip on you.

“Then they can dye it!” You resist, but Dabi pushes your arms down at your sides, trapping you there. He shakes his head, placing kisses across your face as you try to stifle the giggles that threaten to bubble from your throat.

“C’mon,” He rasps, resting his forehead against yours, “you know there’s only you. I don’t think I could find anyone else to put up with me.”

“I’m not putting up with anything.” You say, softly. Dabi pulls away to look at you. “‘Course, I’ll help you with your roots.”

The process is easy enough, one you’ve gone through many many times with him, something Dabi considers important to him. It’s that mix of being taken care of and trusting someone enough to allow it. Dabi couldn’t remember what that felt like—until you.

In the beginning, Dabi resisted you. He hated that wanting feeling and tried to ignore the burning in his chest when he looked at you. You came along and threw his priorities all out of whack, and Dabi was furious with himself for even considering you.

But at some point, the want became need, and there was no longer any doubt about keeping you in his life. Even if it meant hiding things from you. He never planned on not telling you about his villainous activities. He thought about getting it out of the way for a long time. He would tell you and maybe you would scream or cry or call the heroes. Or you’d tell him you hated him, and that had always seemed much worse than being locked up. So want was need, and Dabi was not Dabi he was just yours, and you were something he couldn’t stand to lose.

“Are you sure you’re not secretly way older than you look?” You question him, washing his hair over your tub after letting the dye sit in his white roots. Black swirls around your drain as he chuckles.

“I’m pretty sure.” He says, before pausing to look up at you “Unless…do you maybe have a thing for older guys?”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, shoving his head back under the running water.

“I mean, I am getting up there. I’ll be twenty-five soon. Does that turn you on?” He teases.

“You are the worst. Wash your own hair.” You groan. You watch him run his fingers through his hair to get the rest of the dye out, thinking about his words again. “How soon?”

“Huh?” He asks, turning off the water and taking the towel that hung over the tub. You watch him scrub his hair with his brows furrowed.

“How soon will you be twenty-five?” A smile stretches across his face, and he wraps the damp towel around his neck to free his hands. He reaches for you, pulling you towards his chest.

“God, you totally can’t wait ‘till I'm old and gray, can you?” You roll your eyes at him, pushing at him lightly.

“I’m asking about your birthday.” You stare at him. Dabi looks away from you for a moment, letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, cause you’re counting the days.” He smirks. You hook your hands around the towel around his neck and pull him down to your level.

“Dabi.” You warn, touching your forehead to his.

“You know, you really can’t get this close to me and expect me not to kiss you.” He speaks, bumping his nose against yours. Your eyes flicker to his lips, and you slowly begin to lean in. Dabi leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, but you don’t let him linger for long. He follows after you, eyes still closed, satisfied with moving to your jaw once you’ve pulled away.

“When is your birthday?” You ask him, a little breathless. He places a soft bite at the side of your neck that makes you shudder before speaking.

“It’s Wednesday.” He speaks against your neck. You freeze, moving your hands up to his head to pull him from your neck.

“This Wednesday? As in a few days from now?” You ask, your hands still in his wet hair.

“I don’t want to make a big deal of it.” He tells you. Dabi doesn’t remember the last time he celebrated a birthday. He most likely would have missed it if you hadn’t brought it up.

For Dabi, birthdays are a reminder of time working against him, of the clock ticking on all of his plans, everything he’s working towards. He’s also reminded of how those plans seem so small now, compared to waking up with you in his arms every morning.

“We don’t have to make a big deal of it.” You tell him. You move your hands from his head down to rest on his chest. “Can I just…make you dinner or something? Or I can order from that one place you like?”

“Just dinner?” He questions.

“Well…” You trail off. Dabi squeezes your hips, making you yelp and you jolt in his arms. He smiles at the reaction, “Dinner and one gift?”

“No gifts.” He shakes his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head. You look up at him.

“What if it’s the greatest gift ever?” You ask. He smiles softly and shakes his head, leaning down to kiss you.

You let him deepen the kiss, though you know it’s a way to distract you, pressing you into the bathroom counter as he traces your lips with his tongue. Your hands tangle in his newly dyed hair, arching into him as he moves his lips against yours. He lifts you onto the counter, pulling away from your lips to place kisses against your neck.

“C’mon,” You try, your breath catching in your throat, “just one.”

He bites down on your shoulder hard, earning a soft moan from your throat. He kisses over the mark, leaving more kisses down your chest, “No gifts.”

He runs his hands up your thighs as he lowers himself to the ground. He draws circles on the inside of your thighs, looking up at you. “Yeah?”

“No gifts.” You say, running a hand through his hair. He grins at you, kissing your thighs. “Just come at six okay?”

“I’ll be here.” He promises, biting your skin and making you shiver. “Now shut up. I missed you.”

….

Wednesday arrives quickly. You send a happy birthday text to Dabi paired with a scandalous photo of the blue underwear you’re wearing underneath one of his shirts, and he answers immediately. You remind him of what time he’s supposed to come by before leaving your phone behind on your bed to get ready for the day.

The League of Villains, the anchor calls them, a name you find vaguely familiar. You don’t pay much attention to the news at all, but you can recall hearing of the group in passing. You don’t expect to hear your boyfriend's name in relation to them. You, at the very least, have half a mind to turn the stove off before you sink to the floor, bringing your knees to your chest. A villain. Dabi is a villain. For some reason, it doesn’t scare you as much as it should. More than anything, you’re upset about being lied to.

You know that the smart thing to do is call someone, the police, a hero, get someplace safe. You don’t want to do any of that though. You want to stare at the cabinets in front of you, and you want Dabi to come home.

You can’t think of anything but him, not the damage he’s done or the people he’s done it to, just him and the promise of his presence at your door at six o’clock. You can figure out the rest later.

He isn’t there at six, though, or seven or eight or any hour after that. You sit on the floor with the buzzing of voices on your television for hours before you pick yourself up. You pack up dinner numbly, placing things into tupperware that you put in the fridge without thinking. You turn the TV off, and you don’t change out of the dress you wore tonight specifically for him, and you don’t wash your face either. You just pull back the covers to your bed and clutch Dabi’s pillow tight. You don’t fall asleep.

Dabi comes home at around two a.m. He stumbles through your front door and leaves his key in the lock, slumping against the counter. He hears you come out of the bedroom, stopping at the end of the hallway and staring at him. He looks up at you for a moment but averts his gaze in shame. He’s a mess, staples missing and bleeding from his seams. His skin is raw and irritated against his clothes, and he’s sure some of his ribs are bruised.

And you, you look gorgeous, in that dress that Dabi’s always liked on you, your mascara lightly smeared underneath your eyes. Have you been crying? He can’t tell. He hopes you weren’t, not for him.

You walk toward him slowly, a little cautious, caught in between yelling at him or holding him. You can yell later, you think. Right now, you just want to stop the bleeding from his face and ice whatever injury he’s clutching at his side.

Approaching him, you bring your hands to rest at the side of his neck, urging him to look at you. He won’t. You sigh and push yourself closer to him. He doesn't move away. He nuzzles his cheek against yours, blood smearing across your skin, and you bring a hand down to his.

Silently, you pull away, tugging lightly on his hand for him to follow you. He stumbles for a moment before catching himself, walking behind you into the bathroom. He sits on the edge of the tub and thinks about when you dyed his hair for him, how long ago that feels now, how you might never do it again after tonight.

He watches you pull a first aid kit out from beneath your sink, rummaging through the supplies and setting them on the counter. You wash your hands and dampen a cloth, before leaning down to gently clean up the blood on his face. You do it all in silence, gently pulling away any staples that are near falling out, careful not to hurt him more than he already is. You remove his jacket from his shoulders and pull his shirt over his head, examining the rest of the seams in his skin. The ghost of a bruise is forming on his ribs, and you stand up to find something to ice it. Touya grabs your wrist before you can leave, his grip limp, tired. You could pull away easily if you wanted.

“Why are you doing this?” He rasps. You pause, turning around to look at him.

“You’re hurt.” You tell him.

“I’m late.” He says. “And I’m–”

“I don’t care.” You don’t care about what you saw on TV, or how late he was. You don’t even really care about the lying anymore, not when he’s bleeding on your bathtub.

Dabi stands with a groan, and you reach toward him to steady him. He takes the cloth from you and rests a hand on the back of your neck. He gently wipes your cheek in the place where his blood is smeared. You close your eyes, feeling the tension in your shoulders leave your body.

“Things are never going to be how they are now ever again, you know.” He speaks, setting the towel down on the counter. He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “You’ll know everything because I’m not going to hide it from you anymore, all of the gory details, everything I’ve done, everything I’m going to do.”

“Dabi.” You try to speak, but he doesn't let you. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, keeping you focused on him.

“I’m not a good man, and I don’t deserve you. And if I was better, I would let you walk out of here. But I’m not. I’ve always been weak, and I’m not losing you.” He’s desperate, so afraid that you’ll walk away, leave him, tell him he’s too much. “So you have to tell me now if you don’t want this.”

“I want it.” You speak, almost frantically. “Maybe something is wrong with me, but the only thing that mattered to me tonight was that you’d come home.”

“I am home.” He speaks, pulling you tight against his chest. He winces at the pressure on his ribs, but when you try to pull away, he only squeezes tighter. “I’m home.”

You wrap your arms around him, “Sorry your birthday sucked so bad.”

“We’ll try again next year.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha angst #ghost.writes #ghost.fic

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c-rose2081 · 2 years

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Starchild || 16. SOS

(Disney Z-O-M-B-I-E-S)

—

GIF Credit

“If you keep fussing, I’m going to bite your hand off.”

Zed scowled at Eliza as they walked to school, removing his hands from the edges of his new jacket. The need to fidget was immense, and it was hard to avoid pulling or shuffling inside clothing that felt newer than anything he’d ever had in his life. Mayor Wells had been more than generous with her promise of helping him with his wardrobe dilemma, and the once pathetic looking closet in his room was now packed with new, fresh threads. She even bought him shoes; nice white sneakers just like his old ones. Except the toes felt just a bit too tight, and the soles were still squeaky and smelled distinctly of rubber.

“I can’t help it,” Zed moaned, reaching to ruffle his nicely combed hair, only to flinch as Eliza leaned over and slapped his hand away.

“Knock it off. I’m serious; I will take your hand off. All your moving around is making me itchy.”

“I’ve never had new clothes in my life, they just feel so weird. Do I look stupid in this? I feel like I look stupid.”

“No more stupid than usual,” Eliza chuffed, shaking her head, “you should be more worried about peoples reactions to your little display at the Football game, not your wardrobe.”

“I don’t care what other people think,” Zed scowled, “they all know what Zombies are, it’s not a secret.”

“Yeah, but you drew blood, Zed. It’s a whole different ballgame than just being scary looking,” Eliza insisted, “but, allow me to rephrase my statement. Stop worrying about what A-ddison is going to think of your clothes, and focus more on damage control. M’kay?”

“But what if she doesn’t like it?” Zed worried, “I mean, it’s so different. And she’s able to change whenever she wants…”

“Hey, you’re the one who decided on a new wardrobe, numbskull. Besides, after all that’s happened in the short time she’s been here, I don’t think ET will care if your clothing has no more holes in it.”

Zed made a strangled noise in his throat, moving to pull at his jacket again only to rethink and shove both hands into his pockets. He wanted to run home and change; he felt so out of place. But then, he didn’t look very good with A-ddison when he appeared as though he’d just crawled from underground. No, he did this to look good next to her. He wasn’t going to go back on it now, especially when Mayor Wells had done so much for him in such a short amount of time. Slouching in defeat, Zed scowled again as they turned the corner and entered Seabrook’s main Quad.

“Oh god,” Eliza groaned in annoyance, tossing her head so far back that Zed thought she might lose it, “they waste no time, do they?”

Glancing across the courtyard, a few specks of pink and green were sitting atop one of the picnic tables. Zed didn’t need to get closer to know who it was, nor was it a secret as to why they were there.

“It’s just Bucky. What’s he gonna do, throw a pom-pom at me?”

“He and his cronies are all a waste of air,” his friend grumbled under her breath, falling back a few more steps as they approached the school’s entrance. Bucky and his Acey’s were waiting for him there, looking none to pleased to see him. They stood as Zed approached, crossing their arms and mimicking one another’s stance.

“Is this welcoming committee just for me?” Zed mused, not failing to notice how Bucky shifted backwards a bit on his heels. He was nervous around him, which — to be honest — Zed couldn’t fault him for. He and Bucky had never seen eye to eye, not once. He knew that the Buchanan family was one to always avoid if possible, as they were as anti-inclusion as any family could be. Sadly, Bucky was really hard to avoid as he was always just…there, in the middle of everything.

“I’m surprised they let you back in,” the cheerleader insisted, brows casting shadows over narrow eyes, “I thought they’d lock you up and throw away the key.”

“Z-Band malfunction,” Zed shrugged, lifting his arm to show off the bracelet, “I was in and out.”

“So you were just too ashamed to show your face over the weekend?” Bucky wondered accusingly, looking him up and down cryptically, “or were you too busy playing dress up?”

Zed felt his anger spike, fist curling in annoyance. It was only Bucky; he had always been against their presence in school. Zed wasn’t sure where the sudden urge to snarl came from. Normally he had a better grip on his emotions, but since the Football game things had been a rollercoaster ride. Hardly they way they were before.

“I was busy,” Zed ground past his teeth, a flicker of pride warming his chest as the three Acey’s backed up even more out of pure nerves, leaving Bucky to unknowingly stand alone.

“New clothes aren’t going to make people forget what you did, Zombie,” Bucky mumbled, “you attacked someone. Not just someone, but one of MY cheerleaders. If I were you, I’d have your kind start packing up their lockers…”

Zed felt his heritage rise up into his throat. He could easily make Bucky regret ever being born. He could snap him like a twig, then take a nice big, juicy bite. Zed stepped forward, snarling hungrily, but froze as a delicate hand wrapped around his wrist. The ice which flooded his veins and mind was familiar and soothing. It squashed the fire of hunger instantly, and he stepped back.

“…Zed?”

“A-ddison,” he sighed, turning away from Bucky’s annoying face to glance down at his…friend…girlfriend. She was his girlfriend now — he’d almost forgotten about last night, what with how nervous he’d been. Her blue eyes, as per usual, made his stomach do backflips. But, to his concern, she was still a bit pale. Zed hadn’t wanted to leave the wolf Den so soon; two days didn’t feel like enough time. But, what with the weekend quickly ending, they were forced into returning. Zed had hoped that Mayor Wells would’ve convinced A-ddison to stay home and rest. But he knew that Addy was as stubborn as she was sweet.

“What’s going on?” She asked him lightly, saddling up into his side to peek at Bucky from around his chest, “Captain Bucky?”

“You shouldn’t hang around his kind, Addison,” Bucky insisted lightly, seeming to soften up at her appearance as he shuffled on his feet, “he hurt you. He could still be dangerous.”

“But it was my fault I got scratched,” she insisted, furrowing her brows.

“I’m surprised you’d want to hang out with the monster who attacked you.”

“Zed’s not a monster,” A-ddison insisted icily, only to quickly shut her jaw and wince as she cradled her ribs.

“Addy…” Zed whispered, pulling the girl closer to him as she physically shuttered and shook her head.

“Maybe you should just leave us alone,” Eliza said angrily, “go be a nuisance someplace else.”

“I would, but you’re keeping one of my cheerleaders hostage,” Bucky snarled back, “Addison, Cheer awaits.”

“She’s not cheering, today,” Zed insisted, pulling A-ddison into his arms and holding her lightly against his chest.

“Cheer is a lifestyle, Zombie. But you wouldn’t really know much about that…”

Zed felt his anger rise again, but thankfully didn’t have to make a bigger scene as three shadows moved by him.

“Hey, is there a problem here, guy?” Wyatt asked, words whistling from between his fangs as he stalked closer to Bucky’s face.

“I want my cheerleader back,” he said past a hard gulp, standing his ground as Willa and Wynter flanked their brother, baring their teeth.

“She’s not going with you today,” Willa said, parroting Zed’s words, “so you best back off.”

Bucky looked ready to insist, but scrambled backwards into his Acey’s arms as Willa snarled at him, eyes glowing as she lifted her claws.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Lacey whispered in panic, the others nodding their agreement as Bucky grumbled something unintelligible.

“Fine. But this isn’t over yet.”

“It is for now,” Wynter hissed, “get lost!”

All three Werewolves growled menacingly as the Cheerleaders scrambled off, vanishing into the school. Zed didn’t miss the small crowd that had gathered as more people arrived for classes, but ignored them for the Alien curled into his chest. She really didn’t look very well, and that worried him.

“Let’s go someplace more private,” Willa said as she turned and nodded her head, “follow us.”

Zed, thankful for the intervention, nodded as he gently scooped A-ddison up into his arms. It amazed him that she still had any energy left to hold her disguise, what with how little fuss she put up. It reminded him of the night he found her out in the woods, “Gars gar gat za,” he mumbled to her, pressing a very gentle kiss to her hairline, “I’ve got you.”

A-ddison nodded against his chest, cringing as she held her side again and tucked her face into his shirt. The wolves led them around the back of the school down into some kind of alleyway. They were guided through a tall blacked out fence, away from the curious eyes of other students, and into the cover of an artificially created night. The space was filled with other wolves, some were students that Zed recognized, while others were not. It was like another wolf den right behind Seabrook High. The pack had seemingly claimed it for themselves, filling the space with chairs, bean-bags, and tables. The darkness created by the fence and buildings shadow was cool compared to the hot sun of the quad, and faintly illuminated by strings of lights strung from the fence to the ground.

“Do you guys just hang out back here?” Eliza asked, nodding to Wyatt who held the gate open for her to enter and grinned.

“It’s a safe place,” Wynter said, “no one ever comes back here except to take out the trash.”

“It also lets us keep an eye on our wolves attending classes,” Willa added, “you never know when things might go wrong. It’s always nice to come back to a place where you know you belong.”

“This is great. But why did you bring us here?” Zed wondered, gently setting A-ddison down in an old hammock chair pulled over by one of the younger wolves. She grunted in discomfort, vision flickering as pale blond hair faded back to its normal vicious turquoise, and her antennae and tail appeared from thin air.

“That’s why,” Willa chuckled, “we have something that might help.”

“You knew she was like this?” Zed frowned, unhappy that Willa knew before he did, “how?”

“I didn’t know-know for sure. But I could already tell she was weak the minute she left the Den. I wasn’t sure why until Wynter made a good point.”

“Oh?” Zed wondered, turning to Wynter who blinked owlishly at him.

“She was healing with the help of our Moonstrone, duh,” the other girl scoffed as though it were an obvious fact.

“Okay. So what does that have to do with her now?” Zed puzzled, watching Willa pull a small cloth bag out of her pocket.

“Our Moonstone is what gives us our powers,” she explained, removing a small blue pendant on a leather braid from the bag and curling it around her fingers, “watch this.”

Gently, Willa leaned in to hold the pendant close to A-ddison’s chest. It illuminated, just like her hair and eyes. The tired Alien gave a heave of breath, as though something had stepped off her chest.

“Woah,” Eliza breathed, “what did that do?”

“We don’t know exactly,” Willa admitted with a shrug, “some of our younger wolves went down into the cave to fetch this piece last night. It’s not much, but it should help finish the healing process.”

Willa extended the necklace to Zed, who took it slowly. After all, a Werewolf handing over a piece of their moonstone was unheard of. But then, A-ddison seemed to have a way with all creatures, human or not. It didn’t matter what she looked like, as it seemed like anything that breathed recognized how bright her heart truly was. Nodding his head in thanks, Zed was careful not to touch the shard as he knelt down to Addy’s level. Gently, he looped the necklace over her head, adjusting the pendant so it sat perfectly at her collar.

As it did before, the stone began to glow faintly. And after only a moment or two, pinkish coloring began to return to the girls cheeks, and her eyelashes twitched.

“A-ddison?” Zed whispered, extending a hand to gently caress the girls jawbone, “hey, wake up.”

Blue eyes parted, bright, if not a tad groggy. Zed sighed in relief, shoulders slumping. “Hey,” he breathed, “why didn’t you stay home, huh? You’re not healed enough.”

“You said…you had a surprise to show me,” A-ddison murmured, lifting a hand to rub her face, “you look nice. I like the thermal outer garment. It suits you.”

“Of course you would notice that first,” Zed chuckled, “how are you feeling? Ok?”

“Better,” Addy nodded faintly, taking a moment to glance around, “where are we?”

“The alley behind the school,” Eliza stated, folding her arms, “consider it an honor, ET. Invited into wolf territory and given your own Moonstone? Impressive.”

“Moonstone?” A-ddison mumbled, reaching up to gently touch the pendant resting at her collar, “but…what happened?“

“You pulled your stitches by accident,” Zed scoffed, “because of Bucky, of all people.”

“I did?” A-ddison blinked, “I just got so upset…is A-Lurian don’t usually feel anger, but it was so easy for some reason. You’re no monster, Zed. None of you are.”

“We can handle Bucky and a few mean words, Pup,” Willa said, “you just need to focus on getting better.”

“And we need to get to class,” Eliza said, glancing at her z-band wearily, “Zed?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, turning back to A-ddison and running a hand through her hair. The static had returned, jumping like small fireworks across his fingers. It was a good sign that the Moonstone was doing what Willa suspected it would, “just stay here with the wolves and rest up, I’ll come see you at lunch.”

“But I can go to class…” Addy croaked, “Bree and I are supposed to be starting a project.”

“Uh, no. Stay here, I’ll go talk to Principal Lee; I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“But Zed,”

“You literally passed out from breathing,” Zed spoke, lifting a finger as A-ddison pouted up at him. The expression made his heart expand three sizes, and he had to steel his resolve as to not simply melt right there, “stay here, take it easy. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Addy huffed a bit in annoyance, but eventually nodded slightly as she relaxed.

“Very well. But I expect a full report of the goings on the minute you get back.”

“Naturally. Willa…?”

“I’ll make sure she’s well tended,” the elder nodded, “go. Before people start noticing you’re missing.”

“Right,” rising to his feet, Zed straightened his jacket and allowed Eliza to practically drag him out. But before he could, Wyatt fell into easy step beside him, “what’s up, dog?”

“I think somethings going on with your z-band,” the wolf mumbled, causing Zed to blink and glance at the boy wearily.

“What do you mean? I just had it fixed.”

“When you were talking to Bucky, your bracelet was making a strange noise.”

“What kind of noise?” Eliza wondered, “they don’t usually make any noise unless we set an alarm.”

“I dunno. It was like buzzing noise.”

“That’s weird. I didn’t hear anything,” Zed mused, only to pause in his head, “I was feeling really angry before you stepped in. I thought it was just Bucky grating on my nerves.”

“I think you should keep an eye on it, just to be sure,” Wyatt admitted, frowning, “I don’t know how exactly that works, but it didn’t sound…good, whatever it was.”

“I’ll look into it during computer club,” Eliza agreed, “I still have access to your z-band from freshman year. Maybe I can find out what’s wrong.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Zed admitted as they stopped at the steps to the school, “watch out for A-ddison while I’m gone? She can be stubborn.”

“Willa can handle her,” Wyatt laughed, “she handles all the Pups in the den with an iron claw. I’m sure one annoyed alien teenager won’t be a problem.”

“You say that now,” Zed shot back teasingly, feeling Eliza jostle his arm with an elbow, “we better get going. See you later?”

Zed extended a hand. Wyatt glanced at it before flashing his fangs, the two exchanging a down-low.

“Yeah man,”

And Wyatt walked off, vanishing into the trees.

“You and Wyatt being friends now is so weird,” Eliza commented blandly, opening the door.

“He’s cool,” Zed shrugged, hands once again finding his pockets, “I need to go chat with Principal Lee real quick. See you in first period?”

“Yeah. Just don’t take too long? I don’t want you copying all my notes again.”

“I make no promises,” Zed laughed, waving his hand as he left Eliza in the hall to jog towards the correct office. Thankfully most other students had already retreated into their designated classrooms, and the halls were empty. It meant a less than quiet conversation floating through an open door could be heard echoing quite a ways. Slowing his pace in confusion, Zed glanced around the corner to where Principal Lee’s office was. As he suspected, the door was mistakenly left open.

“…I just need to talk with the girl, Naomi. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything from you, Dale,” Principal Lee admitted, “I honestly don’t know where she is.”

“A zombie attack is not something to scoff at. You know this as well as I do.”

The man, now that Zed was close enough, was Mr. Lee. Apparently the adults in the office were having a marital spat. Zed thought to leave it alone, but crept closer as to eavesdrop without being seen. His curiosity would probably end up getting him in trouble, but it was in his nature.

“Of course I know that. You said it yourself that Zed’s episode was due to a z-band malfunction.”

“But the girl? What about the girl that he scratched? Where is she?”

“I told by Mr. Necrodopolis that she was being treated somewhere for her wounds.”

“And he didn’t say where?”

“No. I didn’t ask.”

“Naomi,” Mr. Lee groaned, “this is important.”

“Why do you care so much, Dale? I told her what happened exactly as I saw it. Don’t you think she’s been through enough?”

“A teenage girl shouldn’t be able to stop a zombie rampage,” Mr. Lee growled in frustration, “I need to know how she did it.”

There was silence on the other side of the door, followed by what sounded like the rolling back of a chair as someone sat down.

“Dale, I know your research is important to you. But leave my students out of it.”

Research? Zed blinked in confusion, tilting his head. What research? And what did A-ddison have to do with any of it?

“That isn’t what this is about, Naomi.”

“Yes it is. That’s what it’s always about,” Principal Lee sighed, “I’m telling you, I don’t know where Addison is. And even if I did, I’m her Principal. It’s my job to protect her and the rest of my students' privacy. I don’t want any of my kids around your work, Dale. So take it out of my school right now.”

Zed frowned at Principal Lee’s harshness. Obviously she didn’t approve of whatever this research was that her husband was a part of. And, based on that alone, Zed didn’t want A-ddison involved in it either, even if Mr. Lee seemed like a nice guy.

“Naomi, please…”

“Leave, Dale. We’ll discuss this later.”

There was a manly grunt, and Zed ducked behind a row of lockers as Mr. Lee stormed from the office, stomping down the hall before vanishing. Exhaling at how close he was to being caught, Zed jumped as he was addressed.

“Zed, I know you’re out here,”

Swearing inwardly, Zed pivoted to peek around the corner. Principal Lee looked…troubled. Not a common look on her usually well put together facade.

“I didn’t hear anything…” he began, only to receive the flat of his elder’s hand.

“Zed. I don’t know what happened at the football game on Friday, and I don’t know what secret you and your friends are all hiding —“

Zed blinked owlishly, heart plummeting. Did she know? How could she know?

“I don’t…”

“Zip,” Lee made a closing motion with her hand, silencing his words as he was forced to swallow them, “I know your heart is large, Zed, and you’re a bright kid. But whatever it is you and your friends have gotten yourselves into? Keep Addison as far away from it as possible. It’s not safe for her right now. Do you understand?”

Zed didn’t understand, so he shook his head negatively. Principal Lee sighed heavily, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her suit.

“You’ll get it in time. Just…keep her close to you, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zed nodded haltingly, swallowing again, “is this…is this about the research?”

“Now isn’t the time to discuss this,” the woman whispered back at him, glancing around as though someone may have been listening in, “just stay alert, and don’t go in alone. Ok?”

Zed nodded again, still not putting the pieces together as Principal Lee nodded stiffly.

“Good. Now off to class, you’ve already missed the bell. And remember; alert.”

Blinking as the woman returned to the office, Zed frowned as she pulled the shade on the windows, and flipped the lock on her door. That was beyond bizarre. But worse yet, what exactly was she talking about? Did she know A-ddison was from another world? How could she? Was she talking about Mr. Lee’s attempts to find her? And what was his research all about anyway? So many questions, zero answers. Puzzled and even worse off than when he had come, Zed began to walk down the hall towards class only to pause.

Someone was watching him.

Pivoting, there was a dart of shadow as someone vanished from sight. He couldn’t make them out, but they were tall, and dark, and it made the hair on Zed’s arms stand up. Whipping out his phone, he texted a message to Eliza in Zombie tongue.

‘SOS. WE’RE BEING WATCHED. DANGER. SAFE PLACE. LEAVE NOW.”

—

Tag List:

@theredrenard

@disneyfan50

@rose-sparks13

@magical-ashley

@kokinu09

@octolingo-writes

@fantasticvoidnerdshoe

@sayorseee

@zeddisonss

@uglyduckling339

@descendantofthesparrow

@mbradshaw1997

@mmultifandommultishipper

#disney zombies #starchild au #alternate universe #zed necrodopolis #addison wells #zeddison #eliza zambie #wyatt lykensen #willa lykensen #wynter barkowitz #z o m b i e s #z o m b i e s 2 #z o m b i e s 3 #fanfiction #zombies fanfiction #disney #disney fanfiction #dcom

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digitalworldbound · 2 years

Text

takari week, day one

it’s my favorite week of the year! this story was inspired by @dnofsunshine ‘s headcanons! (specifically, the ones where takeru and hikari steal borrow their brother’s sweatshirts)

sharing sweatshirts

characters: takeru x hikari

summary: hikari covets takeru’s ratty sweatshirt, and will do anything to ensure that she is the one that wears it next.

also on AO3 and FFN

It had been a chilly Wednesday when Takeru swiped his older brother’s sweatshirt. The sleeves were slightly too long, the image too faded to make out. As Takeru slipped it over his head, the familiar scent of his brother’s cologne washed over him.

That particular Wednesday, he had forgotten his jacket at home. His alarm clock had snoozed itself, he insisted. The wind of bitter January cocooned him inside until the last possible second. Takeru had no choice but to brave the trek to school with his uniform shirt half-buttoned, shivering from the left-over snow that muddled the sidewalks.

Coincidentally - fatefully, perhaps? - Yamato had also been running late, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he walked leisurely onto the school ground. Just as Takeru turned the corner towards Odaiba Middle School, Yamato snatched him by the scruff of his collar, ignoring the younger boy’s surprised yelp.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Takeru didn’t even bother to turn around, the look of disdain on his brother’s had been ingrained in his memory long ago. “I think that I’m doing a good job at not telling mom about how you suck down a pack a day.”

Yamato mumbled a curse underneath his breath, releasing Takeru from his grip. A snicker fell from Takeru’s lips before an involuntary shiver crawled down his back.

“You’re going to freeze without a jacket, Takeru.” Yamato sighed as he slung his backpack from his shoulder, his breath erupting in a small cloud against the chilly air. Homework assignments were shoved to the side as he rummaged around, a small sound of victory erupting into the cold air as the sweatshirt crumpled in his grasp.

With a parting hug, Takeru was off, sweatshirt in clutch.

Now, months later, the sweatshirt had been made a staple of Takaishi Takeru’s wardrobe. A hole had been worn into one of the elbows, a sauce stain decorated the collar. It was as if the sweatshirt had always been a part of him; a piece of cotton had never been more comforting.

As always, Yagami Hikari was on the same wavelength.

The sakura petals had been replaced by the budding greens of spring, Hikari’s wispy brown hair fluttering around her face.

"You know," she began on their walk home, "I thought the weather would have warmed up by now."

With his brother's sweatshirt tugged over a starched uniform shirt, Takeru merely shrugged. He was far too engrossed in the dappling sunshine that decorated their path to notice Hikari's well-placed shiver. She eyed his outwear with intent, determined to coax it from Takeru's shoulders and onto her own. Briefly, she wondered what it smelled like. Would it smell like the clean linen her own mother was obsessed with? Or would it remind her of the oceanside, with a hint of sea salt and fresh air? Perhaps it would smell like something else altogether. Regardless, Hikari upped the theatrics in hopes of being rewarded.

Even as her teeth chattered, Takeru seemed none the wiser, content with the light breeze that ruffled through the trees. Hikari gave up, turning the conversation towards an upcoming basketball game, thoroughly capturing Takeru's attention.

Afterwards, as she sat alone in her bedroom, Hikari devised a plan. Through careful deliberation and subtle distraction, Takeru would be more than willing to share his warmth with her. Within the month, the sweatshirt was bound to be in her possession.

She reviewed her thoughts with Miyako, heads huddled close together over the kitchen table. With their combined intelligence, Hikari was confident that they could crack the code of understanding the things that made Takaishi Takeru tick.

Once he caught wind of boy troubles, Taichi had tried to pry into their whispered conversations, but to no avail. If his sister had learned anything from him, it was the ability to keep all personal matters under wraps until it was absolutely necessary to share.

Spring was in full bloom the day Hikari approached Takeru's homeroom class. It was lunch period, the hallway bustling with students visiting their friends or gossiping in the small nooks and crannies they managed to find.

Typically, Hikari would sit with other girls in her own homeroom class, swapping bits of lunch for sweets or finishing up last minute homework assignments.

Budding leaves scraped at the windows, fluffy clouds adorning the effervescent sky. Clear weather was a good omen, Hikari decided.

She offered her friends a flimsy excuse before darting out of the room, bento in clutch. The world was still dark when she had woken up that morning to prepare her meal, going as far to cut the sausage into the shape of an octopus, an effort Takeru was sure to appreciate.

The moment Hikari stood in the threshold of another classroom, nearly every pair of eyes gazed at her in curiosity.

She had known most of these people since she had been in elementary school, but this was the first time she had brought lunch to a classroom that wasn't her own.

Takeru's blond head was settled towards the back, his attention too focused on the book in his lap to notice her arrival.

"Yagami-san!" A boy cried. With brown hair that flopped in his face and wide, excited eyes, he reminded Hikari of a puppy. His name was just on the tip of her tongue, a half-hearted smile twisting at her lips just as Takeru glanced up.

Hikari pretended that his shocked expression didn't sting.

The boy in front of her didn't seem to notice Hikari's divided attention, touching her shoulder lightly until she pulled away.

"Nice talking with you," she managed, stepping out from his grip as he was mid-sentence. A part of her wanted to feel guilty for cutting him off, but the way Takeru shut his book, made the effort to turn his desk around to make room for her, was worth a little heartache.

Fingers shaking around the strap of her lunch bag, Hikari plastered on a pleasing smile.

"What brings you here during lunch? Is something wrong with the Digital World?" Takeru's eyebrows had bunched together, voice low. Hikari sat delicately in the desk Takeru maneuvered in front of his own, her jaw tense. His cerulean eyes bore into her own, straight forward and determined.

"Does something have to be wrong for me to sit here?"

His eyebrows relaxed, confusion tilting them upwards. "It's just… why else would you sit here?"

All boys are the same, Hikari thought ruefully. A singular eyelid twitched in annoyance.

Instead of replying, she unpacked her bento, ignoring Takeru's questioning stare.

"The weather is lovely today," she commented, spearing her rice forcefully with chopsticks. If he noticed the little grains that flew free, Takeru was too kind to comment, picking at his own meager meal with disinterest.

Silence stretched between them, the hushed conversations of the other students washing over their awkward glances. An octopus sausage smiled up at Hikari. “Here,” Hikari thrust the sausage onto Takeru’s rice, her chopsticks nearly shaking.

“Cool.” He smiled. In one bite, the octopus sausage disappeared. Hikari fought the urge to roll her eyes, breathing out her nose. The silence grew uncomfortable, the sounds of them chewing overcoming any attempt at conversation.

“So,” Takeru managed between bites, “Are you sure there wasn’t a reason you wanted to eat lunch with me?”

With his blue eyes focused intensely on her face, Hikari found it hard to breathe. It wasn’t fair, she thought. It wasn’t fair that while Takeru took her breath away with a single glance, he sat unaffected a mere arm’s length away.

A sigh escaped Hikari’s pink lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she packed up the remainder of her lunch, wiping any remaining rice from her borrowed desk with the sweep of an arm. “Yeah, I just wanted to chat with a friend.”

Her teeth clenched to the inside of her cheek, disappointment bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

Takeru’s chopsticks stopped midair. “Oh, okay. Do you still want to walk home together?”

A curt nod was his only response before Hikari took off, weaving through the bodies of incoming students, anxious to get away.

The sting of rejection settled in the pit of her stomach, though Hikari wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she had asked for the sweatshirt outright; Takeru had never denied her anything. If she asked him, he would be sure to hand it over.

Realization washed over Hikari, taking the embarrassment and shame with it. She didn’t want Takeru to give the sweatshirt to her out of obligation; she wanted him to offer it because he wanted her to have it.

By the end of the week, Hikari had nearly given up hope. Takeru - intuitive, charming Takeru - was more dense than the basketball he carried around with him most days. After the failed lunch approach, an air of restless tension had settled between them.

Despite Hikari's desire to have something of Takeru’s - to be the one he chose to share his sweatshirt with - she wasn’t willing to risk their friendship.

They continued to walk home together, though their conversations had no longer flowed freely. The hairs on Hikari’s neck stood on end constantly. It was almost as if she could feel Takeru looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. A few times, she attempted to catch him in the act, if only to provide her with something to tease him about.

As always, he was too quick, eyes darting away at the last possible second.

Miyako had assured Hikari that it was normal for boys to be stupid. “Plus,” the older girl added, tucking a stray piece of lavender hair behind her ear, “It’s not like it’s possible for him to have feelings for someone else. I mean, you both have known each other since forever.”

She lounged across Hikari’s comforter, a reassuring smile doing little to ease any anxiety.

Hikari folded her clean laundry on the floor, organizing the clothes by type. Her hands ran on autopilot, mind focused elsewhere. The tension between her and Takeru’s friendship had nearly reached a boiling point. Outside, the sun shone mockingly through spring’s first leaves.

Miyako rambled on about other things, talking herself in circles until her voice faded to a dull buzz into the background. Hikari’s eyes glazed over as her attention swayed.

Visions of her and Takeru, chubby-cheeked and toothless, playing hide-and-seek against their brothers flitted in her mind’s eye. They had begged their brothers all day to play with them. Taichi and Yamato had grumbled over their video game controllers, waving them away between levels. They had yet to understand how persistent their siblings could be; Takeru and Hikari had learned early on to never give up without a fight. Eventually, Taichi turned around, his grin mischievous and wide.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to hide until Yamato and I hunt you down.”

Takeru gasped, eyes shining with excitement. Before Taichi could start counting, Takeru’s little hand slipped into her own, pulling her across the apartment.

Hikari allowed herself to be tugged along, enjoying the prospect of a game. Takeru maneuvered himself into her cramped closet, shoving aside stuffed animals and shiny dress shoes that pinched Hikari’s toes before he patted the miniscule space beside him with a toothy grin.

“We can hide together,” he whispered.

Squished side by side, the pair waited for their brothers to find them, stifling giggles behind grubby hands.

Taichi and Yamato had found them curled up together, light snores giving them away as soon as their brothers remembered to look for their siblings hours later.

Hikari smiled softly to herself, fingers curling around whichever article of clothing was in her grasp.

“What’s gotten into you? D’you finally realize that I’m right?” Miyako’s haughty grin snapped Hikari from her reprieve.

Wispy baby hairs flung free as Hikari vehemently shook her head. “I was just thinking, that's all.”

It was a weak excuse. The heat that rose to Hikari’s cheeks was a dead giveaway, the bed groaning as Miyako sat up straight.

The lenses of the older girl’s glasses glinted deviously in the light. “Oh? Is that why you’re gripping that sweatshirt as if your life depends on it? A sweatshirt that belongs to your brother, none-the-less? I was under the assumption that a gift from Onii-chan was a gift to be cherished.”

Hikari blinked dumbly, finally registering the item in her white-knuckled grip. Though weathered at the seams, the sweatshirt had belonged to her brother when he was in middle school. Even now, the Odaiba Middle School Soccer Club emblem was easy to make out, despite the faded coloring. He had given it to her once his broad shoulders grew out of it.

An idea sparked in Hikari's mind, her eyes glittering with confidence. "Miyako," she began, hastily putting away the rest of the laundry, "I think you're right. You always seem to know exactly what to say."

Miyako merely shrugged before continuing her thoughts . “So, as I was saying…”

Hikari decided to give Takeru some time to himself. Her new - and greatly improved - plan was dependent on a little bit of distance. After all, wasn't that what made the heart grow fonder?

As summer break approached with a startling intensity, Hikari had busied herself with after school club duties. In the midst of her photography club requirements, walking home with Takeru was no longer an option.

At first, his evident hurt had been difficult to manage.

"Are you mad at me, or something?" He questioned once Hikari had stopped meeting him at the school gate. While she did her best to comfort him, his eyes had refused to meet hers for the rest of the conversation.

"It's just a boy thing. He'll get over it," Miyako assured.

With Taichi's sweatshirt balled up at the bottom of her bookbag, it wouldn't take much longer for her plan to come to fruition.

Before summertime could fully unfurl its wings, a cold front rolled in, bringing dark, gray clouds along. The pitter-patter of rain had done away with most of the club meetings, students buzzing with excitement about the prospect of going home early.

After the final bell rang, Hikari hastily gathered her things, pulling her brother’s sweatshirt from its depths, shrugging it on over her uniform.

Aside from a few questioning glances, her classmates didn’t comment on her attire as she hurriedly made her escape.

She glanced out the windows as her pace quickened, heart palpitating once Takeru’s blond hair came into view. With basketball season nearing a close, Takeru’s afternoons were free from obligation.

A blue umbrella shielded him from the onslaught of rain, reminding Hikari to coincidentally forget hers in the hopes that they could share. Hikari wasted no time in toeing off her school shoes, cramming her feet into her sneakers haphazardly so that she could catch up with her friend.

“Hey,” she breathed, embarrassingly out of breath from minimal physical exertion.

Takeru glanced up, surprise etched into his brow. “Has the Yagami Hikari chosen to grace me with her presence today?”

Though his cerulean eyes glittered with mischievousness, a flicker of doubt cinched the corners of his mouth - a flicker of doubt that Hikari was responsible for. His knuckles tightened around the pole of his umbrella.

Her heart sank for a moment before she plastered a grin across her face. “Photography club has kept me so busy, I’m sorry. How has the basketball season been so far?”

“Good, I guess. I scored the winning basket the other night, actually.” For a moment, Takeru’s smile brightened, but as he met Hikari’s gaze, the light in his eyes dimmed. “I looked for you in the crowd, but I take it that you weren’t able to come.”

Truthfully, in the midst of her busy schedule and efforts to give Takeru space, Hikari had completely forgotten about any basketball games. Instead of offering him a weak excuse that he would immediately see through, Hikari remained silent. Around them, the rain continued to fall, puddles forming in their path.

Water dripped down the sides of Hikari’s face, her hair hanging limply, sweatshirt stained a dark gray. Wordlessly, Takeru held out his umbrella, offering her the spot next to him, their shoulders touching. Heat seemed to radiate from the parts of his arm the Hikari was pressed against, the chill of rain held at bay.

“How is the soccer team doing this year?”

Takeru kept his eyes downcast, feigning interest in the mud that flaked on his shoes. Their pace slowed, Takeru’s knuckles white.

“I haven’t been to one of Onii-chan’s games in a while; school has kept me busy.”

Without preamble, Takeru stopped, an incredulous look painted across his features. “What are you talking about?”

They had stopped in the middle of a puddle, water seeping through the soles of Hikari’s shoes. Her socks were damp, the look in Takeru’s eyes making her uncomfortable. “What are you talking about?”

He gestured vaguely in her direction, the umbrella teetering in his grasp, a stream of rain seeping into the fabric over her arm. “Well, unless you’ve joined the soccer team, the only way you could have that sweatshirt is if you had a reason to go to the games.”

“A reason?” Hikari questioned, confusion mounting. It wasn’t like Takeru to press her so directly, for his cheeks to darken while talking about mundane activities.

He regained control of the umbrella, running his free hand through his damped hair. The clouds clung together as if they were scared of what Takeru had to say next.

After a beat of silence, he squared his shoulders, cerulean eyes boring into Hikari’s brown ones.

“Is it Daisuke?”

His free hand balled itself into a fist, mouth set in a straight line. Hikari almost reached out to sooth the crease in his brow, but his agitation had her on edge. When it became clear that Hikari wouldn’t - couldn’t - respond, Takeru tried again.

“Are you wearing Daisuke’s sweatshirt?”

Hikari wanted to laugh. Takeru had gotten himself upset over the thought of her wearing Daisuke’s clothes. The vision of Takeru working himself up over her was flattering, but the accusation was so absurd that it coaxed a flush to her cheeks.

Takeru had grown frustrated in Hikari’s silence, his teeth digging into the flesh of his bottom lip. Before he could turn away, Hikari’s hand latched onto his shoulder, marveling briefly at how sturdy he felt beneath her touch.

“It’s not Daisuke’s.” Underneath her grasp, Takeru relaxed. “It’s not anyone’s, really. I just…”

Her voice trailed off , the sound of falling rain obscuring her shaky exhale.

Takeru uncurled his free hand, cautiously placing it over where Hikari’s still rested. He eyed her gently, a quick squeeze of her fingers urging her to explain further.

“I just wanted to make you jealous.” Her admission fell between them haphazardly, threatening to take Hikari down with it. Reflexively, she closed her eyes before mustering up any ounce of courage she had left. “I wanted to wear your sweatshirt. This,” she motioned towards her attire, “Was my last effort. If I hurt you at all, I’m so, so sorry.”

Despite Hikari’s heart pounding in her ears, the rainfall had yet to cease. The rumbling of thunder was hardly discernible above the sound of her breathing, her eyelids still squeezed shut.

Takeru’s hand still held hers tenderly above his shoulder. A breathy laugh hardly registered in her ears before he intertwined their fingers.

“Hikari, look at me.”

Without question, her eyes fluttered open. The heat had yet to reside from Hikari’s cheeks, her gaze set firmly on the way Takeru’s fingers encased her own.

He took a tentative step forward, carefully maneuvering the umbrella over their heads. “You know,” Takeru chuckled, “You could have just asked for it.”

Exasperation tensed in Hikari’s shoulder, forgetting her earlier anxieties. “That wasn’t the point, Takeru. The point was for you to offer it to me, like a gentleman should.”

“Me? A gentleman? I better get you home; the cold weather has gone to your head. With your cheeks that pink, you’re probably coming down with a fever.”

Hikari could only gape at him, annoyance twinging as she curled her toes in her damp socks. Takeru laughed, his eyes bright and shining. He gave her hand another squeeze before he continued walking, tugging her along.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered. The brunette merely raised a brow, not trusting her voice to be steady enough to speak. His hand was warm against her numb fingertips. Their palms slotted together in a way that felt so natural that any residual tension melted away from Hikari’s frame.

“Your sweatshirt is soaked. How about I give you mine when I walk you home so that you have something warm to change into?”

Hikari tightened her grip on his hand, a smile tugging at her cheeks.

“Besides,” Takeru continued, “Soccer is dumb sport to support, anyways.”

“Well, at least my sweatshirt doesn’t have a spaghetti stain on the front.”

Takeru feigned hurt, eyes wide with mischief. “And here I was thinking that you actually knew me. I will have you know, Hikari , that I am a man of culture. The little dab of red you so affectionately pointed out is the remnants of Yamato’s first successful curry attempt. I wear it with pride.”

Hikari rolled her eyes as soon as Takeru’s back was turned, eager to finally claim her prize.

#takari #takari week #i finished this last night and havent had time to fully edit it #i apologize in advance

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ginemrys · 3 years

Note

a bedsharing fic!! <3

i had some fun with this one!!! thank you for sending in the prompt @sunshine-marauders <3

-------

“Lily, it’s okay, we’ll grab a room in a hotel, it’s not the end of the world.” James said as the two of them stood staring up at the boards in the centre of Euston station, tears in Lily’s eyes as she read the bright orange “CANCELLED” sign beside their train, the last train of the night that would get them home.

It had been a wonderful night of visiting the theatre with one of her best friends, getting lost in a musical for a few hours. The two of them had been singing songs from the show to each other on the tube on the way back to their station, not caring as they got weird stares from other passengers on the Northern line whilst they sang a beautiful rendition of All I Ask Of You. And sure, Lily had felt her heart beat a little faster when they reached the point of the song where Christine and Raoul kiss as she looked into James’ eyes, but that didn’t mean she liked him. It just meant that she understood the character, right?

But their sing-along had come at a price. They’d missed their stop. And the next after that. Then the next. It wasn’t until the last passenger left besides them on the train got off at Golders Green that they’d realised their mistake. And then they’d had to run and get the tube back to Euston, only to just miss one. A three minute wait later and they were finally heading back to Euston, getting off to discover that the last train to Northampton was cancelled. And they were stranded in London.

Lily was wiping furiously at her eyes. They’d stopped for a drink in a bar after the show, assuming that they’d have enough time. So the alcohol in her system heightened her emotions, resulting in the water works. James was scrolling through his phone, looking for the closest hotel.

“There’s a Travelodge or a Premier Inn, they’re fairly close. Everything else is ridiculously expensive.” James said, glancing up at her. “Which would you prefer?”

“Premier Inn, duh.” Lily said, pushing her hair out of her face. “Are you sure we can’t get a taxi?”

“From Euston to Leighton Buzzard?” James shook his head. “It’ll be cheaper to spend the night. Come on, it won’t be that bad. It’s just a short walk and then we can grab some breakfast in the morning before heading home.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “What do you say?”

“Fine,” Lily shoved his side playfully, but leaned into his hold after. “But you’re buying breakfast, you’re the one who suggested drinks.”

“Deal.” James chuckled before ducking to kiss the top of her head. “Come on, let’s go. It’s late and we’re both shattered.”

And so they made their way out of the station, following Google Maps to the closest Premier Inn. It was dead quiet inside, just one sleepy receptionist behind the desk barely able to hold her head up.

“Hi, how can I help?” She asked in a monotone voice, having just blinked at the two of them a few times as if she was trying to figure out if they were real or just her imagination.

“Hey, we missed the last train home. Do you have any rooms for tonight?” James asked, running his hand through his hair. Lily watched his movements, eyes following the motion of his fingers brushing through the messy black curls. She wanted to do that, run her hands through his hair. Chill out, Lily. She mentally berated herself, barely hearing the conversation beside her as she tried to sort out whatever the hell was going on with her hormones at that moment.

“Lily?”

“What?”

“Are you good with sharing a bed? There’s only doubles left.”

Holy shit. The thought of sharing a bed with James both thrilled and terrified her. Would she be able to control herself around him? The not crush but definitely a crush that she’d been harbouring for him for the last few months might rear its ugly head and make her do something stupid. But then again, she really didn’t want to have to walk all the way to the Travelodge and have the exact same option, or no room at all.

So she nodded, blushing when James grinned and turned back to the receptionist, passing over his card. Lily tried to protest but he insisted that she could just send him half the money later to save time. Then before she knew it she was joining him in the lift, heading up to the fifth floor. Of course James had had the foresight to ask for some toothbrushes and toothpaste, Lily was far too occupied to even consider such a thing.

Lily decided that she was going to hum to herself the overture to Phantom of the Opera as they travelled up to their floor, her eyes fixed on the ceiling of the lift. And then James’ hand was in hers, pulling her out of the lift and down the corridors of the fifth floor until they came to a stop in front of their room. He swiped the key card and there they were, alone, in a room with one bed.

Her throat felt thick as Lily looked at the double bed, why did it look so tiny? She stood in the small space beside the open wardrobe and the bathroom while James flicked on the lights and moved further into the room, peeling off his jacket and kicking off his shoes as he went.

“Come on, Evans. It’s just a place to sleep.” He smiled at her as he said it, noticing her hesitance. Damn him for being so perceptive to her emotions all of the time. With a deep breath, Lily walked further into the room, setting her shoes beside his while her own jacket draped over the top of his on the chair.

“Here, toothbrush.” He said, passing her one of the two clear toothbrushes he had picked up. “I’ll let you use the bathroom first, gentleman as I am.”

“Oh, so kind.” Lily rolled her eyes while grinning at him, accepting the toothbrush gratefully. She shut herself up in the bathroom, immediately rushing to the sink to splash some water on her face. Why was she so warm? “Get it together, Evans.” She muttered to herself, glancing at her reflection. She sighed as she looked at her makeup, minimal as it was, she had nothing to remove it with. Which would almost certainly result in panda eyes in the morning, but what other choice did she have?

So she left her face alone and focused on brushing her teeth, being a little more thorough than she usually would so James wouldn’t have to wake up to horrific morning breath. God, James was going to see her first thing in the morning. Christ on a bike. She filled one of the small glasses by the sink with water to rinse out her mouth, then gulped another glass down.

James was sitting perched on the edge of the bed when she returned, his eyes meeting hers straight away. Damn, did this man ever stop smiling?

“All… All yours.” Lily said quietly, stepping out of the way as he moved to head into the bathroom.

“Thanks, Lil.”

The door locked behind him and she released a deep breath again, her fingers moving shakily to undo her jeans. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep in them, so wanted to get them off and climb under the covers before he could come back. He wouldn’t want to see her in her underwear.

Jeans folded, with her bra tucked safely beneath them, Lily climbed into the left side of the bed, hoping he didn’t mind that she preferred the left. She plugged her phone into the socket next to her bed, thanking her past self for packing her charger in her bag. And then she waited, sitting cross-legged beneath the duvet as she listened to the sounds of the tap running.

The bathroom door opened and Lily had to do her best not to gasp. He’d taken his shirt off. It wasn’t even like it was the first time she’d seen him shirtless either, but seeing him in a dimly lit bedroom right before he was about to be laying right next to her was something else.

“You don’t mind if I sleep in my boxers, do you?” He was asking, his eyes having taken note of her folded jeans.

Lily shook her head, doing her best to look him in the eyes rather than drool all over his bare chest like some hormonal teenage girl watching Magic Mike for the first time. But then he turned his back on her and was pushing his jeans over his hips and Lily couldn’t help but stare. It was actually so unfair how fit her best friend was now, she could still remember the scrawny little kid she used to swim in the local lake with.

Any shred of sanity Lily had left vanished when he turned to face her again, she could feel a wave of heat rushing all over her body. And he’d seen it happen, had seen her eyes darken and her gaze shift into something hungry.

But he ignored it, electing to just climb into bed beside her and turn out the light, facing away from her.

With a slight huff, Lily threw herself down against her pillow, gazing up at the dark ceiling. Her arms were folded over her chest, her legs still crossed like they had been when she’d been sitting. While annoyed that he’d not responded to her sex eyes, she also just felt embarrassed. Because she’d totally just objectified him, looked at her best friend in the whole world like he was a tree for her to climb and use. And she hated herself for it.

“I can hear you thinking, Evans.” James whispered through the darkness, his back still facing hers. “Relax.”

And she did, her hands slid to rest on her stomach, her legs unfolded and moved to rest against the mattress. Her eyes closed and she let out a small sigh. And then he had to go and roll over, his breath on her neck.

While she knew she should just ignore it, squint her eyes and try to sleep, Lily couldn’t help but turn her head on her pillow, her eyes opening once more. And there he was, looking at her. No glasses, his hair already made even messier than usual from the pillow. He just looked so soft.

Usually James was all sharp edges and angular, charisma dripping from every inch of his body. He was sarcastic and energetic and never ever seemed to get tired. But there, laying in bed beside him, he seemed so calm, so at peace. His sharp edges had blurred, softened by the look in his eyes as he gazed at Lily. And that was what he was doing, gazing.

It didn’t take her much to lean in, just one look from him was enough. Her body turned on the mattress as she shifted to reach his lips, her own brushing his softly. And then she moved to pull away, to see his reaction when he moved, his hand sliding to the back of her neck to drag her closer. His lips covered hers and by god, did it feel right. Lily’s hand came to rest on his chest as she kissed him eagerly, their mouths pressing together in a perfect dance, nothing too eager or too slow.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months.” Lily whispered when they broke apart, her eyes still closed.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”

She looked at him then. There was no trace of a lie in his eyes. She believed him, because of course she did. James never lied to her.

And then she tackled him against the bed and thanked the London Northwestern Railway gods for cancelling the last train home.

#jily fan fic #jily drabble #jily fic

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messrmoonyy · 3 years

Note

same anon here that asked for the remus returning thing, sorry for the confusion i meant like after he gets back but they aren’t back together yet and there are those few days we’re dora is kinda cold and distant just to protect herself and remus is doing whatever he can :)

My girl Dora ain’t no doormat, no way was she letting him get away with treating her like that and just forgive him immediately. Remus did some grovelling for sure.

Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: none

You can find all my other writing on my masterlist and remember my ask box is always open, I love any and all requests so please do send them my way!

Tonks woke up to the sound of quiet clattering, a scent of sausages and bacon and eggs. Fresh pastries and pumpkin juice. She opened one eye but the bedroom door was closed still, the other side of the bed as cold as it had been for the last month and a half. Ever since Remus had returned to her he’d been sleeping on the sofa, still trying to even come to terms with being able to look at him in the eye. Never mind sleep beside him. She had said she’d sleep on the sofa at first. It was his home after all, who was she to make him sleep on the sofa in his own home? But he’d insisted she take the bed.

She had deliberated moving to her parents. She knew that would be the eventual outcome anyway, they weren’t exactly in the position for her to just waltz into st Mungos to give birth. But the thought of staying with her mother fussing for longer than necessary wasnt all that appealing. So she had stayed put and waited for Remus. And now he was on the sofa until she finally shifted the last of her hurt.

She still loved him, of course she did. But she couldn’t shake the purely painful feeling of betrayal. He had come back so she guessed she should have been relieved. But it was the fact that he had ran in the first place. The fight had been bitter, his words stinging her like acid, biting at her, beating her down until she felt completely worthless. She’d never heard him say such things. She didn’t know he had it in him. He’d always been such a gentle soul, she’d only heard him raise his voice once or twice. But everyone has a breaking point, everyone snaps. And he had. At her.

She’d never known he could muster words so cruel. Didn’t know his usually gentle face could twist into such hatred. Didn’t know he could look at as if he could barely stand to be within ten feet of her, when he so often only looked at her with adoration.

He’d come back quite literally begging for her forgiveness, down on his knees and finding every and any word he could to try and prove how sorry he was. She had let him back because she loved him. Because she was carrying their child. But she hadn’t forgiven him. And she wasn’t about to anytime soon she guessed. No matter how hard he was trying to win her back around.

He kept leaving her gifts, there was a constant supply of fresh flowers for her every morning. She had ignored them at first, leaving them on the kitchen counter to wilt and die. He’d started placing them in a vase now. Sometimes it was breakfast- like it seemed to be that morning from the smell. Fresh pastries on the pillow when she went to bed, chocolate frogs in her sock drawer, copies of the quibbler because she liked the comic pages, the list was never ending. She couldn’t lie that she liked his grovelling, it was really the least he could do after all he’d said to her. And she felt she deserved to have him pay for what he’d done.

She sat up in bed and sighed to herself, glancing over at the small box beside the bed that held her wedding ring. She’d thrown it in his face the night he’d left her, it landing somewhere at their feet in the front garden. She’d not even been sure on where it had landed. It had appeared on her pillow a few days after Remus had come back and she wondered if he’d actually taken it with him when he ran. Or if he’d just searched for it when he returned. She’d shoved it in the box and not touched it since. She wished she could’ve gone back to the wedding day. He’d been so happy. She’d been so happy. Her mother would’ve hated the wedding, but that had made almost a little more enjoyable. It wasn’t even the slightest part traditional.

A tiny church in what felt like the coldest part of Scotland going. Some strangers they’d met a few hours before in a local pub as witnesses, no big crowds of guests. No fancy white dress. She’d worn her boots and the nicest dress she could find in her wardrobe back home. Her bouquet had been some flowers nicked from someone’s front garden, one of which she’d pinned to Remus. It wasn’t perfect in anyone else’s eyes, but it was to her. To him. They’d shared their own vows, been bound together by magic and love and hope. They’d danced all night, stayed up until the sun rose sat up on a cliff over looking the sea. And of course the stumbled walk back to their B&B over the pub, the event that had inevitably created the tiny person residing inside her now. And that was that.

But the Remus that had shouted at her, told her that they had no choice but to her rid of the abomination they had created… that didn’t feel like the Remus she had married. She didn’t recognise that man. That wasn’t her Remus. That wasn’t the man she loved, had married, had given up everything for. He was a stranger to her.

She got dressed then, not wanting to fall into the hole of longing for Remus again and put herself in a bad mood, before leaving the bedroom. Remus was stood in the kitchen and smiling at her as she opened the bedroom door. The bedroom was the only place in the house that offered her privacy, the rest being tiny and open plan. She spent most of her time in there just lately and thankfully for her, he often left her to it. The bedroom being almost out of bounds to him. He hadn’t stepped foot in there since coming back.

“ good morning Dora “ he greeted quietly and she shook her head at him, raising a hand and pointing at his face.

“ no. I told you already. You don’t get to call me that now “ he looked down at the floor for a moment and nodded. He looked like a kicked puppy but she told herself she didn’t care. He deserved to hurt like she had. He did.

“ right. I’m sorry. Tonks “ he cleared his throat awkwardly and gestured to the table “ I. I have breakfast for you. I have to nip out to the Weasleys for a while but there’s more food in the fridge for you if that isn’t to your liking “ she sniffed and turned her head away from the table. She didn’t know why but his kindness just made her mad. Like a switch flicked inside of her.

“ and you’ll return this time? Or planning another week away? “ he sighed and ran a hand through his hair “ need another chat with Harry so you? Listen to a child’s advice but not your own wife right? “

“ Dora ple- “

“ no! “ she hadn’t completely intended to shout but she had. She closed her eyes, balling her hair into fists and tried to get rid of her sudden lack of calm. She could feel angry tears burning behind her eyelids and she blamed her messed up hormones. She refused to cry in front of him again. Refused to show the hurt he was still causing her weeks after her left “ just. Just go the Weasleys. Go on “ he hesitated for a moment and gave a small nod.

He knew better than to argue with her now. Knew it would get him no where.

“ just. Please make sure you eat something. It’s not good for the b- “

“ don’t stand there and pretend you care “ she snapped “ don’t “

“ Tonks I do. I do care I have apologised I don’t know what else I- “

“ if you cared you wouldn’t have left “ there was silence then. So quiet it was almost painful. But she felt like twisting the knife, plunging it deeper and drawing out as much agony as she could. She wanted him to hurt like she had, to feel the pieces of his heart shatter inside his chest, splinter his lungs so it felt as though no air could reach him. Make him feel how she had “ I am only here because unfortunately for me. You are the father of my baby. I don’t care how much you apologise. I will never forgive you Remus Lupin. Never “

The words burnt her own throat as she spoke them, and regret seeped into her chest. But she stayed firm. Refused to cry. Refused to feel guilty. He deserved it.

She had clearly struck a nerve. His eyes swam with pain, his hands hanging limply at his side. Defeated. Hurt. She’d won that round.

“ I don’t know how many time I can apologise “ he said weakly “ I know it’ll never come close to repairing what I did but- “

“ please. Just go to the Weasleys “ she said with a sigh and turned away from him as her tears finally fell. She didn’t want him to see. She closed her eyes. gripping onto the kitchen counter so her knuckles turned white. She heard movement behind her and the front door opening.

“ please make sure you eat “ he said softly before the front door closed and she dropped down to her knees, letting her tears run freely. Her body wracked with sobs

————————-

When Remus had been on the sofa for 2 months, and Tonks was finally starting to pass the phase of just looking a little fat, to actually looking pregnant, nearing her 4th month. She had started to become a little more forgiving. She had started to sit with him at breakfast again, didn’t shut down every single conversation he tried to start with her, sat beside him when he read by the fire in the evenings. Though she always left a fair space between them.

She found she’d started to miss him greatly. Trying to deal with how much her body was changing on her own wasn’t exactly the most fun thing. Remus was still piling her with as much affection as he could, even though she still wasn’t particularly receptive to it. But she had to admire his determination.

“ Nymphadora. I was wondering if I could have a word “ she turned to face him as she toed off her boots, having only just gotten home from a trip to see her parents “ please. If you would “ she hung up her jacket and nodded, walking over to him as he gestured towards the table where a small yellow gift bag was sat.

She sat down at the small table, it had an old copy of the prophet folded up under one leg to stop it from wobbling, but it still moved slightly when she picked up the gift bag.

“ you can’t buy my forgiveness “ she stated, not looking inside the bag “ I told you that already Remus. I can’t be bought “ he gave a small nod, clasping his hands tighter.

“ yes. I know. I do. Just- please “ he nodded towards the bag and she hesitated but sighed before pulling at the ribbon and pulling out the tissue paper. She froze when her figures fell upon a soft cotton and she realised what was in the bag. She pulled it out, dropping the bag to the floor “ I wasn’t- I wasn’t sure on the size or- it’s like Hufflepuff, you see? Of course I couldn’t get an official one. It was a muggle shop and I had to be quite quick I didn’t want to risk anything. I mean I had options of course but- “

“ Remus “ she cut him off. It was a babygrow. It was a pastel green with a badger embroidered on the chest. It was the first piece of clothing their child had. She hadn’t exactly had the best of opportunities to go shopping down Diagon alley for some herself.

“ Dora “ he tried her nickname again for the first time in weeks and this time she didn’t chastise him for it “ I know I’ll never be able to take back what I said. But as I told you when I returned. I had time to think. And these past months I’ve been thinking too “ he reached out gingerly for her hand and when she didn’t pull away he gently took it in both of his “ all I ever wanted was a normal life. A normal family. And now… now I have that chance. With the woman I love and. And our child “

“ and what if he’s not… ‘ Normal ‘. If he’s different. I’d hes half werewolf. Or full. Or. In between “ she was getting a little tense with her words again and she tried her best to remain calm. She was finally getting a truthful and meaningful opinion from Remus on the matter. She should be thankful for that. Even with the betrayal still poking the back of her mind occasionally.

“ then I’ll love him all the same. He’ll be could be born with four legs and 5 arms, two heads. No magic at all. I’d still love him. Because we made him Nymphadora. You and I. And I…. I never thought I’d get that. I never believed I’d be a father. A husband. Now I have that opportunity and I see how much of a fool I was to try and throw that away “ he squeezed her hand gently, his thumb rubbing circles over her knuckles in a soothing way. She knew him well enough to know when he was lying to her. And he wasn’t now.

“ let’s deal with the possible moon situation before we worry about any extra limbs shall we? “ she said with a small smile and watched as he seemed to relax every muscle in his body, his worries that she wouldn’t accept his apologies slipping away “ I won’t forgot what you said to me. And to him “ she placed her free hand on her stomach as she spoke “ but you’re his dad. Nothing is going to change that. And the world really fucked up right now. Like. Really. And so we have to protect him. Love him more than we can even think about “ Remus nodded.

She refused to let the world ruin her baby, refused to let him be warped into a life of terror and fear. Of feeling outcast and alone like his father had. Remus stood up then and knelt down in front of her.

“ I love you Nymphadora. And I love him… or her “ she smiled slightly as he placed a gentle hand over hers that was still cradling her bump. Remus’ acceptance suddenly made it feel all the more real. In just 4 months they’d have a baby. A real one. Screaming and crying and laughing. A most innocent thing born into a world on the brink of disaster. And somehow her and Remus had to keep him safe. And kind. And loved. They weren’t exactly the most functional of couples so it was no doubt that their family wouldn’t be either. But they’d make it work. They would.

Werewolf or not.

—————————————-

It was another week after that that she finally caved. The talk had most definitely been the turning point. And she’d kissed him again that evening for the first time in months. Was actually letting him touch her again without recoiling. Though he was still on the sofa.

Though December had well and truly arrived. The cold weather setting her into an almost constant chill, the old cottage not offering much in terms insulation. And she missed having him wrapped around her. He was always warm. And didn’t complain when her cold hands found there way under his shirt in the night to warm up. She also just missed him. Just him. Her Remus. The man she’d fallen in love with. She wanted him back beside her, his slow breaths on her neck in the night, his legs tangled with hers. Even the way his facial hair scratched at her when they kissed. She just missed him.

So it was almost no surprise to her when she found herself slipping out of bed, the coldness of the stone floor seeping through her socks and chilling her already numb feet some more. She opened the bedroom door slowly to see if he was awake or not.

He was in the armchair, a book on his lap. Clearly having not planned to sleep there, he’d have a sore neck in the morning that was for certain. She grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and silently walked over to him. The fire was crackling in the hearth, immediately warming her up. She moved the book careful not to lose his page, before climbing into his lap in its place. She wrapped the blanket around them, bring her legs up and resting her head on his chest. One more month gone and she didn’t think she’d be able to manage that. She wasn’t the tallest or biggest of people. So her bump was still pretty small. But she loved it all the same.

Remus stirred slightly and made a small noise of confusion to wake up and find Dora on his lap. He opened his eyes fully, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

" Dora? "

" go back to sleep " she whispered and felt him give a small nod as his hand tentatively wrapped around her, like he was still unsure if he was allowed to touch her or not. She snuggled in a little closer to him as if to say it was okay and he fully wrapped around her, pulling the blanket up to her chin. It felt right to be in his arms like that again. They’d snuggled on the sofa the day before. But not as… intimate as this. It felt normal again. Like she belonged there.

" why did you- "

" I was just cold " she cut him off, ignoring the way his raspy sleep filled voice made her melt. She was trying to show that she was still just that little bit mad at him. But she couldn’t deny that she missed him. That yes she was still hurt, that she might always been. But nothing could compare to the amount that of love she had for him. Still. Even after all he’d done. No one would ever come close to the way she felt for Remus Lupin.

" right " She lifted her head for a moment to find he was already looking at her. And she couldn't help herself. Because time was precious now. And she was wasting it being angry all these months later. She slipped a hand up to cup his face before pulling him in to kiss her. He seemed a little surprised at first, his lips frozen for a moment before they opened to capture her own. But she didn't blame him because she was too. She hadn’t planned for that night to be that night she let go of the final part holding her back.

" this isn't me forgiving you " she said against his lips once they pulled apart. Half joking. Half not.

" I know " he seemed quite truthful with that. Like he understood her thinking. Maybe he did.

" good "

" good " she kissed him again and found herself shifting in his lap, slipping a leg either side of him. Because she was mad at him, she was really. But she loved him more. Missed him more. Needed him more. And soon she was unbuttoning his trousers and bunching up her sweatshirt- that was actually his- around her waist, rolling her hips against him until she was panting out his name, gripping the back of the armchair so hard she was surprised she didn’t splinter the wooden frame.

They stayed on the armchair even after Remus had cleaned them up, trying to keep the warmth of the fire in her body, trying to share Remus’ own body heat.

" Remus " she said when she was certain he was just dropping off, her head against his chest. Heading his heart beating felt like home. The familiar sound she had so often fallen asleep to. Comforting.

" I know. This isn't you forgiving me " he mumbled, hurt tinging his words.

" actually I was going to say that I love you "

" oh. Oh right... I love you too. You know I do " his arms tightened slightly around her and she let herself calm to the sound of his heart. She waited again until she felt him slackening with sleep to speak again, a slight mischief in her tone.

" oh and Remus? This isn't me forgiving you "

#messrmoonyy writes #bit longer than normal! but I loved this prompt so much!#remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #remadora #harry potter #remus x tonks #ronks #the marauders #lupin #tonks x lupin #tonks #remus x nymphadora #Dora lupin #remadora one shot #deathly hallows #one shot

59 notes · View notes

nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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faunusrights · 3 years

Text

yeah, all i got is this belly button lint: a happy huntresses short fic

wrote this real quick because i love thinking about the random crap fiona has in her Inventory(tm). also i just like thinking about these clowns in general, so,

"Okay, so, what's actually in your Semblance right now?" Joanna asks one day in third year, when Fiona and May have sneaked away to Robyn's dorm to lose at cards and help edit her new batch of flyers promoting union creation in the workplace. Fiona had given a couple a look and accepted them as good enough, but May is weirdly exacting about her standards and is currently trying to convince Robyn to nudge the text headers over by ten pixels to the right. That's why, as she's sat on the floor and wrapped up in the drama of watching Robyn try and slowly fail to ignore May's insistent pleas for her to boot up her editor, Fiona's caught just a little bit off-guard by the question.

"My Semblance?" she asks, and Joanna nods all serious-like from her place on the bunk above Robyn. Joanna often looks very serious, because she suffers from what Robyn calls resting thoughtful bitch face, so sometimes it's hard to gauge how actually serious about something she really is. "I mean, it's probably a mess in there right now."

"I keep forgetting you actually use it like storage space," Robyn adds cheerfully, having now progressed onto shoving May away from her laptop computer every time she tries to creep closer. "Since most Semblances are, y'know, combat-only things or like... special occasions, I guess. And yet here you are, telling people you really don't need a bag for all your groceries!"

It is fun to flex on all the people struggling to carry like six bags to their car or their home, and Fiona preens. "Yeah, it's nice. I mostly keep things in it that I'd wanna have in an emergency, but it's been a while since I last sorted through it, so, who knows what garbage I've put in there."

"Tell me Robyn's braincell is in there too," May says imploringly, still trying to slide an arm around Robyn to get at the keyboard, but Fiona just shakes her head. She can't and won't be blamed for that particular disappearance any time soon. Instead, she rubs her hands together, scrunching up her face as she tests the edges of the Semblance. It's a funny thing, a Semblance like this--she never really has to think about it, but it's always just in reach, like this extra weight in her chest that she can totally forget about. It's strange to think about, so she often just doesn't.

"Okay," she starts, and she goes for the biggest item she can sense, which is an easy one to explain. In her hands materialises an acoustic guitar, worn and scuffed with age, and this attracts to attention of every girl in the room. "Well, this one's easy. This is my guitar, and honestly? If I ever leave it behind in the meatspace and don't pick it up on my way out the door, know that you've just seen my evil clone and you have to kill her."

Joanna blinks, and Robyn seems caught between asking about the guitar, the evil clone, and also the fact that Fiona insists on referring to the physical world as the meatspace. So, she does as Robyn does best, and settles on an expletive. "Shit! You play?"

"Been playing since I was... like seven? Something like that." Fiona shrugs, because she really can't be sure; her first vague memory of even seeing this guitar was a long time ago, her uncle telling her it used to belong to her grandmother who'd never managed to learn a damn thing on it. So, Fiona had taken up practice, if only because it was something for a little lowlands Mantellian Faunus to do during the long, cold polar nights and the endless sunshine of the midnight sun. "But, yeah, this is always on me in some form or another."

"You should've played it whilst we were on watch our last mission," May says, with a certain scowl that Fiona knows is 100% directed at their team leader, who is currently off doing... some sort of bullshit with their partner, no doubt. Gods, this team is a nightmare. "All those hours trying to stay awake so we could stare into nothing..."

"Sorry," Fiona says, and she means it. She'd intended to, but, well, she'd sort of chickened out. The echo in the mountains is kind of insane. "Next time?"

May nods, but Joanna cuts off whatever she's about to say next by waving her hands through the air like she can physically dissipate the conversation. "Okay, okay, cool, but now I gotta else you got hiding in there."

Re-compressing her guitar--and oh, is Fiona thankful that dematerialising and rematerialising it doesn't leave it out of tune--Fiona has a mental root around. "Uh, okay, so, we've got--"

In no particular order, she starts pulling things out: a pair of thick gloves for the brutal Solitas chill, an extra pair of socks (hugely understated by most, but never by Fiona), a ushanka that Robyn instantly cheers for, and a couple of jackets ranging from light windbreakers to thick furred jackets that feel like she's wearing a mattress around her ribs. Her Scroll and wallet are in there too, naturally, as are her keys and some extra ammunition, and she pulls out a load of old train tickets with a grimace. "Hm. I was meant to throw these away years ago."

"You're basically carrying around a wardrobe in there, then?" May asks in a way that'd maybe be a little teasing if she didn't look about as jealous as she sounds, but it becomes a thoughtful expression when Fiona shakes her head again.

"Bold of you to think I haven't got a whole pantry in here too," she says, and now Joanna looks very interested. "Check this out."

The first thing she pulls out is a gallon jug of clean water--endlessly fucking useful, she's found, especially when you're in some situation where you can't sit on your ass for an hour waiting for the water purification tablets to do their job--before pulling out a whole host of Atlesian MREs that she keeps around just in case shit really does hit the fan. Atlas rations are... not good, in a phrase, but she's owed them her life more than once, so, whatever.

"What dates are on those?" May quickly interrupts with a critical eye, trying to make out the printed numbers on the snow-patterned packets, and Fiona tosses her one if only to distract May's hands from trying to puzzle out Robyn's password when Robyn isn't directly paying attention.

"Things don't really degrade in my Semblance," Fiona admits. "I've tested it before on stuff with a short shelf-life, like cheese and milk, and honestly I can leave it in there for months and have it come out just as fresh as when it went in. Something to do with a sort of... internal stasis, I guess." Then, she adds, "One thing in my Semblance is a goldfish in a bowl, but he's part of a practical theory I'm running, so I can't materialise him for another fifteen years or so."

"That sounds very normal," Joanna says, and Fiona is glad she agrees as she barrels right over the inherent sarcasm.

As May agonises over finding the date, though, Fiona continues to unveil her pantry--there's plenty of snacks, like dried fruit and nuts and energy bars and chocolate, and when she reveals she carries extra for every member of her team and then some (then some in this instance being Robyn and Joanna, not that she'll admit it), Robyn looks delighted. "That's so sweet! Look at you, making sure nobody goes hungry. You're one in a million."

That's cute and very gay, but Fiona has a lot of stuff to be working through and so she keeps on going--there's a flask of coffee that, thanks to the maybe-stasis, is eternally hot, a bottle of dark Mantellian ale she keeps as, uh, moral support, and she blushes when she pulls out half an uneaten tuna sandwich. "I wondered where that went. Whoops."

May looks up from the MRE for a second, and then does a double-take as she takes in the sight of the very limp and sad-looking sandwich, made courtesy of the Atlas Academy cafeteria. "Wait! Isn't that the sandwich you accused me of stealing last month?!"

"Anyway!" Fiona says with a forced grin, quickly making it disappear back into the void where it can safely continue not existing. "I think the final thing in here is... wait."

She blinks, and suddenly in her hands are at least a hundred little booklets entitled The Pocket Guide to Communist Outreach, scattering right over the floor. Robyn yelps, and then reaches down the side of her bunk to pick them up. "Oh shit! I forgot I asked you to hold onto these! I thought we ran out, nice."

Joanna's face is in her hands, and May sighs long and hard before tossing the MRE back to Fiona with a distinctly pained expression.

"It goes out of date in a month," she notes with distaste, and Fiona just sucks it up without a word. She'll be thankful for it when they end up down a dark cave with no backup, but Fiona figures she'll sit on that one for a bit before being able to make the greatest told you so call in history. She can wait.

"So," she says, watching as May takes advantage of Robyn's momentary distraction to try and access her computer again. "I guess... do you wanna hear me play a song?"

Joanna watches as her partner leans too far over the side of the bunk, yelping as she nearly slams her head directly into the hard vinyl of the floor, and she grimaces. "Please do."

Grinning, Fiona finds her guitar again--somewhere buried, she mentally notes, beside the gallon of water but under the coats--and she slings the broad strap about her shoulders before settling it on her lap, crossing her legs tightly beneath herself before finding her place on the fretboard. After having not played since being back home, it relaxes her more than she'd ever realised it did. It helps to be surrounded by friends, though. Helps to be with family.

"I don't take requests," she adds, flatly, and Robyn laughs from her place on the floor before music fills the dorm, soft and deep and achingly familiar of a place far, far below.

But she's okay with calling this place home, too.

#is the title really a spongebob refer--#rwby #happy huntresses #fiona thyme #robyn hill #may marigold #joanna greenleaf #my writing #sorry this was in my brain for a while there sdfhjgsdfgjh #BUT ITS OUT NOW. ITS FREE.#what else would you have called this #fiona doesn't mention this but she also has emergency condoms and a literal handgun. just in case.#JUST IN CASE...

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vgilantee · 4 years

Text

The Manager || Platonic! Sunset Curve x Reader

Requested by anon

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: the guys swear because nobody can tell me that a bunch of 17 year olds in a rock band in the 90’s didn’t swear. I know i said fluff but i had an angst idea and it was too good not to add (i’m sorry). and while i don’t bother with adjusting to the american spelling most of the time, I did for ‘mom’ and ‘flavor’ and i hated it every time i typed it. final note: if i were to do more parts it would become a series rewrite, so if that’s something that interests you, let me know!

Warnings: character death, unhappy home life (no details)

While being the manager for Sunset Curve often felt closer to being a parent sometimes, it’s not a job you would trade for the world. Well, less a job because you weren’t really getting paid, but it was a good gig. You got to see some awesome venues and other small musicians, you quite often got free food from venues, and of course, got to hang out with your favourite boys. They gave you a place in the world, somewhere where you felt at home. They were family. Plus, Luke had graciously allowed you to crash in the studio with him when things got bad at home.

You swing the door open, duffle bag over your shoulder, and march into the studio. It’s late, again, but your parents had started going off while you were trying to study and your father had mentioned your name, so you grabbed the emergency bag and climbed out the window. Luke looks up from his page and watches as you drop the bag on the ground and flop face down on the sofa.

“Again?” You hum and nod into the pillow before flipping onto your back.

“Dad said my name and mentioned something about grades and the band and I left before they could drag me into it further.” You glance over to see he has closed his journal and is resting his forearms on the acoustic in his lap.

“Smart move.” You laugh and shift again to lay on your side. “The guys are in the house getting food by the way.” As if on queue, Reggie walks in with a stack of pizza boxes, Bobby has his arms full of bags of various snacks, and Alex is carrying an open cooler full of bottles of soda.

“Oh hey, Y/N!” Alex raises the fingers on one hand in a wave before putting the cooler on the ground in front of the sofa.

“Parents again?” Bobby gives you a sympathetic look before dropping the bags next to the pizza boxes Reggie had put on the coffee table.

“Yep!” You pop the ‘p’ sound with false enthusiasm.

“You may as well just move in at this point.” Luke says it like a joke, but it’s been a joke for so long that you all know he says it seriously.

“You know what?” You sit up quickly and give a short nod. “My parents both have work tomorrow, you lot are gonna help me grab what I need.” It was that simple. The boys all make varying statements of agreement before sitting on the miscellaneous chairs around the coffee table.

Luke had suggested you all dress in black for the heisting of your belongings, and as Alex was the only voice of reason, you all ended up head-to-toe in black.

“Shh.” Luke whips around and presses a finger to his lips when you swing the door shut behind the group.

“There is literally nobody home Luke. And also this is my house. We don’t need to be quiet.” You gesture around the entrance with your hands as you speak, and Luke turns around and pulls the black beanie he insisted you wear, down over your eyes. You swat him away and he shushes Reggie as he laughs at you.

“It’s a heist! You gotta be quiet.” You roll your eyes after putting the beaning back in place on your head, before walking towards the staircase. “Everyone remember the plan?” Turning around you fold your arms and roll your eyes again.

“School stuff.” Bobby salutes Luke, who nods.

“Blankets and pillows!” Reggie copies Bobby’s salute, and is also nodded at. Alex rolls his eyes, and with far less enthusiasm holds his hand in a salute.

“Stuffing and zipping up bags.” Luke nods once more then turns to you with an expectant look.

“Toiletries and underwear.” He taps his foot and clears his throat dramatically, staring at you, waiting. “Oh, right.” You salute him as well.

“And I’m on clothes!” You hear the noise of his hand hitting his forehead as he salutes with a bit too much force. “And if we hear the ‘rents, we move to Y/N’s room as quietly as possible, where we will finish packing what we have and bail out the window. Let’s move out!” You aren’t sure if he expected you all to go separate ways, but you move as a group up the stairs and into your room so that everyone can collect bags. Bobby takes your school bag, Reggie a duffle bag, and Luke and Alex reef a suitcase out from the top of your wardrobe. You swing a drawstring bag over your shoulder as you watch Luke nearly drop the suitcase on Alex, who promptly swears at him.

With a final salute, you all part ways. You hear Bobby thundering down the stairs as you walk over to the bathroom, rolling our eyes at him. Grabbing your toiletries, including spare deodorants and toothpastes, before moving back into your bedroom where your drawers have been pulled open and clothes are being tossed onto the bed by Luke. You can only watch in horror and amazement as your clothes are thrown out of the drawers, and Alex folds them at an incredible speed. You want to ask him how he is folding them so quickly, but you don’t want to break his concentration. Instead you move to the unopened drawer and collect all your underwear, shoving it into the bag in your hands on top of the items already in the bag. You grab your hairbrush, adding it to the bag, before pulling the strings on the bag and closing it.

“Need a hand, Alex?” He looks up after placing a folded shirt neatly in the suitcase. He opens his mouth to respond but instead snorts as you are hit in the head with a pair of jeans.

“Shit, sorry!” You pull the jeans from over your shoulder and glare at Luke, who has his hands covering his mouth.

“Screw you.” You flip him off, then fold the jeans and place them in the suitcase.

The three of you managed to empty all your drawers and were in the process of sorting out what heavier jackets to take from your closet when you hear a door close, followed by thundering feet. The door is swung open and Bobby leans against the doorframe.

“Mother.” Is all he manages to get out before Reggie tries to push past him and they both tumble into your room, making a thump as they land.

“Shhh!” You and Luke push your index fingers to your lips, shushing the guys at the same time, but it’s too late.

“Y/N?” You all freeze as your mom calls out for you. You turn to the guys, left index finger still pushed to your mouth, as you point to the window with quick and sharp motions. They all nod and collect the bags and suitcases (a second was grabbed at some point in their packing) and move to the window. You don’t want your mom to know you are home to avoid whatever argument will undoubtedly occur, hence the attempt at silence, but when Reggie drops the suitcase he’s carrying with a echoing thud, you realise that won’t be possible.

“Shit. I’ll meet you at the car. Go!” You whisper harshly at the guys as he raises his hand to apologise and you leave your room, shutting the door behind you to hopefully muffle any more noises they make and buy them some more time. “Yeah mom?” Your mom waits at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded, as you make your way down. “What’s up?” You try to mask your anxiety about the whole situation by leaning against the railing.

“Don’t ‘what’s up’ me. You disappeared last night, and while I know you were at the studio with the band, you could have at least called to let me know that you were okay. Because really I didn’t know for sure because you didn’t call! You could have even called me this morning to say you were coming home. I had no way of knowing if you were safe, or, or, or if something had happened. I didn’t know!”

“Mom-” You try to say something to calm her down but she interrupts, clearly not finished with her lecture.

“And you’re letting your grades slip! Running around with those stupid boys in that stupid band. You say you’re their manager, but it’s not a job and it’s definitely not a career! You need to pay more attention to class instead of going to clubs and venues with them. Which isn’t safe! Running around Hollywood with those four idiots in the middle of the night, sometimes not even coming home. There are all kinds of dangerous people out there and with no adult supervision anything could happen!”

“Mom!”

“No. Your father isn’t right about a lot of things but he’s definitely right about not letting you see them again. Being friends with them is dangerous, not because they are, but because none of you have any common sense or self preservation!”

“Mom, enough.” You rarely stood up to her, and you had never scolded her before, but calling the only four people that truly felt like family ‘idiots’ was the last straw. “I know it isn’t a job, but they are my best friends, and I enjoy going to those venues! I know it could be dangerous but the five of us are always together. My grades haven’t slipped, except maybe a couple of classes by one or two percent. But it’s not going to ruin me. And-” The door slams shut and you look up quickly from your mother to see your father in the door.

“Y/N.” Your father speaks very even and monotone, and his moves are all calculated. But his hands are clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Hi dad.” It was overly formal, and your brain screams at you to run, run from this conversation. But you can’t. You need to make sure the guys are as far away as possible, hopefully even at the car. You don’t think your father would track them down to stop you, but you don’t want to tell your parents you are leaving, and really you weren’t actually sure he wouldn’t track them down and drag you home. “How was work?” Poking the bear was very stupid.

“You disappeared last night, didn’t bother to leave a note or anything and scared the shit out of your mother!” You flinch slightly as he raises his voice. “You won’t be seeing that ridiculous band ever again, I can promise you that.” You glance at the clock and quickly decide that the guys have had enough time to get to Bobby’s car parked in the next street over. So you nod along in faux understanding. “You’re grounded, and you will spend the rest of the night until dinner studying.” You scoff and try to act pissed off, storming back up the stairs. To add to the act, you slam the door shut behind you, before grabbing a hoodie and climbing out the window.

You sneak around the house, watching your parents carefully as they move to the living room. They seem to be arguing again, almost certainly about you. You hop the fence into the neighbours yard then book it down the street to the waiting car. The engine is going and the second Reggie sees you, the windows are rolled down and they are yelling at you to hurry up, Bobby leaning over to open the passenger-side door. You laugh as you dive into the passenger seat. The door is barely shut when Bobby revs the engine and you drive away, a rock song from a mixtape you had made Bobby for his birthday playing loudly through the speaker and the five of you singing along and laughing.

“Boys I have excellent news!” Wrong notes are played and a drumstick is dropped as you fling open the door with a piece of paper in your hand.

“Christ, Y/N.” Bobby places a hand to his heart as Alex leans down to pick back up his drumstick.

“What’s the news?” Luke places his guitar on a stand and slides over to you.

“Sit sit!” You gesture your boys towards the sofa on the opposite wall. “I won’t just tell you, there’s no fun in that!” They groan but comply, squashing together on the sofa, Alex with his legs over Luke’s, Reggie sitting cross-legged with his feet under him, and Bobby putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“Well?” Luke leans forward over Alex’s feet and rests his elbows on his knees.

“As you know I have been going around to potential venues to get you guys a show that isn’t in a bar that perpetually smells like puke, while you are playing your puke-scented shows and writing new hits.”

“Yeah.” They all reply at the same time and your smile grows.

“And I am also the best manager in the world, especially because of the fact that I am your manager.”

“Yeah yeah. Just tell us.”

“Bobby, quiet. I am building suspense.” Reggie swats his arm as if to say ‘yeah Bobby’. “Anyway. You also know that you are all incredibly talented and you will become the biggest band every.” The guys are all leaning forward and staring at you, waiting for you to finally tell them what news you’ve bought. “Alex, drumroll.” He immediately complies with an enthusiastic drumroll on Luke’s back. “You’re playing the Orpheum!” You throw your hands up as the guys all jump up and celebrate. “Are you serious?” Bobby grabs the piece of paper with the show contract as Reggie picks himself up off the floor after tripping over his feet trying to stand.

“How did you do that?” Luke is jumping on the sofa and Alex is shaking you by the shoulders.

“I’m just that good.” You manage so say through the laughing and shaking.

“Size beautiful.” You roll your eyes as Alex groans and Reggie hands the poor bartender the shirt and demo.

“Thanks.” She laughs as she holds up the Sunset Curve shirt before tossing it over her shoulder.

“I am so sorry about him.” You say genuinely to her, stood between Reggie and Luke.

“No worries. I’ll make sure not to wipe the table down with this one.” She offers them all a polite smile that you can tell is a forced customer service smile.

“Oh, good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands.” Alex gestures with his hands and you hear Bobby sigh.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hotdogs?” Oh? You realise that Bobby very likely wants to flirt with Bartender Rose and is trying to get rid of you all, finding his bandmates embarrassing sometimes. Luke pushes him back and nudges you with his shoulder as he leans over the bar, giving it a quick drum with his hands.

“Yeah, he had a hamburger for lunch.” He bounces then walks away, and Reggie shoves his shoulder.

“See you before the show.” You elbow him as you follow after Luke and Reg, and Alex bounces to catch up to you.

You eye the hotdog as it is handed over to you. You trust the guys but you don’t trust this hotdog ‘vender’ who is the sauce bottle sitting in his engine. You watch as Alex tells him that he spilt pickle juice into the car as you add sauces and toppings to your own. The vender says that it will help and laughs as Alex sputters, looking at you mumbling about how that doesn’t sound right.

“That’s a new flavor.” You nod, continuing to chew as Alex says what you are thinking through a mouth full of hotdog.

“Relax,” Reggie looks over at him, “street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” The logic is sound enough so you all take another bite.

You stomach hurt, god it hurt. It was like being punched in the gut over and over again, and your stomach was turning, and with every breath in your sides hurt. You could hear Reggie and Alex groaning over your own noises, but you couldn’t hear Luke anymore. You felt the tears rolling down the sides of your face but you couldn’t move your hands away from your stomach. You barely heard the paramedics arrive over the sound of the blood rushing through your ears, and while you could hear them talking you couldn’t decipher words.

You let out a sob as a paramedic leans over you. You barely register being lifted onto an ambulance bed, but you turn your head and watch as Alex is lifted into one. As they wheel you out you see a black bag being zipped up.

You feel light headed as they lift you into the ambulance and you hear Reggie gulp in a breath, before the paramedics swarm over to him. Alex is wheeled in next to you and you see his hand reach out to you. You forcefully peel your hand away from your stomach and hold his hand. You squeeze your eyes shut and hear the paramedic sigh, defeated. You let out a groan, then a sob, and squeeze Alex’s hand as you struggle to breathe. He lets out a pained noise and squeezes your hand back.

Then it’s all gone, and your body is rising. You turn to Alex and see your body, and Reggie’s body, with a version of him floating above his body. You stare at him wide-eyed but he looks past you at Alex. You both watch as the paramedics give up on you and move over to Alex as the heart rate monitor gives a solid high beep. And then he’s rising and looking at you and Reggie. The three of you rise above the ambulance and you hear Alex whisper Luke’s name, looking above just you. You catch sight of him for a second before he disappears. The second he does you feel the pulling that was simply causing you to slowly float up, gave a harsh tug and you were suddenly in a black room.

Alex cried when he arrived, and you felt yourself panic. You were dead. You just died. You and three of your best friends had just died. Reggie was pacing and Luke had just sat on the ground, head in hands. Your own hands were shaking and you couldn’t look at one spot or person for longer than a second.

The pulling feeling returns after a while and you are falling, the four of you screaming before landing on a carpet, a girl around your age screaming back at you.

---

Taglist: @parkeret @marinettepotterandplagg @amazing-socks (if you want to be added to a tag list, send in an ask!)

#sunset curve x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #platonic sunset curve #jatp x reader #platonic jatp x reader #platonic julie and the phantoms x reader #platonic sunset curve x reader #platonic reggie x reader #platonic luke patterson x reader #platonic alex x reader #char writes #redhoodparker-writes masterlist #platonic julie and the phantoms #gender neutral #this may end up as a series but i don't know if i want to commit to multiple series'#though not sure if i want to let go won't be a series

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blackenedwhite97 · 4 years

Text

Birthday Gifts-Reader x Aizawa [BNHA] {NSFW}

Request:

“Idk if your requests are open or anything but can I get a (really detailed lmao) Aizawa oneshot? It's the reader's birthday and to celebrate it they go out with their friends (Aizawa, Mic, Midnight, those peeps) and they get drunk with Aizawa? Then Aizawa takes them to his house and they have a heated, drunken makeout session and end up doing it? And they wake up sober and all and they just look at eachother like 👀 Please and thank you (you can just delete this if you don't wanna write it lol)”

This post includes: , sexual content (so many), cursing, alcohol use and unprotected sex.

As usual I overwrote! Use the “keep reading” page breaks as your guide, the smut and fun times will be nested in between breaks for easy access to anyone who just wants a one way ticket, no lay overs, to horn town.

Author’s note: Requests are super cool and fuel me when I’m brain dead. If you want something sexy/ steamy please keep the character request over 18+ and keep it (fantasies/ role play aside) groovy and consensual.

Okay, birthday sex now.

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You could hear Midnight’s heals echoing down through the halls of your apartment, the thin walls couldn’t defend against her unstoppable strut. You looked yourself over in the full-length mirror you’d hung next to the coat rack, smoothing out your mesh shirt. You had tried your best to dress up, you had even rooted through your closet until you had found your good jeans. If you were honest with yourself, you were a full-time teacher and a full-time pro-hero, most social events usually demanded your hero costume, or your agency provided appropriate formal wear.

In recent years your wardrobe had thinned out considerably, any and all clubbing clothes were long gone or buried under the pile of ruined costume pieces you refused to clean out from your closet. The black mesh shirt you were wearing was borrowed, embarrassingly enough, from your niece who also had to supply the black tank top under it. You had never felt so desperate for clothes than when your niece had to start lending you clothes for your own birthday party. The one silver lining was seeing the scandalized look on your brother’s face when he saw what you had grabbed from her closet.

The front door swung open, Midnight’s spare key dangling in the lock.

“You know you can knock if I’m home.” You took stock of the mass of bags hanging from her arms.

She paused and looked you up and down. “A for effort but I have something for you to wear.”

You looked down at yourself then back at her. You had thought the mesh shirt was bordering on scandalous but compared to Midnight’s shimmering cut out dress you definitely looked like your sixteen-year-old niece had dressed you.

“But,” You gestured to your torso dramatically. “I did the mesh thing! That’s not hot?”

Midnight laughed and dropped one arm of bags unceremoniously on the ground. She scurried around you towards the kitchen pulling out a very luxurious looking bottle of champagne. “It’s your birthday and you aren’t showing leg.”

Since becoming friends with Midnight you had found yourself being spoiled left and right by her. She enjoyed the finer things in life, fine clothes, good drink and gourmet food. She also enjoyed good company, which she reminded you daily that you fit that bill. It was nice, when it wasn’t overwhelming.

“Pink bag.” She said and pointed to the pile of bags on the floor. “I’m getting you laid tonight.”

Your mind tried to picture the dress and all you could come up with was different iterations of Midnight’s hero costume. While you adored Midnight and her style and confidence, it wasn’t quite you. Aside from that the bag was embellished with the logo of a local high-end boutique. Expensive. “How much-”

“It’s a birthday present.” She cut you off.

“Midnight I can’t take-” you tried again.

“Don’t refuse a gift,” the bottle of the champagne rocketed up and dented your low ceiling. “it’s rude.”

You pointed to the ceiling. “That’s rude.”

“Just go put it on!” she waved you off as she began a fruitless search for champagne flutes that you surely didn’t own.

You scoped up the bag and looked at your jean clad legs longingly, you could do so much in jeans and so little in a dress (without revealing yourself). You peaked inside, a neatly folded mound of matt black fabric peeking through the decorative tissue paper. At least it’s not shiny.

As you headed to your room Midnight called after you. “The boys are coming here and we’re all splitting the cab there!”

Your heart jumped in your chest. The boys. Plural. Did that include- no he hates clubs. If he is coming over then that meant that he’d see you in whatever Midnight had selected for you. You grinned to yourself as you stared at the bag on your bed. Sneaky. No wonder she seemed so proud of herself. Although you certainly tried to keep it a secret, Midnight read you like an open book. She noticed how you trailed after him, stared at doors he’d left through.

You lifted the dress from the bag and left it unfold in your hands. It was simple, fitted and clean. You sighed in relief. A small bundle of lace fell out of the bundle to the ground and you looked down red faced to find a black thong on the floor.

“Put everything on!” You could hear the shit eating grin plastered on Midnight’s face.

You huffed and slid off your jeans, staring at the lacey panties with hesitation. Dressed fly up all the time, and you were somewhat of a public figure. But it would be hot to reach up your dress to find those.

Shit.

You swapped your underwear and slid the dress on. You very quickly realized that you’d have to go braless, the plunging neckline wouldn’t allow it. You had to admit, Midnight knew how to dress just about anyone. When she didn’t get overzealous that is. A memory of the sequinned ball gown she tried to convince you to buy last Christmas for Mt. Lady’s party flashed through your mind. You peaked into the bag, the shoes she’d thrown in were a pair of her own and were far too tall and had far too much ankle snapping capabilities for you. Luckily you had swiped a pair of heels from your agency’s closet, you were the only one with the right size of feet to wear them anyways. They were semi ornate burgundy heels that were tall enough to give you those sculpted calves but not so tall as to lend themselves to causing you serious bodily harm should you take a tumble.

You looked yourself over in the mirror and liked what you saw, a new confidence washed over you.

“I look hot as hell.” You declared under your breath.You opened your door, ready to show off Midnight’s hard work.

All confidence drained out of you for a split second when you made eye contact with the Aizawa as he leaned on your counter, a wine glass filled with champagne.

“Uh, H-Hi!” you squeaked. Aizawa looked lost for a moment, probably trying to zone out the energetic conversation Mic and Midnight seemed to be having on the opposite side of the kitchen island from him. He straightened up at the sight of you and you could have sworn a light pink blush attempted to break through across his cheeks. You liked to hope it was you he was blushing at but told yourself he could be a blusher when he drank.

“Hi.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “You look…like the birthday girl.”

He blinked long and hard. That sentence was as awkward for him as it was for you. Midnight jumped towards you, arms outstretched and demanded a spin.

“Let me see my work.” She spun you around and leaned in close so no one could hear. “Is it all on?”

You grinned despite yourself. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Her hand patted your ass and she stepped away.

“You don’t have any champagne flutes!” She said, declaring a change in topic.

“I don’t drink champagne, why do I need champagne flutes?” You defended yourself and she slid a bubbly filled wine glass towards you, but also suspiciously close to where Aizawa was leaning. You took the glass and settled for a more comfortable distance from him, not that you didn’t crave getting as close as possible but you thought you should at least wait until you could blame any embarrassing advances on the alcohol.

“Yeah,” Midnight gestures at herself. “but I do!”

“They’re just skinny wine glasses, though.” Aizawa chimed in, his low calm voice hinting at entertained.

“Sho, my man.” Mic reached across the island and clapped a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder. “You are not a man culture.”

Aizawa turned directly to you, his deep eyes boring into yours. Again, you noticed that slight flush of color on his cheeks. “I think you wine glasses are just fine, don’t listen to these two.”

You grinned at him. “Thank-you, on behalf of me and my wine glasses.”

Midnight jumped, pulling her phone from her ample cleavage. “Cabs here!”

Aizawa began collecting wine glasses but you waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them in the morning.”

He placed his in the sink before Midnight was practically yanking you and him out the door.

“I need my wallet!” you yelped trying to grab your purse on the way out.

“No, you don’t! You aren’t paying for anything tonight!” she said wrapping a ridiculously strong arm around your shoulders.

Aizawa shot an arm out grabbing your purse off your coat rack as he was ushered out the door and handed it to you. “Uh, here.”

“Thanks.” You turned to lock the door, but Midnight was already pulling her key from the lock.

“Let’s go!” she sang as she began her unstoppable strut out of the building.

Midnight had shoved you and Aizawa in the back seat of the SUV, demanded her jacket be given its own seat in the back with you and insisted it could not get wrinkled. She was really good at this. You ended up sitting in the middle seat, having to lean into Aizawa periodically when she would remind you not to lean into her jacket. It was a very nice faux fur jacket, but you knew fur didn’t wrinkle. And you were pretty sure Aizawa knew that too.

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There was a big surprise that was ill timed but all together commendable. When you entered the bar some of the guests were still scurrying into their hiding places, you pretended for everyone’s sake to be very surprised. You even jumped and grabbed onto Aizawa for support, which the thankfully played along with by “catching” you in your shock. You were flooded with drink offers, some by hero’s you’d never even met before. Big parties with lots of booze do that, make everyone want to buy the birthday girl a drink. You gladly accepted a handful of drinks before pawning them off on All Might who had the metabolism of a God and Aizawa who soon enough was drunker than you.

Midnight and Mic were in their element, dancing and singing away. The crowd was so drawn to them that after a while you were able to retreat to a booth in the back and watch them light up the room from afar. You spun your untouched glass of god knows what, watching the melting ice swirl around the nearly fluorescent liquid.

“What’s that?” Aizawa grumbled towards your drink as he slid into the booth next to you. At some point in the night his shirt had become progressively more undone, the sleeves were rolled up and his hair fell from its elastic. He smelled of booze but beyond that a subtle wave of musk and soap washed over you.

“Dunno.” You said pushing it away and leaning into his shoulder. “Stay still, kay?”

“Room spinning?” He asked, leaning into you.

You nodded and closed your eyes taking in his smell. Something about this was so comfortable.

“I like this.” You said pulling on his shirt. “You look good in a dress shirt.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You smirked. Hell yeah you did. “You should see what Midnight has me wearing underneath.”

There was a moment when all you could feel was Aizawa taking a deep breath beneath your head. “Is that an invitation?”

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was definitely blushing now, but there was no awkwardness in his eyes. They were intense, alight with heat and intent. You nodded against his shoulder and watched a smirk spread across his lips. A warm calloused hand found its way to your thigh and traveled upward under your dress, barely brushing the lace panties. It was barely a brush, but you felt excitement pull at your gut.

“Well, shit.” He breathed.

You swallowed your fear and decided that you were drunk enough to be able to blame it on that if this went poorly. You sat yourself up and pressed your hands to his chest, his hand stayed at its post between your legs and his eyes stayed glued to yours. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. He melted into you, his spare hand finding your hip. He instantly began nipping at your bottom lip and running his tongue across your lips until you gave into the wet sloppy drunk kisses. Not that you minded, you too were wet, sloppy and drunk.

His hands traveled everywhere, grabbing and stroking any part of you he could. By the time his hand found your inner thigh again you had swung a leg over his lap and he had begun to leave love bites across your collarbone and neck. You reached down and palmed him between your legs and he hissed, pulling away from you and taking hold of your jaw so he could look you in the eyes. It took you a minute to focus on him, the heat running through you threatening to burn through your clothes.

“Not here.” He breathed, huffing when you stroked him through his pants again. “I’m not fucking you here.”

You pouted and slumped back, hitting the table filled with drinks at varying stages of finished. He caught you by the hips before you fell too far back and laughed, his eyes impossibly warm and soft. “My place is two blocks away.”

You slid off of him and pulled our skirt down, hiding what fraction of our pride you still could for any possible on lookers. You reached out towards him. “This is my get laid dress, so lay me.”

He paused for a second, shaking his head and chuckling. You cringed inwards, possibly the worst sentence you leave your mouth.

“I know what you mean.” Aizawa said, ducking back to grab your purse from the booth. “Here.”

You grabbed it and latched onto his arm as the two of you leaned onto each other for support, hopefully creating the appearance of two only mildly buzzed people. You were both swaying, his hand unable to detach itself from your ass and yours keeping itself warm under his shirt. The walk was quick but clumsy, your “practical” heels failing you and demanding to be taken off over a sewer grate.

The most treacherous part of your journey was perhaps the dreaded keyhole in his door handle. You thanked god he lived on the first floor, at this point stairs were not an option. As soon as the door was open you were practically thrown inside to the dark apartment, your back hitting a wall a few feet from the door. He kicked the door closed behind him and was on you before the latch closed. In one smooth movement he hoisted you up into his arms and turned to place you on a set of drawers where you hit a glass key dish. It fell to the ground with a crash and off in the dark apartment a surprised cat yelped. You let out a giggle, holding onto Aizawa’s head as you pulled away to laugh. His head fell to your chest as he finished off the buttons on his shirt, shedding it and laughed with you. “You good?”

You nodded and pulled his face back to yours. He began working on your dress, the zipper on the back gave way under his surprisingly steady hands. In one swift movement he scooped you up and slid the rest of the dress from your body and placed you back down, this time careful to mind any stray key dishes. His hand ran along the wall looking for the light switch. The entrance to the apartment lit up with a dim amber light, his hair was mussed and his cheeks red, one of your love marks already bruising nicely against the pale skin of his throat.

You realized that you were nearly completely naked save the thong. Under any other circumstance you would have been mortified and scrambling for cover but given the alcohol and the way he was looking at you right now, you let the moment exist. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to yours.

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

“Pants.” You whispered back. “Off.”

He chuckled and obliged, dropping his pants and stepping out of them.

“Okay, sex now.” He huffed as he grabbed you by the waist and carried you into the barely illuminated living room.

He dropped you on the couch unceremoniously and manhandled you into position until you were sitting on the edge of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders and his strong hands grasping at your thigh and breast. He trailed kisses up your thigh, his fingers hooking around your panties and tugging them down your legs. His hands left your body briefly, warm air hitting your face as your thong whipped past your head and over the couch. His hands gripped your thighs tight, holding them in place on his shoulders and he ducked down and began his work.

At first it was slow, tentative, almost shy. Then he found the spot, the spot that made you shiver and clench your thighs. You felt his scruff rub against your sensitive skin as he grinned, his grip tightening, and you began to squirm. He lapped at your clit, slow then fast, nipping when your squirming seemed to slow, keeping the knot in your gut swelling with every move. You moaned and dug your hand into his wild hair, the soft curls swallowing your fingers. You held him closer, practically begging him not to stop.

The knot in your stomach swelled until your thighs shook and your breath came out in quivering waves. You wanted him to fuck you so badly that the thought of cumming now felt like treason. You pushed against his head, yet he was unyielding in his assault on your core.

“Fuck.” You breathed, trying to delay the inevitable. “Sho, fuck me already.”

He pulled back, his hand replacing his tongue. “Not until you cum first.”

“N-no, please. Fuck me.” You begged, the knot tightening impossibly.

“I’m drunk.” He huffed, his breath washing over your already hot core. “Once I cum I cannot be held responsible if I fucking pass out. Now hold still so I can give you a birthday present!”

He dove back into your core, this time renewed with an almost aggressive approach, not that you were complaining. Your hands tighten in his curls and you gave in to him, everything he was building up to until you were rocking into his mouth and mewling like a cat in heat. He slipped in two fingers, your slick greedy vagina gladly accepted them. You felt him curse against you, no doubt the warm wet feeling of you wrapped around his fingers a siren’s call straight to his dick.

He pumped in and out, his tongue never yielding until finally the knot in your stomach released and a wave euphoria and shiver racked your body, your legs and arms twitching as your body felt as if it was floating.He helped you ride your high, adding another finger and whispering a cacophony of dirty words in your ear. You gripped his shoulders as you came back to yourself, he was covered in a thin layer of sweat and his scent wafted in painfully alluring waved towards you.

He lifted your weak legs and folded them into your chest, his boxers now discarded along with your lace panties, tossed into the dark abyss of the apartment. He placed a hot kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose then to your lips. There he stayed as he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed forward. He was girthy and stretched you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“Breathe.” He pulled back, looking into your eyes. You hadn’t noticed you’d been holding your breath until now and let out the breath you were keeping locked away in your chest. Your body melted into the couch, forming to fit him perfectly as you relaxed. Again, he started slow, setting a pace while he figured out what felt right. He must have found the jackpot because suddenly his pace picked up, his breath hot on your neck. You felt a familiar knot, loosely forming in your stomach, your nerves still buzzing from your previous orgasms.

Aizawa reached forward, his hands finding your breasts as he leaned down into you. You were pressed back further into the couch as he drilled into you, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the dark. With each thrust the knot in your stomach tugged on itself, tightening. Aizawa paused, adjusting himself at your entrance before thrusting forward, stars shooting across your vision as a hot wave rattled through you. You’re mewls grew to yelps and gasps with every thrust, his grunts starting to match your love sounds.

You could feel yourself starting to shake, the tension in your gut almost too much to take, when he began to get sloppy. Every thrust became an endeavor as he struggled to find a pace he could keep while slowly coming undone. His hands slid down to the couch, gripping the fabric like he was going to be whisked away at any moment.

“Fuck.” He cursed; his body twitching out of rhythm.

You grabbed each side of his face and looked him in the eyes, pools of deep lust consuming your vision. You pulled him close, suddenly craving his lips on yours. He mirrored your urgency and soon his pace evened out, each thrust stronger and faster than the last. You felt yourself clenching around him, your legs locked at his shoulders.

He pressed his head against yours pulling out of the kiss so he could look into your eyes as he came. He drilled into you until your yelps turned into a silent scream of pleasure as the knot in your gut burst for a second time that night. With a final, strong thrust warmth spread through you as he leaned into you, his uneven breaths washing over your skin.

He slid down to his elbows as he rode out his own orgasm, his lips brushing your collar bone as he muttered sweet nothings to you.You twitched beneath him, stars and black spots dancing in your periphery. Your legs slipped off his shoulders and found rest at his hip, the two of you sweating and panting in the sweet afterglow of sloppy drunk sex.

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The rays of sun that broke through the blinds berated your eyes, the searing white light like a smite from god with the hangover you were about the nurse. Groaning against the light you reached over to your bedside table for the bottle of water you put there before leaving for the night. Your hand stopped short at a wall of plush and springy fabric…like the back of a couch. Your eyes shot open, bright hot sunlight filling your vision. You groaned and scrambled backwards out of the light’s reach, kicking something on your way back.

“Fuck!” You knew that voice.

You blinked away the retina burns, and your stomach dropped. At your feet a very sleepy and very naked Aizawa was lying on his front, his arms folded under his head.

“Sorry!” you chirped; realizing it was him you had just kicked. “D-did we-”

Aizawa looked up at you, at first he seemed just as dazed and confused as you did but then a sly grin spread across his face. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You looked down at yourself, realizing you too were very naked. You pulled your legs up to cover as much as you could and wrapped your arms around your chest. “Do you…remember any of-”

“Not at all.” He grumbled, sitting himself up and grabbing a pillow from the ground to cover his junk. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

You squinted into the distance, calling on fuzzy memories of fluorescent cocktails and straying hands. You could feel your cheeks heating up. “Your hand up my skirt.”

“Was that-”

“My idea? Yep.” You recalled.

“Oh.” He nodded to himself. “Good.”

You both sat in silence staring at each other. A long-haired white cat leapt up onto the couch and rubbed its body up against your shins, begging for affection.

“Did you want to shower? I have some sweats you can-”

“Yeah, thanks!” you interrupted and jumped up, painfully aware of how very vey naked you were. You dashed towards the first door you saw.

“That’s my room, Bathroom’s down the hall.” You could feel him smirking at you.

“Right!” you said as you turned and strutted down the hall.

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #reader x bnha #reader x aizawa #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta #mha #mha x reader #reader insert #reader insert mha #reader insert bnha #my hero #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfic #my hero academia fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 41 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Halloween

This Chapter: Things look up for Violet but turn iffy for Adore.

***

Pearl swayed a little in her heels as Adore’s lips trailed down her neck. They were half-dressed at this point, making their way to Adore’s bedroom. Adore’s jacket and shirt had been discarded, leaving her in just a thin undershirt, suspenders dangling around her waist. Pearl’s skirt was around her ankles, sweater somewhere on the floor.

She stepped out of the skirt, a sharp inhale leaving her as Adore shoved her roughly up against a wall. Her hands threaded into Adore’s hair, which was up in a tight bun, and immediately began pulling it apart. She loved the whole butch look that Adore was rocking tonight, but she loved it even more when she got to unravel it. Pearl’s hand traveled along the wall, reaching for the door handle, finally pushing it open and pulling Adore into the bedroom.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Adore breathed, pushing Pearl onto the bed.

Pearl smirked, enjoying the desperate edge in her voice as her hands groped for her bra clasp, the unrefined way she clawed at her panties to yank them down. She spread her thighs, head falling backward, hand tangled into Adore’s hair to guide her along.

“I love your pussy,” Adore continued, lapping her up vigorously, fingers digging into her thighs. “You’re perfect, so perfect…”

Adore kept lavishing praise on her, and Pearl could feel her muscles tense. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, to close it out and focus on the way her body was responding, but it quickly became impossible. She took a deep breath and rolled Adore over onto her back, thighs straddling her face.

“Stop talking.”

Adore panted up at her, surprise all over her face as her eyes went dark. “Are you gonna punish me?”

The way she just immediately folded, immediately ceded all power to Pearl, was even more intoxicating than if she’d been submissive all along.

“I should,” Pearl said hoarsely. She ran a finger along Adore’s bottom lip. “I should show you who’s boss.”

“Do it.” Adore trembled beneath her, gripping her thighs for dear life.

Pearl took hold of the headboard and lowered herself until her pussy was pressed up against Adore’s face, riding her slowly, dictating the pressure and pace, all the while watching the blissed-out expression in Adore’s eyes. By the time Pearl came with a satisfied groan, Adore’s panties, her usual boy-cut cotton briefs, were soaked through.

It was hard not to laugh. This was the same girl who, just hours earlier, had been manhandling her on the dance floor as if she were the king of the world. And now, all it took was a few swipes of Pearl’s thumb to reduce her to a whimpering, shaking mess.

“You like that?”

“B-baby, please,” Adore begged, pupils fully dilated, hands clutching at Pearl’s hair and shoulders. “I need to come, I need-”

“Shh, shhhh…” Pearl silenced her with a kiss, finally plunging her fingers inside to give her what she so desperately wanted, stroking her g-spot until she cried out, then continuing to play with her until she was wrung out, too weak to even lift her head.

Afterwards, Pearl sucked her fingers into her mouth with a satisfied grin, letting Adore curl against her as usual, wrapping her warm body into a sweaty embrace.

***

Sutan woke to the ever familiar scent of lavender, and the sensation of Violet’s hair up his nose.

He huffed, moving his face away, only to smile when Violet groaned, her hand coming up to grab his arm and pull him back down, forcing him to mold himself back against her back, the bed creaking underneath them.

Last night, they hadn’t returned to Sutan’s place as he had originally expected, instead, they had ended up in Violet’s apartment because Violet had insisted that she would die if she didn’t get pizza from a specific pizzeria near her building, and who was Sutan to argue with that?

“Morning gorgeous.” Sutan smiled, pressing a kiss against Violet’s shoulder, but the action only earned him another deep groan, Violet for once very clearly hungover. “Where is your bed frame?”

“Only rich people have bed frames.”

“Sure.” Sutan snorted, burrowing his face in Violet’s hair, pulling her against him.

It was strange to be in Violet’s bedroom, Sutan realizing last night with a flash of embarrassment that this was the first time he had been inside Violet’s apartment. He had picked her up from her building countless times, but they had always stayed at his, Sutan not even entertaining the idea that he should come up.

“Is there any leftover pizza?” Violet looked over her shoulder, a little bit of the mascara she hadn’t managed to get off smudged under her eye.

“You only had two slices.” Sutan had bought a pepperoni pizza for himself, Violet for some godforsaken reason going straight for pineapple and only pineapple. “I put it in your fridge.”

Sutan had never expected Violet to be someone who enjoyed cooking, but he had been shocked when he had opened her refrigerator last night, a bottle of carrot juice, a carton of almond milk and a half eaten takeaway salad all he had spotted in there.

“I’ll go get it.” Violet slipped out of bed, and Sutan couldn’t help but smile as she was wearing the tiniest pair of panties, her Hepburn jewels still around her neck since Sutan hadn’t been able to figure out the lock with a drunk and sleepy Violet in his arms.

Sutan sat up, running his hand through his hair as he looked around the bedroom, a tower of brown moving boxes in the corner. Violet’s clothes were all put away, two clothing racks holding dresses Sutan immediately recognized, but beyond the wardrobe, the room was strangely bare and devoid of personal touches.

“Huh.” Sutan bit his lip, getting out of bed. He grabbed his undershirt from the floor, cursing to himself when he realized that he didn’t have his reading glasses, using his phone without them a surefire way to feel like shit after a night out.

“Do you want coffee?” Sutan turned his head to see Violet standing in the door, now wrapped in a robe, a plate and a slice of pizza with missing bites in her hand. “I’m afraid I only have instant.”

“Instant is fine.” It wasn’t really, not when he was used to his top of the line espresso machine, but he wasn’t going to create a fuss. “Do you have anything that isn’t pineapple pizza?”

“I can make oatmeal?” Violet smiled, and he guessed that somewhat explained the strange lack of food in her fridge.

“How about I take us out for breakfast?”

***

“Raaaaaaaj,” Raven whispered, her lips right next to her fiancée's ear. “Wake up.”

They had come home from the party last night, Raja helping her out of her costume, the two of them falling into bed, drunk sex always a fucking treat, the feeling of Raja’s fake mustache against her inner thighs so strange they had both been hiccuping from laughter.

“Mmmh?”

“I’m hungry.” Raven smirked as she felt Raja’s hand travel up her back, the other woman finally awake.

“Make breakfast then.”

“I wanna go out.” Raven nuzzled her nose against Raja’s neck.

“You can starve for all that I care.”

Raven laughed. Grumpy Raja was one of her favorites, the whine in her voice one that never came out anywhere else, being allowed to see her like this, a treasure Raven guarded with her life.

“Please-” Raven nuzzled her face even closer against Raja’s neck, pressing kisses to the warm skin. “I want buttered croissants.”

“Mmh-” Raja hummed, her fingers finding the ends of her hair. Raven knew she wasn’t actually tempted by the promise of bread, Raja beyond annoying with how easy it was for her to not give in to culinary temptations.

“If you put some pants on, I can call for a car-”

“No can do buttercup.” Raja started petting her hair. “The moment I leave this bed, I have to work.”

“Seriously?” Raven sat up on her elbows, Raja actually opening her eyes now, a bit of glue still on her top lip. “Don’t look at my tits.”

“Sorry,” Raja smirked, her eyes still focused on Raven’s chest.

“You have to work? Again?” Raven wanted to throw a fit. It wasn’t a new thing that Raja worked on the weekends, it wasn't a new thing that she was constantly fighting for her attention, but this, this was a new low, both of them naked and hung over. “It’s Sunday?”

“The preparations for the Spring collection are right around the corner. You know people depend on me and Fame has unfortunately handed me a mug.”

Raven huffed, throwing herself back down on the bed, turning her back to Raja as she pulled the duvet under her chin.

“Princess-” Raven felt Raja curl around her back. “Don’t be upset.”

“And what about me? I depend on you too,” Raven grumbled, the words caught by the duvet, but Raja somehow still heard them.

“I know.” Raja peeled the duvet down, pressing a kiss against Raven’s shoulder blade. “How about we order in, eat in bed-”

“Hm?” Raven turned her head.

“And when I’m done with my very important job,” Raja smiled, her hand sneaking under the covers and settling on Raven’s hip. “I spend the very important money I make on buying very important things for our trip to Aspen?”

“Mmh,” Raven chewed her lip to keep the smile off of her face. “I guess that’s acceptable.”

***

“Ah, that hits the spot.”

Violet smiled to herself as she watched Sutan take the first sip of the double espresso he had ordered. They were sitting at a small cafe, Sutan actually cleaning up surprisingly nicely for the fact that he had only had his costume from last night at her place.

“Glad to see your craving could be satisfied.”

“Oh?” Sutan grinned, tapping his foot against hers underneath the table. “Do you really think you have room to be snarky, Miss Pineapple?”

Violet bit her lip, her cheeks heating up. She couldn’t exactly remember the entirety of last night after bumping into Courtney, Raven talking her into yet another round of shots, but she did remember Sutan’s hand on her back, did remember unlocking her door and whining when she couldn’t get her necklace off.

“Concentrate on your breakfast.”

Sutan laughed, trapping her foot between his own before he dug into his cinnamon French toast. Violet herself had opted for a sunnyside egg and a smoothie, the pizza slice she had devoured before Sutan was ready to leave sitting heavy in her stomach.

Sutan was chatting about last night, telling her a story about Detox, the two men surprisingly close for how different they were. Violet wasn’t truly listening, but it didn’t seem to matter, Sutan more than happy to just up the space.

“Lovely eyes-” Violet was pulled out of her thoughts, the man watching her with his brown eyes. “You’re tapping along with the music.”

Sutan was pointing with his fork, and Violet looked down at her fingers, her almond-shaped nails tapping on table.

“Huh…” Violet hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even listened to the music, but now that she was aware, she could hear the notes of Waltz of the Flowers, the cafe for some reason playing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. The music was such an ingrained part of who she was, the ballet one she had danced every December since she was 6 years old. “I’m sorry.”

“Bringing back memories?” Sutan smirked, a kind look in his eyes, but Violet felt her entire body run cold.

“Yes.” It did bring back memories, the sensation of leg warmers and sitting on hard dance floors, of chewy protein bars and being soaked in sweat, of the unbelievable satisfaction when a move was finally executed just right and she could collapse in exhaustion. “But how-”

“Did I know?” Sutan put his fork down, clearly beyond pleased with himself.

“Yes.”

Violet hadn’t told anyone in her new life that her first career had been as a dancer at the New York City Ballet, that she had been a soloist on the track for principal before her life had changed forever at 17.

“I’m a modeling agent, lovely eyes.” Sutan took his coffee cup. “I can spot a dancer from a mile away, and everything about your posture tells me that you have done ballet at some point.”

“Ah.” Violet nodded, a rush of relief coursing through her. Sutan didn’t know, hadn’t truly guessed who she used to be. “You got me.”

“What can I say,” Sutan grinned, putting his cup to his lips. “I’m the best.”

She’d tell him one day, tell him her entire story, but that day wasn’t going to be today.

***

When Violet had first started in design, she had wondered why they had several couches scattered around the room. It had started to make sense as she had seen just how social her new coworkers were, the furniture often taken up by people talking, working or even napping.

Violet had never used the couches before today, her desk and her desk chair all she needed, but while Trixie was upstairs for the department head meeting discussing the Spring line, she had figured that it was time to test out if Trixie was actually serious about wanting them to relax.

Which was why she was on the couch, attempting to pass the time while she waited anxiously for Trixie to return.

It felt incredibly weird not to be in the boardroom, to not be standing against the wall taking notes as Fame and Raja presented the new concepts for the collections, Violet’s spine itching with annoyance over the fact that she wasn’t there.

She had considered texting Courtney, but she wasn’t sure Courtney could actually tell her anything interesting, the blonde incredibly talented at hearing but not listening, so instead, Violet had brought her backlog of magazines with her to work.

Violet had started collecting fashion magazines at 17. At first, she had only read American Vogue, but as she had started to get more and more into fashion, her monthly collection had started to grow.

Now, she bought American Vogue, British Vogue, French Vogue, Italian Vogue, Marie Claire, Harper's Bazaar and French and American Elle, her preferred newsstand knowing her by sight.

Violet knew that she could look online for fashion inspiration, knew that it was what everyone around her did, but she had always preferred either print or watching the real people of New York walk by.

Violet wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but as she flipped through the pages, she knew she’d find it sooner or later, at least one of the spots in the Spring collection belonging to her, even if she had to fight for it. Violet almost rolled her eyes as she revealed yet another page of british street style, the fabrics and cuts absolutely horrendous.

Every time the door opened, she would sit up straighter, thinking it was Trixie back with news. After 3 or 4 excruciating false alarms, he finally returned, smiling at the designers, knowing they were all on pins and needles at this point.

“Attention Team! This is not a drill!” Trixie joked. “Everyone meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes for an update on the Spring collection!”

Violet stood up immediately, hurrying directly to the conference room with her notebook, excited to hear the news. Trixie was busy sticking a handful of reference photos onto the whiteboard: A ceramic cup, an egret, a skyline of what looked to be a coastal village somewhere in Turkey, a wheat field at sunrise, a collection of fabric samples stapled together into little booklets the designers could take with them to their desks.

Apparently, this year, Fame wanted a light and breezy Spring collection. Functional and elegant with a touch of whimsy. The color palette was true Galactica: dove grey, cream, straw, ivory flecked with gold, very sparing accents of delicate pink and dusty lilac.

Violet’s mind raced with ideas of ways to manipulate silk so that it rustled and and fluttered beautifully on the runway. Of clean, beautiful lines: crisp linens and soft, feathery edges. Her fingers itched with excitement to get started as she carefully wrote down their deadlines: Thursday to turn in sketches for the in-store prêt-à-porter collection, and the following Thursday for the opening and closing runway pieces.

She knew, of course, that Alexis, Jovan, Gia, April and Maxwell had guaranteed spots in the collection, that group of designers the defining factors in the current Galactica style. She was also well aware that as a new designer, she would be doing foundation pieces.

She would be expected to pay her dues and make sure her collection pieces supported whatever final direction the senior staff chose, but Violet had never been a settler, and she was going to give being in the collection her best shot.

***

Adore sighed happily, swaying to the pounding bass of the house music, surrounded by a sea of sweaty club goers. She and her band had just played an electrifying late-night gig and she was still high on the adrenaline.

She loved being out, loved showing people why her and her band were the next big thing, but the best part of the night was that Pearl was there, had been right there in the front of the crowd cheering her on.

“Hey…” Aja came up to her, a look of concern creasing their brow, Aja’s outfit for the night a light blue latex number.

“What’s up, baby?” Adore asked, pressing a kiss to Aja’s cheek, wrapping her arms around their waist. They’d known each other since Adore first moved to New York to live with Bianca, almost 10 years ago, had been classmates at the performing arts high school along with the rest of her bandmates.

“Uh, it’s just… Dahlia is being a bit of a thot and Pearl looks… Into it…” Aja bit their lip.

Adore turned to look where Aja was gesturing, saw her friend and bass player sitting perched on a stool, back arched, plaid shirt almost entirely unbuttoned and slipping off one shoulder. Pearl stood close to her… Maybe a little closer than needed, a beer in her hand as she chatted her up. There was a bored, almost challenging look on Dahlia’s face as Pearl spoke, and the whole thing set Adore’s teeth on edge.

“Well…” Adore swallowed, fighting her impulse to march over and pull them apart, fixing a nonchalant expression on her face as she turned back to Aja, “They’re both big flirts. So what?”

“So, I don’t know if I’d be cool with it. I’m shocked you are.”

“There’s no reason for me to be a jealous bitch. I knew that Pearl was like that when we got together, so how could expect her to change? And anyway, she’s coming home with me, not Dahlia,” Adore said.

“You sure about that?” Aja asked.

Adore’s eyes narrowed, shooting a nasty look at her long-time friend, who laughed.

“Alright, alright. I didn’t realize that you were so chill.”

“I’m the chillest,” Adore said, taking a sip of her cocktail. But whether she was trying to convince herself or Aja, she wasn’t totally sure.

“So can I buy you a drink?”

“You can fuck off,” came the sneering reply.

“Oof,” Pearl smiled, resting her head on her hand, her elbow placed on the bar. “Kitty got claws. What got you in such a mood?”

“The company.”

There was something strangely familiar about Dahlia, but Pearl was 99% sure she hadn’t had sex with her before. She’d given up trying to place her, instead just enjoying her ice queen vibe. “I don’t think you mind my company all.”

“Don’t I?” Dahlia raised an eyebrow, her plump lips pursed, her beautiful face the picture of disinterest, but Pearl had caught her eyes flickering to her arm, had seen her notice exactly how strong Pearl was in the places where it was needed.

“I know women.”

Dahlia was hot as sin, everything about her soft and delicate, her dark hair styled in careful silky curls, the freckles on her shoulder the most delicious tease, the garterbelt that poked out from under her denim shorts promising Pearl that she’d find mouth-watering lingerie underneath Dahlia’s clothes if she ever got that far.

“I’m sure you do.”

“I could show you?”

“No.”

Pearl had to bite her lip to swallow a moan. There was something about her hyper femininity, something about how she was just a little bit mean, Dahlia radiating a promise of pink pillows, cherry chapstick and fruit scented shampoo that Pearl hadn’t even realized she was missing so fiercely it made her nipples tighten.

“Also,” Dahlia looked over her shoulder. “Your girlfriend is right over there.”

Shit.

***

Violet walked out of the elevator, a cup of steaming hot coffee and a banana in her hand. It was a little after 8--security had finally realized that her company card opened every door and locked her out, but she could still make her way to the design floor without a hitch.

Violet had come directly from the gym, her hair in a ponytail and still damp from her shower, the shoes on her feet running shoes instead of the heels she normally wore. She’d had this routine for awhile now--getting to the office early to do her makeup and hair in the big, clean Galactica bathrooms where, unlike the gym, she didn’t have to fight for mirror space, smile at strangers, or pretend to be interested in small talk. She’d have time to finish her routine and settle in to work just as the other designers began trickling in.

Today though, as she opened the big double doors to the design department, she was surprised at the sight that met her. It wasn’t one lone designer who’d arrived earlier than normal, or two people finishing a project, but rather, at least five of her colleagues sitting at their desks, busily working away already.

Violet had no idea why they were there, seeing so many of her coworkers this early honestly shocking. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they had noticed her, so she made a beeline for the bathroom, vowing to herself that she’d get fully ready before coming into the office from now on, the risk of her coworkers seeing her as anything less than perfectly put together not one she was willing to take yet.

***

Maxwell stood by the printer, waiting for the sketches he had done on his iPad to come out. For years now, he’d been almost solely responsible for all of the business separates in the Galactica line, and it suited him just fine.

Over the years, he’d perfected the kind of crisply tailored and yet graceful and feminine lines that Miss Fame preferred, which had earned him her favor again and again and again.

When he’d seen the inspiration for the Spring collection, he was immediately flooded with ideas, and after almost 2 days of working, he was quite pleased with the sheer volume and range of choices he was going to present at the meeting, already imagining the pleased nod he’d get from the head of the company.

Violet appeared in the little printing alcove, doing a jump of surprise when she saw someone else in there. “Max, hi-”

“Sorry to scare you,” Maxwell smiled. “My job’s almost done,”

“Thanks,” Violet said, taking a step in, their elbow almost bumping against each other as she snug a peak at the printer. “Wow,” Violet turned her head, looking at Maxwell. “Are these your sketches? There’s so many already.”

“Well, you know Fame and Raja. They like to have options. ” Maxwell grinned, knowing that if anyone did know, it’d be Violet. “My technique with prêt-à-porter is to give them as many choices as possible, with lots of variation. Kind of ‘throw all the spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks’ approach, you know?”

Violet nodded, a very serious expression on her face as she listened.

“I started with a bunch of different suit options, and then I’ll use these to whip up all the other coordinating separates.”

“I just can’t believe that you’ve done so many in only 2 days,” Violet said, looking quite uncertain.

“You’re pretty fast yourself, so I wouldn’t worry.” Maxwell picked his sketches up. “Are you working on any for this week, or straight for the couture spots?”

“Yes.” Violet moved up, pressing on the printer to make it spit out her own sketches before she apparently realized that just yes wasn’t actually an answer to his question. “Prêt-à-porter isn’t my strength-“ Violet bit her lip, “But I’m not a one trick pony, and I want to play ball.”

“My advice? Be ambitious. This isn’t the time to hold back,” Maxwell said, smiling kindly. In spite of his initial reservations, he’d found himself quite charmed by the newest designer. And if he could help her get a leg up, he definitely wanted to do that, adding, “Let me know if you want me to review anything before Thursday!”

“Thanks,” Violet smiled. “I appreciate that.”

***

Courtney rushed down the street in the chilly air, in a desperate hurry to get to Broadway Dance Center in time for her class to start.

She hadn’t really given her personal dreams much thought since beginning at Galactica. But recently, when Adore was telling her all about a series of gig she’d gotten--ones Courtney couldn’t attend because they were all super late at night, mid-week, and all the way in Brooklyn--a rush of envy over Adore’s ability to focus on her music completely had overtaken her, immediately followed by guilt over such an ugly emotion.

Just because Adore had someone supporting her didn’t give Courtney any excuse to be jealous of her friend’s good fortune. Maybe things would be harder for her--that didn’t mean that she shouldn’t try. Instead of worrying about what she didn’t have, she decided to instead look to Adore’s achievements as inspiration.

She’d found an 8 pm class, figuring that it was late enough not to interfere with her work responsibilities. After all, taking an hour for herself one evening a week seemed like the kind of thing she should be able to do without a problem, right?

However, today had been even crazier than usual, with the holiday collection now being finalized, the Spring collection underway, and Fame working on a deal to expand Galactica’s flagship stores in Europe. Fame herself hadn’t even left until just before 7.

Courtney had finally managed to get away, currently sprinting the 15 blocks to BDC--she’d even had the foresight to bring sneakers. If she was fast enough, there was a chance she’d make it in time for her class.

With less than 2 blocks to go, Courtney realized that her work phone was buzzing in her hand. She paused at the corner, trying to manifest some positive energy before she answered. This will be something small. Something I already took care of. This call will end with Miss Fame pleased and happy...

“Hello?”

“Why are the Berlin contracts not in my bag?” Fame demanded.

“You...wanted to take those home?” Courtney asked, though she already knew the answer. Why would Fame be calling her otherwise? She cringed at her own carelessness, stupidly assuming that she’d review them the next day at her meeting with Patrick.

Fame seemed to be just as annoyed with Courtney as she was with herself, sighing and saying, “Deliver them now. This stress is not good for my skin,” and then hanging up even before Courtney’s “Yes, Miss.”

Courtney stood on the corner for a few moments, catching her breath, before turning around and trudging back towards the Galactica offices, shoulders slumped in defeat.

So much for dance class.

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your-worst-knightmare · 4 years

Text

Flipping Off the Universe

Jaytemis Week 2020: Day 7: Scars/Wounds

Ao3 Link

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Artemis huffed as she sent the last thug crumpling to the ground with the hilt of her axe. Finally. Those men were annoyingly resilient. She raised her hand to the comm in her ear to contact her team-mate– the Red Hood. “You good over there, Hood?”

The audio crackled to life. She could hear him panting: he’d likely just gotten out of a brawl himself. “Yeah. Think some guy nicked me. Nothin’ too bad though.”

Her mouth twitched. “See you at the rendezvous point?”

“I might be a minute though, Arty. Don’t wait up.”

“Nonsense. I must see how badly you messed up your beloved jacket.” Artemis snarked, leaping from the roof of one building to the next. Jason’s uneasiness about her having to wait, although adorable, was something she had a sneaking suspicion he was using to hide an injury. Being the only human on the team, he tended to also fill the slot for ‘most injuries’. Jason wasn’t proud of that status.

By now, Artemis had been waiting much longer than she would have liked to. Patience was never her strong suit. She spoke into her comm again. “Hood, what’s your ETA?”

The line was silent for a few seconds. “I told you not to wait up.”

“Arrival time, Hood.”

He sighed. “Don’t know. Five minutes?”

“If you’re not here by then, I’m coming to get you. You should know, if you’re hiding another injury, you will not be able to fool me.”

“Promise not to get mad Arty?”

Artemis pressed her lips into a line. This wasn’t going to be great. “I can promise nothing.”

“Great. Well, I think I dislocated my shoulder and there’s a gash on my right arm.”

“Okay, I’m coming to get you.”

“What–” Jason sputtered. “Come on, I’m not dying here, Red!”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point. Now turn on your GPS and stay put.”

Artemis found the fearsome Red Hood leaning against a dumpster in one of many disgusting alleyways. The smell alone justified his need to have an air filter on every suit he wore.

“You need a hand there, Hood?” Artemis asked, crossing her arms.

He looked up sluggishly. “No, in case you didn’t hear the first hundred times...” Despite his grumbling, he let Artemis take him to her safe-house.

She’d gotten it after she and Bizarro had returned from their unplanned ‘trip’ to one hell of another dimension. She didn’t spend mush time there, as she did tend to get lonely, and being alone with one’s thoughts, especially unwelcome ones, was never enticing. But, at the end of the day, it was still hers.

Getting in through the window turned out to be quite the process, considering Jason’s injuries and the security measures Artemis had taken to ensure the safety of the apartment. However, after some cursing, pointless arguing and snarky comments, Jason was finally on the couch, minus his boots, helmet, holsters and jacket.

“You know, when you said that I should come over to see your apartment, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Jason muttered.

“Oh stop complaining. What did you want, dinner?”Artemis tore off her vambraces, grabbed her box of medical supplies and sat down beside him. Happily, he’d already done her the favour of exposing his arm. At least now she wouldn’t have to hear him whine about how he had to keep repairing his suits.

“Yeah, except I’d be cooking. Let’s face it Arty, your skills are meager at best.”

The Amazon frowned as she cleaned the wound. “You need stitches.”

He sighed. “Figured that. Just make it quick.”

Artemis prepped the area wordlessly. She liked to think that she was good at it. Steady breaths, in and out. She could see Jason glaring at the ceiling from her peripheral. What she didn’t like was his insistence of no painkillers. He had done nothing to not deserve the ease that they brought. But she respected his decision, as mindless as it may be, and so she continued.

“Try not to pull these within the first week this time,” Artemis said, finishing up.

Jason flexed his hand, once, twice. “Set the shoulder too,” he breathed.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, gritting his teeth. He braced himself against her as Artemis forced the bone back into place. She ignored the string of foul curses that spilled from his mouth.

”Good?” Artemis asked, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah.” His nostrils still flared. He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Mostly.”

Artemis grunted, finishing up setting his shoulder. “ You’re staying for the night,” she finally stated.

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, you oaf. You’re not invading– I brought you here.” She cracked a smile. “Besides, it’ll give you an opportunity to steal some of your wardrobe back from me.”

“Well damn, I can’t pass up that, now can I?”

Artemis grinned, an action that was becoming increasingly more frequent. “No you can’t. Now shove over, you’re taking up the whole couch.”

Jason moved over. “You know, getting a sweater when you’re cold instead of stealing body heat from me will just be easier for both of us.”

The Amazon curled onto the couch, huddling against Jason’s uninjured shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

____________

Despite the constant throbbing in Jason’s shoulder, he couldn’t seem to wipe that goddamn stupid grin off of his face. His sutures ached and he was sure he’d lost all circulation in foot, yet his chest swelled with contentment.

Artemis had fallen asleep beside him, still in her uniform. She had, apparently, deemed taking a nap on top of him more important than changing into something more comfortable. Her quiet breathing blew a strand of hair from her face every time she exhaled. Jason watched for a moment before bushing it away.

She looked peaceful, relaxed, younger even. He could picture her as a normal college student, living a normal life free of violence. The scars that ran up her bare arms told him otherwise– the life she lived, the life they lived, was quite the opposite. But what always fascinated him was how she never hid them. She was not ashamed of them.

Jason glanced at his sutures, which was most definitely going to leave a mark. It wasn’t vanity that drove him to hate them. He knew that much. He hated the reminder that they brought. You aren’t good enough. Look what you’ve done to yourself. Look at your mistakes. He hated the mistakes that littered his body.

“Exhale, Jason.” Artemis.

Jason obeyed. “Sorry I–”

She shushed him. “You get tense when you think too much.” She thought for a moment. “Do you wish to talk?”

Her intuition left him silent for a moment. “It can wait until tomorrow.. You should get some sleep anyway...”

“That can wait.” Artemis sat up. “What has been bothering you?”

He laughed dryly. “It’s stupid... so stupid...”

She tilted her head, causing her hair to fall into her face. “And yet the fact that it bothers you negates its stupidity.”

“I guess...” Jason trailed off. He could trust Artemis. “Just... how do you deal with it?” He took a breath. Woah, make your sentences clear. “The scars, I mean. I just... whenever I see mine, I...”

“Remember where they came from?”

“Yeah, but like, in a bad way.”

Artemis was silent for a moment. Then she took Jason’s hand and traced several scars that trailed down her back. “Outside of Bhana-Mighdall, Man’s World had a testing ground for weapons. As a girl... Akila and I used to practice there sometimes. There were... several mines still active in the area and one day...” She sucked in a breath. Jason ran his thumb over her hand, offering what little comfort he could. “We were both hit. Had to drag ourselves home by the skin of our teeth.” Artemis offered him a small smile. “ But we made it. We survived it. Yes, our stupidity was what got us into that problem, but we made it out. And we trained so that it would never happen again.”

“So you’re saying scars are your way of flipping off the universe?”

Artemis laughed. It was short, but by God, was it beautiful. “Essentially, yes.”

Jason pursed his lips, thinking. “You know, you might have been a dumb kid, but I think I got you beat.”

She smirked. “Do you, now?”

He guided her hand to the whitened mark cutting through his eyebrow. “You don’t grow up in a city watching a kid your age jumping around on rooftops without getting some ideas. The rooftops in Park Rowe were pretty close together, so I thought it was probably as safe as I could get. I even found a mattress to act as a mat if I fell.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. “I was a dumb kid. So I jumped, and whoosh.” He pantomimed falling to the ground.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. The good thing was that I landed mostly on the mattress.”

“What do you mean, mostly?” Artemis exclaimed.

“Well, I hit my head on the ground. Got a concussion. And this. I was scared that I needed stitches because I knew Ma couldn’t pay for that.”

“Alright, that was dumb, but still doesn’t match going to play in a minefield,” Artemis remarked.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t write me off yet Arty! Don’t forget; I stole the tires off the goddamn Batmobile and had the nerve to attack Batman for it.”

“Are you competing with me to be the dumbest Outlaw?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They stared at each other for a moment before they both broke down laughing. Artemis was the first to regain herself. “Well, here’s to flipping off the universe.”

“Amen.”

#jaytemis week 2020 #jaytemis #jaytemis week day 7 #jason todd #artemis grace #rhato 2016 #rhato #dc comics #red hood #red hood and the outlaws

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nitholites · 4 years

Text

Assuming someone in the BatFam is the end game:

It's been only a week or so since Tony figured out who Ladybug is

She's captured everyone's hearts, but has to go to Gotham soon

For help, but also because of her internship

The Stark Gala becomes a 'you better live and come back one day, Mari or I STG' party, hosted by Tony Stark, of course

She makes all the outfits of the Starks, her parents, herself, Jagged, Penny, Luka, and Kagami (the last two friends minus Chloe from Paris) and she makes extra in case someone has a wardrobe malfunction

Meanwhile, the Waynes have heard a lot about the newest Stark: MDC

Tim is a fanboy. He's found everything related to his favorite rock star's designer/niece there is to find ("I'm not obsessed! They're just super talented, and I'd like something from them! Stop laughing at me, Dick!")

Dick has no room to tease him, as both him and Jason are pretty much in the same boat

Kor'i and Mar'i love MDC, as well

Every one of the Bats are huge Jagged Stone fans

Like... Nearly rabid

(Damian, Bruce, and Alfred redact that statement)

They're invited to Tony's gala thing (he only started it to surpass the Wayne Gala, like the Lil Shite he is)

The night of the party, only Bruce and Jason go, since the rest of the bats are busy

Bruce, Jagged (who brought Fang), and Tony are all chatting in the middle of the floor, 2/3rds of the group are just talking up Marinette

Jason, meanwhile, accidentally runs into this small, adorable child who proceeds to spill her punch all over his suit

He insists it's fine, but she won't take 'no' for an answer ("I am so sorry, please let me make it up to you" "Kid, it's fine, accidents happen" "No, seriously, let me help")

There's a look in her eyes that insists she do something, and he eventually agrees

Cue to Marinette having a suit jacket that matches and fits Jason because "You look like you're the same build as Mr. Stark (she's all for joining Peter in calling Tony 'Mr. Stark' to get under his skin)"

"you know Tony?"

She shrugs, and doesn't comment anymore on it

"give me your address, and I'll bring this back when it's clean again. I'm moving to Gotham for a while soon, anyway"

He does, she doesn't realize he's a Wayne, and they part when the party ends

Cue the entire BatFam sprinting into Jason's room, chasing after a full on scream

Like, they didn't know Jason's voice could get "so high and squeaky, what the hecc?"

They pause as they see Jason litterally jumping up and down

"What the hell, Todd."

Instead of answering, he shoves the jacket in Tim's face with a shite-eating grin

It takes a moment, but Tim scowls and pulls out his wallet

When the rest of the family only look confused, Tim sighs and explains

"He got an MDC original first."

"...you had a bet on that?"

Jason freezes, eyes widening

"HOLY SH*T, I MET THE MDC! SHE WAS SO TINY, OH MY GOD, BATS, WE HAVE TO ADOPT HER!"

They're confused for a solid minute

"YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHES AN ANGEL AND HAS BLACK HAIR AND BLUE EYES!! SHE'S OBVIOUSLY A WAYNE!"

It takes all of Bruce's willpower not to adopt her on the spot when she visits them

Like, he almost brings up adoption papers

But he knows Stark would fight tooth and nail to keep this baby

So he restrains himself

(for now)

(he swears if one of his children doesn't marry her, he's bringing the adoption papers to court)

She doesn't stay long, only meeting all the Waynes at the house and going back to her hotel

The next day, a villain goes after Mar'i, near the park/mall/something Marinette is by

Instead of becoming Ladybug, she heccin kicks arse

As Marinette

She gets both her and Mar'i out of danger without a scratch using a yo-yo of all things and meets Batman and Robin as they clean up the rest

She's all like "no, it's alright, I'm sure anyone would do the same please stop thanking me, my family's gonna kick my ass to next year for scaring them like this"

Bats comes up and takes her statement, and she happens to mention the situation in Paris

"oh, this was nothing compared to some of the Akuma I've faced" "What's an akuma?" She paled, eyes widening in shock. "You don't know? About Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuuko, Viperion, Queen Bee, Red Wasp, Multimouse, Hawkmoth, Mayura, Carapace, Rena Rouge, and all them?"

She explains a little, giving basic information everyone knew, then shows him the app she made a while ago

The Akuma Alert app that held much more than just akuma-related things

She leaves soon after, and Batman has a goal in mind

Within the day, Diana is furious at the lack of response towards the Paris situation

"This Ladybug was left alone for all this time?! Shame on you all, leaving my mother's successor alone!"

When Ladybug is later spotted (hehe, get it?) in Gotham, the entire BatFam finds her and gets her in touch with the League

She explains how she asked both the League and the Avengers for help, all those years ago, and was pushed aside with warnings not to send in prank calls anymore

Of course, Iron Man has already looked into it, but he's not exactly a detective and the more brains on this, the better

Meanwhile, as civilians...

The normal shipping stuff happens

With the exception that nearly every criminal in Gotham low-key adopts Marinette

They may think she's the next Wayne, but the Angel of Gotham is off limits

And not because the little Wayne chases after anyone who even looks at her wrong with a katana

Not just as Robin. As Damian

Marinette actually meets a few villains on the street

She was going to a commission, carrying some hero, vigilante, and villain themed macaroons when she got lost

(before meeting the Waynes officially, actually)

She was in a park, looking lost when Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn came up

She offered treats, and ever since she's the Angel of Gotham

Once, when on a date with her romantic interest, Killer Croc tried taking the restaurant hostage after robbing a bank

Key word: tried

Marinette calmly slipped behind him, grabbed his tail, and dragged his butt outta there

(he blames the fast French girl and the tile on the floor, which didn't let him get a good grip)

By the time Bats and the police got there, Croc was in tears as this tiny French girl lectured him about manners and interrupting dates

(the BatFam can't think of a funnier time)

When the Joker actually kidnaps her as a way to get to Batman, literally everyone rages a rescue mission

Harley, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze (Marinette reminds him of the daughter he's always wanted, with his frozen wife), Two-Face (Marinette talked philosophy with him, showing him he still had choices beyond the black and white), Killer Crock (who was impressed by the tiny French girl who threw him out of a restaurant by his tail that one time), Batman, Robin, the Teen Titans, Red Hood, Red Robin, Wonder Woman (she could feel Tikki's influence on Marinette and guessed her identity), Nightwing, all the Avengers, Red Wasp (Chloe, with the Bee Miraculous because she earned it back ages ago), Sabine (no one messed with her baby. No one), a teenage boy wielding a potato gun (who let this kid here?), Pepper, Penny (the two women were fast friends, bonding over their husbands' eccentric ways), Jagged with Fang, Audrey Bourgeois, and the entire police force storm the Joker's hideout

He didn't have a chance

Later, they admit it was kinda funny watching the small Sabine beating the crap out of the deranged clown

Fang, who was usually a puppy with scales, didn't hesitate to bite off the Joker's hand, reminiscent of Captain Hook and the Croc

Marinette's fine (or not, depending on how much angst you want in the story. It's easy to have her tourtured and nearly killed in the Joker's clutches {or actually killed and focused on angst from everyone who knew her [possible heavy Lila/class salt]} and see her move past her PTSD) and she gets home eventually

Around this time, she's made the Guardian of the Miraculous

She eventually goes back to Paris with her huge family (or everyone she thinks could keep their emotions in check)

They kick Gabriel's arse, but Adrien gets away with his mother (who was healed by Ladybug)

Possible second book

Marinette's ship becomes the Black Cat

Time skip, fiveish years later, some of Marinette's classmates see her for the first time since she left

They insult and sass her, not changed since school

Her S/O scowls and debunks them easily, defending Marinette

When they don't stop, Marinette's S/O calls Bruce, Tony, Jagged, and the rest of the League and the Avengers to destroy the morons in the class because they know how long they've waited for this moment

Mari puts her head in her hands, but doesn't stop them because she knows how long they've waited for this moment

Three hours later, the speeches and lectures aren't done yet

Lila eventually goes to Gotham or wherever Marinette is, and tries to warn the person on her arm about Marinette's 'bulling tendencies'

That gets another lecture

Or, her class gets a tour at either SI or WE, depending on when in the story you write it (could be both, and the class just doesn't learn or Tony, Pepper, and their kids were visiting WE to talk about Mari Protection Measures when they overhear it)

Lila goes off on how Mari's S/O is actually Lila's, or how she's BFFS with Batman/Iron Man/ Bruce Wayne and his kids/ Tony Stark and his kids/ the Avengers/ the Justice League

Cue the class seeing Mari

Instant bullying

The resident children and billionaire steps up, insulting and embarrassing the class while defending Mari

Lila tries to turn it around, but they're having none of that

First the kids jump at the chance to defend their little sister and/or girlfriend, then the big guns show up

At WE, it's Bruce, a highly protective Jason, and Tim, who has every single sin/mean thing/lie pulled up in a folder

It's thicker than his hand, and hard to hold

It's both in digital and physical form and sent to every single member of Mari's family- blood related or not

At SI, it's Tony and Pepper

FRIDAY steps up, too

Harley shoots Lila with the potato gun mk 3 until she leaves

The class don't know what they did wrong, but they swear to make it up just to get the scary CEOs and relatives

Also, if anyone knows the AU where Marinette was a street kid with Jason and his little sister (I can't remember who made it or what it was called, but I fell in l o v e), that could work with this one too. Jason would be so proud of his Lil sister being so famous and awesome and "how dare you let me think you were dead!! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!" "I made you worried?! You up and nearly got killed last I checked!"

Jason swore not to tell her he actually died once. He prays she never finds out.

@tired-butterfly @evil-elf16 @doggiediva13 @krispydefendorpolice @mochegato @legallyspawned @kryptored

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ssa-montgomery · 4 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors Chapter 1

Word Count: 2176

Story Summary: After a drunken night together Emma and Regina seem to fall into a hidden relationship. Dinners that aren't quite dates, nights together that they pretend never happened. No one knows, and it's perfect. Though it seems somewhere along the line Regina started to feel more than she ever imagined she would.What will happen to this relationship, as well as their friendship when Emma brushes it off as casual and begins to date Killian? A heartbroken Regina and an oblivious Emma attempt to fix it. What if people find out what happens behind the closed doors of Regina's home? Can Regina win back Emma's heart?

Characters For This Chapter: Regina x Emma, Belle, Ruby x Dorothy, Ashley, Snow White

Warnings For Story: Angst, Smut, Heartbreak, Swearing, Alcohol use

A/N: This is the start of my new Swan Queen fic! This is the first OUAT full-length fic that I've written in a very long time but I'm excited to work on it! The next chapter will have a lot of Swan Queen content and will fill in that bit of missing time. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

"Are you sure that's what you want to wear Emma?" Ruby asked her head falling to the side as she looked Emma up and down and fully took in the outfit she was planning on wearing.

They were upstairs in the loft and Emma was standing in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. Ruby had settled herself on Emma's bed with her arms spread out behind her and her legs dangling off the edge. She had arrived early, already dressed in one of her signature little red dresses and a pair of heels that Emma was certain she would never be able to walk in. She had insisted that Emma would more than likely need help to get ready and clearly she was starting to think she was right.

"What? What's wrong with my outfit?" Emma asked defensively, she glanced down at herself before looking back up to meet Ruby's gaze. She didn't see anything wrong with what she was wearing, sure it wasn't as nice or as flashy as Ruby's but Emma hadn't exactly had the time to go out shopping for dresses since she had come to Storybrooke.

"It's just-" Ruby paused and let out a sigh. "It's what you've been wearing all day, you know to work. I don't think a white t-shirt and jeans exactly screams girls night out."

"I mean, I might have a nicer shirt." Emma shrugged as she tugged at her top trying to think of what she had in her wardrobe.

Before Ruby could say anything on the subject they heard the front door open downstairs. Ruby sat up and eagerly looked down over the barrier to the bottom floor. Belle had walked in and was now pulling the door closed behind her. She looked around the apartment before Emma's voice rang down the stairs.

"Up here, Belle."

Belle looked up and smiled when she spotted Emma at the top of the stairs. She made her way up and dropped down onto the bed next to Ruby, tucking her legs up underneath herself.

"Belle please tell Emma she needs to change into something more appropriate for a night out," Ruby said gesturing to Emma's outfit as she turned to face Belle.

"I mean, maybe something different wouldn't hurt." She smiled politely. Belle herself was wearing a pale yellow dress that hung just below her knees. Emma couldn't help but think that it fitted her personality perfectly.

"Okay, okay fine. I'll go find that shirt." Emma rolled her eyes throwing her wardrobe open.

She dug through what little clothes she had brought with her from Boston until she found what she had been looking for. It was a silky blue shirt she had only worn once. It was different than her usual style and had been pushed to the back of the wardrobe. A strange warmth swelled up in her chest as she stared down at the shirt but shook her head and shoved the feeling down. She pulled it off its hanger and held it up in front of her, turning to show it off to the others.

"Better?"

"Wow, that's actually really nice." Ruby sounded surprised as she nodded, reaching out to run a hand along the shirt and feel the soft material.

"Where did you get that?" Belle asked.

"Oh um," Emma stopped to clear her throat. "Regina actually."

"Oh." Belle and Ruby exchanged a questioning look and seemed to both have the same idea in their minds.

"She gave it to me after an incident with a cup of hot cocoa." Emma quickly explained before they could get any more ideas.

"Well put it on so we can leave. The others are waiting for us at the bar."

Emma quickly threw off her t-shirt and slipped the shirt over her head. It was surprisingly comfortable and Emma was starting to wonder why she hadn't worn it again before today. Part of her knew exactly why she hadn't. Once she was ready she grabbed her phone and wallet, putting them both into her jean pockets.

"Let's go then."

~~~

Emma stepped out of the Bug onto the footpath outside The Rabbit Hole. The air outside was bitter and she was starting to wish that she had taken her jacket with her. She could feel goosebumps pricking up across her skin and she shivered. The shirt was pretty but the material did very little to fight off the wind. Ruby moved around the car, Belle's hand clasped tightly in her hand as she pulled her behind her. She slipped her arm through Emma's and lead them both towards the main entrance.

"Someone's eager." Emma laughed.

"I'm going to make a wild guess and say someone invited Dorothy tonight." Belle chuckled.

"What? No. I mean yes. I mean she's just a friend." Ruby came to a sudden stop still not letting go of either of them and stumbled over her words. Even in the dark Emma could see the blush creeping up across Ruby's cheeks.

"Oh of course. Never suggested anything else."

Emma wasn't surprised at the crowd inside the bar, she had been to the Rabbit Hole plenty of times on a Saturday night and it was always the same. The heavy bass of the music, the constant flow of talking and the clattering sound of the pool tables filling the building. Crowds of people were standing all around, groups huddled at the bar waiting for their drinks while others danced throughout the room seemingly not caring who was watching.

"Guys over here!" A voice cutting through the crowd caught their attention.

Emma spotted Ashley waving them over to the table her and Dorothy had managed to secure in the middle of the bar. They pushed their way through the crowd and Ashley stood to greet them. She threw her arms around Emma and she happily returned the hug. Ashley's skin was warm to the touch and Emma caught the faint scent of alcohol when she moved past her to hug the others. Already there were empty glasses on the table and Emma guessed Ashley was already tipsy.

"Hello, guys." Dorothy nodded at them. Dorothy was the newest addition to the group and it seemed she was still adjusting to her new world. Emma liked her but she was still unsure about most people in the town, though she had taken quite a shine to Ruby, and Ruby had certainly taken an interest in her. She quickly hopped up onto the barstool next to Dorothy and immediately they fell into a conversation with Ruby leaning in as close to her as she could.

Emma took a seat next to where Ashley had been sitting and examined the glasses on the table. Cocktail glasses that still had a faint trace of the golden liquid that had been in them. She tried that particular cocktail in here before but the sickly sweet honey flavour hadn't been to her taste.

"A round of cocktails or shots to start us off?" Ashley asked the group taking back her seat.

"Seems like you've already started." Emma laughed. "But I think shots."

Everyone else at the table nodded in agreement and Belle managed to catch the attention of the waitress to order the round. She nodded and turned back towards the bar to get their order.

"I'm so glad you organised this Ruby, I've barely left the house since Alexandra was born and I really needed this," Ashley admitted.

"Always happy to help." Ruby hummed. "Especially when it comes to nights out."

"Here you go." The waitress returned and set the tray of shots down on the table in front of them. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," Dorothy said reaching forward to grab one of the glasses.

Once everyone had taken their glasses Belle raised hers up in the air.

"Here's to girls night."

"And hopefully many more," Ruby added.

~~~

"I'm going to get another drink," Emma announced pushing herself down from her chair with only some difficultly. "Can I get anyone else anything?"

It was nearing midnight now and their table had slowly been filling up with empty glasses to the point that the table was now cluttered. Ruby and Dorothy had slipped away from the group and were now playing pool on the opposite side of the bar. Emma was willing to admit that she might have had one too many, the warm, fuzzy feeling clouding her mind. It had been a while since she had gone out drinking with anyone and the night out was fun.

"I really shouldn't," Belle said shaking her head.

"Same here." Ashley agreed pushing the now empty glass of her last drink away from her.

Emma nodded before making her way through the crowd to the bar. It was still as busy as it had been when they arrived but people had now stopped arriving and she was sure it would start to quieten down soon enough. She could feel herself swaying in place as she stood at the counter and decided to take a seat on one of the stools while she waited for her order.

"Are you really sure another bottle is a smart idea, Miss Swan?"

The familiar voice broke Emma out of her daze and she spun around almost slipping from her seat. Her heart stopped for a moment at the smirk that met her when she turned. She could feel the dark brown eyes raking up and down her outfit and suddenly she was glad she had changed after all.

"Well, I didn't take this as your usual spot." Emma teased returning her smirk.

~~~

Regina finally gave in to the assault on her front door that had woken her only moments ago. She threw back the duvet and stood up, cursing whoever it was that had woken her when she felt the cold bite to the air. She flicked her wrist and watched a purple cloud envelope her. Once it had faded away she was fully dressed. She took a quick moment to examine the dark blue dress in the mirror before slipping out of the room towards the front door.

Once she reached the hallway she peered out of the window with a direct line of sight to the porch. She gritted her teeth when she saw who it was. Why was she even surprised any more?

She reached for the door handle and flung it open.

"If it's another sleeping curse you're begging for I'm very close to being happy to oblige."

Snow's face was flushed and she had a wild look on her face. She completely ignored Regina's comment and immediately started talking.

"Emma never came home last night." The words seemed to all come out in one breath and Regina could hear the worry lacing her frantic tone.

"And that's my problem how exactly? I'm the Mayor, not the Sheriff if you want to file a missing persons report call your husband." Regina snapped.

She moved to close the door but Snow quickly caught it and pushed it open again. Regina rolled her eyes but decided not to fight it further knowing she wouldn't get much further.

"Look Regina she went out with Belle and Ruby last night, they said she was really drunk and then suddenly she had just left. We haven't heard from her at all."

"So what you're telling me is, you woke me up at this god awful hour because your daughter got drunk and probably stumbled home with someone? She's a thirty-year-old woman Snow, give her an hour or two to sober up and I'm sure she'll find her way home."

"Just please Regina, if you see her tell her to call me. We're worried." Snow pleaded.

"Yes. Fine. Whatever. Can I go back to bed now? Or is there some more useless information you want to burden me with?" She questioned.

"No, I'm sorry to disturb you, Regina."

"Wonderful."

Regina let the door slam shut and gave a sigh of relief when she heard Snow's steps retreating across the porch. If Snow White had been insufferable as a child she didn't have words for what she was now. She honestly believed that anyone that judged her for becoming the Evil Queen simply hadn't spent time with Snow.

Ever since Emma had come to Storybrook and the curse had been broken both her and Charming had gotten worse. It seemed since they missed out on the first 28 years of Emma's life they were trying to make up for it now. It had made them the worlds worst helicopter parents to a thirty-year-old woman. It now apparently also included treating Emma like a teenage when she more than likely just stumbled home with a stranger. Or someone closer to home.

Regina turned around to see Emma descending the stairs, Regina's silk black dressing gown wrapped tightly around her. Her blonde her falling around her shoulders in loose curls was a hard contrast to the dark colour but it suited her.

"Thank you. For not telling her I was here."

Taglist: @thewaywardimpala @waknatious @sapphiccyanide

#once upon a time #once upon a time fanfic #once upon a time fandom #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat #ouat fanfiction #ouat ff #ouat fandom #swan queen #swan queen fanfic #swan queen fandom #swan queen fanfiction

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flowerbeom · 5 years

Text

What I Wouldn’t Give | Part 1: The Right Fit

Im Jaebeom x Female!Reader

Genre: Stylist AU. Fluff. Eventual Smut

Warnings: Some swearing.

Words: 3.2k

Concept: A story where a heartsick, pining and ‘hopelessly in love with his stylist’ Jaebeom finds himself in an awkward situation in the house of the stylist who’s equally heart sick and hopelessly in love with him. But neither of them know… yet.

A/N: Please do enjoy soft, nervous Jae - one of his stronger forms. Chapter links will be in masterlist once all posted.

Part 1: The Right Fit

Part 2: The Wrap Party

Part 3: Home

Song Mood: Sunny Days, Summer Nights by Sam Kim

You had always hated the title 'Junior Stylist'. You hated the instant prejudice you would see in someone's eye when you were introduced, as if you couldn’t hold a candle to someone ‘senior’. You knew your skills were bar none and your eye for detail would be the very thing that would solidify your place in this industry. So, you were patient, working under creative directors and doing scut work until your fingers bled just so you would be seen; seen as worthy.

And one day, you got it; you got your chance. You were pulled aside by the department lead and told you had been assigned to a debuting rookie group and their leader. Working in a small team, you would lead their style direction for the duration of their contract. They would be your avenue to explore your artistry, and he would be your canvas. But Im Jaebeom proved to be a challenge; to dress and for your heart.

Era: Girls Girls Girls

“Just put the damn jacket on, Jaebeom.” a face to face standoff played out in the middle of the dressing room, a clenched fist crushed the leather jacket in your hand; Jaebeom squaring you down. Hands lazily resting in his pockets, he tilted his head; the narrow in his eyes mirroring yours. Everyone had cleared the room only to leave Jackson sitting in the corner, mildly entertained by the stalemate he stole glances of over the top of his phone.

“It’s not really my style.” Jaebeom sneered, smoothing an index finger over the sharp edge of his jaw. Closing the space between you, your eyebrow quirked when Jaebeom’s guard broke for a second; his eyes jolting open, neck flaring - your closeness rattling him momentarily.

“Okay, leader-nim, let’s see what JYP’s opinion on the matter would be.” He forced his tongue through gritted teeth, chin jutting out; vexed.

Shoving the garment into his tensed torso, you paused, “Or..” swallowing down the lump your heart had thrown into your throat, “You can put on the jacket.”

He scoffed, visibly impressed with your tenacity but annoyed all the same. Hand quick to grip your wrist, his eyes wavered; darting from your intense stare to his hand back to your eyes. The sudden shot of electricity that passed through both of you knocked you both out of your stupor, Jaebeom quickly pulling the jacket from your grasp while you stumbled back, shoving both your hands into your back pockets.

“You-you know, it’s not that.. Bad. I mean.. It’s okay.” Jaebeom stuttered, pressing down the collar, staring at himself in the mirror to avoid staring at you. Drawing in a deep breath before stepping to him, you arranged the jacket to sit better on his broad shoulders.

“Seriously, are you for real.... “ Bewildered with the distance your hands had to travel to smooth out the jacket you failed to hear Jaebeom throw a question your way. Still playing with the jacket, you missed his voice again before he spun around, leaving your hands to rest on his collar bones, his face far too close for comfort.

“What?”

“Huh?” Shaken, you snapped your hands away from him, stepping back.

“Before, you said was I “for real”, what was that all about?” Words catching in your throat, Jaebeom’s fingers fiddled with the zip on his jacket, eyes softer than before.

“I-- ahh, well..” Your hand buried into your nape, rubbing the back of your neck as if it’d provide the right answer.

“Two minute call!” Both your heads whipped to the door, the runner poking in to get the boys to head to the stage. Your eyes slowly met, unspoken words hung in the air; his knuckles brushing over yours as he stepped past you, both your breath hitching at the touch. Fuck.

Era: Just Right

Watching the performance from the dressing room, Jaebeom’s smile seem to radiate through the television; the joy it exuded filled your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it felt comforting. Unlike their previous comebacks, this one was lighter, filled with zest and cheer and dressing them as such was enjoyable to say the least.

You debated how far you could take the concept, and how irritated Jaebeom would be as you made him try on outfit after outfit; but the utter look of happiness on their faces as they performed live was enough to quell those doubts.

You hadn’t noticed just how widely you were smiling, or how your shoulders were bopping to the music that swirled around the room. Hana watched you from the side, analysing your face as she steamed a shirt.

“What are you giggling about?” Pulled from your trance, you turned to your assistant; her quirked eyebrow enough to draw a sigh from your mouth. Your smile had dropped.

“It’s a fun song.” Picking up a shirt, you folded it carefully; placing into the crate, packing up to leave.

“We both know it’s not the song.” You wanted to slap the smirk off her face. “It’s Jaebeom.”

“What?!”

“What what?! Tell me you don’t like him.” You wanted to slap her, smirk or not. Hana put down the steamer and caught your wrists before your hands could muzzle her.

“Shhhh, shut up. What are you talking about? Stop it.” You were shaking, completely unprepared to be called out.

“Ever since you put him in ripped jeans and a bomber jacket you’ve had heart eyes for the guy. Your ears prick when you hear his voice and you can smell his cologne from a hundred metres away. I swear I can hear your heart thump when he stands next to you.” You had lowered your hands, shoving them in your pockets; your lips were screwed into your cheek. You had nothing to say.

“Have nothing to say?” Hana poked a finger into your shoulder. She was right. You had denied it when feelings for him started to stir in your gut and slapped down butterflies that flitted too closely to your heart. Jaebeom had etched his name onto your skin every time he grazed you, and you had lost the fight not to let it happen.

“Let’s just pack up, okay.” Hana saw the acceptance in your eyes and said no more. But it wasn’t going to stop her from pushing you tell him how you feel, one day. Could be a day way off in the distance, but one day.

Era: New Era

Dinner. Dinner was all that was on Jaebeom’s mind as he exited the elevator. Yours on the other hand was figuring out how to not lose your job. The stress that wreaked havoc on your face was enough to strip any thoughts of food when Jaebeom found you curled into yourself as he entered the hotel lobby. Back pressed to the wall, knees pressed to your chest, heel of your palm pressed to your forehead, phone pressed to your ear.

Jaebeom crouched down in front of you, placing a timid hand on your knee to bring your eyes up to his. The crease between your eyebrows didn’t soften, but only transferred to etch between his.

“Yep, yep - no, I understand. Yes.. yes. I’ll figure it out.” Hanging up the call, you placed your phone on the ground before burying your face into your hands.

“What’s wrong?” Jaebeom’s voice was sweet, stained with concern and helped you breathe again. Pulling your hands down your face, you met Jaebeom’s eyes; his gentle, yours bloodshot.

“The crate. The crate with all your clothes for this entire week of schedules. No one knows where it is. It's not in Seoul. It's not here. For all we know it fell off the plane mid transit and got eaten by a whale. No one knows!" You were rambling, and Jaebeom listened, kindly; intently. Your face returned to pool into your shaking palms, an exhausted groan muffled into your skin.

“Argh, I have to go out and buy an entirely new wardrobe tonight. I have to practically stampede around Tokyo flashing credit cards like a crazy person. And Hana isn’t even here to help. What am I going to do?” Violently raking your fingers through your hair, you slapped your phone off the ground.

“I’ll come with you. I’ll help.” Eyes shooting up, sincerity was all that was painted on Jaebeom’s face. Holding out his hand, you gingerly took it; letting him help you stand.

“Wh-why?” The question trembled off your lips before they haphazardly blew back the hair that had fallen over your face. Jaebeom tried his best not to giggle, composing himself with a hand rubbed under his nose.

Trying not to risk sounding cheesy by sprouting out a line like “I don’t like seeing you stressed” or “I’d drop anything to help you out, because I just want to see you smile again”, despite it all being true, Jaebeom opted for reason.

“I have to make sure things go well. Fix problems, solve dilemmas, save the world. Leader things, you know.”

And trying not to seem desperate by saying something like “I was hoping you’d say that” or “You’re the only one I need right now”, despite it all being true, you opted for logic.

"Sounds good to me.”

The static that buzzed between you as you explored Harajuku was palpable. The little knocks of hands against hands, or brushes of shoulders against shoulders drowned words in your throats and striped air from your lungs. The stolen looks over clothes racks and hidden smiles behind turned backs kept the thought of possible unemployment far from your mind as Jaebeom insisted on carrying every bag and constantly reassured you that everything was going to be okay.

And it was, because he was with you. He even bought dinner.

Era: Lullaby

No one, not even Mark with his acrobatics or Bambam with his five hundred diverse dabs a day, could rip through their pants as well as Jaebeom could. Whether it was the inner stitching on the thigh, or the buttons that held it all together, you were always sewing up his pants back stage.

At one point it stopped being annoying and became somewhat therapeutic. The small embarrassed smile on Jaebeom’s face as he handed over another pair of pants to repair was enough to bring the quiet joy you needed to sit in the corner and pull out a needle and thread. The simple offering of his sincere apology as he bit his lip was payment enough, no matter how many times he offered to buy you bubble tea for your efforts. Though you always found one tucked behind your bag before you left for the night.

But alas, his pants still needed fixing and that’s exactly where you found yourself, sitting cross legged in the corner; hunched over a pair of black trousers, one headphone wedged in your ear. Singing along quietly to their new album as you pulled thread carefully through fabric; your fingers worked skilfully to fix Jaebeom’s mishap.

“Hyung, you’re staring.” Jaebeom sighed as he tipped his temple to rest against the door frame, Jinyoung meeting his side; handing him an iced coffee.

“I know.” Replying through an exhale, he sunk lower into the door frame; lifting the straw to his lips.

“She’s just sewing on a button.” Matter of fact, Jinyoung spoke before taking a sip of his chai latte.

“Exactly, she’s just sewing on a button and I can’t stop staring.” Jinyoung cupped Jaebeom’s shoulder, a reassuring grip of his fingers made Jaebeom drop his head back. Peeling himself off the door frame, he spun on his heels; walking away from the room, away from you.

“Are you ever going to tell her?” Jinyoung queried, hand still resting on Jaebeom’s shoulder.

“No..” Jaebeom’s face slowly crumpled.

“No?” Jaebeom winced further at Jinyoung’s sharp tone.

“As if I could…” Unwilling to argue, Jinyoung merely offered Jaebeom a consoling pat on the back. There was no use debating the issue with him, he would simply deny the possibility of you ever loving him back; even if it was the furthest thing from the truth.

Era: Focus On Me

You kept stealing glances from across the room. Straight back, head down, eyes burrowed into a book; Jaebeom had read for most of the day. Saved for the moments he spent with a make-up brush in his face, or limbs sliding into clothes you had curated for him; Jaebeom willingly lost himself in the world found on those pages, rather than the anxiety swirling in his mind.

Lingering looks from over your shoulder were enough for Hana to flick your forehead with a harsh snap of her middle finger. Her pursed lips and narrow eyes drew you from your longing and back onto the earrings you were fiddling with. A violent shake of your head knocked you into focus.

“Jaebeom-ah, can you-- “ Holding the earrings in the palm of your hand, you turned to step to him; the wide expanse of his back momentarily distracting you; your step faltered before continuing to approach him.

“Hmm, huh?” Looking down at the book cradled in his gentle hands, you saw no less than ten pages left for him to finish, and upon tilting your head to look into his eyes, you saw them furiously scanning the text; his face blank with fixation.

You debated doing what you were about to, knowing you would regret it the second you touched him. Knowing how fast your heart would race, and how red your ears would turn; but call time was approaching and you needed him to be ready. Swallowing down a shaky breath, you tipped at the hip; leaning down to his shoulder.

“I’ll just put these on for you, okay. Finish your book.” Merely a whisper, said too close to his ear; your breath fanned across his skin and you thought you heard him hitch. Taking his earlobe gently between your fingers, you swore you saw him flinch, his body tensing at the sudden touch.

Holding the pin of the earring, you gripped his ear slightly tighter, “Don’t move, I don’t want to hurt you.” Jaebeom slowly exhaled, his body leaning back into the chair. You could feel your heartbeat on your skin; goosebumps pricked your arms and you were thankful your sleeves were hiding them. What you didn’t notice were the hairs on Jaebeom’s neck standing, or the vein in his temple flaring, or that he has stopped reading all together.

After securing one earring, you put on another; spinning them so they sat just right. You also didn’t notice Jaebeom staring at you in the mirror, his eyes following you as you rounded the chair to place earrings onto his other ear. You were too busy trying to breathe.

You had been close before, but this, this was intimate. You wanted to run, sprint into a closet and cower in the corner because you hated how much he affected you. Be professional. Yes, but it was hard when the person you worked with had your heart in his hand.

“Two minutes!” You and Jaebeom whipped your heads to the door, the runner amused at this common occurrence. You stepped back, allowing Jaebeom to push back his chair. He slipped his arms into the jacket Hana held out for him and turned to the mirror. Eyeing the earrings you had ever so gently placed on him, his thumb lifted to slide down the chain of one of them and smiled before catching your eye in the mirror.

He left the room not nearly quick enough for you to catch your breath, humming to himself and singing as he trailed down the hall. Hana was by your side and screwing an elbow into your waist before you could bring yourself down from the cloud his smile put you on.

“So, are you going to let him?” Forehead creasing, eyebrow cocked; your face met hers with confusion.

“Have you not listened to him this entire time?” Leaning against the make-up bench, Hana crossed her arms, one finger tapping impatiently against her forearm.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you going to let him? Let him love you?” Your hands slapped onto the chair in front of you and pushed it violently into Hana’s knees. She cursed and you cursed back, but she insisted that he was singing to you. That this entire debut, unit, album was him trying to confess to you.

Ludicrous, improbable, utterly absurd; but as you watched him on the waiting room television, you entertained the notion for a second. That the way he was staring into the camera was how he wanted to stare at you. But you slapped yourself before you fell into that fantasy; hard enough for Yugyeom to ask what happened to your cheek when they came back.

Era: Eclipse

[12:21pm] Y/N Stylist: What bet did you lose?

[12:22pm] Jaebeom-Ssi: What do you mean?! I look good!

[12:25pm] Y/N Stylist: 1.That beret is for Bam’s Allure shoot. 2. I’m not even going to ask how you got it out of storage. 3. You look like an idiot.

[12:31pm] Jaebeom-Ssi: Perhaps. But I made you forget about that asshole from Div 3, didn’t I? Humour me, I totally rock it better than Bam.

[12:52pm] Y/N Stylist: Have a safe flight, Beom.

Safe in the knowledge that he made you smile, Jaebeom slid his phone back into his pocket. Leaning back into his seat, he stretched his arms out; yawning as his muscles loosened before Mark slipped in beneath his arm. Nuzzling into Jaebeom’s side, Mark smiled cheekily as Jaebeom coiled his arm back, pushing him off playfully.

“Excited to go home?” Mark cooed, Jaebeom raised a questioning brow.

“We haven’t even left yet.”

“Yeh, but are you excited to come home?” Jaebeom’s face crumpled into confusion, mouth opening in question, palms up-turned: puzzled.

“The wrap party, you idiot!” Mark jutted his shoulder into Jaebeom’s.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jaebeom sighed. “I’ve been called an idiot too many times today. But why are you talking about the wrap party now?”

“Y/N.” Whispered, a little too closely into Jaebeom’s ear. Jaebeom’s silence edged Mark on.

“Y/N will be there.” Mark smirked watching Jaebeom’s eyes widen.

“Everyone will be there.” Jaebeom spat out, trying to mask the excitement that stirred in his stomach.

Mark shimmied in his seat, clearing his throat teasingly. “Y/N never comes to wrap parties. But suddenly she’s coming to this one.”

“And?” Jaebeom cocked his head, cracking a single bone is his neck; not nearly enough to alleviate his tension.

“She’ll be there, potentially all dressed up - having a drink or two, dancing - maybe dancing with you, if you ask her to, this could be your chance. Who knows-” Jaebeom cut him off, standing suddenly and ripping his bag off the seat.

“Who knows if she’ll even be there. Come on, we have to board now.” Shaking his head through a laugh, Mark watched Jaebeom storm off, visibly irked by the notion of acting on any of his feelings. By now, everyone knew your shared pining had developed into deep seated, intense, full blown 'I'd risk it all for you' love, but no one knew what exactly was taking you both so long to actually risk it all. Maybe all you needed was a nudge and a bit of liquid courage.

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womanfromblackwater · 4 years

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Birthday Fic

Little birthday-themed fic focusing on Arthur and John’s brotherly bond. Of course, it’s all John’s birthday bc I found out way too late that yesterday was Roger’s, but enjoy!

Thirteen

From the moment he saw the small figure hunched at the side of the camp, Arthur knew something was wrong. The little urchin Dutch and Hosea had brought back a few months past usually spent his time getting into everything around the camp, seeing how much he could squirrel away in his tent before anyone noticed. If not that he was pestering Arthur. The kid wanted to copy everything he did and had no respect for Arthur’s time or personal space. Sitting on a rock staring off across the prairie was definitely not one of his usual activities. Silently hoping that the kid wasn’t getting sick, Arthur had gone about his day, until he noticed that by mid afternoon John still hadn’t moved. A part of him- most of him if he was being honest- was tempted to leave him there, let him sort out his own problems. But the small part that made him ________ took over, and he found himself walking over to the kid against his better judgement.

“You okay, boy?”

Startled, John visibly flinched at his voice, before quickly squaring his shoulders and putting on what Arthur thought of as his “tough guy scowl.” It was not especially intimidating coming from the skinny kid.

“I’m fine.”

“You ain’t. If you was fine you wouldn’t be over here. So, I’m gonna sit right here until you tell me what’s goin’ on.”

He plopped himself down on the grass, wondering why he was doing this but unable to make himself get up and walk away. John crossed his arms across his chest and turned his head away, but didn’t get up. Arthur guessed five minutes before the kid spilled his guts. John held out for ten before the tears he had been fighting started to run down his cheeks.

“I’m thirteen today.”

“Well, happy birthday, kid. That ain’t nothing to cry about.”

“That’s thirteen years my ma ain’t here. Pa always said I killed her. She made good money, too. It was my fault Pa lost his best girl. He coulda been rich.”

Arthur took a deep breath, not sure what to say. John never talked about his life before the gang, only said he was on his own since he was eight. Now he guessed he knew why.

“Hey, that ain’t… that ain’t your fault. You didn’t do nothing. It happens, boy. Ain’t nice, but it happens.”

He wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulders, surprised when John didn’t fight him and just leaned into his side.

“You got a family now. Ain’t much of one, but we’re here.”

“I guess.”

The tears had stopped, and Arthur gave the boy’s shoulders a squeeze before getting up, brushing dirt off his jeans.

“Make sure you’re back for dinner. Hosea’ll worry if he knows you were out here all day.”

Having gotten a small nod, Arthur strode back to the main camp and saddled his horse. John could be whiny and aggressive and annoying, but he felt bad for the kid. Least he could do was get him a present. Probably the first one of his life.

Later that night, Arthur knew he’d done the right thing. It was way too big on John, but something had told him that the boy was meant to have it. His eyes were barely visible under the brim of the white gambler hat, but he had refused to take it off since he had opened the sloppily wrapped package. Arthur smiled to himself. He’d grow into it.

Twenty-Two

Giving a last wave to the trapper, Arthur rode off with the package secured behind him. He’d watched John shiver through the winter, too stubborn to ask for a heavier jacket and spending all his own money on presents for the girl Uncle had brought into camp. John had proudly declared that she didn’t charge him anymore, that soon enough she’d be only his, but Arthur figured that didn’t mean much when his lips were tinged with blue and he was practically sitting in the campfire to keep warm in a blizzard. The idea of the man he’d come to think of as a brother going through another cold snap like that had given Arthur the idea for his birthday gift. The ox leather had been easy to come by, the coyote had taken several nights of hunting, but it was worth it to see the result.

He arrived at camp to find the celebration already in full swing, despite it only being mid-afternoon. Arthur had always gotten a special meal and presents, but Dutch doted on John, and his birthday was second only to Christmas as the gang’s biggest party of the year. Hating that much attention himself, Arthur didn’t mind the arrangement.

John was sitting on the edge of a wagon, laughing with Bill and Uncle and already deep into his fourth drink. Arthur had been right, he had grown into the hat, although the white had become a deep tan after nearly a decade of use. Figuring he may as well give him his present while he was sober enough to appreciate it, he pulled the package off of Boadicea and headed over.

“Hey, kid, havin’ a good day?” He slung an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, the closest to a hug John would allow.

“Sure. Hosea let me sleep till noon, so I’d say it’s a good one. They won’t let me near the chuckwagon, so I guess Pearson got something good, too. How you been?”

“Fine, fine. Got this for ya.” He handed over the neatly folded brown paper.

“Shit, Arthur, you didn’t need to go this big. Uncle here got me a half-full box of bullets. Pretty sure he pulled it off your wagon.”

Uncle stood up taller.

“Hey, those is gonna save your life one day, boy. You’ll be thankin’ ol’ Uncle then!”

They all laughed as John tore back the paper on Arthur’s gift. His genuine smile warmed Arthur’s heart. John was usually either dead serious or drunkenly cackling. Honest happiness from him was rare. He ran his fingers through the soft fur of the jacket’s lining, admiring for a moment before looking up to Arthur.

“Thank you, brother. For real, thank you.”

“Aw, was nothin’. Now we don’t all have to listen to you and your chatterin’ teeth next time we head north.” He gave John a playful shove and steered him towards the campfire, where the rest of the gang was staring to gather for a rare night of relaxation.

Twenty-Six

“Hey, you up yet?”

Arthur could see through the gaping hole in the wall that he was, but figured John would appreciate the knock more than just barging in.

“Yep. You can come in.”

John was slumped in a chair, half-finished coffee in his hands. Dark circles under his eyes showed the toll the past few weeks had taken. Losing Sean, losing Jack and the fight to get him back, settling in at a new camp- they were all stressed and exhausted. Only Jack, looking up to wave at Arthur from his spot on the floor, happily playing with his toy horse, seemed to be truly okay.

“Just wanted to wish you many happy returns of the day.”

“What?”

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, John stared at Arthur, who remained silent until John’s eyes widened in realization.

“Jesus, I hadn’t even been keeping track. Already?”

“What is it, Pa?” Jack asked, climbing up into John’s lap. Arthur answered for him.

“It’s your pa’s birthday. Gettin’ old, he is.”

“Really? Is there gonna be a cake?” Jack’s eyes lit up. He still wasn’t exactly sure what a birthday was, but he knew that whenever somebody had one there were treats, and for his there had been presents.

“I don’t think so, Jack. We all got a lot going on right now, we’re not gonna have a party right in the middle of it.”

He was right, Arthur knew that, but a part of him remembered how hard it had been to get John to acknowledge his birthday in the first place, and he didn’t want to let that go. An idea forming, he held out his arms to Jack.

“Come on, Jack. Let’s give your pa some space. John, I’m borrowin’ your kid.”

John nodded, smiling at the giggle that Jack gave as Arthur picked him up and spun him around. Even though they’d all had hard times lately, Arthur seemed to be handling it better than he was. Jack deserved that, not sitting around in a rotting house watching his father brood all day.

Arthur had planned carefully, so by the time John returned from his chores around camp everything was done. They had spread a blanket across the floor for a picnic, and he, Jack, and Abigail sat around it, a small cake from a bakery in Saint Denis in the center. John was shocked.

“Didn’t think we were gonna just let the day go by, did ya? Come sit down.” Arthur cut cake for all of them, pointedly ignoring the shine of tears in John’s eyes. A kiss from Abigail and a bear hug from Jack had him relaxed enough to enjoy their small party. When Arthur rose to go, he handed John a folded piece of paper.

“Happy birthday, kid.”

Arthur didn’t know it, but John kept the drawing of himself, Abigail, and Jack tucked in his satchel whenever he had to be away from camp, admiring how Arthur had captured Jack’s smirk, the light in Abigail’s eyes, and how he’d made them look like a real family.

Thirty-Four

John’s first birthday in his new home had been a success, if he did say so himself. Abigail had insisted on Uncle and Jack taking over his chores, while the two of them had hidden the flour to prevent her from even attempting to bake. It had been a peaceful day spent lounging on his own porch, looking out over the sunlight on his own land. It was only when dinner was finished and Uncle and Jack had gone to bed that he felt a twinge of sadness. It came every year, the reminder that Arthur hadn’t been here to share the day with him. The hat from his first year with the gang had been lost in the flight from Beaver Hollow, replaced with Arthur’s own, which was tucked in a drawer in the wardrobe, the family portrait Arthur had drawn inside of it. He still wore the jacket, even though there were few truly cold days in New Austin, even in the winter. He supposed his new life had been Arthur’s last gift, and he hoped he would be proud of what John was doing with it. As he watched a blue jay hop across the railing, closer to his hand than most animals would dare to go, John figured he was.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #arthur morgan #john marston #birthdays

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