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hoshigray · 11 months

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Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

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lovemybluebully · 3 years

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Danger Room Level 1

Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O

https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680

Wrote a little story to go along with it.

Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.

*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol) "Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes. Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.

These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different. "No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"

Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man. "Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."

"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something." Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace. "Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. "Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down." Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did. "Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."

"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now." They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity. A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.

"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in. Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head. The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.

"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.

Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him. This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made. "Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way. Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in. It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks. Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing. In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position. "See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared." Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room. "Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!" Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself. Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later. His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back. "No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?" Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this. "Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use. "Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee. No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.

"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!" Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously. With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.

He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.

"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots. Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose. "Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity. He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic. "HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!" Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'. This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!" Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."

And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough. Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.

Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body. "Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"

The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.

#tickling #tickletorture #tickle #ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #wolverine #loganhowlett #xtas #dangerroom #ticklefic #scottsummers #cyclops #marvel #tickleart

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hyrule-kingdom-updates · 3 years

Note

Can we get some spare Launo headcannons for July?

Launo sucked big time at knight school when he first arrived—he didn’t exactly have any background help given no one in his family was a knight either. He was basically assigned the equivalent of “equipment manager” during the first few months. And when he did get proper actions with a broadsword or a bow, Launo struggled with footwork and precision and all the minute details of a duel so he often got his ass handed to him.

But one the top kids in Launo’s class thought he was cool anyways—that was, one Arcadius Hartell. Pretty, rich, ace with sword, bow, spear, and anything sharp, and pretty much had no flaws or weaknesses. Launo at first thought the guy was just pitying him, the kid who has never won a single sparring match and consistently put on training dummy duty (that is reattaching their heads when they got lopped off)

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Arcadius came to ask something from him.

“How do you do that?”

Launo turned from the training dummy he was working on. “S-Sorry, what?”

“The...the thing you do. With the...thing?” Arcadius pointed to the needle and thread Launo was holding as he was reattaching the dummy’s forearm. “How do you do that?”

Launo scrunched his eyebrows in confuzzlement. “This is, uh, well. It’s just sewing I guess. If this guy were real I guess it would be stitching, haha...” He patted the dummy’s wood shoulder playfully as if joking with a pal—the dummy immediately tipped over, Launo coughed and stepped in front of the mess to ignore it. Arcadius nodded thoughtfully.

“So, do you have a special technique or something?”

“I mean, not really, it’s just regular old sewing...”

“But I assume you’ve spent years training on the art.”

“I...uh...I guess? My mom taught me.”

“Oh! So it’s like...an apprenticeship...?”

“...Are you under the impression that sewing is some sacred gift that gets passed down to the worthy or something?”

“.........no....”

The two boys just stood awkwardly for a moment longer, Launo studying Arcadius’ face.

“You don’t even know what sewing is do you?”

“O-Of course I do! It’s the...thing.” He made a sword motion with his fingers, as if wielding a tiny blade. “You stab the stuff and it repairs. With the...” Arcadius squinted as he thought for a moment, “...stool...”

“Spool?”

“Yeah! That! So, look, you’re pretty skilled at everything—“

“I am??” Launo took a step back in shock.

“Yeah! You always fix the equipment, and somehow haul around all those weapons, and make us cool lunches—“

“I don’t know, I made Rubeo vomit last week cause I forgot he hates blueberries...”

Arcadius shook his hands. “N-Not the point. And he sort of deserves it. The fact is you’re obviously leagues ahead of the game—“

“I—Actually I wouldn’t say—“

“—so you just gotta teach me everything you know!” Arcadius pumped a fist and closed his eyes. “How could I ever call myself a knight if I don’t even learn the basics of equipment management! Who will mend the wounded holes in my soldier’s pride if I can’t even fix the tears in my uniform! A mountain’s peak is equivalent to the shallow shore if you have no bearing of the heights you soar.”

Launo blinked. “Are you...okay?”

Arcadius scratched his head. “Aha...sorry. That’s a quote from Aria Nori’s newest volume. Guess I was too into the moment there.”

“Oh! The Zora poet! I’ve read her stuff! I haven’t read her latest volume, but my dad often binds her books—“

“Really?!” Arcadius’ eyes were suddenly star struck. “That’s so cool! This is all the more reason you gotta teach me this stuff.” He waved again at the collapsed training dummy. “Maybe start with the beetle and thread.”

“Needle. D-Do you not know what a needle is?”

Arcadius’ eyes glazed over. “...no...oh my gods that’s not gonna be on the test is it?? I’m so screwed—“

“Nonono it’s not, I’m just...” Launo bit his tongue. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw anyone else in his class do mundane house chore stuff. They were far too busy sharpening swords and bragging about their parents or grandparents or great uncles or cousins that totally were war heroes and high ranking political figures. Sewing could just be a Hateno thing, could it..?

“Can’t you just hire someone to teach you?” Launo started. “I mean, I’m super flattered! Just that, I’m not exactly a master at this, so I’m sure there are adults out there that are more accomplished.”

Arcadius hung his head. “I don’t think my dad would let me...Pretty much everything not sword related he just hires someone to do for me. And he’s super picky about what training I focus on.”

“Well it’s not really official training, it could just be a hobby.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “H...Hob...?”

“O-OK, just forget that. H-How about...” Launo didn’t meet his eyes as he absentmindedly kicked the dirt. “Y-You like poetry, right? You can come over to my house and look at my dad’s collection. And when we’re there, I can let my mom...” He scrunched his eyes, trying to nail down the words, “...apprentice you? On the...art, of sewing?”

Arcadius’ eyes were wide enough to reflect the heavens themselves. “R-Really?? You’d do that??”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be after call and,” Launo’s eyes suddenly sparked, “...You can just tell your dad that you’re training me! Say that you were asked to help your fellow classmates cause you’re already so far ahead from everyone else.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, Launo thought, bitterly.

“Hmm...” Arcadius tapped his chin, before shrugging. “Might have to tweak the explanation to ‘getting extra credit for top grades by tutoring’ cause I don’t know how he’ll feel about me helping the competition.” He articulated the last word with a mocking, adulting tone. Then he held out a hand. “But I think it sounds like a deal! I’ll give you some pointers, and you introduce me to your mentor.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah, that.”

Launo shook his hand, still a bit timidly, given he now noticed that a few other boys in the training yard were watching the prodigy student interact with the glorified janitor boy.

So they both tutored each other: Larc, in the art of knowing what sewing magic was (Larc bringing the most expensive and ornate needle Launo had ever seen, even though Larc claimed he just found it in his father’s closet) and brewing delicious broths (“Wait, you have to stand around this pot for hours and cook this stuff?? I thought you just made soup in a bowl! You know, like how servants take off the silver cover on the tray and the soup is already there?” “We...dont have waiters or anything...so our method of cooking different.”) Meanwhile, Launo was able to make some progress with knight training—keyword, “some.”

“Don’t make your stance so wide.” Arcadius shoved Launo’s back foot with his boot. “Keep your feet closer together, you only want enough distance so that your front foot can hover an inch off the ground while your back foot stays planted. Any further, and you’ll topple too easily.”

Launo adjusted his stance as instructed, and readied the rapier again. He set his jaw. “OK. Come at me!”

Arcadius nodded. He picked up the wooden sword and swung (a bit slowly and wide) at Launo’s side.

Launo immediately shoved his rapier point left to counter his attack, but instead moved with such force and vigor that he practically fell onto Arcadius’ blade.

Arcadius chuckled, dropping the sword and helping Launo up again. “You don’t need to use to much force when you swing. In fact it’s better to work with simple quick movements with any rapier or piercing sword, since the damage is done by the tip, not the weight.”

“S-Sorry...” Launo mumbled as he got up again.

“Don’t be! Oh hey!” Arcadius suddenly went back around towards the pile of weapons and pulled out a claymore. “Actually, maybe a sword like this will work better for you! You won’t have to worry as much about holding back, or being finesse. All the power is in that downward swing—!” Arcadius swung the sword into a nearby log to demonstrate, nearly cutting it asunder.

He offered it to Launo. “And don’t let the size fool you, it’s not actually that heavy. Large weapons still need to let soldiers be quick enough to parry and block attacks.”

Launo turned the claymore around in his hands, studying the blade and handle.

Arcadius gestured to the log. “Well, go on! It’s similar to the grip I taught you with the broadsword, but this time you use your other hand in the bottom to support the weight as it turns on an axis. Try that downward swing I showed you!”

Launo paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he planted his foot down, and swung the claymore down with all his might, aiming for another soon-to-be piece of firewood.

The claymore whistled as it fell, and it cut into the log deep—about halfway. Yet, still not nearly as deep as how Arcadius had done it.

Nonetheless, he was hopping with joy for Launo. “That was awesome!! You did great!!”

He sighed as he left the claymore in the log. “No I didn’t...”

“What are you talking about? That was probably the best blow you’ve done all night!”

“Yeah! And it’s not even a quarter of the damage that you did with your swing!”

“Well, it still took me a while to—“

Launo gestured to the other log. “It’s been how many weeks?? And I’m not even CLOSE to being as good as you, much less being a top student...” He plopped into the dirt and laid himself out like a starfish.

Larc stood over him, confused. “Why would you want to be a top student?”

“BECAUSE I SUCK ASS, DUDE!” Launo held up his arms, exasperated. Larc, on instinct, stepped back and held his hands close to his chest as he fiddled with his thumbs and mumbled an apology. Launo immediately sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m mad at you. You’re really great, Link. You’re so nice to me and you’re talented and I’m so grateful, but I’m just...” He shifted in the dirt again. “I don’t think I could ever be like you. I’d even dare to say it’s impossible.”

Larc stilled, playing with his thumbs, before daring to step closer and sit in the dirt beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Launo?”

He was quiet, but he nodded a yes.

“I think my brother’s a stronger fighter than me.”

Launo furrowed his eyebrows confused, but he continued.

“He just never takes his knight training seriously, because of my father. But I bet if he really tried, he’d be great at it.”

Ah. So that’s what he meant.

“But I AM trying.” Launo whined. “I guess compared to you it doesn’t seem like much but—!”

“Nono! Sorry that’s not what I meant!” Larc quickly cut in. “I just...” He trailed off.

“...There’s a reason I have to be the best.” Larc finally said. He was looking out into the woods, but Launo felt that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, maybe deep in thought. “There’s a reason I can’t settle, I can’t rest. It’s really important that I get this all right. And I guess that makes me admirable to most people but...”

He looked down at Launo, still spread out in the dirt. “I didn’t really choose to be a knight, unlike you. I didn’t actually choose to be the best, and I don’t get why so many people do train to be at the top out of their own violation. It really...sucks ass.” He articulated the last part in Launo’s tone, and they both giggled.

“So...I guess that I’m trying to say here is that...” He thought one his words a moment longer. “I think so many people are afraid of trying new things, because they fear not being the best at it, not being at the top. And I suppose ambition is good but...” He tilted his head and shrugged at Launo. “As someone who’s supposedly at the top, I would say I envy anybody that can make progress that their proud of. You choose to be a knight, and you’re training for it out of your own strength and courage. That’s more than I’ll ever have, so you should probably get off the ground and realize that soon.”

Launo’s eyes widened, a bit unnerved by how uncharacteristically blunt Larc was being.

“In my opinion, anyone that aims to be better than everyone is stupid—maybe that’s just me, but...I would think that if I was you, I’d be proud of any progress I made. If I was more skilled than I was yesterday, that’s really all I would care about. Why would I care about being the top of my class? I would kill to just be satisfied with being a better me.”

There was silence as the boys took in Larc’s words. Then he suddenly stood up. “G-Goddess Hylia, sorry I’ve been talking for so long, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He went to collect his things. “You can keep the claymore, I think you’d be great at it, just...”

Larc packed his swords and backpack, before turning back to the flopped out Launo. “...I think you’re really cool, Launo. So don’t tap out for my sake—I’m not the person that matters in your training, am I? So don’t give up for any silly reasons like that.”

Launo perked his head up to meet his gaze. While Arcadius was usually serious and controlled during training at school, Larc always seemed to have genuine excitement about swords when it came to him. The bright smile on his face caused his cheeks to warm and he immediately flipped his head back to hide it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Launo!” Larc ran off into the night, a cobblestone streets in the distance swallowing his figure.

“See you...” Launo whispered.

He lay in the dirt a moment longer—his mother would probably berated him for the stains again—when he finally got up and looked at the claymore in the log. He walked up to it and observed it further, it was another a sixth of the way deep. He glanced at Larc’s log, which was nearly split in two, and sighed. Then he glanced back at his own work.

“Well, it’s better than when I first started I guess...” Launo mumbled.

No one responded.

The boy let out a huff, and gripped the sword again in his hands.

“But I can do better.”

By the time Launo was 16 he was finally beating his classmates with ease, specializing in longswords, axes, and hammers. And while he definitely still “sucked ass” in things like archery and lance work—to which some boys still teased him for—he found overtime that he no longer cared about what they thought. They had their strengths, and he had his. And to top it off, absolutely no one in the academy could make a lemon cookie like him. So at least he had the best in show for that angle.

Even years later, after certain incidents transpired concerning House Hartell, Launo always welcomed Larc to his house for “training.” Although after a while, it would be hard to still call it that when a large chunk of time is really just spent running their fingers through each other’s hair.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

And even years after graduating as part of the top ten in his class and working as a knight, some of his old classmates would tease him for being the “rich boy’s lap dog,” Launo would find that he still really didn’t care—after a punch or two was thrown, of course. He found that his new lack of anxiety and concern heavily stemmed from that night, when Larc had told him about his envy for choice and satisfaction. Thinking back at the memory of his handling with a sword and his happy little smile once made Launo blush so hard his father teased him about it for the rest of his life—his mother claimed he went so red he would fit right in with the tomato stew. One of these days, Launo would pay Larc back for the endless teasing he got from his parents. And pay Larc back he would, indeed.

I mean, he already had the ring.

#hku spoilers #Launo Birch

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golden-babbles · 3 years

Text

A Taste of Strength

Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Pro Hero!reader

Warnings: Straight up smut. 18+ ONLY!!! Sorta mutual pining, slight voyeurism, oral sex (both male/fem), vaginal fingering, a little body worship, I guess? Muscle kink, unprotected sex, light choking, hair pulling

Summary: You ask Bakugo to help you develop your workout routine. Surprisingly enough, he actually has a flirtatious side to him. And he doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by your threats.

Inspiration: Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer, Beast by Mia Martina, You've Seen the Butcher by Deftones (aka snippets of my workout playlist lol)

Word Count: 7k, damn. Got a little carried away here

A/N: This is my submission for @butterscotchbaku‘s 1k “New Year, New Kink” event! Congrats again, baby. You deserve all the love and kisses. Let's gooooooo. Unintentionally added some good workout advice to this lmao. Might need more editing, I’ll check tomorrow.

Your pencil wiggled back and forth between your fingers as you leaned one elbow against the long conference table, your swivel chair turned to face your boss, who stood at one end of the table with a PowerPoint. You listened to Mirko drone on about recent villain appearances, the importance of avoiding property damage, and some other subjects that you had long tuned out. The lack of new information had you bored, listening to the same spiel you got at the end of every day, and instead you found your mind wandering.

Your position in the chair behind his allowed you a perfect view of Katsuki Bakugo's toned shoulders and flexed bicep, your eyes tracing the muscle down to where his elbow rested against the table and following his forearm to where his fingers absent-mindedly played with his bottom lip, squeezing and pulling. It seemed to be a habit of his, demonstrating that he had also lost interest, while still quietly listening to what Mirko had to say.

Your eyes glued to his lips as you watched his movements. They seemed so soft and plush, and you could just imagine them against yours, and pressing into your skin, travelling down your stomach, until-

"Rumble." At the sound of your hero name, your attention snapped back to Mirko briefly, the pencil flung from your hand in surprise. Then your eyes went wide as you saw it lightly smack against Bakugo's cheek before falling to the floor. He turned to growl at you, eyebrows drawn down into a scowl, but was quickly stopped by a quick "Can it, Dynamight," from your boss.

You looked back to your Mirko and blushed at her knowing gaze. She chose not to call you out on your mental remoteness. "You two have been patrolling together for almost a month now," she gestured between you and Bakugo. "Anything the team should know?"

You shook your head and Bakugo crossed his arms in irritation as you said, "Our sector's been pretty empty. Just a few petty robbers here and there, but nothing noteworthy."

Mirko nodded and moved on to the next team's reports. Most were much the same as yours, with a few reporting some suspicious activities that had been passed on to the police force. You continued to watch Bakugo as the meeting went on, secretly pining and plotting ways to get him to spend time with you outside of your job. Your eyes glanced between his biceps and yours and an idea sparks in your mind as the meeting ended and people began to file out until it was just you and Bakugo left in the room, both of you gathering your equally detailed notes.

"Hey, Bakugo?" He grunted and cut his eyes to yours, and you took it as a signal to continue. "Could I ask you a favor?"

"Depends. What do you want?" He eyes you warily, obviously curious as to what you could possibly want from him.

"Would you, um, help me with my workouts? I've been trying to get into more weight training, but…" Your hand came up to scratch behind your neck nervously. "I don't really know what I'm doing when it comes to that stuff, and I know you work out a lot, so if you'd be willing, I would love some pointers." You raised your gaze back up to meet his crimson gaze.

He shrugged and went back to gathering his things. "Sure, whatever, I guess."

You grinned and slung your bag over your shoulder. "Awesome, I'll text you to plan." He grunted again in response, and your grin stayed plastered on your face for the whole walk to your car.

***

A few days later, you and Bakugo had a day off and had agreed to meet at the agency's gym. You wore a black cropped tank top over your favorite sports bra and short shorts, showing off your body as you walked into the state of the art facility that Mirko had designed herself. You carried your duffel bag to the locker room and deposited it into a locker before heading back out into the gym, assuming you'd find Bakugo near the weightlifting equipment.

It was easy to spot the spiky blonde standing beside a rack full of different free weights, since the gym wasn't very crowded anyway. He looked scrumptious in a black compression tank that showed off the muscles in his chest and abdomen and dark grey shorts that stopped just above his knees, giving you a peak at his well-defined thighs. You had to resist the urge to lick your lips as his head lifted and he noticed you walking toward him.

You smirked as you watched his eyes widen in surprise, then rake over your exposed skin. Unlike most female heroes, your hero costume was actually quite modest, consisting of black cargo pants and a tight-fitting v-neck muscle tank, along with your support items. It gave you plenty of mobility, an important necessity for your quirk, which allowed you to manipulate any materials derived from earth. You were often compared to the earthbenders from Avatar: The Last Airbender, and you would be lying if you said you hadn't stolen some of your moves from Toph.

Since your costume kept you so well covered, you realized that this was the first time that Bakugo had ever seen so much of your body, and you could almost swear you saw the tips of his ears flush pink as he turned away from you with a huff.

"What do you want to start with?" He asked gruffly, opting to face the weight rack instead of facing you.

"I was thinking I'd like to focus on my arms and shoulders, since that's where most of my focus is when I'm using my quirk." You began to stretch your arms and shoulders as you listened for his response, your music still thumping quietly in one ear.

"That's fine for today, but your legs are vital too, since they provide the base for your movements. Most of your moves force you to lunge and squat, and sometimes hold those positions, so your leg strength is just as important." He lifted a set of 50 pound dumbbells off the rack and set them aside, presumably for himself, then looked up to meet your wide eyes.

"You really pay that much attention to my moves?" You continued to stretch, but your face showed very clear surprise, and this time you were certain that you saw a blush painted on his cheeks as he turned away from you once more.

"Yeah, well, you're my partner, so…" he trailed off and your eyebrows creased in confusion as he picked up a pair of 70 pound dumbbells and set them beside the 50s.

"Okay, I hope those are both for you." You gestured to the two pairs of dumbbells now sitting on the bench and he shook his head.

"Nope, you're taking the 50s. We're starting with shrugs. I'll show you." He easily lifts the 50 pound weights and hands them off to you, checking to make sure that you have a good grip on them before shifting to your side to teach you the exercise.

"I've done shrugs before, I know how to work my traps." You rolled your eyes, prepared for mansplaining.

"I'm sure, I just want to make sure that you're doing them correctly, so that you don't hurt yourself." He was surprisingly polite and delightfully physical as he explained how to position your head and neck to avoid strain on your spine. He moved behind you and gripped your biceps as he explained the movement, going over how you should lift your shoulders slowly, squeeze your traps at the top, and then slowly release back to your starting position, bending your arms slightly to counteract your shoulders' forward motion and avoiding rolling your shoulders on the release.

Your heartbeat quickened as he touched you with calloused hands, and you found it difficult to pay attention to what he was saying, but it seemed that he was satisfied with your performance when he stepped back around your body to face you once more.

"Got it?" He asked. "Those weights should be just right for you for this, but do you feel any strain in your shoulders?"

You shook your head. "No, I'm just used to working with low weight, high reps."

"Low weight, high reps is good for muscular endurance, but high weight, low reps is good for muscular strength. We're focusing on the latter for now." You were shocked at how patient he was being and how he explained things to you so calmly, completely contrary to the Bakugo that you were used to.

"Thanks again for helping me out. I really appreciate it."

He grunted and his usual scowl returned to his face. "It's nothing."

***

You had been meeting with Bakugo for weight training fairly regularly for a few weeks now, alternating between muscle groups to avoid being too sore on the job and making sure to cover different strength and endurance exercises to optimize your workouts.

Today, you were finishing up your workout with a set of bench presses, sweat dripping down your forehead as your arms bent, then straightened, your movements growing a little sluggish with exertion. You were glad to have Bakugo standing over you, hands outstretched and ready to catch the bar if your muscles failed you.

"One more, c'mon. Don't be weak." You scoffed as you pressed out one more rep, then sighed in relief as he helped you guide the bar into the pegs it rested on, taking a few deep breaths as you laid on the bench before you sat up.

"Weak, my ass. This is the most I've lifted since we started." You grinned to yourself at the accomplishment and stood, coming face to face with a smirking Bakugo.

"I know that ass isn't weak, we've worked glutes too." You squeaked when his hand tapped your asscheek lightly as he passed you, grabbing more weights to add to the bar. "Don't insult my personal training, I'm the best trainer around."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at his ever-present arrogance, thinking that you shouldn't be surprised at how cocky and bold he'd been in the few weeks that the two of you had been working out together, surprising you with a flirtatious side that you hadn't expected him to have. He had slowly slipped from gruff and standoffish to flirty and bold.

"Whatever, just lay down and finish this set so I can shower, then go home and take a bubble bath." You took up the position he had been in earlier, your legs spread and ready to squat, knowing that it would take you more effort to catch the weight that he was lifting.

This time it was his turn to scoff. "I don't take orders from you, princess." But he hefted the weight bar anyway, and you followed it with a squat as you spotted him, legs straightening when he pressed up.

"You know, I really don't mind this view." Your eyes darted down to his face, eyebrows narrowing as you glared at him, finding him blatantly staring at your chest as you squatted down again, following the bar.

"Don't be crass, Katsuki." You chided, and he snickered.

"I told you, I don't take orders from you." His statement made you roll your eyes, but you said nothing in return. "Anyway, you're lucky you get to shower. Men's showers aren't working right now. Someone punched a hole in the wall and busted one of the pipes or something."

He easily continued his reps while carrying on a conversation with you and you found yourself frustrated that he didn't seem to be working as hard as you were. You chose to channel your irritation into teasing him, and grinned sadistically at the prospect.

"Are you sure you aren't the one that punched through the wall?" He scoffed at your question, but didn't seem to have anything to say about it. "Well, that's good to know. I'll be able to take a nice, hot, steamy shower after this, and you're stuck in your sweat until you get home. Sucks to suck."

He grunted at you as he finished his last rep, and your hands grabbed the bar to help him guide it back onto its pegs. He sat up and swing his left leg over the bench so that he was sitting sideways on the firm cushions, and turned his head to look at you. The smirk on his face let you know to be prepared to roll your eyes.

"You could always let me join you. There's no one else here but us." His hand stretched out in a sweeping gesture, and your eyes glanced around the gym to see that the two of you were, indeed, the only ones left in the gym. Not necessarily a surprising fact, considering that it was nearing 9 pm. You rolled your eyes anyway.

"In your dreams, blasty boi." You muttered.

He held his smirk as you moved to one side of the bar as he took up the other, the two of you removing the weighted plates and returning them to the storage racks. As he walked over to the wall to grab a wipe for the bench, you turned toward the women's locker room and brought your hand up in a wave.

"G'night, Bakugo." Then you turned to look at him over your shoulder, with hooded eyes and a mocking flirt in your tone. "Join me in the showers if you want a swift kick in the balls."

You heard him snickering behind you as he wiped off the bench, and you shook your arms out and did some light stretches as you made your way to the locker rooms.

Once you stepped inside the locker room, you sighed, and smacked your palm to your forehead in frustration. Dammit, y/n, if only you could be bold enough to actually invite him to shower with you. The two of you have been flirting for weeks now, clearly you both want it. Why didn't you take that opportunity?

You puffed out your cheeks in an exhale as you brought your hand down and moved to the locker you had stuffed your bag into, grabbing your soap and a towel, then making your way to one of the shower stalls. You didn't bother to close the door behind you as you turned the water on and hummed, waiting for it to warm up before you stepped underneath the stream.

~Bakugo’s POV~

Bakugo watched you walk away as he continued to wipe down the bench, eyes focused on the way your ass filled out your shorts, and watching your calves flex with each step you took. He dropped the wipe he had been using in a trash can as he made his way toward the men's locker room, which was on the same wall as the women's, just a bit further down.

He contemplated as he went. Was that an invitation? I mean, sure, she said it came with a price, but she didn't seem to be opposed to the idea or anything. After all the flirting she's been sending my way? This thought brought another of his trademark smirks to his lips. Tch, who am I kidding. Of course she'd want to be with me! I'm the best! And so is she.

Bakugo's pace picked up as he made his decision, quickly grabbing his bag from the locker he had left it in, then making his way into the women's locker room, glancing around the gym once more as he passed through, to make sure that there was no one else around.

Bakugo looked around as he stepped inside the women’s locker room. He didn’t see you, but he saw your gym bag sprawled across one of the benches, and heard a shower running around the corner. He smirked to himself as he set his bag down beside yours on the bench and kicked his shoes and socks off, then stepped around the corner.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you standing naked beneath the stream of water, fingertips massaging shampoo into your hair as you hummed a tune he didn’t recognize, swaying your hips lightly in what was probably a subconscious move, but tantalized him nonetheless. He took a seat on the bench across from the shower and watched you as you turned to face the showerhead, and his eyes snapped downward, focusing on the curve of your ass and reveling in the fact that he had helped to develop those delicious glutes. A tent was just beginning to form in his shorts when you turned back around, opening your eyes and bending to reach for a bottle on the floor.

Your eyes snapped to his and you froze, staring at him.

~Your POV~

Your hands scrubbed shampoo into a lather in your hair as you continued to hum, eyes closed and hips swaying along to the beat in your head. The water had warmed up to a heat that was just barely comfortable, steaming around you and relaxing your thoroughly worked muscles. When you turned to rinse the shampoo from your hair, you let your mind wander as the steam wrapped around you like a blanket, imagining Bakugo's hands over your hips as you danced along to the song that had been stuck in your head all day.

Once you had washed away all of the shampoo, you turned back toward the opening of the stall to reach for your conditioner, but froze when your eyes landed on Bakugo, sitting on a bench across from your shower, fully clothed with his arms crossed and that damned smirk on his face. You stayed frozen, hand outstretched for the forgotten bottle, for what could have been seconds or hours, you really weren't sure, before Bakugo finally spoke up.

"Well, I believe you owe me a swift kick in the balls." You watched him kick off his tennis shoes and toe off his socks before he stood and stalked toward you. "Or were you just trying to hide the fact that you actually wanted me to join you?" He stopped a few feet from the stall, and you sucked in a breath as you regained your composure and narrowed your eyes in a glare.

"No. Get the fuck out." You crossed your arms over your chest and cocked a hip to one side, standing firmly and trying to project confidence, though your thighs squeezed together at the thought of the fantasies you had just been daydreaming about coming true. "How long have you been there anyways?"

"Just long enough to enjoy the show. No to the kick to the balls or no you don't want me to join you?" He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side, revealing his perfectly toned chest and abs, glistening with sweat from your workout. You were forced to swallow as your eyes raked over his exposed torso, and you struggled to retain your resolve not to fuck him right here on the shower floor.

"Um…" was all that you managed to get out, eyes glued to the way his chest rose and fall with each even breath.

He propped one hand against the edge of the shower stall, leaning against it as he looked into your eyes.

"Tell me you want me to go, and I'll go." Then he reached out to grip your chin in his thumb and forefinger. "But tell me to stay and I'll fuck you so hard, you'll need that bubble bath when you get home."

You whimpered as he finished the statement, feeling the last of your resolve melt away.

"Well?" He asked, leaning his face in closer to yours. "What'll it be?"

"S-stay." You whispered, not nearly loud enough to be heard over the running water.

"Hmm? What was that, dumbass?" He teased, fingers tracing along your jaw.

"Stay, please." You managed to blurt it out at an audible volume this time, and he groaned in response, stepping in close to you with one hand gripping your hip and the other moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck as his lips crashed against yours.

You moaned into his mouth and brought your arms up to wrap around his neck. He took the opportunity to tangle his tongue with yours, claiming your mouth in a burning, desperate kiss.

His hands come up to squeeze your ass, then he pulls back, standing just outside the stream of water from the showerhead. He presses one hand to your shoulder, forcing you to step back until your back is against the stall. He stares into your eyes as he tears off his shorts and boxers, tossing them aside and giving you only a moment to widen your eyes at his hard cock before his mouth is on yours once more.

“Jump.” He commands and you don’t hesitate, hopping up to wrap your legs around his waist. He groaned as the muscles in your thighs flexed against his skin, your now-dripping cunt pressed against his abs.

Now that he stood fully naked, you tightened your arms around his neck and pressed your lips against his once more, your tongues fighting for dominance. You retained the death grip that your thighs held on his waist when he stepped away from the shower wall, your back becoming cold for just a moment before he stepped through the water and placed you against a new wall. This time it was the tile wall that the showerhead rested in, allowing the steaming water to pour over his back and your legs as you continued to make out.

He pulled back when he felt you smile against his lips and stared at your upturned lips as he asked, "What's so funny?"

Your smile widened and you fought back a giggle.

"I'm not laughing, Katsuki. I'm happy."

His nose scrunched up in an adorably irritated way. "Why are you smiling like that?"

You rolled your eyes at him. “Just kiss me, dumbass.”

He growled and you gasped as his hands slid from your ass to your thighs. “Stand up.”

You let your legs drop from his waist one at a time, until your feet were planted firmly on the ground and you felt his hands slide up to grip your waist. Your lips were captured in another searing kiss, then Bakugo’s teeth bit lightly into your bottom lip, tugging gently as he pulled away and then released it. He tilted his head to the side and leaned into your neck, licking a stripe along your jugular before nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear. You moaned and tilted your head back against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut as Bakugo continued to kiss his way downward. He planted kisses on your breasts and ghosted his breath over your nipples, moving further down your body to kiss your ribs and your stomach. His lips moved to your hips and then he was kneeling on the tiled floor and pressing his nose to your mound as his tongue darted out to press against your clit.

You gasped aloud, hips rising to meet his face as his tongue lapped at your folds. Your hands came up to thread through his soaked blonde locks, gripping tightly to ground yourself. You felt more than heard him groan at your actions as he continued his ministrations.

~Bakugo’s POV~

Bakugo groaned as your strong fingers pulled on his hair, and his fingers moved to wander across your thighs, digging into the hard muscle there. His lips traveled down the inside of one of your thighs, kissing and sucking on the muscles he found there. He groaned against your thigh.

“I love these legs. The muscles that we worked so hard for.” He nipped playfully at the skin just inside your knee, and your thigh flexed at the action.

“Hey, the muscles that I worked so hard for. All you did was yell at me.” You pouted adorably down at him.

He chuckled and leaned into your other thigh, again alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. Your thighs flexed with each movement, and it made him sigh against you, reveling in the hard muscle that he had helped cultivate. He loved the feel of your thighs, loved knowing that you may be the only woman that could almost match him physically, and that he had helped get you to that level.

One of his hands moved down to squeeze at your well-defined calf, fingertips digging into the flesh slightly before he tugged it gently, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder as his mouth began to travel back up your thighs, right where you wanted him. His breath made you shudder, just before his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked.

You moaned loudly, and the sound was like music to his ears. Bakugo’s tongue darted out and laved over your cunt, prodding gently at your entrance before his fingers reached up to take its place. His index finger slid over your folds, gathering the wetness there before pressing into you slowly, earning another moan from you as his finger slipped into your tight heat. You groaned when he wiggled his finger inside of you teasingly, and he smirked against you.

His free hand roamed up your thigh to clutch your ass, squeezing the muscles there and causing him to release a groan as he appreciated the firm curve of each cheek.

“Love feeling these muscles flexing when I touch you. Keep doing that.” He growled against your skin, which made you shudder.

~Your POV~

“Don’t give me ord-” you tried to snap back at him, but your words were cut off abruptly when he pushed another finger inside of you, now thrusting lightly and scissoring them apart as he went.

“Don’t try and start a fight you can’t finish, dumbass.” He snarked and smiled against you, squeezing your ass again as his tongue now focused fully on you, his mouth and hands working together perfectly to push you toward the edge until you felt a coil begin to tighten in your stomach.

“Fuck, Katsuki. I’m close.” You breathed out, fingers grasping his hair in a grip that you were sure must hurt, but he didn’t complain.

“Let go, babe. I want to feel your muscles flex and clench as you come undone around me.”

His words pushed you over the edge and the coil snapped in your stomach, forcing you to release a loud moan that turned into a whine as you rode out your high, grinding your hips on his fingers and tongue. He continued to focus his attention on your cunt as your muscles flexed and clenched around him. The leg over his shoulder pulled him closer, bending at the knee with your calf flush against his back. He groaned against you before pulling back to look up at you.

“Keep that up and I won’t want to come up from here.” His hand came up to the knee on his shoulder to clarify what he meant.

You looked down at him and raised an eyebrow as you panted and attempted to get your body under your own control. “Who said I wanted you to come up from there?”

You sighed and released your hold on his hair, then pulled your leg slowly off of his shoulder, your knees a bit wobbly after the orgasm he’d just given you. You noticed his eyes fixated on your legs as you stepped around him to stand under the steaming water, giving yourself a chance to take a breather and process that your coworker had just eaten you out. You decided not to overthink it for a moment and turned back to face him. He stood and looked down at you with a smirk.

“So good you need a breather?” He teased.

“Cocky bastard.” You scoffed at him and playfully punched him in the stomach, accidentally hitting him a little harder than you intended and eliciting a grunt from him.

He grabs the fist that hit him and yanks you closer. “Trying to get feisty now, huh?”

You watch his gaze travel further up your arms, fingers tracing ever so lightly over your forearms before reaching up to grasp your biceps, squeezing them slightly and using his thumbs to draw small circles on the insides of your arms.

You cock an eyebrow at him, surprised at the sweet action. “Going soft on me, are you?”

“Shut up and let me look at you.” He growled between clenched teeth, openly admiring the muscle in your arms and leaning down to nuzzle against your shoulders before biting down on your trap. You groaned and let your head fall back, further exposing your neck to him. He continued to cover your neck and shoulders in kisses and love bites as his hands travelled downward to grab at your ass, kneading the muscle there and groaning against your neck.

“Your body is so perfect for me, baby. All the curves in all the right places. Do you have any idea what a fucking tease its been working out with you these past few weeks? Watching all that muscles work and flex. Hard to spot you when all I can focus on is how those muscles would feel beneath my fingers, or wrapped around me. This is all my favorite fantasies come true.” He released his grip on your ass, leaving a light slap before gripping you by the waist. “And I haven’t even gotten to explore all of them yet.”

You blushed, his praises making you unexpectedly bashful, but pushed through the embarrassment. “Look in the damn mirror, Katsuki. You think it hasn’t been just as torturous for me? Fuck. I didn’t just ask for your help because I needed workout advice. It’s definitely been a treat to watch you work.” Your ran your fingers lightly over his biceps. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like all the extra touching when you’re teaching me new exercises. Doesn’t quite compare to this, though.”

You used your grip on his biceps to push him back against the wall, so that the two of you were once again standing just outside the stream of steaming water. Your hands moved to graze over his chest and you kept your eyes locked on his with a sultry gaze as your fingertips brushed over his pecs, flicking lightly over his nipples and watching the grimace form on his face. His eyes burned into yours like fire, reminding you of his explosions.

You let your fingers continue their journey south, teasing each of his abs and tracing over the delicious lines on his hips before reaching down to grab his thick cock firmly in one hand. You pumped it a few times and he growled low, a hand coming up to snake around your neck just tight enough for him to pull you into another searing kiss. Your hand twisted and continued to pump over his cock, thumb swiping over the tip to collect the precum gathered there.

His mouth was blazing on yours, using his tongue and teeth in an aggressive fight for dominance. He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled lightly, releasing it when he pulled away entirely to look into your eyes. His grip tightened on your neck just a little bit, fingers squeezing on the sides, and your hand stuttered on his cock in surprise.

His dark garnet eyes bored into yours and you could swear that you saw sparks hidden there as he glanced over your face, probably looking for any signs of discomfort. “This okay?” His voice came out dark and gravelly.

You nodded slightly, letting out a quiet, “Mhmm,” as your hand resumed its movement, flicking your wrist as you pumped his cock.

“Good.” He grumbled, the hand on your neck pushing you backwards a bit before lowering, forcing you to kneel on the tile beneath him, now face to face with the cock that you had spent hours of sweaty workouts fantasizing over.

The hand wrapped around his length moved down to the base, making room for your mouth as you leaned down to wrap your lips around the tip, tongue darting out to stroke over the slit. You moaned at the taste of his pre on your tongue, the salty flavor egging you on as you took your time adjusting to the feeling of his cock in your mouth. It was difficult to get used to the thickness at first, but you were making headway and starting to push down further when suddenly, Bakugo’s hand tangled in your hair and forced your head further. Your throat contracted around him as you gagged and he moaned loudly, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls.

When his hand relaxed, you pulled back, coughing and taking a moment to catch your breath, glaring up at him as you did.

He smirked down at you. “What? is my fat cock too much for you to handle?”

You scoffed. “Hardly.”

To prove your point, you let your tongue loll out and wrapped your lips around him once more, bobbing your head down low and using your hand to stroke what you couldn't take into your mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you moved slowly, using your tongue to stroke against every prominent vein and flick over the tip when you came up.

Bakugo watched you with clouded eyes, grunting and groaning at your attention. His fingers clenched and flexed, massaging your scalp and encouraging you to keep going.

His hips began to move with you, fucking into your mouth, and you struggled to keep up with him, taking in as much as you could while using your tongue to stroke the underside of his cock. Tears streamed down your face and your throat began to burn with the struggle of keeping up with him, but you were definitely not going to complain. Not with his thighs flexing under the deathgrip your fingers had on them. Not when his moans were echoing throughout the locker room.

Suddenly, his grip tightened on your hair, and he pulled you off his cock with a wet pop, and continued pulling until you had to clamber to your feet, glaring into his eyes when you finally stood face to face with him.

“If my head is sore tomorrow because of you, I swear the first thing I’ll do when I wake up in the morning is punch you in the balls.” You growled at him, frustrated that he couldn’t just tell you to stand up, but turned on by the rough treatment nonetheless.

“Mm, sure. You’ve been all bark and no bite lately.” He smirked at you, likely recalling your threat from earlier that you had failed to follow through on.

Your eyes narrowed and you felt a sudden urge to follow through with your threat, your knee swinging up toward his crotch. He saw it coming though, and used his grip on your hair to spin you around and pull your back flush against his chest before you could do any damage.

His other hand came up to wrap around your throat, resuming its tight grip and making you a little bit dizzy. He pulled your head to the side with his grip on your hair and leaned down until his lips brushed against your ear as he snarled. “If you want to fight, we can fight, but I will win.” he blew lightly on your ear and ground his hips into yours, pressing his erection up between your asscheeks. “Can’t we just get along for now? I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” He trilled teasingly.

You growled at him, but didn’t resist, let him hold you in place.

“Good girl.” His grip on your throat and in your hair loosened, and he turned you around to face him, claiming your lips once more as his hands reached down to grip the backs of your thighs. Taking his cue, you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He held tight to your thighs as he turned and pressed your back against the wall and latched his teeth onto your neck.

You relaxed back into the wall with a moan, but kept your thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, to keep from falling as you felt him align himself with your entrance.

“Hold on, babe, I’m not gonna take this slow.” His mouth attached to yours once more, muffling your moans as he pushed inside of you. You gasped against his lips, feeling a slight burn in your muscles as the tip pushed into your entrance. True to his word, he didn’t start off slow, instead simply thrusting his hips forward until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Your moans were lost in Bakugo’s lips as he kissed you, giving you a few seconds to adjust before he started thrusting in earnest, forcing you to wrap your arms tighter around his neck and clench your thighs tighter around him as he pounded you into the wall.

The two of you got lost in each other’s mouths as you chased your own highs, your hips doing their best to meet his thrusts as he continued at a bruising pace, keeping the tight grip on your thighs that was sure to bruise.

When he adjusted his position to thrust against a particular spot inside of you, you had to pull away from his mouth with a gasp, squeaking out a breathy, “Th- there!”

He chuckled and leaned his head into your neck, continuing to thrust into the spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten once again and knew that you were getting close. What you hadn’t expected, though, was that Bakugo would choose that moment to bite down hard on your trap.

All at once, you felt your orgasm tear through you, a scream ripping from your lungs just before a hand came up to slap over your mouth. Your muscles spasmed as you came around his cock, struggling to suck air into your lungs as your walls fluttered around Bakugo’s cock.

When his mouth released your shoulder, you heard him utter a gravelly, “Fuck,” before he was cumming too, cock twitching and releasing hot ropes of cum in your cunt as he moaned out your name.

He stilled, holding onto you as the two of you panted, and you leaned your head down to rest on his shoulder. The two of you struggled to catch your breath as you came down, and eventually he released his grip on your thighs, strong hands moving up to your waist to lift you off of his cock and set you gingerly down on the ground.

“Can you stand alright?” His gaze was surprisingly gentle now as you looked into his eyes and nodded hesitantly, stretching your legs out to get feeling back in your wobbling knees. He held onto your waist, not entirely confident in your answer, but you swatted him off.

To prove your point, you took a few slow, tentative steps forward, standing beneath the water of the still-running shower to rinse the newly formed sweat from your skin.

After giving you a moment to rinse yourself, Bakugo stepped under the water with you, slotting himself behind you and kissing the newly formed mark on your shoulder. The soft move shocked you, and you turned your head to cock an eyebrow at him.

When your eyes met his, he scowled. “What’s that skeptical look for?”

“You goin’ soft on me?” You toned teasingly.

He grunted. “No way, dumbass.” But he held you gently, running his fingers through your hair and taking some time to softly untangle the knots that he created before reaching down to pick up your body wash.

Again, you eyed him skeptically. “What are you doing?”

He popped the bottle open and poured some of the soap onto his hands before setting it back down on the ground. “We both need to get clean, don’t we?”

You were sure that had had some snarky response on your tongue, but it left you all at once when his hands began to massage your shoulders, lathering soap over your arms and back. Your eyes dropped shut as you relaxed into his touch, sighing when he grabbed more to clean off your chest and stomach.

“When we get back to my place, we’ll get you that bubble bath that you wanted.”

This statement made your eyes snap open and you turned around to face him. “Who said I was going back to your place?”

“I did. Just now.” He smirked at you, daring you to challenge him.

You wanted to pick a fight, you really did. But the idea of relaxing back against those firm pecs in a warm bubble bath while his strong hands massaged your body had you relenting.

“Fine. But you’re making me breakfast.”

His smirk widened and his eyes sparked with a challenge. You knew his next words would have you punching him in the shoulder. “Who said you could stay over? I only offered a bath.”

You hoped the fist that connected with his shoulder left a bruise tomorrow.

#butter's 1k!!#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki

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rhubarbbaby · 4 years

Text

Strawberries and Art 4

Jihoon x Y/N

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Smut (y´all can visit me in horny jail) Word Count: 6,3k Summary: Like every passionate art student, you spent most of your time immersed in your drawings and paintings. The day you meet Jihoon, your everyday life suddenly gets a lot more exciting…

All chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Chapter 4

When the two of you entered your apartment you took both of your jackets and threw them over one of your kitchen chairs. It was weird showing him your living space after only having met him a few days ago. You were not a tidy person…paint, drawings, blank pieces of paper were scattered all over your apartment. Even though he was aware that there were still oh so many things he didn´t know about you (yet) Jihoon instantly recognized you everywhere. Every item in your apartment screamed you. The small potted plant on your window sill, a blue hairclip on your kitchen table, the seemingly empty bottles of paint that you had left in the sink. All of those things added up to you like puzzle pieces.

Only now realizing the intimacy of the moment, you became nervous again. For a moment the silence between you was filled with uncertainty and a hint of awkwardness. He had never been at your place and neither you nor he knew how to act. God, you really should´ve tidied up yesterday.

“Uhm, you want a glass of water or something?” you finally broke the silence. “Yeah, sure.” His voice sounded a bit distracted but because you were trying to hide the shakiness in your own voice you didn´t notice it too much. You filled two glasses with water and put them on the kitchen table. Jihoon was not looking at you. He was focused on the wall that was connecting your kitchen with your small living room, which basically only consisted of a sofa and a TV that you only rarely used. On the wall you had hung up some of your work. Not because you specifically liked it, there was simply not enough space where you could have kept all of your drawings. The wall was stuffed; some of the paintings were even overlapping each other. The thought of him seeing your work was making you so nervous you wished to vanish so you would never have to look him in the eyes again to see his reaction. What if he didn´t like your work? You couldn´t think of anything worse in that moment. But at the very same time you couldn´t keep yourself from staring at his side profile. He really was astonishingly beautiful.

“Did you draw these?” he asked you, still looking at your paintings. “Yup.” “All of them?” “Yeah..” “I…I´m not often speechless but wow I really don´t know what to say.” He turned around to look at you again. “Are they that bad?” you forced out a giggle. He stared at you, he knew you were joking but your voice suddenly didn´t sound confident at all. Your eyes were fixated on the floor; you were trying to avoid eye contact. “Y/N, these are fucking amazing.” He said softly, a smile appearing on his face. He looked so sincere. Accepting compliments had never been one of your strengths but the relief of realizing he actually liked your work paired with the fact that the compliment was coming from Jihoon himself made you grin. “Thank you.” “Don´t thank me. I should thank you for letting me look at them.” “Now you´re exaggerating.” “No I´m not.” “You are!” “Ok, maybe. But you just look too cute when you´re flustered.” You just stared at him for a second, wide eyed, cheeks rosy and hot, still grinning. When you couldn´t bear the tension between the two of you anymore you hid your face in the palms of your hands. “Jihoon, can you please stop.” He chuckled and took two steps in your direction just to put one of his hands on your hip to get you closer to him, while his other hand tried to drag away your own hands from your face. “I´m not doing anything, Y/N. No idea what you talking about.” Obviously having way too much fun teasing you, he was beaming. You had your head tilted to the ground, so you still wouldn´t have to look at his face. “You know exactly what you´re doing.” Your heart was beating so fucking fast and your breathing was shaky but you couldn´t help but giggle at the situation. Why did the bastard always have to tease you?? “I swear I´m innocent!” You were looking up at him again, both of you were grinning, and if you would´ve paid a bit more attention to his breathing you would´ve realized that he wasn´t as calm as you thought. “Innocent, my ass.” You shook your head to accentuate your point. He let out a hearty laugh at your choice of words just to pull you even closer into him at the same time. He now had both of his hands on your hips which had made you put your hands on his arms to steady yourself and oh Jesus you could actually feel his muscles through his shirt. Raising one eyebrow, still smiling at you, he said “If the lady would be so kind to tell me what she is accusing me of, I might be able to change my behavior.” “You´re just…” you started your sentence but you couldn´t get yourself to finish what you wanted to say. The situation, the tension, him…Everything was too much, so you just tried to hide your face on his shoulder. “I´m just what? Continue.” He urged you on but he also held you close to him with putting one of his hands on your lower back. “You´re…you´re just making me so nervous and I don´t even know how to react.” You whispered against his shoulder. He didn´t say anything he just pulled you into an even tighter hug. One hand on your lower back, the other one stroking your hair. “I´m sorry. But you just look too cute when you´re blushing.” “Jihoon!” He chuckled and you could feel the vibrations of it too. “Sorry.” You stayed like this for a while, your bodies pressed together, him stroking your hair. You were so close to him you were able to feel his heart beat in his chest. Your cheeks were still a pretty shade of red and you still were a tiny bit nervous but your heartbeat was finally slowing down again and had started to align with his. You were sure you could´ve stayed like this forever; hugging him in your kitchen while beams of sunlight were coming in through the window.

“Y/N?” “Mhm.” “Can I kiss you?” You lifted your head off his shoulder to look at him. Your eyes were wide, startled by his request but as soon as you saw the tiny bit of insecurity in his eyes you realized that no you hadn´t imagined that, and you also hadn´t misheard, Jihoon really had just asked to kiss you. You didn´t have to think about it, there was probably nothing you wanted more in this exact moment so you simply just nodded with a slight smile. In a second his lips were on yours, his hand was now holding your face. His lips were so soft, and he tasted so damn good and for a moment you forgot about everything. You forgot about how minutes ago that same man you were kissing now had been able to turn you into a blushing mess, you forgot you were standing in your messy apartment, hell you even forgot about your assignment. You just felt his body against yours and how perfectly the two of you molded together, you felt how tight you were holding him, how he was holding you even tighter and fuck you actually felt his lips on yours. When he slid his tongue inside of your mouth, you couldn´t stop yourself from letting out a small sigh which made him chuckle against you.

He eventually pulled away after what had felt like a way too short eternity. He fondly stared at you just to turn his head to look at your drawings again. He still had his hand on your face stroking your cheek when he said: “On a serious note, you´re really talented. Like seriously.” You hugged him tighter, you couldn´t see his smile when you did so. And maybe, just maybe he was blushing a bit too. “Thank you.” “I should be thanking you for drawing me. In some years people are going to pay you lots of money for that." “Oh my god will you stop it already.” You giggled against his chest. “Never.” You just stood there for a few more moments, both of you not wanting to let go. Being close to him made you feel comfortable and excited at the same time. You could still feel the beating of your heart very distinctively and your stomach was doing things but you also felt at ease. Fuck you had such a crush on this man. “Ok so like do I have to sit still on a chair or how does this work?” Jihoon ripped you out of your thoughts. “Basically yes.” You giggled and softly pushed yourself away while gesturing to the kitchen table. It felt weird not to touch him anymore. The second you had let go of him, you wanted nothing more than to hug him again and nestle your face against his neck and fuck you really wanted to kiss him again. “Uhm, my desk is really small so I think we should just stay here.” “Perfect.” He sat down at the kitchen table, smirking up at you. He looked so fucking cocky. “Give me a second; I need to get my stuff.” You stuttered, still a bit perplex because of the kiss.

Had this really just happened? You stumbled to your bedroom where you had your desk, on which you kept most of your drawing utensils. Quickly you grabbed all the things you needed. Your mind was foggy, still in denial of what had just happened. Coming back to the kitchen you sat down in the chair opposite of Jihoon and took out all the items that you needed. You tried very hard not to look at him, fuck you swore you´ve never been as nervous as at that exact moment. How were you supposed to draw a straight line after just having kissed him?

“You ready?” you asked, your voice too quiet to sound confident. “Born ready.” He grinned. “Just please make me look handsome.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “Are you fishing for compliments, Jihoon?” “I don´t know…is it working?” he chuckled. “You already know you´re handsome. I don´t have to tell you that.” You laughed. “So it was working.” He winked at you. “Shut up.” You averted your gaze from his face, so he wouldn´t see the blush that was covering your cheeks again. He just snickered at your remark but kept looking at you, never turning his eyes off of you.

“Can we talk while you´re drawing or do I have to be quiet so you can concentrate?” “We can talk. I´ll try to pay attention but don´t be mad if I get distracted.” “I could never be mad at you, sweetie.” You nearly dropped the pencil you had just picked up. “Jihoon! Stop calling me that.” He had both of his arms crossed over the table and was leaning forward to grin at you. “You don´t like it?” “Oh my god Jihoon, just stop teasing me.” You said while trying to hide a smile. He threw his hands into the air defensively. “I swear this wasn´t my intention. I´ll stop.” His face was serious but the corner of his mouth was twitching, trying to hold back a smile. After looking at you for a second he added: “I´m sorry, Sweetie.” “Jihoon!” No longer being able to hide his amusement, he let out a deep laugh. That kind of laugh that made his eyes disappear. And even though you were still nervous and blushing you couldn´t help but join in. “I´m sorry Y/N. I´ll try to stop. But you really don´t have to be embarrassed. You do look very pretty when you´re blushing. Seriously.” You didn´t avoid his eyes this time. Why did it feel so intimate to just look him in the eyes? Your breathing wasn´t exactly regular and you felt like your tummy was full of butterflies who were trying out new break dance moves. “Thank you.” Your voice sounded so soft and Jihoon could hear the shyness in it but there was just nothing more adorable than you in that moment, or so he thought. He wouldn´t mind teasing you for hours, hell he´d love that.

“Should I tilt my head a certain way?” “No not really, just try to look my way.” “So I´m getting a free pass to just keep staring at you. Awesome.” “That was just cheesy.” You giggled not looking at him because you had already started to outline the shape of his head on your piece of paper. “But you liked it.” He stated. “I wish I had your ego.” “I swear it´s not as big as it seems.” “Not sure I believe you.” You shot a glance at him as you said so. He didn´t say anything for a moment, only the scraping of your pencil on the paper was filling up the room. Of course you couldn´t have known but Jihoon was contemplating. Contemplating whether he should open up to you. He liked flirting with you, making you blush, fuck he loved kissing you and he´d be lying if he said he hadn´t thought about doing other things to you… but he also couldn´t ignore your seriousness, the way you seemed to be really interested in what he was saying. He couldn´t ignore how you were actually listening to him talk about the things he was passionate about. And he definitely couldn´t ignore the fact that he was nervous because you had only gotten to know this cocky, overly confident side of him. He wanted to get to know you. But he also wanted you to get to know him.

“I´m insecure about a lot of stuff too, you know.” His voice had come out softer than he wanted it to. You didn´t look up from your paper. But he knew you were listening, you always were. “I´m very insecure about my music.” He continued. “I really want to play some songs for you. Now that you showed me your work, it´d only be fair. But I´m afraid you won´t like it.” You stopped drawing for a second and looked at him, puzzled by his honesty. “You really don´t have anything to worry about. I already know I´m going to love your music. Every piece of art, every song or whatever is always a self-portrait of the artist themselves, in some sort of way at least. And I like you, why wouldn´t I like your music?” He stared at you, a hint of disbelief glistening in his eyes. Jihoon had been so sure he would never meet a person who knew all the right words, had been so sure he would never meet a person who would be able to give him a feeling of security just from a sentence. But there you were, sitting in front of him concentrated on your drawing, not aware of how much a difference your words have made. There you were: tenant of all beautiful words he had always wanted to hear. Jihoon didn´t consider himself romantically minded but holy shit you were making him reconsider. “Thank you for saying that, sweetie. It means a lot.” You smiled. This time the pet name didn´t make you blush as much.

You had been drawing for about an hour now. Both of you hadn´t said anything for the last few minutes. The silence was comfortable and neither one of you had felt the urge to break it. Jihoon kept looking at you, admiring your concentrated face while you took in every single one of his features. It felt so right to draw him, like everything that had ever happened in your life had lead up to this exact moment. His face was full of beautiful lines and curves and you saw beautiful shapes everywhere. It amazed you how perfectly and neatly all those sometimes imperfect lines were connected to form something even more beautiful. Yes it felt right to draw him but you also weren´t able to ignore the tiny hint of anxiety that was sitting in your chest. You really wanted this portrait to be perfect, not because you wanted a good grade (that too) but because you wanted him to like it.

Meanwhile Jihoon was still looking at your wall full of drawings. “Did you hang up that drawing of that poppy field you did?” he finally asked. You smiled to yourself, realizing he had actually remembered the paintings you had told him about. “I gave it to my mom. It´s back at home.” “By the way I still remember you telling me about that one hedgehog drawing you did as a kid. Do you have that around somewhere?” he beamed at you. You groaned playfully “I told you it´s not even good!” “I just wanna see a cute hedgehog drawing. Is that too much to ask for?” he was pouting and you giggled. “Maybe I´ll look for it later.” “You´re the best.” A childish grin settling back onto his face. Trying to hide your own smile you just continued to shade the left side of his face.

After the second hour had passed Jihoon seemed to have grown a bit bored with sitting still the entire time. “What are you thinking about?” “Not much honestly. I´m contemplating if I should use another pencil for that part or if I…” “You ever do nude paintings?” You looked up from your drawing to look at him. You had definitely not expected him to ask a question like that. If this was a comedy show, you would´ve comically spit out your drink out of shock. “You´re volunteering or something?” you had no clue how you did it but you somehow managed to make your voice sound very casual as if his question hadn´t really affected you much. Obviously amused by your attempt to flirt he raised an eyebrow. “You really just want to get me naked Y/N don´t you?” This was not fair! Why was he so cocky? When he saw you trying to hide your blushing cheeks with staring (a bit too hard) at your drawing he chuckled. “I´m just joking…” he said softly and waited for you to stop eyeing the piece of paper in front of you. When you glanced up at him he added “Unless…” while wiggling his eyebrows. Yes your face felt hot from blushing and yes your hands had started to shake a bit again but you couldn´t help but laugh. “Jihoon you are the worst.” You giggled. “Nah I´m not.” He smiled at you. “No you´re not.” You smiled back.

“Nah but seriously. You ever do nude paintings? I´m just curious.” “Yeah sometimes. But I only ever draw women.” “Why?” “I don´t know. I guess I just find the female body aesthetically more pleasing.” “Makes two of us.” You giggled “Why did I know you would say something like that?” “Because I´m a smart man who appreciates women?” he smirked. “How are you so cocky?” “Cocky? What do you mean? I´m just being honest.” He dramatically put his hand over his heart as if he was outraged you´d think something like that of him. You snickered “Yeah right…” “You don´t think I´m smart?” You were still smiling, but your eyes were focused on your drawing again. “I didn´t say that.” “So you don´t think I appreciate women?” “I didn´t…” He interrupted you before you could finish your sentence. “You know, I could show you. That I appreciate women I mean.” He was smirking when you looked up from your drawing. Had he really just said that? You let out a nervous laugh “Jihoon, please stop teasing me.” You again hid your face behind your hands. “I mean…I meant what I said.” He chuckled. “But yes I´ll stop, sweetie. I know you have to finish your drawing.” “Thank you.” You mumbled as you continued to draw. His words echoed in your ears...I meant what I said.

“I think I´m done.” You smiled at him and slid the piece of paper over the table for him to look at. He looked at your drawing. He had always been rather confident when it came to his looks. He considered himself averagely looking. He had small insecurities like everyone else, sometimes he thought his eyes were too small and not always did he like the way his eyebrows went or how his nose bent. Normal people stuff. But he was looking at your drawing of him now and all those insecurities seemed to have vanished. You had really captured his face perfectly. He didn´t look perfect he still thought his nose could be a bit smaller but for some reason the drawing looked so delicate, so soft. He could see you had drawn it. He was sure he would´ve been able to recognize any of your drawings anywhere. He looked at his face and his heart started beating a tad bit too fast, because he realized you had looked at every tiny detail of his face and still decided to draw this soft, beautiful version of him. Hell you´d definitely get an A. But he couldn´t care less about that. All his mind was focused on was realizing that this was actually how you were seeing him. He was sure he would never be able to completely fathom that.

“You don´t like it.” your voice made him look up from the drawing. “What?” he wasn´t sure he had heard you right. “You´ve been staring at it for so long…you don´t like it do you?” “Sweetie, you´re crazy.” “What?” now it was your turn to be confused. He just got up and walked over to you. Lingering in front of you for what must´ve been at least half a second he looked down at you still sitting on your chair and then he simply bent down and pressed his lips onto yours. It took you a short moment to reciprocate the kiss. You were still confused. Hadn´t he just called you crazy? Deepening the kiss he was reaching down to cup your face with his hand. Just as you had completely immersed yourself in the kiss he pulled away and stared into your eyes. “How the fuck are you gonna hand me the most perfect fucking drawing I´ve ever seen and still think I´m not gonna like it? Huh? How does that make sense?” “I…” you stammered. “You really have no clue how goddamn talented you are.” He didn´t even let you think of something to respond before he was kissing you again. This time you were quick to move your lips against his. You were still sitting when he grabbed your hips and arms to pull you up against him. He held your hips so tight that it almost hurt but fuck it also felt just so so good.

You sighed against his mouth, which made him pull you even closer to his body. The kiss felt so good but you also weren´t just able to forgot about how he actually liked your portrait of him. Had he actually called your drawing “the most perfect fucking drawing I´ve ever seen”? You had been so worried he wouldn´t like it, only for you to find out he loved it. You giggled against his lips. “What?” he pulled away, his hand still on your face, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “It´s just…I´m really happy you like the drawing.” “I love it.” he replied, his voice so sincere. “Thank you for letting me draw you.” “Don´t you dare thank me. I literally just had to sit on a chair.” “I mean yeah…but still…thank you.” “I said you shouldn´t thank me. Why are you never listening to me Y/N?” he jokingly groaned. He really wasn´t giving you a choice was he? You looked at him, trying to hold back a laugh before you started: “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, tha…” He cut you off by kissing you yet again. His mouth finding yours in a matter of seconds. The kiss was more rough this time, he didn´t waste time to slide his tongue inside of your mouth. It took your breath away. “Is this really what I have to do to stop you from thanking me?” “Maybe” you grinned. He shook his head as if he was disappointed before hurriedly pressing his mouth back onto yours.

When you felt his hands wander under the hem of your shirt and touch your bare skin you shivered. He quickly pulled away “Is this ok?” You didn´t trust yourself to use your voice so you simply took both of his hands and slid them further under your shirt. When you leaned in to kiss him again he smiled against you. He couldn´t believe his luck. You felt so good against him, so delicate, so soft. He let his hands travel further under your shirt to feel your bare skin. You felt so warm and when he was tracing his fingers over your side he could feel goosebumps forming on your skin. As you wrapped your arms around his neck just to slightly pull at his hair he groaned against your lips. God he really wanted you so bad. You still weren´t able to fully grasp the situation. You were actually kissing Jihoon. The boy you had only known for a few days, the boy you could listen to for hours because everything in him was full of passion, wholeheartedness and artistry. You didn´t know a lot about tunes or rhythm but you knew Jihoon embodied music and you couldn´t get enough.

Your bodies were glued together, not even a thin sheet of paper would have fit between the two of you, so when he walked you a few steps back until your hips were colliding with the table, you had to hold onto his arms and neck for balance. When he reached down to grab the back of your thighs to hoist you up onto the kitchen table you let out a tiny squeak of surprise which made him chuckle. “I´m not gonna let you fall. Don´t worry.” You were now sitting on the table, slightly looking down at him between your thighs, his hands under your shirt on your bare hips again. “You sure?” you raised your eyebrows. “Very sure, sweetie.” With that he started giving you light open mouthed-kisses on your neck that made you pull on his hair in return.

When he found that sweet spot right under your ear that made you see stars you gently moaned. “Fuck, Jihoon.” Without looking up at you he mumbled “What is it, sweetie?” When you didn´t answer he paused to look at you while cupping your face. “You want me to stop?” Yes he was teasing you; you could easily tell by the grin that had spread all over his face, he knew he was making you feel good. But his question was sincere. You knew asking for consent and respecting boundaries were the bare minimum but fuck could this man be any more perfect? “God, no” you said and pulled him in for another kiss.

Jihoon´s hands wandered down to rub your thighs through your pants which made your hips jerk forward against his stomach. The growing heat in your abdomen robbed you of the ability to form a clear thought, you weren´t thinking straight, hell you weren´t thinking at all. You had slipped your hands under his shirt and were running them over his back. The combination of feeling his skin on yours and him continuously sucking on your neck and your lips made you let out a soft moan. He couldn´t believe you were making those sweet sounds just because of him, for him. “Sweetie?” his breath tickled your ear and made you squirm. “Mhm.” “Can I eat you out?” Your eyes widened at his request. Never had someone asked you something like this so boldly. When he didn’t receive an answer right away he slowed down and looked at you. “You don´t have to say yes. I didn´t mean to make you uncomfortable, sweetie.” “You didn´t make me uncomfortable. I just…you´re the first guy to ever ask me for this…” “Seriously?” You just nodded. And in that exact moment Jihoon wanted nothing more than to ruin you. You looked so innocent, so fucking pretty. “Let me take care of you?” he asked. You smiled at his choice of words. This man made you so so nervous, and you didn´t want to, couldn´t ignore the heat in your abdomen. “Please.” You whispered. A smile spread on his face and he gave you a quick peck on your lips. “Lie down.” His voice sounded so husky, so determined, he didn´t leave space for objection. He gently pushed your upper body onto the table so only your legs were hanging down. He quickly picked up your drawing from besides your head and put it on a chair nearby. “We don’t want this to get wrinkles, don´t we?” You let out a small giggle and before you could reply he had hitched up your shirt to leave kisses on your stomach. He didn´t waste time and pulled your shirt up to your chest so the only think covering your breasts was your bra. His mouth was still all over your upper body when he yanked down your bra so your nipples were met with cold air. You had closed your eyes and when he gently pulled on one of your nipples he could see how your mouth fell slightly open just to let out a soft moan. “Such pretty tits.” He groaned. His voice was so deep and he was so close to you, you could feel the vibrations of it on your stomach. You could´ve sworn this was the hottest thing you had ever heard in your entire life.

When you felt his hands pull down the zipper of your pants you tried to lift up your hips as so to help him but he only used his second hand to push you back down. “You´re so impatient, sweetie. Let me do the work.” You whimpered at his words. He was slowly pushing down your pants, including your panties while kissing down your legs. After you had heard the thud of your pants hitting the floor Jihoon hooked his arms under your knees. Your pussy lay open and unprotected before him but he didn´t pay any attention to it. You could feel the air on your folds and the wetness that had gathered between your legs. He was grabbing and clawing at your thighs and leaving kitten-licks all over your skin. As he got closer to your core he bit down gently. It felt so good, you weren´t able to hold back your moans. The noises that were coming from you urged him on even further. When he finally got to your core he looked down at your pussy. He didn´t touch you yet, he just looked down at you. You felt already so hot from arousal, you didn´t think it was possible but your face started blushing even more.

“You ok?” he asked while caressing your legs softly. “Fuck, just touch me, Jihoon.” You whined and you were sure that with anyone else you would´ve felt embarrassed to sound this desperate but this was Jihoon. “Say please.” He grinned. “Please.” In any other situation you would´ve laughed at his words but you would´ve been lying if you said it didn´t turn you on. “You´re such a good girl.” He said when he finally ran his fingers up your folds. You bucked your hips against his hand at the sudden touch which just made him chuckle lightly. Your breathing was heavy and he could see your chest heaving up and down. Yes you were impatient for him to finally touch you where you needed it the most, but holy shit Jihoon was just as impatient to put his mouth on your beautiful pussy.

When he couldn´t hold back any longer he pushed your legs up even further so they were close to your shoulders and finally put his mouth over your folds. Your legs trembled at the first contact. And because patience definitely wasn´t one of Jihoon´s strengths he immediately started sucking on your clit and lapping up your wetness. It felt so good you thought you were turning mad. Your hands had clung to the sides of the table but now you had started to pull at his hair desperately, how could his mouth feel this good?? After a harsh pull on his hair he groaned against your pussy. “You taste so fucking good, sweetie.” You were not capable of forming a reply so you just let out another moan.

The heat in your lower body was so unbearable, so big, you felt like you would burst into flames any minute. As he started to suck on your clit more harshly you were sure you wouldn´t last another 5 minutes. Your orgasm was already so close and you couldn’t help but pull his face even closer to your core. He understood and continued sucking and licking your clit in the same rhythm. “Jihoon, I´m gonna cum.” You mumbled in between moans. He didn´t lift his head just let out an approving moan against your core. And then you came with Jihoon´s mouth over your pussy and your hands gripping his hair and for a moment you thought you would burst into tears from pleasure.

After your hips had stilled he gently put down your legs and pulled you back up into a sitting positon just to hug you close. Your breathing was still not back to normal and your legs were shaking a bit. Jihoon was soothingly running his hands up and down your back. “You good?” he finally broke the silence. “Better than good.” “You really are adorable you know.” “Just shut up.” You giggled.

Neither of you had a clue how much time had passed while holding each other. Your pants were still scattered on the floor and both of your hair was a mess but you couldn´t have imagined a more perfect moment. As you looked out of the window behind Jihoon´s shoulders you saw that the sun had already started to set and it was already getting dark. Without much thought you asked: “Hey uhm, do you maybe wanna stay the night?” Jihoon looked up at you. You really were gorgeous. The truth is he would´ve probably sold his kidney to spend a night with you but he also knew he had classes tomorrow morning that he still had to do some homework for. Life wasn´t fair. He ran his fingers over your jawline while looking at your face. “Fuck, sweetie I wish I could. But I still have to do some work for school.” “Oh my god I´m so sorry. And I kept you here all day just to finish my own assignment. I´m sorry.” He shook his head and gave you a quick peck on the lips. “Hush. That´s bullshit. I was just selfish.” “Huh?” “I just wanted a pretty portrait of myself.” He grinned and you let out a laugh. “I´m sure you´ll get an A by the way.” He added. “I really hope so.”

After you had put on your pants again and had fixed your ponytail you were standing next to Jihoon at your front door. “Can I see you again soon?” he asked. “Only if you say please.” “God you´re such a brat.” He chuckled and in a second his lips had found yours again. You really didn´t want to let him go. “Text me when you get home?” you asked. “Of course, sweetie.”

When he had left you started digging through your old paintings.

The next day at school you were waiting for him in front of the music building. ”Y/N, what are you doing here?” He immediately pulled you into a hug. “Not happy to see me?” you grinned and started rummaging through your bag. “Of course I am. I´m just surprised.” “I actually need to get going asap because my classes are starting in a minute.” You murmured while still searching for something in your bag. “There it is” you mumbled as you pulled out the small envelope you had prepared. “I actually just wanted to give you this.” Jihoon hesitantly grabbed the piece of paper. “Why…” “I wanted to give you this as a thank you for letting me draw you.” He looked down at the envelope. “What…I told you, you didn´t have to thank me!” “I know but it´s nothing special. I promise!” you said, already turning on your heels to get back to the art building. “I hope you have a wonderful day!”

Jihoon just stood there completely dumbfounded. He opened the envelope right away, out fell two pieces of paper. He picked the smaller one. It was a little note on which you had written words with your neat handwriting:

“Thank you again. I know you said I didn´t have to thank you but still... I also know you really wanted to see that (really bad) hedgehog drawing I did as a kid but I couldn´t find it anymore. So I thought I´d just draw you a new hedgehog. Hope you like it!”

He just stood there. Speechless. And that was a big deal. Jihoon was never speechless. Why couldn´t he stop staring at this drawing of a hedgehog? He didn´t even care about hedgehogs. He was 120 percent sure he had never spent more than two seconds thinking about hedgehogs in his entire life. But nonetheless he couldn´t stop staring. He of course knew that all this had nothing to do with the hedgehog itself. And he knew it was ridiculous because he had just met you what was it? Not even a week ago? He knew it, but he also couldn´t keep looking at that small cute painting of a hedgehog. A fucking hedgehog…

Hi! It´s me, Jo. I´d like to thank you for reading my stuff! I really hope you enjoyed it. If you have any feedback, comments, requests, questions please let me know!

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen ff #seventeen #jihoon fluff #woozi fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop ff #rhubarbbabywrites #jihoon smut #woozi smut #seventeen fluff

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years

Text

LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP: CHAPTER 6

cw: mentions of existentialism, nonspecific discussions of death/the afterlife, minor angst, brief moment of panic

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // read it on ao3!

word count: 6784

“What is that?”

Virgil looks up, lunch hanging out of his mouth. “Wh’s wh’?” He tears off a bite of his sandwich, chews, and swallows. Logan watches him intently from his shallow tank the entire time. “What’s what?”

“That thing you are consuming.”

“It’s a sandwich.”

“That is nonsensical,” Logan says, frowning. “From what I understand, human digestive systems are far inferior to ours. You require your fish to be consistently heated until all the flavor is gone and you have many other diet regulations that we do not. Yet even we cannot digest sand when it gets in our food. How are you doing so? Explain, please?”

Virgil gets the sense that he should be slightly insulted by what Logan’s said, but he isn’t. “There’s no actual sand in this, Logan.”

“Then why is it called a sandwich? Why do humans insist on calling things what they are not? I will never understand . . .”

“I think it’s named after some guy. Some earl or something, the first guy to make a sandwich. So now we call them all sandwiches even though there’s no actual sand in it.”

“That does not make sense,” Logan says, frowning.

“Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. You’re right, but I can’t exactly go around and change what a sandwich is called. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.” Logan makes a confused face.

“So it is not sand?”

“No, Logan. It’s not sand.” Logan scratches at the bandages wrapped around his arm, and Virgil swats his hand away. “Hey! What did I say about touching your bandages?”

“That I should not do that because my wounds could become infected and require a prolonged stay in this miniature human ocean,” Logan recites.

“And what are you doing?”

“Touching my bandages.”

“I’m gonna have to put you in a cone of shame at this rate.”

“What is a cone of shame?”

Virgil pulls out his cell phone and taps at the screen until an image of a dog wearing a cone appears. Logan hisses at it when he sees it. “You will not put that on me!”

“Well yeah, obviously. It wouldn’t stop you from fiddling with your bandages, and I don’t have a cone of shame for you. Plus, it’d fuck with your gills since they’re on your neck.” Logan shudders, reaching up to touch his gills where they lay flat and closed against his neck. Virgil remembers how they’d found him, slumped on the beach and barely breathing, gills pinned shut. “Hey, Lo?”

“What is it?”

“I have a question for you.”

“You have already asked me a question, but feel free to ask another.”

“Why don’t you have gills on your torso?”

“I am confused by the word ‘torso.’ Please elaborate?”

“Patton has gills on his neck, like you, but he also has them here.” Virgil sets his sandwich down and presses his hands to his ribcage, approximately where Patton’s larger set of gills is. “Roman has two sets of gills, too. But you only have one. Why is that?”

Logan frowns, touching his ribs. “I . . . do not know. Dad and Roman have always had two sets of gills. I have never had gills on my - torso, did you call it? - and until recently I never saw a reason for them. Now, of course, I can see where they may be beneficial . . .”

“So you’ve just . . . never had any gills other than the ones on your neck?”

“No, I have not.”

Virgil frowns. “That . . . seems strange . . .”

“I am sure it is, but I do not have any explanations to offer you.”

Logan swishes his tail restlessly in the shallow tank, glancing nervously towards the entrance to the ocean cove. Thomas had taken Roman and Patton out hunting earlier, leaving Logan and Virgil to wait around in the lab. “Are you okay?”

“Just anxious for my pod to return. I find that having them out of my direct line of sight makes me . . . incredibly uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Virgil?”

“Hmm?”

“May I see more of those . . . ‘draws’ that you make, please?”

“My drawings?”

Logan’s cheeks flush just slightly, and Virgil has to forcibly stop himself from squealing at how adorable it is. “Yes. I find them . . . intriguing. You create such detailed, lifelike images with a few fancy sticks, and it is aesthetically pleasing. I enjoy them.”

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to blush. “I - wow, uh . . . thanks, L.”

“It is no trouble.”

Virgil picks up his sketchbook and holds it open for Logan with one hand. Logan leans forward to squint at the drawings, tilting his head to the side. “What is this a drawing of?”

Virgil peers over the sketchbook, trying to figure out what Logan’s looking at. “Oh. It’s the night sky, the stars and stuff.”

“What is a star?” Logan asks. “What is a sky?”

Virgil frowns, setting the book aside and reaching for his laptop. “You’ve never seen the sky before? You’ve never seen the stars? You have to have seen it at some point, right?” He pulls up a photo of the night sky and turns it around to show to Logan.

“Oh! I know what that is.”

Virgil hums. “So . . . what do you think that is, then?”

“It’s the Upper Ocean,” Logan says matter-of-factly.

“The Upper Ocean?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“It’s where the Seven Mother Goddesses live.” Logan points to the full moon in the picture. “That’s their palace right there.” Virgil blinks.

“It’s a what now?”

“It’s the palace of the Seven Mother Goddesses. They live there, in the Upper Ocean. They’re the ones who blessed us with the oceans. Before, there was no water at all, just hard, dry land. The Seven Mother Goddesses took pity on us. They brought a jar of water from the Upper Ocean and spilled it on the land. Everywhere the water touched, an ocean sprung up. They created the oceans for us to live in, and then sprinkled droplets of water over the remaining land so that those who lived there would have lakes and rivers. But all water sources connect back to the oceans, because the water from the Upper Ocean wants to collect back together.”

“Did these Seven Mother Goddesses stay here?”

“No. They returned to their palace in the Upper Ocean. They watch over us from up there.”

“So what are all these, then?” Virgil gestures to the stars.

“Those are the death palaces.”

“The what now?”

Logan looks at him as though he’s just asked what two plus two is. “The death palaces. When mer die, our spirits leave the ocean and are carried to the Upper Ocean. Each of those little glowing places in the sky is a death palace, where our spirits spend the rest of their afterlife. They’re at peace.”

“Oh. So it’s your heaven, basically?”

“What is a heaven?”

“Where you go after you die, if you’re good.”

“You go to the Upper Ocean if you’re bad, too,” Logan says. “But you don’t get a death palace. You just disintegrate. You’re reabsorbed as part of the ocean waters. You stop existing as you.”

“Damn. That’s harsh.”

“That is reality.”

Virgil isn’t in the business of arguing with the metaphysical beliefs of other people, especially merpeople that he’s only just gotten onto good terms with, so he lets it go. Logan continues looking through his sketchbook, periodically making comments as Virgil finishes his sandwich. “Can I try?”

“The sandwich? I hate to break it to you, but I already ate the whole thing, so . . .”

“Not the sandwich. The draw. I want to try.”

Virgil blinks. “You - you want to try drawing?”

“Yes. Is that an issue?”

“No, not at all! I just - I’m gonna have to go get some supplies. That’s all.”

“That is fine. I will wait here.”

Virgil puts his sketchbook down and hurries off upstairs, poking around for art supplies that he doesn’t mind sacrificing to this noble and very homosexual cause. He finds a stack of scrap printer paper, some old pencils that don’t produce the good quality graphite, and a stack of towels so that Logan doesn’t drip seawater all over the paper. He’s going to have to prepare Logan to suck at drawing (God only knows he did when he first started) and he’s not really sure how Logan will take it, but he’s going to have to try anyway.

He returns to the lab to find Logan attempting to heave himself out of the water and onto the floor. “Hey, hey, whoa whoa-whoa-whoa whoa, hey! What’cha doin’ there, buddy?”

“Attempting to remove myself from the tank. What do I appear to be doing?” Logan hisses in pain when he drags his scraped tail over the edge of the tank, flopping back into the water with a splash that only soaks part of the floor.

“Agitating your injuries and making your stay in the lab a lot longer than you want it to be?”

Logan’s tail swishes unhappily, but he doesn’t try and launch himself out of the tank again. “If you don’t wanna draw in the tank, I can move you onto one of the lab tables. You gotta tell me what you want, though. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I would prefer to be moved onto the table, please. It has become apparent that if you drop the draws into the water, they do not survive.”

“You got me there,” Virgil sighs. “That’s why I brought the towels. I can move you onto a table, and then we’ll make sure we dry you off thoroughly before you start drawing. Oh, and just a fair warning? You’re probably gonna suck at it at first.”

“What is . . . ‘suck’?”

“It means you’ll probably be really bad at it, since you’ve never done it before.”

“Were you ‘suck’ at it when you first started?”

“What you meant to say was did I suck when I first started, and yeah. I was terrible. The only reason I’m so good now is because I took a lot of classes and practiced for years. It’s okay if your drawings kinda suck. I’m not gonna judge you for not being good at it.”

“Good,” Logan says. “I find the idea of you thinking me incompetent distresses me a great deal.”

Virgil rapidly turns his back to Logan before he spontaneously combusts from the Gay. “Right! Well! I’m just gonna go ahead and wheel that lab table over then!”

“Alright.”

Virgil drags a rolling table over and locks the wheels, covering the surface in towels. “Are you ready over there?”

“Yes, I am.” Carefully, Virgil reaches into the tank, and Logan reaches his arms up to loop them around Virgil’s neck. Virgil lets one arm wrap around Logan’s back and slides the other one down to where his tail naturally bends in the middle. He very deliberately does not think about the fact that if Logan were a human with legs, his hand would be dangerously close to his ass right now.

Virgil quickly drags his head out of the gutter before he can wonder what that would be like. Logan flicks his tail up out of the water, coiling the end to drape around Virgil’s forearm. “Careful!” Virgil yelps, wobbling on his feet and nearly overbalancing. “What if I fall over and drop you?!”

“You will not,” Logan says, and wow his face is close to Virgil’s. His eyes are wide, and almost eerily luminescent under the fluorescent lights. The midnight-blue scales littered on his face (clustered around his eyes and nose, almost like freckles, like a mask) gleam, twinkling almost like stars, drawing Virgil in. “I have faith in you, Virgil. You will not drop me.”

“That’s a lotta faith to have in someone you wanted to kill a week and a half ago,” Virgil breathes. Logan smiles, huffing out a soft breath through his nose.

“You have not dropped me yet, Virgil.”

Virgil hurries to set Logan on the lab table before he loses his grip.

“You are pulling my hair!”

Logan pulls his head away, wincing and rubbing his head. Virgil gently sets the towel on the table, setting a hand on his shoulder; it’s absurdly warm, Logan notes. “I’m sorry, Lo. I forgot you’ve never used a towel before. Here, I’ll be gentler this time.”

The towel comes back, softer this time. Rather than wringing and pulling, it pats and squeezes gently, carefully smoothing his hair and pulling the water away. “There you go,” Virgil says. “All dry.” He smiles, and Logan feels something very strange begin to move in his heart. He leaves the towel draped around Logan’s shoulders and hands him another one. Logan carefully wipes down his arms and hands and torso while Virgil dries his back and tail.

It’s strange, feeling someone else’s hands on him. Logan is used to touch - he’s used to sleeping intertwined with Roman and their dad, he’s used to play-wrestling with Roman and hugging his dad, he’s used to his dad smoothing his hair out of his face and carefully applying seaweed over injuries from hunting or battles. He’s been touched, of course he has. Still, there’s something strange about the way he feels when Virgil touches him.

Virgil’s hands have power behind them. Logan knows that at any point, Virgil could snap and hurt him. This isn’t his world, after all; it’s Virgil’s. If Virgil wants to keep him and his pod in this lab for his own sick amusement, there’s very little he or Roman or even his dad could do to stop them. Fear of the humans has been drilled into him since he was a guppy. They have the power to tear his life apart and destroy the pod he’s worked so hard to build. Logan should be terrified. He should be trying to kill Virgil, or at the very least stun him.

He is not doing either of those things.

Logan allows himself to grow distracted, slowing down in his towelling of his arms to focus on the way Virgil dries his tail. He applies pressure to soak up the water, but he’s still gentle. He carefully moves the towel so that he’s not pressing on the tender bandaged areas. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, and he worries it with his upper teeth as he works.

For some strange reason, Logan can’t stop staring at that lip. He wonders what it would be like to smooth his fingertips over it. Would he be able to feel the indents from Virgil’s teeth in the skin? Would it be soft or chapped? What would it feel like to lean over and press his mouth to Virgil’s? To pull Virgil’s lower lip from between his teeth and suck it between his own? Would Virgil taste like the sea, or would he taste like that “sand witch” he had been eating?

“Uh . . . Logan?”

Logan startles, blinking rapidly and looking at Virgil, whose gaze has shifted from his tail to his face. “Are you okay there, buddy? You were kinda . . . starin’ at me.”

Virgil’s cheeks are faintly pink. Curious.

“I apologize. It was not my intention to stare at or confuse you,” Logan says, hastily turning his attention back to the towel wrapped around his forearms. “I merely found myself . . . what is the human expression? ‘Lost in thought.’ I did not mean to alarm you.”

“I mean, same,” Virgil says. “I do that all the time, and then the Doc asks me what the hell I’m doing staring at him. Don’t worry about it. I was worried I’d hurt you or something.”

“You would know if you had hurt me,” Logan says. “But you have yet to do so, and I am reasonably confident that you will not.” He feels his heart rate begin to pick up, unsure why it is doing so. Virgil’s cheeks get pinker still, and he quickly turns away, breaking their eye contact.

For some reason, this distresses Logan slightly.

Virgil finishes drying him off and places a stack of paper on the towels in front of Logan. “Here’s your paper, and here’s your pencil. Oh, fuck, wait - do you know how to hold a pencil?”

Logan takes the strange draw stick from Virgil, squinting at it curiously. “I . . . have never done so before. Perhaps if you were to demonstrate, I could copy your technique?”

Virgil pulls up a chair next to the table and props a sketchpad against the edge. “I mean, you gotta remember that I have years of practice doing this and you don’t,” he says, “but if you want, I can try.”

“That would be beneficial.”

Virgil pulls another draw stick from behind his ear and presses the non-draw end against his lip, humming. “What should I draw?”

Logan’s mouth moves before he can stop himself. “You could create a draw of me.”

Virgil’s eyes snap up to meet Logan’s. “You - you would be okay with that?”

“Your draws of me are very good,” Logan says. “And - and I do not mind when you create draws of me, and I am - I am right here, am I not?”

“You are . . .”

Virgil looks away, and Logan feels his face begin to burn. He is confused, but his confusion quickly fades when Virgil begins to make his draw. Logan studies the way he holds his draw stick, making sure that he’s not staring at Virgil when Virgil’s gaze flicks back up to him. He adjusts himself about seven times before leaning down to start his own project.

He quickly learns that Virgil was right - creating a draw is much harder than he makes it look. The draw stick is awkward in his hands, and as hard as he tries he can’t move it around easily like Virgil does.

“If you have a mistake,” Virgil says, glancing up again, “use this end.” He taps the pink end of the draw stick. “It’s called an eraser, it gets rid of the marks. Here, I’ll show you.” He makes a random line in the corner and then rubs the pink end back and forth rapidly, brushing the page off to reveal that the mark is gone.

Logan turns his draw stick around and tries to remove some of his mistakes from the paper. It takes him a few tries to get the hang of it, but he finally manages to scrub away his mistakes and start again. “Will . . . will I be able to produce a good draw, do you think?”

“Today? Probably not,” Virgil says, not looking up from his pad. “Eventually? Maybe, if you’re committed to getting better. It’s gonna take a while, and you are gonna hate your work at one point. You’re gonna wonder what the point of doing it over and over again is if you don’t seem to be getting any better. But then, one day, you . . .”

His voice takes on a faint, nostalgic tone. “One day, you’ll be looking back through your old work and you’ll compare it to the stuff you’ve just did that you thought was horrible and . . . and you’ll . . . you’ll realize how far you’ve come. And you’ll realize that even though you thought you were so, so shitty . . . you’re not. You’re improving. You’re getting better.”

“Are you alright?” Logan asks. “Your eyes are leaking.”

Virgil brushes the leak off of his face. “I’m alright,” he says. “I’m just . . . overwhelmed with emotion. I’ll be okay.”

Logan reaches out and gently brushes some of the leak off Virgil’s face with his fingertips. “I am sorry that I made you leak, Virgil.”

Virgil stammers. “I - uh - you - it - it wasn’t your fault.” He tilts his head, just a little, and presses it into Logan’s hand. The sensation fills Logan with light. “What are you trying to draw?”

“I am not sure. I have not ever tried to create a draw before, and I do not know what I should make. Perhaps I should make you?”

“Wh - you - draw - draw me?”

“Why not? You create beautiful draws of me all the time. It would only be logical to return the favor. If you would prefer that I do not, I can find another subject, but -”

“No! I - uh - that is - you can draw me I don’t mind!” Logan smiles brightly, curling the tip of his tail happily and pulling his hand away from Virgil’s face to pick up his draw stick again.

“It won’t be very good,” he says. “It won’t be as good as your draws of me. But I might be able to make one of you.”

“It’s okay if it’s not perfect,” Virgil says, still pink-faced and staring. “It’s allowed to be shitty. It’s allowed to suck. You’re allowed to do a bad job, you know that, right?”

“But I do not want to do a bad job,” Logan says. “I - I want -” He cuts himself off. He does his best not to voice his concerns, generally speaking, because they tend to be pointless and unresolvable. There is no point in bothering Virgil with his silly inadequacies.

“What?” Virgil says, looking at him. “What do you want, Logan?” His voice is very soft, and when Logan chances a quick glance in his direction he sees that Virgil is smiling softly at him. “You can tell me.”

“There would not be much point in doing so.”

“Are you sure? Even if there’s nothing I can do to actually make you feel better, sometimes just knowing that someone else is there for you can make you feel better. You know?”

“I . . . do not . . . want to bother you,” Logan says, looking down at the table and fiddling with his hands. He startles when he feels someone touch his tail.

“Hey,” Virgil says, gentle. “You’re not bothering me. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, would I?”

“I suppose not . . .”

“So if I did ask, that must mean that I do want to know, isn’t that right?”

“That would make logical sense, yes.”

“So tell me what you want. Even if I can’t give it to you, I can at least listen.”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “I . . . do not want to do a bad job. You always do such a spectacular job when you make draws of me, and they make me look much more pleasing than I do naturally. I do not want to repay such a favor by creating draws of you that are unflattering. I want to give you something that I can be proud of. I want you to like it, even if you do not like it as much as I like the draws that you make of me. But I will never be able to create something like that. Certainly not today, at any rate, and possibly not ever. And that . . . makes me . . . feel . . . sad . . .”

Virgil reaches out and gently touches his hand. Logan wants to look at him, but keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the blank paper in front of him. “Lo, it - it’s okay.”

“How is it okay?”

“Well, for one thing, I think you’re pretty great looking already. You don’t need my drawings to make you look different or better or anything. Your scales are so cool, you look like the night sky! And as far as the unflattering drawing aspect goes, trust me. You couldn’t possibly create anything that looks any worse than I do on a daily basis. I look like a corpse that the Doc resurrected for the sole purpose of doing grunt work in the lab.”

Virgil snorts, laughing, and Logan finds himself laughing a little too, in spite of himself. “You . . . you do not look like that,” he manages. “I think that you look very nice. And I . . . appreciate what you say in regards to my . . . my scales. That was kind of you to say.”

“Well, it was true, wasn’t it?” Virgil smiles. Logan picks up the draw stick again, frowning at the paper. “You know that you don’t have to draw if you don’t want to, Logan.”

“I do want to,” Logan says, readjusting his hand around the draw stick. “I really do want to try and make a draw for you. I still do not think that it will be very good, but - but will you really be interested to see it no matter what?”

“I really will,” Virgil says. “And I can make a drawing of you while you make one of me. We can swap them afterwards!”

Logan looks up at him and smiles, and when Virgil smiles in response he feels a fresh surge of motivation.

Virgil jumps when the cell phone sitting on the table begins to buzz, rattling back and forth with such force that he snatches it up quickly for fear that it’ll fall to the floor. Logan snaps his head up from where he’s been bent over his sketchpad with intense focus. “What is that?!”

“Just my cell phone, don’t worry about it -”

“What is a cell phone?”

“It’s something that lets me talk to the Doc - hang on - Doc!”

“Virgil? What took you so long? You normally never wait more than two rings before picking up, I was worried something happened!” Thomas jokes.

“Doc, that’s not funny!” Thomas laughs anyway. “I was distracted, okay?”

“By what, the cute merman?”

“Doc! Keep your voice down! Are you coming back from hunting soon?”

“Well, I can’t fit any more fish on this boat, so I guess we are. I - what are you - stop that!”

“Uh . . . Doc?”

There’s a lot of rustling and shouting from the other end of the phone, causing Virgil to hold it away from his ear and squint at it in confusion. Logan looks up from his sketchpad, keeping it tilted towards his chest so that Virgil can’t see it until the drawing is complete. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out what the fuck is happening right now.”

When the commotion from his phone finally dies down, Virgil pulls it back towards his ear. “Hello?”

“Human!”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Let me talk to my brother!”

“Not unless you ask nicely.”

“Human, let me talk to Logan!”

“Not unless you ask nicely. And use my name, for God’s sake!”

There’s a smacking sound from the other end of the line, and the melodic screeching that Virgil has come to recognize as Patton speaking when he’s partially out of the water. “Virgil,” Roman grits out, clearly having been freshly chastised, Can I please talk to Sharkbait?”

“Of course you can, now that you’ve asked me nicely,” Virgil taunts smugly. He sets the phone down on the table and quickly switches it to speaker mode. “Lo, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Sharkbait!” Roman calls. “Dad and I are done hunting! We caught so much fish for you!”

“Really? Did you find my favorites?” Logan’s eyes light up at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“You bet we did! We caught so many! Don’t worry, we’ll bring plenty of fish home to you!”

Logan smiles, gently touching the cell phone on the table. “I know that you will, Roman. Did you have fun in the open ocean today?”

“Yeah, but hunting’s boring without you here to compete with. Dad doesn’t understand the way we compete to catch the most fish, so it’s not as much fun. Plus, he always wins the races because he’s so much bigger than me, and if I win it’s because he lets me.”

“I am sorry that I left you all alone like that,” Logan says softly. “I promise, I am trying my hardest to get better so that I can come back to the open ocean with you.”

Virgil pretends that the thought of Logan and his pod leaving doesn’t fill him with sadness. “We’re going to go and swim right back now, okay? We’ll see you soon, Sharkbait!”

“I will see you very soon indeed, Roman.”

When Logan hands the phone back to Virgil, he hangs up and slides it into his pocket. He picks up his pencil again, letting the tip rest against the line he’d been in the middle of drawing. It’s the overall curve of Logan’s tail, coiled neatly beneath him as he rests his arms on a haphazard rock pile on the water’s edge. Virgil’s never seen Logan in this position, but he can picture it quite easily.

Against his better judgement, he speaks. “Hey . . . Logan?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“I just . . . I have a question for you.”

“What might that question be?”

“When you get better, you’re going to be able to swim around the open ocean with your pod again, right?”

“That is the goal, yes.”

“So, when that day comes, will . . . will you leave?”

“I do not wish to remain confined to a human lab for the rest of my life, Virgil,” Logan says, raising an eyebrow.

“No, that’s not what I meant! I know you want to get back home to the ocean with your pod, I’d want to go back too if I was in your position. I just wanted to know if . . . if you would ever come back.”

“What do you mean, come back?”

“To visit, I mean.” Virgil’s hand tightens around his pencil. “Would I ever see you again? I know that you want to go back to the ocean where you belong, but I - I dunno, you’re really cool, and I - I wanna see you again. I wanna hang out, even if you’re not here healing. And I could maybe keep teaching you to draw, if you wanted, but - but if you’d rather not, that - I’d understand, but I -”

He cuts his rambling off at the feeling of something resting gently on his knee. He looks up to see Logan, looking at him with a strange sort of intensity. “Would you like that?” Logan asks softly.

“Would I like what?”

“If we came back to visit you. Would that be something that would interest you?”

“I mean, yeah. You’re really cool, and I like hanging out with you. I know that you’re not really super into the whole ‘being-friends-with-humans’ thing, but . . . but I really wanna. Be friends with you, I mean. And you’re super fascinating, not just because I’ve never met a mer before, but because you’re a cool person to be around in general!”

Logan’s cheeks are slightly pink. “You . . . really want to be friends?”

“Yeah?”

“I - I would have to speak to my dad and Roman, of course,” Logan says. “They might not want to spend so much time in such close proximity to humans. But as for me . . . I think that, perhaps, visiting you on occasion would not be . . . the worst thing in the world. If nothing else, I would also like to continue learning to create draws with you.”

He shyly presents the sketchpad he’s been hiding to Virgil. It’s a fairly rudimentary drawing, but there are still several distinct markings that make it easy to tell it’s Virgil. There are carefully marked freckles on the face, with smeared blocks of graphite beneath the drawn and redrawn eyes to symbolize his eyeshadow. His shirt is drawn as baggy, with a weird lump at the back that Virgil suspects is supposed to represent him wearing a hoodie. He’s smiling in the sketch, and there’s a rectangle in one of his hands and a stick in the other.

“Am I . . . holding a drawing pad? And a pencil?”

“It seems that every time I see you, you’re carrying a draw stick and making even more wonderful draws. It seemed only fitting that I put them in my draw of you. Was that the wrong thing to do?"

“No, it was - it was sweet. I’m touched, Lo, really. This drawing is great. I love it”

Logan smiles at him, showing off his sharp, white teeth. Only a week ago, Virgil would have been terrified that he was about to lose a hand. Now, his stomach flutters at the sight of such a joyful smile. “I am glad that you enjoy it, Virgil.”

Before Virgil can respond, there’s a clattering noise from the hallway that leads down to the ocean. “Oh! Doc and your pod must be back from hunting already! I’ll go help him get your dad and Roman and all the fish back into this room. Will you be okay here on your own?”

“I think I will manage,” Logan says. “Oh, and, um, Virgil?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for everything. I truly appreciate it, from the bottom of my heart. It was thanks to you that I did not die on that beach when the net washed me ashore, and it was thanks to you that I was reunited with my pod again. I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for me.”

Before Virgil can stop himself, he reaches out and gently touches the top of Logan’s head. His hair is slightly damp, and coarse from centuries of salt water exposure. Logan’s eyes blow wide, and his mouth drops open in a small “o” shape. “It’s no problem, Logan, really. I was happy to help.”

“Oh,” Logan manages, cheeks flushing scarlet.

Virgil flashes a quick smile at him before pulling his hand back like he’s been burned and all but sprinting down the hallway. He turns the corner so fast that he nearly slips and falls, bracing himself against the hard concrete wall.

“Hey there, Vee,” Thomas calls, tying a rowboat overflowing with freshly caught fish to the small dock. Roman twists up out of the water and flops “elegantly” onto the dock. Virgil can see a large, dark shape swirling around in the water that he assumes must be Patton.

“Hey, Doc. You guys get a good haul today?”

“So much,” Roman brags, bristling his spines and grinning. “Almost half of this was me!”

“That’s a lie and you know it, three-quarters of the work was Patton,” Thomas says. There’s a melodic shriek from the water, as though agreeing with Thomas, and Roman pouts. “Anyway, Vee, I figure we can take the mer into the lab first and then come back for the fish?”

“No, take the fish first,” Roman instructs.

“Bossy,” Virgil says, crossing his arms. “Why do we need to take the fish back first, anyway?”

“Because Dad and I both ate a little while we were out hunting, but Sharkbait hasn’t eaten anything all day. He must be starving,” Roman says, eyes suddenly serious. Despite his initial misgivings, Virgil can’t help but be touched by Roman’s concern for his younger brother. “Make sure he gets fed, and then you can bring Dad and I into the lab. He’ll be alright waiting to see us for a little while longer, but he needs to eat.”

“Yeah, that does make sense . . . I brought the cart because I assumed we’d be yeeting you into it, but we can throw your fish in instead.”

Roman tilts his head, looking like a lost puppy. “What is a ‘yeeting’? Is that a weird human word?”

Thomas laughs so hard that he nearly over-balances and falls off the dock. A large hand shoots up and braces itself against the small of Thomas’s back, pushing him back up onto the dock. He stumbles forward a little, throwing his arms out, and turns around to look at the water in shock. The arm extended has fingers tipped with sharp claws, but when Virgil frantically runs over to check on his mentor, he sees that his coat is barely scratched.

“Doc! Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay, Virgil, don’t worry. Patton caught me! Thank you, Patton!” Thomas calls. The arm waves a little before sinking back beneath the water. Virgil sighs, going back for the cart and wheeling it over.

“Let’s get this over with . . .”

It takes them almost ten whole minutes to load the majority of the catch into Virgil’s cart. They end up with about three-quarters in the cart before it’s full. “I guess we’re making a second trip?”

“Don’t bother,” Roman says, swishing his tail lazily. “Dad and I will eat what’s left here, and then when you come back we’ll go with you to the lab where Sharkbait is.”

“Are you really gonna be able to eat all this in the time that it takes us to take this cart to the lab and back?” Virgil asks. Roman grins, baring his own set of gleaming fangs. Unlike earlier with Logan, however, Virgil feels a shiver of fear run through him.

“Don’t doubt our appetites, Virgil. We’ll be done in no time.”

Virgil grips the handle of the cart tightly and leans his entire body weight into it. It takes him a few tries to get the heavily-laden thing going, but once he builds up a little momentum he’s able to struggle down the hallway. He hears Thomas talking to the other mer, but he focuses on getting back into the lab.

Logan looks up from his sketchpad, sniffing the air eagerly. “Food?”

“Yep!” Virgil grunts. “Your pod caught a whoooooole bunch of stuff, and it’s for you!” He finally gets the cart into position near the lab table, kicking at the brakes to engage them and lock the wheels. “Lemme take your sketchpad and stuff so that they don’t get messy while you eat.”

Logan appears vaguely offended at the idea of being a “messy eater,” but he gets over himself quickly when Virgil swaps his sketchpad and pencil for a fish. He eagerly sinks his teeth into the side, and Virgil quickly turns away. “I’ll be back!”

He puts the sketchbook and pencil down on a clean table and grabs another cart, wheeling it back to the little grotto. “Hey, Doc, how are we filling this thing with seawater? Do I have to go get the pump, too?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Roman says, waving a hand dismissively. “Dad can do it. Hang on -”

He shoves his head under the water and says something in the mer language to Patton. Virgil jumps back in shock as a column of water rises up from the ocean, pouring neatly into the cart. As it nears the top, he frantically cuts in, “That’s good! That’s enough!” Roman sticks his head underwater again, and the column tapers off. “Thank you, Patton. I didn’t know you had that much control over the ocean. Do all mer have that?”

“Just Dad,” Roman says. “He’s an elder mer, so he’s been around forever. He’s got all kinds of weird fun tricks under his fins!” Virgil wonders if that’s the mer version of “having tricks up your sleeve.”

“Who’s going in the cart first, you or your dad?” Thomas asks. Roman opens his mouth to answer, but he’s cut off by a terrified scream echoing from the lab.

“Was that -”

“Sharkbait!” Roman bristles all of his spines at once, teeth baring, pupils shrinking to slits. “That was Logan, what did you do to him - ”

“Nothing! I left him on one of the tables eating fish, he was fine when I left! I promise!” Virgil says. Roman throws himself into the cart, tail swishing awkwardly until he finally shoves his head up above the water.

“Take me in there, now! I have to know what happened to him!”

“How are we going to get Patton in there if you’re in the cart?!”

“Good point . . . carry me!” Roman sticks his arms up, and if the situation wasn’t so dire Virgil would think it was funny that he was asking to be carried like a petulant child.

“Put your fucking spines down first, I’m not getting poisoned today!”

“I’m worried about Logan, this is as flat as I can get them!”

Logan screams again, and Roman’s spines bristle uncontrollably before he very visibly forces them to flatten a little. Virgil thanks his lucky stars that he’s wearing a particularly thick jacket today and hoists Roman into his arms.

“Go!” Thomas says. “I’ll get Patton!”

Virgil takes off down the hallway as fast as he dares to go while carrying a mer who’s dripping seawater all over the floor and also not the lightest thing in the world. He isn’t sure what he’s going to see when he makes it into the lab, but he’s steeling his nerves. He’ll be prepared for whatever it is. He’ll handle it, or the doc will handle it, and everything will be okay.

When he bursts into the lab, he nearly drops Roman in shock. “L - Logan?!”

“Sharkbait?!”

Logan looks at them in terror from the lab table, shifting around so they can very clearly see the very human legs that have completely replaced his long, elegant tail.

“What’s happening to me?!”

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@theunoriginaldaisy @emocatholic @the5thcoy @apologetically-anxious @radioactivehelena @llamaly @cloudedskies29 @riley-castillo @nonbinarybullshit @aleicim @asymmetricalgarbage8888 @analogical-mess @smolbeanchildofdeath @sherlock-lives-on-bakerstreet @opaque-puppet @shootingace @thegeekwiththewaffles @georganabanana @starry-sides @innerduet @siesieknows @eli--davey @croftersphoenix @theitalianalchemist @fanfictionforme2 @aimlesslyfloatingintheuniverse @random-fandom-dragon @that-random-book-nerd @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @eternalmoonlight19 @bluebellflames @pattonpending @humorlover1233 @unofficialweatherguru @demidork84 @munmattie @thegaypasta @youre-not-alive @bluebear04 @tacohippy56900 @enby-phoenix @wildhorsewolf @thomasfandersunite2 @ninja-wizard101 @immortal-turtle @sunflowerss0 @trash-ratatoiulle @yty-is-a-gfeat @mining-pup @cataclysm-al @lesbianturtle @singularthoughtofstatic @ninja-wizard101 @k9cat @dall-off-weekes @mylovelyladdyhumps @omg-rainbowgalxy-things @opaque-puppet @agentblackkat @morgantoast @rainysharkfreaklover @tapdancingdalek @brutarax808 @masonjarfullofsunflowers @lovelylogans @thatcacidork @antisocialdragonkid @nic-is-here @thiaholimon @whatschooldoesntteachyou @dysfunctional-goblin @lostchoirchild @acompletemusicalnerd @monroig @coliebugs @aro-ace-fangirl @lord-of-the-wicked @sanderstalker @bootsinthesun @anonfromcanada @7-circles-of-dissonance @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @psychixx @alittlebitofeveryoneandthing @toostressedforthisbs @an-absolute-failure @faycanyons @meglooy @skruffy901 @drawingdaydreamsuniverse @rosiepupper @winterrs-child @godspeed31-26 @mariita-2006 @meglooy @matthindavick @dragonindigo245 @lovingcreatorstrawberry @dreamingintodust @soakinforsif @theloneliestplaytapus

#starshinewrites #lovely dark and deep #sanders sides #romantic analogical #platonic TLAMP

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yanara126-writing · 3 years

Text

hey look ma i made it

It's the queens birthday, and yet she sits in the dark of her room alone, staring at a piece of paper. Kanerah has no intention of letting her love stew in misery, much less on her birthday.

Read here or on Ao3. (2077 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

It was strangely cold in her chambers. The soft fabric of her sheets felt rough against her hand, and the light of the torches falling through her window was pale. Her own vague shimmer was dimmed, her halo gone, her wings vanished. The paper in her hand crinkled as she shifted her fingers, and the sound carried far too loudly through the empty room. The writing was fine, ornate, a piece of art really, not the way one would wright for practicality’s sake. The ink was faded, but its quality assured that it would still be readable for many years to come.

The fire in the fireplace crackled. The paper did the same. Not for the first time Tamary felt her fingers twitch, as if they had developed a life of its own just to rid her of the innocent sheet of paper in her hand. And just like all the times before she stayed her hand. The paper remained. Her gaze fixed to it like the enemies’ on her.

From outside she could hear merry chattering, excited shouts, and the occasional boom of fireworks. The revelry of the day would continue for many more hours she knew. The alcohol flowed in rivers. There were games and merchants on every corner. The capital was alight with laughter and revelry. And she was in here. Alone. Staring at this damned piece of paper once again.

So many years had gone by, and still she couldn’t this behind her. Every year she had to come back to it. At least since coming here she’d gotten better at enjoying herself first. At this point there was really no way to avoid it. The whole day people would come to her, inviting her to something or other, be it random citizens excited at meeting the queen or her companions.

Suddenly door creaked open, letting light a warmer light fall in. Or perhaps it just seemed warmer because of who entered with it.

“And so the queen sits holed up all alone on her birthday.” Tamary smiled, glancing towards the figure in the open door. The light falling in from behind them almost seemed like its own halo.

“Kanerah.” The tiefling gave herself unimpressed.

“Every year you vanish somewhere. One would think you don’t enjoy the attention.” Tamary gave a small smile. Not at all comparable to her usual self-assured grin, but a smile nonetheless.

Kanerah kept up the pressure for a few moments longer before giving a small sigh and crossing the distance between them. With her usual grace that made her lean muscles subtly shift under her skin she sat down next to Tamary and gave her small kiss on the cheek, before shifting her attention to the piece of paper in Tamary’s hand.

“What is that?” Tamary took a moment to answer, the warm, firm shoulder pressed against hers was still as distracting as it had been the first time, years ago.

“It’s- it was a gift.” She couldn’t say it. It was silly. It was stupid. It was ridiculous for an adult, much less a queen. She had said so many things. A lot of them stupid, insulting, downright lies, and even confessions of love, but she couldn’t say this. Instead she handed the paper to Kanerah with a sigh, turning away, face in her hands and elbows on her knees. She didn’t want to see someone else read it.

“Names?” Names. That was all this was to an outsider. Of course they were just names, names that had haunted Tamary for her all her adult life, without having met even one of the people who wore them.

“Suitors. Rich merchants, lower nobles, men and women from all over Taldor. Anyone with enough money to comfortably provide for a wife without her having to work and still live in luxury.” There, she’d said it. She’d said it and nothing bad had happened. The world wasn’t crumbling, her mother hadn’t suddenly jumped out from behind the bed to berate her again.

“Oh. I thought it was a hitlist.” A short moment of silence. “Is it?” Tamary snickered into her hands and then finally turned back around, a dopey smile on her face.

“No. I don’t know any of them. Didn’t stick around for it.” Kanerah kept her eyes on the list for a moment more, lips pulled into a face of undeniable disappointment.

“Pity.” With that she turned around, an eyebrow lifted, and fixed Tamary with expecting stare, one eyebrow elegantly raised. Clearly she wasn’t content with the explanation. Not that Tamary could fault her for that. But… Where would she even start?

In hopes of buying herself some time she swept her eyes over the room. It was dark with only the fire lighting it, as the sun had set a while ago. There were shadows in the corners, dancing in rhythm with the flames, ever in motion. The fire crackled as the logs broke in the heat she still couldn’t feel. Next to her she knew Kanerah was still waiting. In another situation Tamary might have enjoyed the dominance radiating from her, but right now she just felt like melting into the ground and avoiding the story she knew she could no longer avoid.

“So, you sit on your own in your room, staring at an ancient list of admirers you’ve never met, on your birthday, while the whole city is ready to carry you through the streets. Do I have this right?” Well, if she put it like that it sounded silly. Not that Tamary hadn’t known that before.

“Yeah. I just- yeah.” One more big sigh, and now she had to do it. Long years of steeping in her complicated feelings hardly did her any favours though. From the beginning then…

“My birthdays were never about me, for my whole childhood. I was a doll for my father to show off, I’ve always known that. It was to stand around and look pretty for the day, be nice and say thank you to the nobles who showed up for the festival, take the token gifts they bring you, and be quiet the rest of the time. That’s the way it always was. But sometimes those gifts were actually nice. I got my first lute that way.” One of the few untainted memories from her childhood. She didn’t remember anymore who’d given it to her, so she couldn’t have a grudge against them. “So, even though I’d known for a while that I was going to leave, I decided to wait for my 20th birthday. I thought maybe I’d get something useful, or at least some money, or something I could sell. You know, with the whole turning of age hype. Instead I got… this.” And what a scene it had been. Lots of applause, hungry gazes, calculating words. Even now Tamary felt the corset cut into her chest more sharply than it ever had before, pressing the air out of her lungs. “It was my mother’s idea. She wanted me to marry as soon as possible, to avoid what had happened to her.”

“Your mother the mistress?” Tamary winced. She held no love or pity for her mother, and objectively she could say what her mother had pulled before her birth had been very impressive, but her childhood spent suffering from these choices dimmed her admiration significantly.

“Yeah, you see, my mother was… playing multiple sides to say. Visiting nobles, family of my father -she had a prolonged affair with his sister for example- she was playing all of them. Acting like the sweet innocent girl and letting herself be showered with gifts. But with my birth and my father’s official claiming of me, all of that became obvious, at least to the parties involved. None of them would admit it of course, but that didn’t exactly make her very popular with the people in power. And my father sure couldn’t care less. He let her stay to take care of me, but he certainly didn’t care enough to divorce his wife for her.” Why his wife hadn’t divorced him was another matter entirely that Tamary had no intention of ever examining too closely. “So although she was now taken care of, she was also pulled into the social schemes of the nobility. A rather deadly game as I’m sure you’re aware of.” Almost on their own Tamary’s eyes wandered over to Kanerah.

“Intimately.” Kanerah’s eyes sparkled with something cold, those nice creases around them pulled into something decidedly not nice. A quick thought flashed through Tamary’s mind, that she should take care to change that later, and heat up that nice fire that burnt in her again. But unfortunately, they were having an uncomfortable conversation that shouldn’t be left hanging, and so Tamary begrudgingly pushed all thought of steamy nights away for later and looked away again.

“My father didn’t give a shit. My mother may not have liked the situation I put her in, but she was excellent at it. The whole list consists of rich, but unimportant people. No one that could possibly have been a threat to my father. To marry me they would have had to settle in my father’s capital, if they weren’t already there. That way he wouldn’t lose his little doll and get control over whatever assets my spouse would bring to the marriage, and so he let it happen.”

“Is that why you came to me?” The question is simple, there is no fire underneath it, nor the chilling frost from before, and when Tamary turned to look at her, Kanerah wore her mask of easy curiosity. For the first time in a while Tamary couldn’t tell if Kanerah was angry at her or not. She sighed. Why must honesty always be so exhausting?

“In the beginning. I’ll admit, seeing a hot tiefling from Quadira obviously flirting with me definitely kindled some thoughts of sweet revenge.” And how sweet it was. Then and now all the more, when it was no longer just the sex. It was love and it was happiness, and both were so much sweeter than sex could ever be.

Kanerah snorted, and with tiny, hopefully not noticeable start, Tamary noticed that she must have forgotten to close her mouth. Oh well. Perhaps not her most refined declaration of love, but maybe not everything needed to be. The soft, exasperated smile on Kanerah’s face made everything worth it.

“You are terrible, and I have no idea how you keep everyone tied around finger with lines like that.”

“Why, I don’t know. Perhaps you’d like to pay me in kind and tie something around some other part of me?” Now with the uncomfortable confessions out of the way, the banter came much easier to Tamary again. The grin stretched across her face entirely on its own, and the room suddenly seemed much warmer than before. Or perhaps that was just her own body. Oh definitely her own body, with Kanerah’s low lidded gaze slowly shifting over her.

“Perhaps later. For now I believe there is a party still waiting for its guest of honour.” Tamary pouted. Parties sure were nice, but something else would be even nicer now. But sadly for her Kanerah had already pulled away, though her suggestive smile hadn’t disappeared. Tamary wasn’t sure if that was nice or frustrating. Unfortunately, she didn’t get to enjoy it for long either way as Kanerah turned away.

“And besides, I believe my sister would be very unhappy with me if I kept you for myself tonight.” That sentence was enough to completely fry Tamary’s brain for a second. Only for a second though, and with renewed enthusiasm she pushed off from her bed and sprinted after Kanerah.

Behind her the room light up again with a warm, receding glow as she rushed out. The renewed halo lit up the room briefly, and her wings brushed doorframe. Tamary herself didn’t notice, too distracted by the promise of the attention of both her favourite people, coupled with the desire to just leave the last minutes behind. But Kanerah noticed, and she also noticed the crackling sound of burning paper in the fire place.

Satisfaction puller her lips into a smile, as she strolled away, back in direction of the party, just fast enough to tease Tamary along without quite letting her catch up.

Good. And may it burn in hell forever for hurting what’s hers.

#pathfinder kingmaker #writing #the baroness #kanerah #kanerah/the baroness/kalikke #Tamary #emotional hurt/comfort #mention of child neglect #mention of affairs

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happybeeps-nat · 4 years

Note

Prompt idea: Post-war, Finn and Poe attend some sort of art therapy session together.

A/N: oooh thank you so much for this random, weirdly specific prompt, I was so delighted when I got it and writing something for it was fun! BUT I have not a single idea as to how art therapy works? And so I focused more on the art than on the therapy, I hope this is to your liking! Thank you so much for the prompt! 💕

Light angst, obviously, but the hopeful kind

Words: 1478

------

Scars On Our Future Hearts

“Where exactly are we going again?” Poe asked as he was being dragged along by Finn who seemed to know where he was going at least.

“Art therapy,” Finn replied, way too chipper considering the circumstances. Therapy. Art therapy! Poe had as much to do with art as he had with wielding a lightsaber or lifting rocks. But sure. Let’s go do some art therapy, what a wonderful idea, Finn. He sighed and said nothing. That was how it went most days. He talked a lot but didn’t feel like he said anything.

Okay, so maybe this art therapy was actually a good idea…

“Doctor Kalonia recommended it,” Finn explained. “It’s unconventional but says it’s actually a good approach after a war. And it can’t really hurt.”

“Yeah, except in all the ways therapy usually hurts,” Poe muttered.

“Exactly!” Finn smiled, coming to a stop in front of a nondescript building. It looked like all the others, but Finn with his photographic memory would know exactly how to differentiate it from their surroundings even though he’s never been here. Finn was awesome like that.

“I promised her we’d try and if it’s not for us, we can just, you know. Not come back again.”

The casual we that Finn threw around casually still made Poe feel warm all over.

“Okay, okay, let’s try this thing. It it in there?” Poe inclined his head toward the building.

Beside him, Finn nodded and squeezed the hand he was still holding. “You ready?”

“Nope,” Poe sighed and let the p pop, but shrugged. “Let’s do this. Can’t be worse than crashing a TIE-fighter, right?”

Well, turned out it was actually pretty much like crashing a TIE-fighter. Or, like the moment right after the crash. The second of numbness where you didn’t know anything, not even if you were still alive. You didn’t know if anything hurt but you also didn’t know if everything was okay. You had a minute where your judgment was clouded and the only thought was “I need to get up and leave” until you realise that’s not possible because slowly, everything comes back to you. Why you’re there, what happened to get you there in the first place.

And now Poe was staring at a blank canvas and he had no idea what to do, what to feel, what to think, what to say. He had no idea what to draw.

Future, they had said. Future was the prompt for this session, and it was a stupid shitty prompt, like, who even asked veterans about their life plans? They had none! For years, Poe’s future had consistent of the present need to not fucking die, and now here he was, in a non-threatening room full of blank canvases and he was asked about his life and he had nothing to fucking draw. He had nothing to think, he had nothing to say. He barely even had a life.

So the canvas stayed blank while Poe stared at it, feeling as just as empty. Directionless. Not a single splash of colour on his mind, not a single line to give him the vaguest idea od a direction. He was just Poe Dameron, former pilot to the New Republic Navy, former commander of the Resistance who got promoted to the rank of General because he had just enough hope and idiocy left in him to actually go through with winning. That hope was now gone, because why hope to win when you’ve already won? Why create colours when that would just be a waste of resources an actual artist could need?

He had nothing but Finn. Finn who was painting his canvas in the brightest of colours, splashes and lines and everything all over the place, and the board looked ecstatic. It was colourful, it looked random but Poe could see an order there. A system. And of course it was there, Finn would never get rid of that part of him that needed order in everything. But now he had the chance to create the order by himself.

Poe smiled a little as he watched Finn paint, and picked up his pencil again. Yellow, blue, green, red, in all their shades. And in the middle, right in the centre, there was a splash of orange, looking out of place but also just right. It completed the painting, gave it a meaning, an order, a direction. A centre. And it was the same shade of orange as Poe’s old flight suits from the Resistance.

It warmed him to see that, to see the colours, to see that maybe this meant Finn saw a bright future, a colourful life, and Poe right there with him. Poe in his centre. Poe in his heart.

What a wonderful thought. He smiled to himself and stared at his own blank canvas. Then back at Finn’s concentrated form, and without really thinking about it, he mixed a few colours himself. It was the same deep, dark shade of brown as Finn’s skin, yet bright in a way it looked when the sun was dancing on it. Brown with a touch of gold.

Poe grabbed the biggest brush he could find and spread that colour on the whole canvas until there was no untouched space left. The whole thing was covered in golden brown, some places darker than others, and all of them reminding him of Finn.

On a whim, he used more of that golden colour and painted a few traditional Yavinic ornaments. Small, fragile little things, drawn with more care than he’d thought he could use, but the result was absolutely worth it.

It wasn’t perfect and real artists would probably roll their eyes at him for feeling pride as he looked at it, but to him it was perfect. It was his future. It was Finn. Because maybe it was okay that he had no direction, that he felt lost without a cause, even if that cause he used to have was tainted with death and killing and losing and pain. It had been a cause. And now he had none. But he had Finn, so maybe that could be his future.

Everything else, he thought, was a bonus. Direction, meaning, structure, he could find all of that, build all of that with Finn by his side. But without Finn, there was no future. Not for him.

He sighed. This absolute dependence was dangerous and he knew that, he’d have to do something about it, there was nothing romantic about it and it spoke more of his trauma than his lack of words ever could say, but he also knew that wasn’t the whole story. He was in love with Finn, absolutely enamored every day anew. Finn completed him in every aspect, he loved him back with his whole heart, Finn had a huge orange splash in his painting that maybe stood for Poe’s love in the centre of his world. This wasn’t just co-dependence. This was love, a love as deep and as old as time, and one he couldn’t deny.

Finn was his future. And not just because of his past. He would be in every kind of universe. No matter the story.

They got to keep the paintings, brought them home, talked about them. Not with the therapists but with each other. Finn explained every line, every splash, every dot and every brush, the order in it that still felt like chaos. Told him how he was feeling. About himself, about them, about the present and about the future.

And so did Poe. “I, uh, I think I did it wrong? But it doesn’t feel wrong, so… Yeah, anyway, I don’t know what to do. What the future holds or even what I will do tomorrow. I may not even know who I am when I’m not a hotshot pilot or Resistance General. I never had to be just Poe Dameron, and I don’t really know who that is. But I would like to find out? With you by my side? And build a life and all that stuff, but not without you. And I have no plans. I only have you, and that’s pathetic, I guess, but-”

Finn silenced him with a kiss. Then apologised, because Poe was finally talking and he had to ruin that, but Poe just laughed, relieved. He’d finally said it. He was Poe Dameron and he didn’t know what that meant but with Finn by his side, he was ready to find out.

Later, Finn grabbed his hand and took him to bed, giving him a detailed insight to who he thought Poe Dameron was. There were still traces of paint on their skin, but for some reason that made everything feel more real. Like they were okay, and like they had a future. Together.

#finnpoe #stormpilot #star wars fanfic #poe dameron #finn #prompt fill #light angst #canon verse #post-ROS #i loved writing this but idk if thats what you wanted #i hope you like it thank you so much for the prompt I love you! 💕#nat writes #also had two separate language breakdowns while writing so i hope its not too bad

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

Andy Warhol Arguments

PART TWENTY-NINE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: vomiting, periods, mentions of parent death, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.9K

Summary: Ella feels the stress of her new life in Philadelphia.

Rubbing at his eyes, Jess shut the alarm clock off and furrowed his brows when he saw Ella wasn’t next to him. Her side of the bed was cold and didn’t look nearly as disheveled. But the anxiety at her absence quickly subsided as he walked out into the living room. With papers strewn around on the coffee table in front of her, Ella had spread out on the couch with no blanket, despite the Autumn chill in the air. She was still in her dress from the day before, and it was twisted around her form, riding up her thighs. Mascara was smudged around her eyes. Jess smirked, then went over and began shaking her shoulder gently. The light was soft through the gray curtains, and the sky was overcast. Even still, she squinted as she stirred awake, confused at her location.

“Elle? Wake up,” Jess said, coaxing her out of her groggy state. “Jeez, how late did you stay up?”

She sighed, sitting up and gathering herself. “I don’t know. I was grading essays for at least a couple more hours after you went to bed. But I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so I was just gonna rest for a little while. Obviously, that was naive of me.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek before going to put on the tea and coffee in the kitchen.

“What time is it?” she asked, stretching her arms high over her head as she stood up, her skirt falling around her knees again. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to wake herself up and shake off the throb pulsing behind her eyes.

“Seven,” Jess replied, filling the coffee pot up with water.

Ella nodded, relieved. Her first class wasn’t until nine. At least she would have time to shower off her makeup from the day before, and brush her teeth. The taste in her mouth made her grimace; she couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep without brushing her teeth. It was almost time for midterms at school, and the students in the art history class she was a teacher’s assistant for had just turned in their first major essays. Overall, they were pretty decent. But, she was also never one to shy away from the red pen. Shuffling the stacks of paper on the table into neat rectangles, she stifled a yawn.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, coming to lean against the island. “I’d probably scare the undergrads if I showed up like this. Thanks for waking me. I would’ve slept forever if I could.”

“I know.” Jess turned on the tea kettle and faced her. “You gotta take it a little easier. I think that vein in your forehead is bound to pop, the way things are going.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Mariano. The concern is appreciated but not necessary.”

“You’ve slept a total of, like, seven hours in the past three days,” he argued.

“Hypocrite,” she scoffed, making for their bedroom again to get fresh clothes.

“Nihilist,” Jess retorted, calling after her. He would’ve worried about the volume of his voice so early in the morning, but he could already hear Matthew and Chris talking through the walls.

Ella chuckled breathily, half-heartedly. “I’m not the one who hung Nietzche above our bed.”

. . .

Despite Ella’s time at Luke’s, she had never mastered making breakfast. Or cooking in general. Baking came natural and easy, her pies a hit at every single holiday and gathering she brought them to. But she burned the toast, didn’t fry the bacon long enough, couldn’t get the pancakes just right. Jess, however, had somehow picked up cooking skills between sighs and snide remarks. He and Chris took turns making breakfast sometimes, when everyone didn’t just resort to cereal. It was common knowledge in the apartment, though, that both Ella and Matthew were best away from the kitchen in the morning hours.

As Ella reemerged from the bedroom, her hair damp and braided, her simple black dress loose and comfortable, the smell of the scrambled eggs Jess was making hit her in the face. Pepper and butter and orange juice mixed in, Chris on the couch flipping through the news channels on the TV sat opposite, Matthew at the counter talking with Jess. With everyone up so early, it made sense Jess would make something. She wondered sometimes if it was nostalgia which drove him, serving them food as Luke did his customers. And, of course, he lived above the business he owned just like his uncle. Ella had pointed out the irony to him more than once. After all, Ella knew just how much Jess looked up to Luke, even if he would never admit it in so many words.

Her stomach did a flip instead of growling as it usually would have, as the ache in her head pounded with the beat of her heart. It made her want to sigh audibly, but she bit it back. The only silver lining of the morning had been not bleeding through her dress and onto the couch, her period having shown up at some point in the night. Cramps were already twisting her insides, nauseating her.

“Did you hear what Bush did last night?” Chris asked, head perking up when he saw her enter the room. He held a coffee in one hand, the liquid pale from copious amounts of milk and sugar.

“Please don’t tell me,” she said tiredly, hopping onto a stool next to Matthew. “I can’t handle his idiocy this morning.”

“I’ll spare you, then.”

“Thank you so much.”

Matthew chuckled breathily at them, sipping from his own mug. He was clean-shaven again, having stayed at the apartment for the first time in several days. Still, they did not know the name of the mysterious girlfriend.

“He’s never that nice to me,” Matthew said, his words a joking sigh.

Ella shrugged. “He owes me for covering his ass when he pissed off that spoken word lady last week.”

“Not my fault,” Chris chimed in from the couch, defensive.

“Right, so when you told her she wasn’t as important as the other woman, that wasn’t your fault? Someone else said that?” Ella prodded, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Chris sighed heavily. “I didn’t say that. She just heard me wrong.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Ella chided.

Scoffing, Chris turned his eyes back to the TV and said nothing more. Ella snorted at his petulance, facing ahead where Jess stood over the stove. With a spatula in one hand and the handle of a frying pan in the other, she was reminded again of their days at the diner. Of a lonely morning when Luke had an appointment and Ella had gotten into a fight with her father. It was the first time Jess had made her breakfast. A wistful look crossed her face, and she was lost in thought when Jess put her tea down in a mug in front of her.

“Earth to Eleanor,” he said, waving a hand in front of her face. “What, thinking about Emily Dickinson again?”

“Close, but no,” she replied, blinking herself out of her daze and taking the mug with both hands. She blew steam from the top and shot him a small smile. “Thanks, cutie.”

Rolling his eyes, Jess went back to the stove with a flushed face. He didn’t have to look back over to know she had a teasing grin on her lips. Since their ride to California, she’d been poking at him with the nickname. He thought she would let it go, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. And though he wouldn’t admit it, as he blushed, it was growing on him just a touch. Besides, he knew it was due retaliation for ‘honey,’ which he still used on a daily basis.

“You want toast with these eggs?” he asked, hoping his face would cool down sometime soon.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella shook her hand. “No thanks, actually, I’m good without either. Just tea is fine.”

Jess’s brows furrowed immediately and he looked up from his work, tilting his head at her. “Really? You sure?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not hungry.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Getting a good look at her, he thought she was paler than normal, though it could have just been his imagination. Lack of sleep probably wasn’t helping her pallor, anyway.

“You might be hungry later.”

“Well, I’ll come back here for lunch. Four hours isn’t so long,” she said, her tone light against his puzzled gaze.

“Okay, Stevens,” he said suspiciously, but then let the subject drop. It was strange for her to skip breakfast, sure. But it was also strange for her to stay up half the night grading papers; perhaps she was just having an off day.

Her eyes lingered on his a little longer, but she kept her emotions masked beneath a complacent smile. Eventually, Jess focused back on the eggs which he was apparently making for himself. Matthew had a plate in front of him, and Chris had already scarfed his down.

“Oh my god, guys,” Chris piped up from the couch again.

Ella suppressed a groan; he updated them on various happenings from the news every single morning. The information was rarely relevant to anything.

“What?” Jess asked flatly, putting the eggs on his own plate and setting them down across the counter from Ella. He leaned against the tiled surface as he ate.

“There’s like three people in Berkeley with mad cow disease,” Chris answered, a shocked look on his face. Ella had no idea how he kept up so much energy, and could be so consistently amazed at the world around him. It was a little exhausting, but endearing nonetheless.

She scoffed. “Good thing I couldn’t afford it, then.”

Jess nodded knowingly as he chewed.

“What?” Matthew asked.

“Oh,” Ella said casually, taking another sip of the tea. She wished it was green, but Jess would almost certainly have more questions for her, about whether she was getting a migraine, if she drank that. Already, she could see him trying to get her to stay home. And she simply couldn’t flake so close to mid-terms. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to go to Berkeley. Maybe because it was the farthest place I could think of. But I’d never been there. And after finally making it to California, I’d say it’s a good thing the tuition was too insane for me to handle.”

A bark of a laugh came from Chris. “Yeah, you’re too pretentious for anything but the East coast.”

“I am not,” she retorted, not even turning around to face him again. “Maybe I’m just too much of a realist for that hippie bullshit.”

“More like a stick-up-your-ass killjoy, but sure, I guess realist is another way to put it,” Chris said, with self-satisfied lilt in his tone.

“Fuck off,” she shot back lazily. Both Jess and Matthew watched on in amusement, as they had grown accustomed to doing, while she continued. “You’re just pissed you’re not deep enough to understand true art. All you can wrap your brain around is ABBA and Andy Warhol.”

“Andy Warhol was an American treasure!”

Ella finally turned around to see Chris shooting daggers at her. “Andy Warhol was a sellout! I have a whole book about him; you can borrow it!”

“Oh, well, if a book says so,” Chris mocked, feigning belief.

She laughed. “It’s too early and there’s just not enough time for me to explain to you how wrong you are. I gotta get to class. Professor Stanton wants me to go over her presentation with her before.”

Getting down off the stool, she rushed behind the counter and gave Jess a long kiss goodbye. Her feet felt heavy in her black oxfords as she went over to the door, donning her peacoat from the rusty rack and grabbing her bag.

“See you for lunch at noon?” she asked, throwing one last look at Jess.

He nodded, gave her a reassuring smile. She seemed frazzled and uneasy. “I’ll be here, Daria.”

“Just checking, James Dean.”

“Bye, Ella,” Matthew said.

Ella gave him a little wave and rolled her eyes when Chris was silent from the couch, pouting over her slight to his god, Andy Warhol. “Fuck you very much, Chris.”

He yelled an cheerful obscenity back to her as she raced out the door, the old bronze clock down in the main room of Truncheon chiming half past eight.

. . .

By lunch, her headache had progressed to a full-on migraine, but she still had one more class and office hours to attend to, so she was pressing on. The day was chilly, a faint drizzle misting her as she trudged up the sidewalk back to Truncheon. She made a note to herself to grab an umbrella before leaving again; at least it hadn’t started pouring on her walk. Her old shoulder bag was dragging on her tired frame, packed to the brim with books and papers. The green fabric was faded to almost gray, as she had been lugging the bag around since high school. But it had yet to rip or fray, and she’d added a few patches to the front at some point during college. What wasn’t broken, she didn’t intend trying to fix. Why waste the time?

She was glad to be met with the familiar smell of old books as she reentered the small publishing company. Matthew was reorganizing shelves to his preference, silent and analytical. Hanging her bag and coat on the hook by the door, she ran her hands up and down over her own arms in an attempt to warm up. The tights she wore were thin and cheap. Chris was nowhere to be seen, which Ella was almost grateful for. As much as she enjoyed the two guys, Jess was the only one she wanted in the moment. And though what she really wanted was to lean her head on his shoulder and fall asleep, an hour for lunch up in the apartment, as they had every day, would have to do.

Sluggish as she ascended the stairs, Ella felt a gnawing hunger in her stomach, but was nervous to eat. With the cramps ripping up her insides, she knew whatever she downed might just come back up. Jess was already upstairs, reading at the counter, when she opened the door to the apartment, and he looked up with a tiny smirk as she walked in.

“Hey, Daria,” he said, marking the place in his book and tossing it aside.

She shot him a weak smile of greeting and made for the fridge, scanning the various homemade leftovers and takeout boxes. Jess came up behind her, peering in over her shoulder. At his closeness and his aroma of pine, she breathed a sigh of relief and stopped what she was doing. Just having him near made her feel better instantly, knowing she would come home to him at the end of the day. A mixture of emotions welled inside her, rising up in her throat. Shutting the fridge door and spinning around to face him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and enveloped him in an embrace. His arms twined around her waist instinctively, but he let out a surprised chuckle.

“Hey.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt and when she pulled away, Jess thought he saw a fond sorrow in her eyes. She pressed a kiss to his lips.

He tilted his head at her when their lips were separated again. “What was that for?”

Ella shrugged. “No reason.”

Soon, they sat next to each other at the island with a container of cold lo mein split on two plates in front of them. Breaking the comfortable silence, Jess set his fork down and turned to her, a hesitant look on his face. He had held off telling her as long as he could stand; he could rant about it forever, but still didn’t want to say a word.

“Liz called me earlier,” he began, watching her glance up from her plate, where she pushed her food around, noncommittal.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Um...she’s pregnant.” Jess ran a hand over his mouth and sighed lightly.

Her eyes perked up in surprise. “What?”

“Unfortunately, it seems TJ’s incompetence in everything else didn’t extend to his reproductive skills.”

She snorted a half-hearted laugh and trained her eyes on him carefully. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, chatty Kathy,” she said, taking a sip of her water and then facing him fully. “But, how do you feel about it?”

“Honestly, Elle?” he asked, his tone dejected. He didn’t quite meet her gaze. “I don’t know. Jimmy’s got a stepdaughter. Now, Liz is gonna have a new kid. It’s...I don’t know. I just hope she doesn’t binge-drink quite as much as she did with me.”

Ella furrowed her brows.

“I was five weeks early and I weighed something like four pounds. She says she doesn’t remember most of being pregnant,” Jess explained, a bitter tinge to his words.

“Jesus Christ,” Ella muttered, shaking her head slightly, not in disbelief but in simple sadness for him.

Jess shrugged dismissively. “But, hey, now she’s gonna get a second try. I’m sure the next one won’t be as much trouble as I was.”

“Hey,” she said firmly, bringing a cold hand to his cheek, stroking his skin affectionately with her thumb, “it was her fucking fault.”

“I know,” he said quietly, suddenly struck by her blunt tenderness. It filled him up, but made his insides flutter. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Alright,” she whispered, waiting a moment longer before she dropped her hand back from his face. “But if you do-”

“I know,” he repeated, light to disguise the pit in his stomach.

“Good.”

. . .

Bowie played softly on the record player and Ella sat up against the wall behind the bed. She was still in her black cotton dress, though she had let her hair down from its braid, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind her temples. A dull ache was constant in her lower stomach, occasionally tightening to a sharp burst of pain. Her breath was slow and steady, as she hoped to relax her muscles. She wrote against the thick stack of paper in her lap, only a few essays left. Maybe she could actually get a chance to sleep a sensible amount. She’d been at it since the moment she got upstairs at three in the afternoon, and her eyes were dry and hot in her skull. Rain pattered against the window on her left, the pane fogged up from the cold day.

A creak sounded in the room as the door opened, and she peeked down at her watch. It was nearly six; she hadn’t realized how much time she’d spent sitting in the same position, staring at the endless pages of Times New Roman. Jess walked in with socked feet, a crease of concern between his brows as he strode over to the bed.

“Hey, you almost done?” he asked, sitting down on the end and running his hand up and down the back of her calf.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she finished scribbling a comment on the side of a page. Then, she looked up at him with an exhausted, pale face. “Sort of. I’ve still got a few to go.”

“Why don’t you take a break?” Jess asked. When their work day had ended at five-thirty, he’d come up to find her pouring over the assignments. It was clear she was concentrating hard, and he’d silently come over and placed a kiss on her forehead in greeting before leaving her to her work. The worry had not left him in the hour he’d been sitting on the couch with a Barker novel in his hands and an old sitcom on the TV. “We ordered pizza. Half mushroom.”

A smile formed on her lips, less strained than it had looked all day. Mushroom was her favorite on pizza. “Maybe in a little while. I don’t finish what I need to, and they could definitely replace me with another TA.”

Jess scoffed in disbelief at her unfounded fear. “Where else are they gonna find a Lily Briscoe nihilist who dresses like it’s 1994?”

“Same place they’d find another Kerouac wannabe who knows close-up magic tricks,” she quipped coolly, going back to her work. Her patience was wearing. No matter how much her mind was screaming for a reprieve, she simply needed to finish. Some strong fire burned within her, forcing her to be productive or suffer intense guilt.

He gasped in mock offense. “Low blow, Stevens. The magic phase was not my best, I will admit. But, it was really only to impress a certain waitress.”

“Well, when you talk to her, tell her I think she should raise her standards,” Ella replied, not looking up from the paper.

Jess sighed in frustration, taking his hand from her leg. When she got into her working zone, one he recognized well from high school, it certainly took some effort to get her out. But rarely was she quite so irritated. “You’ve barely eaten anything all day, Eleanor.”

“Didn’t realize I was under surveillance, Jess.”

Rising from the bed again, Jess rolled his eyes. “The pizza’s gonna be here in fifteen minutes. You don’t come out, and I’ll tell Chris how much you hate jazz. You’ll have to face his wrath.”

“I think I can handle him,” Ella said flatly. Still, she didn’t lift her eyes from the writing.

“You’ve been warned,” Jess chagrined, shutting the door behind him gently.

. . .

The growling of her stomach ultimately forced her out of the bed, the stack of papers left on the nightstand with the red pen neatly atop it. She decided she didn’t need anymore arguing with Chris for the day. And the hungrier she got, the worse her headache was. Searing pain radiated all the way through her brain, but she tried to quiet it the best she could. She hadn’t experienced a migraine in a long while, but remembered how to power through it. It was better to at least attempt to eat, she decided. She hated the odd dichotomy of the nauseating cramps and the intense hunger.

A smug smirk formed on Jess’s face when she opened the door, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Oh, look. Judas,” Chris said from his spot in the armchair, still offended from the morning’s Andry Warhol argument.

“Not my fault you can’t handle the truth,” she replied, going over to the fridge and grabbing a ginger ale. She didn’t know whether the ginger ale soothing stomach trick worked with period cramps, but it was worth a shot. She popped it open and took a few sips before placing it on the end table near the windows and flopping down on the weathered green couch next to Jess.

“Your stomach okay?” he asked, an eyebrow raised at her choice of drink.

She shrugged dismissively, her face wan. “I’m fine, Mariano.”

“You sure you’re not pregnant?” Chris teased, glancing at Jess. “Apparently it’s in the water.”

Jess swallowed dryly at the reference to his mother’s news. Both Matthew and Chris had overheard snippets of the phone conversation.

“Believe me, I’m not,” Ella answered, running her hand through her hair and sweeping it over one shoulder. The back of her neck was hot beneath it.

“But how could you know?” Chris continued, a mocking twinkle in his blue eyes.

As she shot him a withering stare, Ella’s lips turned up in a thin, sardonic smile. Her tone was cold and venomous. “One guess. I’m sure it’ll come to you, Einstein.”

After a moment with furrowed brows, realization crossed his features and his eyes widened. Chris blushed and said nothing more. Jess snickered at him and brought an arm around Ella, unphased.

Goosebumps rose on her skin at his touch, as she leaned her head on his shoulder. A slight sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to slacken against him, seeing the Frasier rerun playing on the grainy television across from them. Matthew sat on Jess’s other side, working on something which looked like an inventory sheet. She could certainly identify with his workaholic side. He leaned over and told her the pizza would be there any minute. Nodding, she put a hand on her anxious stomach and shut her eyes. She hadn’t felt the fatigue weighing her down fully until she gave into it, suddenly worried she could fall asleep at any moment.

Jess looked down at her, a crease of concern reappearing between his brows. Frowning, he took in her flushed face and placed his hand to her forehead. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought she seemed feverish. “You feel warm.”

“The heat’s on. Our room is stuffy. I’ve been in there a few hours. Really, cutie, I’m just tired,” she said shortly, not opening her eyes and shifting to get more comfortable. His skin was cool against hers. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she was running a slight temperature. Sleep deprivation and her period both sometimes caused a tiny fever for her separately; it would be less than a shock if together they’d had a bit of an effect.

His eyes lingered on her doubtfully, but a knock then sounded on the door. Jess dug in his pocket with a free hand to find a few crumpled bills, handing them to Matthew, who went to greet the pizza guy. In a few minutes, they were back in their respective spots with grease-splotched paper towels, holding cheap pizza. Matthew and Chris were deep in a debate about the acts to book for the following week, and were throwing around the idea of an open mic night. Jess didn’t have much to say on the matter, instead watching as Ella ventured a few bites of her slice and kept her eyes on the TV, trying to ignore his watchful gaze. Not even Luke had ever been so concerned over her well-being, insofar as whether she had something she could potentially spread to customers. Only her mother stuck out as a caregiver in her life, and of course, no time in recent memory. It was just Jess.

“You’re staring, Romeo,” she snapped after a while, realizing he wasn’t going to quit.

“Thought I was a Mercutio?” he asked through a mouthful of pizza.

Scoffing, annoyed, Ella felt the mixture of both hunger and discomfort mingling in her stomach again. “Not tonight. Remember how much Romeo stared?”

“It rings a bell. But I also haven’t read that since ninth grade English.”

“You did reading for school?” she asked doubtfully, snorting a laugh.

He nodded. “I had gold stars plastered all over my forehead.”

“Oh, yeah, I can just picture it,” she said, taking another bite, almost finished with her piece. “Romeo and Juliet sucks anyway.”

“Once again,” he said, shaking his head at her in feigned disappointment, “so blasphemous.”

“And still, you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

He shrugged. “Sad but true.”

She chuckled, about to retort in the easy way she always could, but instead there was a shift in her features. Her freckled cheeks drained completely and tinged to a slight green. Saying nothing, she put the back of a hand to her mouth and she hopped up, rushing towards the bathroom. Not running, but definitely rushing. Her movements were silent but swift as she shut the door behind her with a slam. Chris and Matthew didn’t even notice until the sound rang out in the apartment. Jess sighed heavily, going after her. Pressed up against the door, he could hear her gagging.

“Eleanor?” he asked, knocking.

Knees grounded on the blue tile of the bathroom floor, Ella found she couldn’t reply through her breathless retching, bent over the toilet bowl. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her nose began to run.

“I’m coming in,” Jess said resolutely.

Ella would’ve cursed at herself if she’d been able, realizing she had forgotten to lock the door in her race to make it to the toilet. Before she could protest, Jess took her hair in one hand and began rubbing circles on her back with the other. His touch was deliberate and gentle, and almost made her want to cry harder than she already was, her entire body radiating embarrassment.

“Fuck, Jess, get out,” she pleaded through bouts of vomiting. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that, Linda Blair,” he deadpanned, not moving from his spot.

Eventually, the swirling in her stomach stopped, and her breathing became regular again. She flushed and immediately went to the sink to splash cold water on her face, rinsing her mouth out and brushing her teeth thoroughly. Jess watched carefully from where he sat on the edge of the blue tub. She wiped her face with the hand towel and threw it back down next to the sink in frustration. Her body was strained and tired, and she sat down heavily next to him when she was finished. She brought her elbows to her knees, holding her chin in her hands.

“You okay?” Jess asked, tucking some hair behind her ear to expose her cheek. He pressed the back of his hand against it, noting how hot she still was. The puking probably hadn’t helped, though.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry over,” he replied lightly. “I mean I’m sorry for getting on you about not eating. I just thought you were working through meals like you used to in high school. I didn’t know you felt sick.”

“I’m not sick, Jess.”

“Eleanor, you were just puking your guts out like two minutes ago,” he said, eyebrows raised. “And I’m pretty sure you have a fever.”

Ella sighed, sniffling though the tears had stopped involuntarily streaming down her cheeks. “When I was a kid, I used to run a temperature when I didn’t sleep enough. And the whole Exorcist routine is because of my period.”

“Really? Usually, you seem like you feel okay when you’re on your period.”

She chuckled. Most of the time, they had sex every night when she was on her period. The hormones were often a pleasant experience in her case. Such bad cramps hadn’t afflicted her since before she’d started the pill at age fifteen, either. “I usually hardly even have cramps. But I got on new birth control this month and stress can also make things way worse. Sleep deprivation, too. I don’t know. The perfect storm.”

His face softened sympathetically. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re insane.”

“Oh, well how could I possibly take that the wrong way?” she quipped through slight laughter.

“You’re working so hard, you’re literally making yourself sick,” he explained. “Not that you’re gonna listen to me, but I really think you should ease up if you don’t wanna have a stroke before you’re thirty.”

Again, she sighed, straightening up and averting her gaze. “I just...if I’m working as hard as I can, I’m not worrying as much about losing my spot in the graduate program.”

“Why would you lose your spot?” he asked, his brow crinkling. Maybe he shouldn’t have laughed her off so easily before.

“I don’t know. I just worry about it. Anything’s possible,” she said.

And he could see her mind was off somewhere other than Philadelphia. It was back in Stars Hollow, on the night when her mother had died and she’d lost everything out of the blue. Pieces fell into place, and all of a sudden he understood. Why she had been staying up late and editing papers more heavily than she needed to and running herself ragged only halfway through the semester. To Eleanor, nothing was permanent, nothing could be counted on. The feeling wasn’t lost on him, considering he had a new fake daddy pretty much every year as a child, but he hadn’t even seen a semblance of stability in his life until moving to Luke’s. He remembered how different it was not having to worry about losing the apartment for unpaid rent or having all of his possessions stolen by some deadbeat his mother had inexplicably allowed into their lives. But Ella had lived in a home that had a least a decent amount of security for fourteen years before the rug was pulled out from under her. That was the difference, and it was an important one.

“Elle?”

“Hm?” She lifted her eyes, slightly glassy, up to his.

“No matter what happens with this grad school thing, or after, anything is not possible with me,” he said in earnest. “Because I was yours the first time I saw you five years ago. At this point, I can say with complete certainty that’s never gonna change.”

Breathing out a long breath through her nose, Ella couldn’t help the smile which bloomed on her face. Before, he’d said he fell in love with her that night in the gazebo. Maybe he had been holding back so he wouldn’t scare her, though the time he’d asked her to run away with him and told her he loved her hadn’t exactly been his most restrained moment. She didn’t know. And, the idea that it had actually been the minute when they’d met all those years ago in the diner was so preposterous in her realist mind, she had to tease him at least a little. “Love at first sight, huh? Time has really made you soft, Mariano. The Hemingway, too.”

“I’m serious, Stevens,” he continued, though a smirk tugged at his own lips. “And, for the record, there’s no way in hell they’re gonna kick you out of that program. They’re lucky you even accepted their offer. Please, just take a fucking sick day tomorrow. Watch Stephen King, and drink green tea, and eat peanut butter out of the jar.”

A moment passed between them, and finally she gave a slow nod. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely. And because this is the most disgusting I’ve felt since that time I drank my dad’s tequila.”

He chuckled, bringing an arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Good. By tomorrow night, you’ll feel like one of the living again.”

Leaning into his side again, she was so utterly relieved. A weight she didn’t know she had been carrying lifted from within her. The nerves and the worry weren’t gone, but for the first time, perhaps ever, she truly believed Jess. She trusted him so completely it shocked her. They weren’t the same people they had been when he’d run away to California. But they still fit together exactly right. And it wasn’t going to change. She pulled away from him, placing a hand on the back of his neck and running her fingers through the ends of his hair affectionately.

“I love you.”

For a moment, Jess’s breath caught in his throat and he thought his heart would explode from joy. But, instead, his grin grew more genuine. “That’s nice, but I kinda figured.”

She rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “Such a jackass.”

“So I’ve heard,” he replied easily, then took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I love you too.”

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

The Ballroom

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Roceit

I know how to write Roman, in theory. In practice, it takes hours to get right. And yet, I love him. Oh! And I actually remembered to insert the italics this time, so, you’re welcome :3.

Warnings: Self-Doubt, Delusions/Hallucinations (they r not that bad), slight Trust Issues (Janus, obvs), Established Relationships, First ‘i love you’, Mentions of Greek Mythology, References to Musicals (Hadestown Hadestown Hadestown!! they sing Wedding Song together ok??), and I vaguely imply that Roman has ADHD because of course I do.

Word count: 2,443

Every side had a room. Duh, common knowledge. The inhabitants of the Mindscape constantly barged in and out of each other’s domains without so much as a knock, usually to no more reaction than an irritated sigh. It wasn’t like it was a big deal to anyone, much like an actual family. If a trait wanted absolute privacy, well, they always had somewhere else to retreat to.

Thus brings us to the Extensions. It was well understood that you never visited one without express permission from the side who owned it. They were entirely personal settings, specific to the ‘individual’ that used it. The Extensions shifted and changed over time, just as each side’s representation, outlook, and even definition changed, but there had been a certain consistency upheld throughout the last three or four years.

Roman’s was a theater, beautiful and ornate with a high-ceiling and perfect lighting, which of course always followed him. Logan’s was a planetarium, allowing the user to view any part of the night sky, and providing essentially all known information on astrology for those that wanted it. Patton had a garden, always filled with fresh produce and hundreds of different types of flowers; humble fountains and birdbaths were dotted along the narrow brick path that ran through the large space, at which he could often be found resting with a bunch of chrysanthemums. Remus’ was, predictably, a museum filled with almost innumerable odd and grotesque objects and devices from history- it also served as an art gallery, on occasion, offering a strange sort of beauty. Virgil’s had changed the most over the years, but it had seemed to settle on something of a vinyl record library, complete with bean bag chairs to lounge in while you listened: perfectly fitting for the hipster emo that he was at heart.

And that left Janus. Of course, no one besides the snake himself had ever seen his Extension, and for a good long time he’d intended it to stay that way. It was his business and nobody else’s- why should he want to invite someone into such a personal environment?

But then he went and made the mistake of falling for just the someone to answer that rhetorical question. Someone who would surely be overjoyed to see it, and whom Janus loved dearly enough to maybe possibly let him.

It was a ballroom. Obviously Roman would love something like that.

When Janus first began contemplating showing his boyfriend the Extension, he’d wanted to do something along the lines of a masquerade. He quickly deemed it excessive for Roman’s first visit, though. Just a standard setting, then! But, no, Janus didn’t want to have any of his prop people distracting his very easily distracted partner, so that was out of the question. So he would stay simple. Simple didn’t get a big reaction. Simple could be brushed under the rug if it went somehow awry (and was also less likely to go awry). Simple let him breathe.

Yet somehow it remained terrifying. Honestly, Deceit was second-guessing letting Roman in even as he was leading them down the lengthy hallway, feeling regret clawing at him with each muffled thump of his heeled boots on the carpet.

“I want to show you something.”

“Oh? And what would that be, Loveliest Lie of All?”

“You’ll see when we get there. Come along, before I change my mind.”

Janus extended a gloved hand, which Roman took with enthusiasm. He was raring to go without even the slightest idea what they were doing. It was a hopelessly endearing quality.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it but half as much as you.”

“Only half?” Janus teased, narrowly avoiding returning the ‘L’ word, yet again (he wanted to, God did he want to, but the word died on his tongue every time).

Roman didn’t bat an eye at his deflection, merely leaning forward with a sappy smile.

“Naturally; nothing can match you, my dear.”

Yeah, no, he was committed now. This was, without a doubt, happening. Janus continued to lead his boyfriend along the hall, fielding all questions until they finally came upon the door. It was far taller than the ones around it, colored a bright canary-yellow. The trait took a deep breath and turned to Roman, whose face was bright with recognition as to what kind of entryway this was.

“This is your-”

“Yes.”

“You’re really going to show me-”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Roman traced a hand down the door frame, as if it would shatter at a firmer touch. His eyes were wide with excitement, a grin stretching across his lips.

Janus felt as though his stomach were doing cartwheels.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” It was a genuine question; Deceit was open to suggestions for reasons to wait. But Roman clearly hadn’t picked up on the hesitance, too caught up in his own exuberance.

Janus took a deep breath. He pulled the door open, and the two sides were immediately enveloped by brilliant golden light.

The ballroom was a showy place, which mightn’t have seemed to be the deceitful trait’s nature, at first glance- but, oh, did Janus adore just a dash of gaudiness.

Roman already knew this about him. Roman knew a lot of things that took a careful eye and a lot of trust.

Janus took the first step forward, holding Creativity’s hand in his and leading him into the baroque construct. The door snapped shut behind them, leaving them in glowing light cast down from crystalline chandeliers. Above them arched the ceiling, displaying murals of greek myths in perfect detail. The paintings danced and shifted around each other, even moving down the walls, as they played out dozens of ancient stories. It was like an animated oil painting, however impossible that would sound to a real human.

Soft music filled the ballroom, drifting around the pair. Janus usually dressed his Extension up with fake guests; people of his own design for him to talk and laugh with. It felt safe, reassuring even, to be completely in control of things, including your compatriots. But now, the room was empty, save for him and his real guest. Janus turned his gaze back to Roman, trying to disguise his nervousness.

“Well?”

Roman crosses his arms over his chest. He clicks his tongue, giving the surroundings a sweeping glance. At best, he’s unimpressed, at worst, he’s outright disdainful.

“All that buildup, really, for this? What is even the point of such an Extension, Janus?” Roman’s intricately designed shoes clack against the hardwood floor as he further examines the room. He stops in the center, whirling to face Janus. “I’d hoped that this big reveal would make up for all of your other failings as a partner, but I suppose you’re just fated to disappoint me! And it took you months to show me this waste of architecture? Now, that’s just pathetic.”

With a scoff, Roman leaves.

The scene Janus had unconsciously played came to an abrupt end. He staggered, blinking his eyes back into focus. Roman wasn’t looking down at him, gaze cold and unwavering; rather, he was spinning around the room as he drank in the decorations. He quite looked like he’d never had a malicious thought in his entire life, joyful as he was.

“Oh, Jay, this is gorgeous! Not as much as you, of course- but it is just astounding,” he beamed at Janus, who offered a smirk in return and rolled his mismatched eyes (though he could feel the human side of his face flush bright at the compliment). Before he had a proper response, however, Roman’s gaze caught on something behind him. The trait crossed the room in just a few strides.

“Is that…?”

Janus turned on his heel and followed, his eyes landing on the painting that distracted his prince. The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, a colorful-yet-accurate depiction, ‘painted’ in a somewhat impressionist style. It was easily one of Janus’ favorite myths; evidently Roman was a fan just the same.

“I’m glad you like it,” the honesty was bitter on his tongue. It was well worth it. “I find mythology inspiring, to say the least.”

Creativity ran his hand along the mural, a giddy laugh escaping him. Without the slightest of warnings, he spun around and grabbed one of Janus’ hands in both of his.

“Lover, tell me, if you can- who’s gonna buy the wedding bands? Times being what they are. Hard and getting harder all the time,” his singing was elated and bubbly, the lilt of one well-familiar with the lyrics he recited. Janus laughed and leaned into his partner.

“You want to be Eurydice?”

“Just play along!”

Janus sighed, far too fond for the exasperation he’d been aiming for, and pulled Roman in close. He settled his hands at The Prince’s hips, leading them in a mostly formless dance.

“Lover, when I sing my song, all the rivers sing along. And they're gonna break their banks for me, to lay their gold around my feet. All a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand. The river’s gonna give us the wedding bands,” once, Roman had told him his voice was honey, slow and sweet. That conversation came back to him, bringing a lanquidity to his singing just so he could soak in the lovestruck expression it earned him.

“Lover, tell me, if you're able, who's gonna lay the wedding table? Times being what they are. Dark and getting darker all the time.”

Their simply patterned steps led them in wide circles around the room. Janus subconsciously let the jazz that usually rang across his ballroom slip away, only to be replaced with the instrumentals to their ballad.

“Lover, when I sing my song, All the trees gonna sing along, And bend their branches down to me, To lay their fruit around my feet. The almond and the apple, And the sugar from the maple. The trees gonna lay the wedding table.”

And so on they continued for the song’s duration- taking their turns with the lyrics, eyes only for each other despite the beauty of their surroundings.

When Janus reached the last line, he drew out the note until his voice faded to nothing more than a lingering hum of the tune. Softly, his standard background music returned to accompany them as the remnants of their duet slipped away.

They eased to a gentle sway. Roman dropped his head onto Janus’ shoulder with a sigh.

“Thank you.”

“What for, my dear?”

“Bringing me here. Trusting me,” Creativity mumbled into his collar.

“Of course,” Janus whispered, letting go of the side’s hips to properly wrap his arms around him.

Roman raised his head, just enough to look Deceit in the eyes.

“I love you,” he announced, open and honest and completely unexpectant- everything that Janus wasn’t. It was the same way he always said it; with a fierceness as though he was proving his point in an argument, yet somehow remaining gentle and caring. A mere statement, one that never even hinted at a need for response. It simply was, a fact thrown into the world with reckless abandon.

Nothing terrified Janus more. But, between the duet and Roman’s reaction to the Extension, Janus felt something a bit more foreign than fear welling in him.

Bravery.

“I love you, too.”

Roman pulls back from their embrace, a cruel laugh falling from his lips. He fixes Janus with a patronizing glare.

“Oh, you love me, do you? You sure know how to show it,” he taunts, backing further away from the snake. There is something dark that glints behind his eyes. “I only tell you that I love you a million times a day, to radio silence, and it’s only now you deign to reciprocate? Barely any fanfare, as though such a confession alone makes up for all the doubt you’ve brought me?”

Janus tries to speak, to make use of and flaunt his eloquence, to orchestrate those perfect sentences to craft himself some semblance of a defense. But all he can do is choke.

“I don’t know why I ever expected better from you. It’s obvious that you can’t change, Deceit.”

And Roman leaves.

Except he didn’t. It wasn’t real. Janus squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, blinking them open to see the real Roman- who, thankfully, seemed to be too preoccupied to take note of his… episode.

Roman was wide-eyed, completely still in Janus’ arms. He tilted back, and for a petrifying second the deceitful side thought he really was going to let go, but thankfully he didn’t go far. The Prince gripped tightly to Janus’ shoulders, holding on as if to keep himself steady. He let out a shaky laugh- soft and reverent and nothing like his nightmare version’s cackle. Because he wasn’t that, despite what Deceit’s mistrusting mind would try to convince him.

“You said it,” Roman said at last, his voice small but his smile wide.

“I’m aware,” finally, am I right? Janus bit his tongue on that. I’m sorry, he couldn’t find the strength to say. I mean it, I’ve meant it for so long, please believe me, also went unspoken. What he settled on was:

“This is the easiest thing in the world for me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Why? You tell me-” a shiver chased down his back, “-you tell me you love me a million times a day.”

“Yes, I do that. I suppose it’s just in my nature, after all. Regardless, it would be wrong of me to expect you act like me, because you’re you. And ‘you’ happens to be someone I love very, very much.”

Janus let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“... I love you, too.”

Roman chuckled, bonking his nose against Janus’ affectionately.

“Two in one day? I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

“Shut up, I’m only to make up for lost time. Don’t get used to it.”

“Of course not, my love.”

Janus sighed- relief, mostly, but infatuation crept its way into the sound. He picked up humming to the light melodies that played, resuming the swaying movements that had been forgotten in the face of confessions. Roman followed his lead, his grin delightfully infectious.

“We should get back soon,” the artistic trait admitted, sounding very much like he considered it someone else’s problem- one that he did not intend on concerning himself with, at that. Janus hummed, feigning deep thought. He let his head fall against Roman’s shoulder, eyes falling closed as he responded.

“Just one more song, Darling?”

“Oh, if you insist.”

“Insist I do.”

Roman stayed.

@shrimp-crockpot

#my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides #ts #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #roceit #ts janus #ts roman #roman #janus

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stellar-alley · 4 years

Text

Everfalls

•Chapter 18•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

(Summary: Does Stanley's sickness interfere with the Ancestors getting to the bus on time? Will they make it home in time for the full moon? Well you'll have to read and see! )

“He’s been sick since tuesday, we went out after school and he was all congested and sneezy” Richie filled the Losers in as they sat in a circle outside the room where Stan was.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Mike asked, disappointment tainted his voice.

Richie’s shoulders sagged, “come on guys, we know Stan, he always gets a little sick, brushes it off then recovers! How was I supposed to know it would end up being a big thing”.

“No one could’ve known. Don’t beat yourself up Rich” Ben put a comforting hand on the wolf’s shoulder.

“Thanks haystack” Richie nodded his head slowly.

The click of a door opening caught The Losers attention. They all turned to watch Mr Brock emerge from the room, they caught a single glimpse of Stan through the door crack before it shut completely.

“What’s the status doc?” Riche put on a voice which got him an elbow to the ribs from Eddie.

“Beep Beep” he grumbled. Eddie’s hands were tense, up by his chest, anxiously fiddling with his compass.

“Well, he is sick. We tried contacting his parents but the storm that rolled through last night knocked out the phone lines” Mr Brock explained.

Richie cast Eddie a glance, he remembered how he couldn’t call his parents previously.

Beverly stepped forward,“What’s gonna happen?” She asked with her arms crossed.

“Well we-“ Mr Brock started when the sound of another door bursting open stopped him mid sentence.

Mrs. Stuart stepped inside, “Everyone on the bus, the tide is rising ahead of schedule, we do not have much longer” she informed them.

“We aren’t leaving without Stanley” Bill stated as he straightened his posture. The rest of the Losers nodded in agreement.

“Well if he is still throwing up then we can’t have him on the bus” Mr Brock shook his head sadly, “there’s nothing I can do”.

“I-I am fine” Everyone turned to find Stan had dragged himself from bed and had leaned up against the doorframe behind them. His face was pale, the bags under his eyes were darker than previously and his usual straight posture was unusually low.

“Stanley I don’t believe that that’s a good idea” Mr Brock worried.

Stan sharply inhaled, tierd of the bullshit, “I said I was fucking fine so lets just get on the damn bus, alright?”. He was tired but also worried, Stan knew Eddie and Richie needed to get home before the moon rose.

After the rest of The Losers got in on it, and they were all able to force them to allow Stan on, as long as he had a garbage bin in range the whole time. He agreed so they shoved a dollar store garbage bin into his arms and rushed the group onto the bus. They barely had enough time to get settled before the bus driver hit the gas and began on their way to the main rocky road.

“Shit” The bus driver cursed as he raked his hand through his thinning hair. “Brock? We’re too late” he sighed as Mr Brock rushed from his seat to the front of the bus to inspect the road. Which wasn't really a road anymore as it meshed perfectly with the ocean around it.

“Shit” Brock repeated.

“Language!” Richie shouted from the back seat.

Mr Brock had to withhold the urge to flip off his student. Instead he curled his fingers into tight fists and sighed.

Eddie elbowed Richie as a means of telling him to shut up as he shot him a look of daggers. Richie laughed lightly before he met Eddie’s gaze, that’s when it dawned on him, what this meant.

“Oh shit”.

“Okay guys so good news! We were able to get rooms for everyone in the castle’s hotel!” Mr Brock tried so hard to sound excited but everyone could tell he was stressed.

The two Ancestors snapped to face each other. “What the hell are we gonna do?” Eddie demanded, voice low and tense.

Richie’s face scrunched up in confusion, “How the hell am I supposed to know! I’ve never done this before”.

“Get a room you two” Stan groaned in his sick nasally voice from the seat in front of them. Without another word Stan turned, sat on his knees and leaned over his seat to face them. “Why don’t you two just fucking sneak out of the hotel and shift on the beach?” Stan suggested.

The other two shared a look of confusion, “You could hear us?” Richie quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes I'm pretty sure my cousins in Hawkins could hear you. So next time you plan to discuss your full moon activities, keep it down” He advised before turning back around and sliding down into his seat.

“It’s not a bad idea though” Eddie contemplated the idea as Richie shoved his hand up into his snapback and ruffled his hair while still keeping his hat securely on his head.

Richie looked around then responded, “Okay fine, plus I bet it’ll be just us in the room so it’ll be easy as hell to sneak out-“.

Mr Brock stood in front of the class in the lobby of the castle “Sadly there were only a limited number of rooms left so four people per room, everyone group together”.

The Losers looked between each other. That’s the one thing that kinda sucked about their lucky number, seven is an odd number, which meant that whenever they had to split up, the numbers were always off.

Richie and Eddie immediately stood together. Stan glanced at them and shuffled beside them, knowing they might need his help. Bill caught on and stepped beside them, because he wanted to keep an eye on those two, but also because Stan was his bestest friend after all. But in the end all The Losers just stood in one group.

Eddie leaned towards Richie, “We cannot room with Bill”.

“We’ll figure it out later, just act normal” Richie hushed him. Though he put on a relaxed face, he couldn’t help but check the time on his phone. It was 4 pm, the time they were supposed to be home at. The moon rose at 8, so they had a couple hours before they had to get out.

Slowly but surely Mr Brock and the other teachers approved and handed out keys to different rooms. When he finally reached The Losers he haulted with a sigh, “Sorry guys we said four per room, and Beverly, you need to room with people of the same sex” He said semi apogoltically.

Beverly groaned and tilted her head to look upwards, “Fuck my life” She rolled her eyes. “Welp looks like Imma go sleep in the bushes, peace” She held up a peace sign then walked a couple steps away backwards before turning and heading off on her way.

Before she could get very far someone who was vaguely familiar to Beverly walked up behind her and lightly tapped her on the shoulder. Bev turned around and saw a girl from her grade, someone she’s pretty sure she’s seen with Eddie before.

“Hey uh- Sorry I just saw you didn’t have a group and I was wondering if you wanted to join my group. We uh- just need one more person” She smiled warmly. She had brown hair that fell just below her shoulders in soft curls. She wore a shirt she swore she picked up herself at Hot Topic once, it was a black button up with cute line art of crystals on it.

“Sure… Yeah” Beverly slowly nodded then continued, “thanks-?” She questioned carefully.

“Alley” She supplied happily, “My group is over this way” Alley said as she showed Bev over to where he group was standing.

Sadly Ben and Mike were put into a group with two guys they didn’t know very well, Boris and Theo, they seemed oddly familiar but they kinda kept to themselves.

After everyone was shown their rooms, which all consisted of two queen beds, a couch, a tv, and a desk. Nothing too fancy but it was enough. The one thing that sucked was that the rooms didn’t have their own bathrooms. If you needed to go, then you’d have to go to the one that your floor shared. Since no one had any clothes to unpack, since they didn’t plan to stay the night, the four just kinda sat on their beds as Stan cradled his trash bin.

At 5 they were called down to have dinner in the dining hall. The table clothes were white lace and their silverware had exquisite floral designs on them. It was obviously not meant for a group of highschoolers.

While they ate there was some soft elevator like music that played in the background which was mixed with the sounds of low murmurs from the students. The kids spoke in hushed voices as they were slightly intimidated by how underdressed they all felt compared to the decorations of the room and the outfits of the staff.

“Yo would it be bad if I just let one rip right now?” Richie asked the Losers. Eddie rolled his eyes. Stan’s stomach turned at the idea of what that would smell like. Ben, Bev and Mike giggled to themselves while Bill focused on the food on his fork.

Bill was aimlessly channel surfing when Richie did a small backflip, rolling deeper back onto the bed before leaping to his feet and jumping on the bed.

“What? What are you doing?” Eddie questioned as he tilted his head back to look at Richie.

“Jumping!” He said simply.

Eddie rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone from his pocket, typing up a quick message before sending it off.

Eddie: WTF are we supposed to do about Bill?

Richie felt his phone vibrate in his pocket so instead of bouncing again he fell on his butt and checked his messages.

Richie: Wait a minute, I have an idea.

A couple moments passed before Richie abruptly got up from the bed and rushed out the door, firmly shutting the door behind him.

“S’he okay?” Stan mumbeled from where he sat hunched over the bin on the other bed.

Eddie shrugged, “Dunno”. He turned his head just in time to catch the weird glare he was getting from Bill. He quickly snapped his gaze down to his lap where his hands were aimlessly playing with the chain of his compass. With his anxiety levels high, and the fucking full moon rising, hsi viens had turned black again. He shoved them into his pockets and hopped Bill didn’t notice.

Richie waited in the bathroom for about 10 minutes before he left and made his way back to the room. He opened the door with a sigh and made sure he walked slowly up to the others.

“Guys I’m sorry but Eddie and I gotta go” Richie pulled his pants up uncomfortably.

“W-Why?” Bill stood up.

“Well… Last night I had mexican food, and the trash stomach isn’t happy about it. So I-uh, gotta be in a room closer to the bathroom” Richie informed them with an embarrassed tone.

“Why the hell would you do that? You know Mexican doesn't agree with you” Stan played along with the act.

“Right…” Bill nodded. “Then why do-does Eddie have to go?” He added.

“I-I need… support. Yep, that’s it, I need emotional support” Richie lied on the spot.

Eddie withheld a sigh, mentally face palming. But either way, he got up and stood by Richie’s side.

The wolf’s face fell “Sorry guys I feel another wave coming-” he announced before fleeing the room, Eddie in tow. The door closed with a slam and they didn’t stop until they were in the bathroom. Richie locked the door behind them with a sigh.

“Yeah cause this doesn't seem weird” Eddie commented.

“What do you want from me? This is the best I could come up with on such short notice” Richie looked down at his hands, they were the same as Eddie’s, black veins and all. He ripped his snapback off and started fanning himself, “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” He asked.

“Nope, it’s the moon” Eddie checked the time, 7:30. “We gotta get out of here, and fast” His ears were sweating from underneath his beanie which seemed to make his head way too hot at that moment.

Richie laced his fingers with Eddie’s then hovered his other hand over the doorknob, bracing himself, “Lay low alright? Anyone questions us, we say you need air because of your asthma”. Eddie nodded.

The werewolf squeezed his boyfriend’s hand with one hand and ran his other hand through his hair. His wolf ears immediately perked up. He closed his eyes and listened, carefully, he tried to pick up any sounds from behind that door and in the hallway ahead of them. The soft shuffling of foot steps filled the air, soon followed by the click of a door shutting. Richie waited a minute before he slid his hat back on, opened the door and stepped out. The two quietly tiptoed on the plush carpet that lined the floor of the castle’s hallway.

Halfway to the stairs, Eddie halted and clutched his abdomen. “Fuck” He gasped.

Richie reached a hand out but it was slapped away by Eddie.

“I’m fine. Just hurts. We need to hurry” He whispered through gritted teeth.

Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand but continued on. When they reached the metal door to the stairs Eddie stepped in front of Richie and with a swift flick of his wrist the door magically opened just enough for them to slip through, closing quietly behind them.

Rushing down the stairs they shared the same pain that shot through their bodies every time their feet hit the floor. They burst into the main lobby, relieved to see that no one was at the main desk desk and the lounge area was empty. They rushed past the fancy leather seats and the artifact cases. Eddie held his hand out to open the door when the sound of a lady clearing her throat stopped them dead in their tracks.

“Well well well, someone out for a late night stroll?” Elizah’s british accent sent shivers down Eddie’s spine. He’d heard her give speeches countless times in the past but her voice never failed to bring goosebumps to his arms. “Please turn around, it’s very disrespectful to not face someone when you’ve been spoken to, epssesually an elder” Her voice was like an ice dagger, cold and lethal.

Hesitantly the two Ancestors turned to face her. Immediately she scanned the two boys. A faint smirk spread over her lips but she spoke before either of them could examine it further. “See if I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed that you were one of our runaway Ancestors.” She paused to think, “Eddie Kaspbrak was his name… But oh no, that simply cannot be, as he’s supposed to be dead”.

Richie tightened his grip on Eddie’s hand.

“But as I said, he was a runaway.” She took a couple steps towards them, hands behind her back then moved to settle them onto her hips. “Runways always find their way back, don’t they, Edward” She sneered.

Eddie’s eyes widened as his jaw fell slack, unable to properly respond. He could feel Richie growl as it reverberated throughout his body. It began in his chest and spilled out from his mouth.

She continued before either of the boys could speak up, “And who might you be, a young were-“.

“Boys?”

The rabbit and the wolf turned to the familiar voice.

“What’s going on? You two are supposed to be in your rooms” Mr Brock stepped out from one the shadows of the various hallways. Confusion covered his face as he approached the boys.

“Eddie’s asthma was acting up, he needed some fresh air a-and our window didn't open” Richie spit out, a nervous sweat breaking out under his hat, that unsettled feeling suddenly turned up a notch.

“Oh well is everything better now?” Their teacher worried.

Eddie still couldn’t speak, his mind was running a mile a minute. She knew, the council knew. Suddenly all of his worst nightmares were becoming a reality.

“Yes, yes. He’s much better. But uh, sir would you mind escorting me and my dearest friend back to our room. We seem to have forgotten the key, we left in a hurry” Richie almost slipped into one of his voices. But with all things considered, he opted to keep things mature and serious. He anxiously grasped his key in his pocket. He hadn't forgotten it. It never left his pocket since the moment they entered the room, but he knew that Elizah wouldn’t make a move in front of Mr Brock, their teacher, a human.

Mr Brock seemed taken aback by Richie’s new tone, “Oh, of course” he nodded, extending an arm for the boys to follow him.

Without missing a beat the two left Elizah in the lobby and followed their teacher back to their room. The walk was quiet, Mr Brock kept up a steady pace a couple feet ahead.

Richie carfully rubbed his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand as a way to sooth him as their inevitable transformations would have to wait a little longer. When they reached their room, they thanked Mr Brock as he opened the door. He also closed it behind them, they quickly locked it behind them.

Bill had been sitting on the bed, his foot hadn't stopped tapping against the carpeted floor of their hotel room since Richie and Eddie left.

A quiet knock interrupted whatever show they weren’t watching on TV. They both stood Before the door opened, surprised to see their two friends, and their teacher standing at the door.

“H-Hey” Bill said as the two entered the room.

Stan placed the garbage bin on the ground beside him, “Is everything alright?” questioned.

Richie started, “Yep, all is fine-”

“How the hell can you say that?” Eddie ripped his hand from Richie grasp, he shook his entire body as if it would rid himself of the past 10 minutes.

Richie sighed, his temper rising “Eddie can we not right now? We need to get the hell out of here, now”.

“W-Why? What’s guh-going on?” Bill stepped towards them.

“Not now” Richie growled, his yellow eyes practically pierced Bill’s soul, sending shivers down his spine.

“Hey” Eddie grabbed the wolf’s wrist, grabbing his attention. “Let’s go,” He demanded. He nodded his head towards the window.

Without another word the Ancestors stepped up to the window. They opened the latch but the window was sealed shut, Richie barling had to focus to use his strength, opening it with ease while Stan and Bill watched nervously. The moon’s raw power coursed through his veins, the power simply sat at his fingertips now, begging to be used.

Stanley spoke up, concerned about his friends “Wait where are you going-”.

“Stan, cover for us? Alright? And whatever you do, do not talk to Elizah Brightmoon” Richie explained before he stuck his head out the window, the drop was about 20 feet from their second story hotel room. “We can make it,” He said to Eddie who nodded.

Stan’s brow furrowed, “Wait what? Why? She’s the-”.

“She’s the leader of the council” Eddie put it simply, watching Richie stick his legs out the window and sit on the ledge.

No more questions were asked cause right after Richie dropped out of the window. The cool night air rushed past him before he landed on his feet. He took a second to regain his balance. Then he walked away from the hotel to make room for Eddie he watched as his boyfriend lingered momentarily on the window ledge before leaping down and joining Richie.

“What’d they say?” Richie asked as they began walking together towards the beach, away from the town.

“Just Bill being Bill” Eddie sighed, shaking his head.

When Eddie jumped, Bill and Stan rushed to the window and watched as their friend landed on his feet. They studied Eddie and Richie who began walking towards a location they didn’t know.

“They better make it” Stan muttered under his breath, but Bill heard.

“D-Do you know ab-about them?” He turned to face Stan.

“Umm, no?” Stan shrugged, really not wanting to lie.

“That’s such bullsh-hit Stanley and you know it” Bill snapped, he pointed a finger at Stan’s chest.

Stan refrained from meeting Bill’s gaze, instead he looked over his shoulder, out into the property surrounding the town. He caught something out of the corner of the window, someone. “Shit” Stanley cursed. He pushed past Bill to stand in front of the open window.

Bill didn’t wait to find what Stanley was looking at, his brows furrowed as he watched a lady in a long trench coat follow in the same direction that Richie and Eddie went. “Is that-“.

“Yes” The curly haired teen confirmed.

Bill twisted around to face the other, “We need to help them” he said, determination written all over his voice.

“What? But Bill you-“

“They’re still our friends. And they need us” There was no stutter in Bill’s voice.

Stan nodded a little, “Assemble the Losers” He declared.

Word Count: 3524

Guys I cannot believe there are only like 4 chapters left to everfalls, I think- I uh suck at math so enjoy that. But seriously next chapter- the rest of the chapters are all amazing. I mean they're all amazing but the next chapters are the final so they're just insanely better. So be excited for that!

Don't forget to like and comment, it really shows you care and wanna see more! But seriously thank you all for the support I've already gotten cause it means so much to me. Also go check out my new one shot Bubble Baths and Wet Cats, if you like tooth-rotting fluff and cats then that's the fic for you!

That's all from me y'all, so until next time,

So Long and Goodnight!

[Taglist]

@richietoaster @s-onora @that-weird-girl-blog @beproudtozier @ghostnebula @bellarosewrites @s-s-georgie @lermanslogan @iamcupcakefrosting @madidraw @gazebobullshit @thoughtfullyyoungduck @aangzukos @ambitiousskychild @reddieonwheels @breadheadscorpius

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

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iwritethat · 5 years

Text

Damian Wayne: Expectations

A/N: I have no idea where this came from but I wrote it anyway.

Warnings: Like 1 swear word

>>>>——————————>

Life in Gotham could be difficult, horrific and down right dangerous - so like any other kid who had been living it rough you turned to crime. Firstly creating an alias for yourself equip with fitted black costume as the colour made it easier to move through Gotham at night, it consisted of a hood and bandana to cover your face and conceal your identity. You took up minor theft, so by the time you reached your teenage years you were now a seasoned professional - you had perfected 'slight of hand', acquired fighting skills as well as being very good with disguising yourself to gain entrance to otherwise unreachable areas/events.

Most of the time it was thievery from those who seemed more wealthy, you considered it better to steal from the wealthier population rather than the poor as they would need their money more - though you were a criminal you did have some values intact. This time however was unusual, Catwoman had asked for your assistance on a job, you had met Catwoman before on numerous occasions and got on quite well but you didn't expect her to ever ask for your help, clearly she thought very highly of your abilities.

As a result, after robbing a museum of a cat sculpture you found yourself standing on a rooftop waiting for the promised payment your partner was currently handing you.

"Catwoman, you're going to have to return that." A deep voice sounded from behind you, sending a string of curse words through your head.

Surprise surprise, you turned to find the Dark Knight accompanied by Robin who had joined you on the building.

"Who are you?" The sidekick asked bluntly taking a step toward you.

"Hm, wouldn't you like to know?" You quickly replied, matching the arrogant tone meanwhile Catwoman looked genuinely amused. Your temporary partner, clearly unwilling to simply hand over the stolen goods, began to flirt with Batman - apparently reoccurring behaviour judging by Robins foul expression.

"They do this often then?" You commented, observing the two adults.

"Too often. You still didn't answer my question thief." Robin replied, getting into a defensive stance mirroring his mentor.

"It's (v/n) - thief is just rude birdboy." You earned a growl before he came at you with his katana.

Though you weren't specifically trained in any martial arts, you picked up a thing or two by watching others or brief involvements with street gangs which allowed you to hold your own somehow. Instinctively, you pulled out your daggers to clash with the oncoming blade before kicking Robin in the abdomen and running for it. Successfully, you made your escape without being followed equip with money from Catwoman and so, you made you way 'home'.

Over the next few weeks, you had various encounters with Robin which you found peculiar as there were far more dangerous villains out there that required his attention but here he was again - confronting you about the deal you’d just completed, selling off a rich mans watch for a very good price.

"Why are you doing this?" The vigilante asked, arms crossed as he blocked your path.

"Because it pays well? I'm not quite sure what you expected." You sarcastically remarked, scanning the area for an exit.

"You seem like a good person, from my observations you only rob the wealthy. You should use your skills for something more productive." He commented, noticing your glare.

"Uh huh. You're like the same age as me Robin, you can't tell me what I should be doing. Besides, I didn't have the perfect life, I highly doubt you grew up on the streets - you can't exactly get 'productive' with that, I wouldn't have these skills otherwise. So sorry hero! If this was all part of the ‘turning me to the good side’ plan - you've failed." You defended, venom lacing your tone despite the mockery situated there. It was possible that you were a little harsh but you didn't need this at the moment, you had somewhere urgent to be.

Robin released a frustrated sigh meanwhile you put your plan of escape into action, you hopped onto the dumpster to the left, grabbing the metal ladder that lead to the staircase running up the side of the apartments. You slipped through an open window muttering a string of apologies as you ran through the now startled woman's apartment and out the front door, you made your way out of the building through the fire escape.

Checking your surroundings you discovered you'd lost the Batman's sidekick allowing relief to flood your body, though you were growing more suspicious - it shouldn't be that easy to escape Robin but it was almost like he let you get away in all of the times you'd encountered him after your first meeting. You had seen him fight other villains on the news and take them down with a degree of brutality, yet with you things never escalated to that level. Robin was obviously a better fighter and had beat you many times, brought you the police station handcuffed at least twice but never really hurt you.

Shaking your head out of the trance, you entered the old corner shop you'd made your way to and collected the items you needed. Walking over to the familiar owner of the small shop, you were greeted with a warm smile, you'd expect a form of hostility from anyone else considering your vigilante attire but upon visiting the shop on multiple occasions they soon realised you weren't a threat and never caused any trouble.

"Quite a lot of chocolate today (v/n)." The owner commented politely, knowing exactly what it was for.

"Mhm, everyone deserves a treat now and then - even me." You replied handing over some of the recently attained cash and taking the bag of items. Next you intended to return 'home'.

Unbeknownst to you Robin was tailing you, Damian was undeniably curious about you for some strange reason and had decided to follow you this time. After finding out about part of your childhood he wanted to understand why you did this, he assumed you had a home with an unstable background/parent and provided financial support though soon realised he was somewhat mistaken.

Once you left the store now carrying a bag you made your way to an old apartment building, Damian continued to follow, watching from the building opposite as you entered one of the 4th floor apartments. The area of Gotham was quite run down meaning rent wasn't expensive and you managed to maintain clean, suitable living conditions despite your situation.

"(Y/N) is back!" A young voice yelled, filled with excitement as you strolled through, placing the bag on the table.

Damian was puzzled, a small group of young children raced over to your figure which was soon lost in an array of hugs, one jumped on your back another two hugged your sides while others screamed with enjoyment.

"Yeah yeah, I missed you kids too." You happily greeted, kneeling down causing them to slowly release you.

Robin perched in the darkness now connecting everything together, you pulled down your hood and then removed your bandana, revealing your identity. Damian was stunned, the dim lighting highlighted your features perfectly and the smile you wore made you all the more beautiful.

"What did you bring us this time (y/n)?!" One girl chirped, standing hopefully in front of you.

"Hmm, well I brought some fruit, vegetables, soap, toothpaste..." You playfully listed, though the kids were grateful, they weren't exactly ecstatic to hear about the vegetables.

"And chocolate!" You grinned, excitement lacing your voice - pulling it out of the bag, the children immediately erupted into squeals and cheers taking a bar each.

Robin took this opportunity to slip through the window behind you making his presence known with a cough. You froze for a second, knowing that he probably knew you're identity now and where you lived - still, you recovered and turned around, the kids also taking notice of the unfamiliar company.

"Shit!" A child yelled from behind you, panic evident.

"Jake - language!" You whisper yelled, the children now gathered behind you.

"You're in a lot of trouble (v/n)." Robin sternly stated.

To your surprise a young girl quickly stepped in front of you spreading out her arms as a guard.

"No Robin! You can't take her away, I know she's bad sometimes but she only does it for us. Please don't take her to prison!" The girl pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.

Next was the boy, Jake, who ran to your side (chocolate long forgotten) and grabbed your arm.

"She isn't a hero like you or - or Batman but she's not a bad guy!" He claimed, also jumping to your defence.

"Yes! (V/N) is our hero, (y/n) protects us like you protect other people s-so there!" Another girl argued from behind you.

You and Robin were both shocked at the children's reactions, you found it heartwarming that they were defending you before one of their biggest heroes yet weren’t sure if their testimony’s would’ve be valid enough.

"I'm not taking (y/n) to prison." Robin boredly sighed, though he probably should - but you hadn't committed crimes at the same severity as the Penguin and you had legit reasons, so he took the opportunity to persuade you to take a more legal route.

Upon hearing Robin's assurance, the children calmed themselves dissipating into the apartment, finding suitable places to watch the scene unfold. You crossed your arms leaning on a nearby counter and looked to Robin expectantly - not having anything to say yourself.

"This is why you do it then?" He inquired, but it came off as more of a statement.

You nodded, observing the 3 children sitting on the couch while others scattered through the apartment.

"I try to take care of them when they need me, I'm pretty sure they live on the streets so I provide for them the best I can when they come to stay. But when they do, I need extra cash - with studying and my job I can just afford rent and the basics for myself. I steal so they don't have to, I want them to grow up 'good' I suppose." Robin listened carefully as he too looked at the children.

Silence.

"So... There you have it bird boy, I grew up on the streets but want them to have a better life than I had. The end." You calmly explained, your tone getting more defensive as you went on.

"You're not what I expected." Robin admitted confidently.

"Oh really? And what did you expect?" You countered, smiling with a challenging hint to your voice.

"It doesn't matter. I think you could be of assistance to me, obtain information and getting into secured areas etc. In exchange I can offer my assistance." The sidekick clearly proposed, observing the consideration dashing across your features.

"...Maybe.”

Within the next few weeks that's how it happened, you would assist Robin on select cases and in return he'd bring over extra supplies for any kids that decided to visit. Today was one of those days, you came in from work to find the children swarming around Robin who probably had to leave for patrol. Upon seeing you they rushed over with hugs and "Welcome home!"s before returning to their activities.

"What did you bring them this time Robin?" You curiously greeted, he threw the bag over to you which was effortlessly caught, after looking inside you nodded and placed it on the counter.

Out of gratitude, you made way to Robin and gave him a hug to display such thankfulness as you felt words weren’t quite enough this time.

"Thanks for everything bird boy." You added and pulled away from him.

"You're welcome?" Robin replied, still bewildered due to the sudden contact that it sounded as though he was questioning himself.

"So are you boyfriend and girlfriend now?" One of the girls mischievously inquired appearing out of nowhere.

"Uh - n-no. No." You briskly stuttered knowing you were blushing and attempted to conceal it to the best of your ability.

"(Y/N) is very beautiful but we are not dating." Robin answered in a much less embarrassing manner compared to you. You flushed deeper upon hearing the compliment, of course the sidekick quickly noticed your behaviour causing a smirk to appear.

Robin headed toward the window to leave for his previously mentioned patrol, though the young girl followed him and gently tugged on his cape gaining his attention.

She moved her hand to the side of her mouth so only Robin could hear her whisper "I think you should ask her out!"

"TT, I will." He assured her before disappearing into the night, finding that he’d have to learn to expect the unexpected when it came to your mismatched adopted family.

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #dc #dc imagine #robin #robin imagine #robin x reader

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icecoldflames · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4 - The Mystery of Sanders Castle

Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

***

Present Day, England

Classes were the same ones Roman would have done in America but somehow he was looking forward to these ones. Unfortunately, he had to wait for last period with Ms. Yano’s history class. He supposed he should be lucky—he could’ve had her class tomorrow.

His first class was with the first man he had been introduced to yesterday, Mr. Divan for science. Obviously, for the first class of the year, nothing was really taught. Most of it was rules and introductions. Roman learned that Mr. Divan had travelled pretty much everywhere. To Tanzania, Singapore, Bulgaria, Paraguay, Laos, Taiwan, and so many other countries. Mr. Divan showed a quick presentation of photographs he had taken and Roman had loved it so much that he had asked him, after class, if he would send the presentation to him so he could look more closely at the pictures.

The next class was English which was taught by a short, older man named Mr. Losnedahl. Oskar was in that class.

Math taught by Ms. Cirenza (Satomi in that class) and Creative Writing with Ms. Wren flew by so quickly that Roman felt like he blinked and they were both over.

If this was how his days would go, Roman wished he could slow time because soon he’d be on the plane ride home back to America for summer.

On his way to Ms. Yano’s class, Roman bumped into Maxime also on his way to her class. “How has your day been?” Roman asked him excitedly, feeling his body beginning to buzz. He had been looking forward to this moment since last evening.

“It was good,” Maxime said simply.

Roman was still not used to how un-chatty Maxime was. So far, the longest conversation he had had with his roommate was about Harry Potter yesterday morning.

“Do you have any classes with Oskar?” Roman tried again. “He and I share science and math class.”

“Yeah, English and my nature class.”

They arrived at Ms. Yano’s class and, when Roman walked in, he was momentarily blown away by all the art and portraits hung on the walls and the patterned tapestry hung like a makeshift ceiling. Most of the rooms in the castle were high-ceilinged, very open and large. But the tapestry made the whole classroom seem like some kind of den. Like a cottage in the middle of a flower field.

Roman would meet the rest of his teachers tomorrow but he knew that none of their classrooms would compare to Ms. Yano’s.

Ms. Yano herself stood over to the side, speaking quietly to a student who Roman recognized as Spencer from math class.

Ms. Yano was of average height and her black hair was cut severely at her shoulders. She wore blood red lipstick that made her look like some kind of vampire. But it oddly suited her. She was, however, no doubt Satomi’s mom for she had practically the same face as her.

The desks were in pairs and Roman and Maxime found a spot together near the front without a word being uttered between them. Roman began opening up his notebook and made sure there was enough lead in his mechanical pencil to last the whole class. If Ms. Yano would be spilling the tea on the Sanders’ and Scharf’s then he couldn’t have any issues with writing all of it down.

Maxime looked confusedly at the opened notebook. “Is she the type of teacher to teach on the first day?” He hesitantly began opening up his own notebook and pencil case.

“Oh, no. At least, I haven’t heard anything about that. But I’m hoping she’ll shed some light on the royal family who used to live in this castle and the family who used to live in the castle across the woods.”

Maxime seemed to want to say a lot of things at once. “What castle across the woods…? Oh, are you talking about those ruins?”

“Ruins?” Roman’s eyes grew wide. No one said anything about ruins. What had happened to the Scharf’s castle?

At that exact moment, Spencer and Ms. Yano seemed to finish their conversation and Spencer sat themself down next to another student near the back of the classroom.

Ms. Yano fixed a small pile of papers on her desk before finally looking at her last class of the day. Her eyes drifted over her students and then stopped at Roman’s face. Her whole body froze and she looked like she stopped breathing. Roman was fully prepared to help her if something happened.

Ms. Yano blinked once and then she seemed fine. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she had momentarily stopped breathing.

Roman couldn’t help but feel that he had caused whatever had happened to Ms. Yano. She had been looking at the class and stopped at Roman. Unless it was some kind of horrible coincidence.

Disappointingly, the class was like all the rest he had been to that day. Introductions. Roman learned Ms. Yano’s first name (Akemi), where she was born (Japan), her husband’s name and occupation (Stan, a freelance artist), and even her favourite colour (red). But Roman learned absolutely nothing about the Sanders’ or the Scharf’s.

Roman had been patient enough to wait for today but waiting another day and possibly more? He didn’t think he could take it.

So, once class was dismissed for the day he told Maxime that he was going to ask Ms. Yano a question and that he could go on. Maxime was probably glad to be away from Roman’s extroverted self anyway.

As the room emptied, Roman walked over to Ms. Yano’s desk like a fish swimming upstream.

Roman was about to ask about the Sanders when Ms. Yano suddenly stood up and gave a tight smile to him. “Roman, do you want to go for a walk to the library?”

Roman’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. “The library?” He repeated. Could Ms. Yano read his mind? Or did Satomi tell her mom about his interest in the Sanders’? That was a possibility. “I was going to ask about the Sanders’ and if you could tell me about them. I know that you’re going to tell us about it in class but I’m beyond curious. I have to know.”

Ms. Yano nodded and she pursed her lips, looking at Roman so oddly that he wondered if he had anything stuck in his teeth. “Yes, I’ll tell you on the way to the library.” And then she began walking.

“As you probably know, the last royals who lived in this beautiful castle were the Sanders’. This consisted of King James, Queen Alice, and Prince Logan,” Ms. Yano began, slowing her walking just slightly. Roman listened very carefully, not wanting to miss a detail.

“When the prince was around 19, he was put into an arranged marriage with the eldest princess from Betrug, just across the woods.” She gestured to her left where Roman assumed the Scharf’s castle to be. “The Scharf’s. It’s said that they got along just fine. Her name was Philomena and she brought her brother, the crown prince, Virgil Scharf to their first meeting.

“Prince Virgil was in an arranged marriage, himself. To a princess from France. Anyway, that’s not necessarily important to this story. The two princes were said to be very close, like best friends. Philomena and Logan got along just fine as well, acting much more like friends than lovers but, then again, they were practically strangers to one another.

“When Logan visited the Scharf’s a couple weeks later, some of the citizens there took Philomena hostage—” Ms. Yano suddenly stopped short and Roman blinked. He felt as though he had just woken up from a long nap and was trying to remember where he was.

They had passed the library doors and Ms. Yano had led them down a deadend hallway where he assumed no one really went. Roman glanced up at Ms. Yano, perplexed, but the teacher seemed transfixed on something else. Her face was tilted up and Roman followed her gaze up the wall where a massive portrait was hung.

“It’s me,” Roman breathed.

“No,” Ms. Yano said, shaking her head softly. She pointed to the gilded metal nameplate at the bottom of the portrait. “It’s Prince Logan.”

Roman sucked in his breath. “Prince Logan?” He repeated, in awe. “We could’ve been twins.”

Logan, maybe late teens, was sitting on the steps of a gazebo that Roman remembered looking at when he explored the gardens outside with Patton earlier that morning. His face was serious and his light brown hair was brushed back. He was surrounded by dark blue flowers. And, although Roman was 14, there was no mistaking how uncanny the resemblance was between him and Prince Logan.

“Roman, how well do you know your ancestry?” Ms. Yano asked, tearing her gaze away from the portrait and, instead, looking back at Roman.

Roman rubbed his chin. “Well, my dad has Irish roots and my mom, well, my mom’s mom was adopted, just like Patton is, and my mom’s dad has Scottish roots.” He paused. “Do you think I’m related to Prince Logan?” The idea seemed so surreal coming out of his mouth and, had Prince Logan not looked exactly like Roman, he wouldn’t have believed it himself.

“Does your mom know anything about her mom?” Ms. Yano asked and Roman tried to think of anything. But nothing came to mind.

“No, my grandmother died a couple of years ago. She was adopted as a toddler so I don’t think she would’ve remembered anything anyway,” Roman replied.

Ms. Yano sighed and stayed silent.

Roman was about to ask Ms. Yano to finish her story. Did they ever get Philomena back in time for the wedding? What about Prince Virgil?

But another teacher Roman didn’t recognize hurried up to Ms. Yano. “Akemi! The staff meeting is about to start!”

Ms. Yano pursed her lips and she glanced at the watch around her wrist. “Of course,” she muttered and looked down at Roman apologetically. “I’m sorry, Roman. I have to go.” She gestured to the library. “I suggest you take a look in the library. They have a couple of books on Prince Logan that you might enjoy.” She hurried off and Roman was left alone with the picture of Prince Logan staring down at him.

At this point, Roman was desperate. He had been given a little taste of the story of Prince Logan and he would do just about anything to know the end. He made his way out of the hallway, looked at the library, and sighed as he made his way inside.

The library was nice, Roman supposed. It was definitely old and he sneezed almost as soon as he entered. He asked the librarian where the books on Prince Logan were and she directed him to the back of the library.

Libraries were not Roman’s thing. He found them too silent and foreboding. And way too serious. But he needed to know what happened to Prince Logan and the Scharf siblings.

He kept his steps quiet as he progressed deeper and deeper into the library. It was nearly empty, Roman only passing a couple of students. Some of them weren’t even reading, they were just speaking in hushed voices.

Roman supposed it was better than hanging out in the bathroom, which a lot of kids at his old school used to do which was just disgusting and weird.

Finally, he made it to the back of the library where an unlit stone fireplace was. On either side of it was a reading nook where two massive leather armchairs were placed, a wooden, round table between them.

In the nook to Roman’s left, he recognized Satomi reading a brown book. She was upside down in the armchair, her legs sticking out over the back rest. She seemed very interested in her book as her face was scrunched up.

Satomi glanced up, as though she could detect someone near her. “Hi Roman,” she greeted, pulling her legs back down and sitting up normally. “Are you here for books on the Sanders’?”

Roman nodded and took the armchair opposite her. He sank into the chair, and felt as though he could sleep in them. He might come to the library more often just to sit in the armchairs. “Yeah.” He gestured to the book she was holding, a finger keeping her page. “What book are you reading?”

“Ronan M.V. Gighe-Lapillio’s biography,” Satomi responded, flashing Roman a view of the brown cover.

“Ronan M.V. who-now?” Roman tried to repeat. It was almost as confusing as Dumbledore’s full name. “Who’s that?”

“The founder of Violet Branch,” Satomi said with a shrug. “Although it’s rumoured that Ronan was just a pseudonym.”

There were so many mysteries that they were beginning to make Roman’s head spin. “Well, wouldn’t people know his real name anyway?”

“You’d think so, but no. Ronan was a secretive and private man and no one ever saw him, at least, not without knowing. He made no public appearances but it was said that he was a fast worker and an even faster runner, able to be in one place before being in another, totally different place a couple minutes later.”

Roman couldn’t help but have the thought that Ronan was just one letter away from his own name. Maybe it was just because he just saw his own face on a portrait that was painted two centuries ago. It seemed everything was connected back to him somehow.

Which made him remember what Satomi had asked when she first met him. Have I met you before? The, at first, weird question suddenly made perfect sense. “Hey, Satomi, I think I know why you thought you met me before.”

“Oh?” Satomi’s eyebrows jumped up and her eyes, which had been gradually roaming back to her book, shifted back to Roman.

“Your mom showed me a portrait of Prince Logan. He looks exactly like me.” Even saying it made Roman feel weird.

Satomi’s eyes widened. “Of course!” She exclaimed so loudly that the librarian who was near furiously shushed her. “Sorry,” she said, quieter, but it didn’t look like she was. “That makes so much sense. And it can’t possibly be a coincidence. You two practically look like twins. So you must be a descendant of Prince Logan!” Her voice kept growing as she continued but she spoke the next part more bitterly. “I always knew Crespo was a fraud.”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” Roman interrupted her train of thought. “It’s possible that me and the headmistress are descendants.”

Satomi rolled her eyes and she had a look on her face Roman hadn’t seen before. “Humph. I doubt it.”

“What do you have against her?”

“I don’t have anything against her,” Satomi said, crossing her arms and looking down angrily at her shoes.

Roman scoffed. “Sure, okay. I don’t believe you for one second.”

“I just don’t like her and I don’t believe Prince Logan’s her ancestor.”

Roman still wasn’t so sure of her answer but he decided to let it drop. He stood up, “you think you can show me the best books on Prince Logan then? I think I might die if I don’t find out what happens.”

Roman left the library with two books, one rather thin and another which had some weight to it. Satomi said they were the best two to read to get a grasp on what had happened without the annoying authors’ biases smacking you in the face and spitting on your unconscious body. Satomi’s words, not his.

Roman had the quickest supper he had ever had in his entire life and then he was off to his dorm to start reading, something he had never done before.

He decided to read the thin one first, hoping that maybe he’d get enough information from it without having to read the other one.

By the time Roman finished the first book, around three in the morning, Roman had a good idea of the events that had happened in this very castle. His butt was sore from sitting on the toilet seat (he had moved to the bathroom to read after Oskar and Maxime went to bed) and, while his body was stiff and tired, his brain was whirling.

Because there was one thing he wasn’t expecting.

Prince Virgil and Prince Logan had definitely been gay. And they had definitely been in a secret relationship.

#the mystery of sanders castle

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darksunrising · 4 years

Text

Sola Gratia (9/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : General audiences, no particular warnings.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 9/? (2000 words)

Author’s notes : I’m trying to get the chapters a more consistent length, I think 2000-2500 is good ! Means I’ll be able to work more consistently, but please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think about it ! Also, sorry for all the build-up, but a girl’s gotta set the decor a bit !

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

During the following weeks, the presence of the Count became almost familiar. Every day, he waited for me with a different kind of pastry. I tried to protest at first, but quickly had to make my peace with it. At some point, seeing me wince at my terrible coffee, he forbade me to drink it anymore, and added that to my daily breakfast. I asked him exactly once why he insisted on feeding me, to which he replied that he liked my blood healthy, with a toothy grin. I hit him over the arm, he laughed. Other than that, he was careful not to step over my boundaries, and seemed to find the way to only be there at the appropriate time.

That was not the case for Leah, however, who was delighted to see Vlad was going to be a recurring presence in our lives. The two of them got along far better than I would have wanted. Vlad especially enjoyed playing along with her when she started asking probing questions about the both of us, although I had to admit he was an expert at deviating any question that could have revealed his true nature.

It took me some time to fully realize how much he had actually seen, and lived. He died around the 1470s, which meant he had all the time in the world to see the Sistine Chapel being painted, the construction of the Eiffel Tower, or the damn french Revolution. He could have just been a very polyvalent historian, which is what I told Leah. She interpreted that as a challenge, considering he and I were, as she put it, “introverted nerds who need to see the light of the sun once in a goddamn while”. She started dragging us along in random activities. There was a pottery class, to which I was barely able to make the Leaning Flower Pot Of Pisa, while she somehow made an incredible owl sculpture, and Vlad had made a delicate greek-inspired vase. Seeing him, sleeves rolled up over his elbows, hair tied up in a ponytail, his long fingers working in precise, expert gestures, probably had noting to do with my absolute failure to make anything correct. I decided then that manual activities were a no-go for me in the car ride, where I sulked on the backseat, while Leah and Vlad were still crying-laughing about my sorry excuse for a pot.

After the rousing success of that experience, she wasn't about to stop. We did a haunted castle themed escape game, which Vlad curiously sucked at. That would explain some stuff. Leah then found out that a Renaissance faire was taking place in a small town, about an hour or two outside the city, and decided we definitely had to go. I tried to pretend I had too much work and wouldn't be able to make it, but Vlad and her insisting, I caved, and marked down my calendar with the red pen of defeat.

Being stuck in period costumes with the both of them wasn't the only reason I tried protesting. Laurent really did throw a ton of work on my shoulders, and that wasn't considering the whole Stephan Helder situation. The kid was highly motivated, sure, but he started making me feel uneasy, for some reason. After all my classes, he came to chat, and always found a way to ask questions about Vlad. Strangely phrased questions, or about how he couldn't find publications under his name. Legitimate questions, to be fair, but his insistence was bugging me.

“I'm telling you, that is weird. Those are weird questions”, I told Vlad, sitting on my windowsill. He didn't react. “I am serious, what if he knew ?”

“How would he know ?”, he sighed. “Why would he even want to know ?”

“Well, that's a fair question. Which needs an answer, don't you think ?”

He tilted his head, softly smiling. “I think you are being a bit paranoid.”

“I spend most of my free time hanging out with an immortal murder-machine, I think I deserve the right to be a bit paranoid”, I snapped.

“Fair enough”, he laughed.

Being immortal had to have dulled his sense of danger. Although, I could see how a skinny 20-year-old medieval history student wouldn't spontaneously raise red flags.

“By the way, I am going back to Romania”, he told me.

I felt a small pinch to my heart. “Oh.”

“Only for a few days”, he completed with a smirk. “I have to pick up some things, and oversee the moving company. I do not trust them with half my things.”

I furrowed my brow. “Moving company ?”

“Oh, did I not mention it ?”, he innocently replied. “Before I even arrived, I bought a little something a little ways outside the city. The renovations are done, and you of all people understand I cannot live there without a decent library.”

I took a second to process it. He had a smug look, obviously enjoying my confusion. I had to say I didn't even think about where he spent his nights. I figured he either turned into a bat and hanged somewhere upside down, or simply didn't sleep. Did he even need to rest ? Gods, so many questions I didn't even think to ask. Every day, I felt like I discovered a puddle, only to realize it was part of a lake.

“When I come back, would you come visit ?”, he asked, sounding a bit hesitant.

“Sure. I mean, as long as I don't have to wear heels if you decide to go feral on me.”

He took a dead-serious expression. “I promise you, Eris Cetero, that as long as you live, I will never, ever, make you wear heels again.”

I threw my head back with a groan of agony. Was it so bad that this kind of humor was actually funny to me now ? Was having a six century old bloodthirsty creature imply he might try to murder me again really that hilarious ? Apparently so, as I was unable to contain a giggle. Maybe it was because the look he had was all but threatening. Maybe because every time I was near him, even with all that happened, I felt... Safe. For a few weeks, I had been able to decide staying over at the University library until ungodly hours. I didn't have to thing about what time I had to leave at before it became too risky for a woman with very limited knowledge of martial arts, alone.

I mean, he was arguably more dangerous than any encounter I might have had, but still... I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Then again, he had plenty of occasions to lose it. Last week, for instance, I had no idea what to expect when I left my apartment, dosed with painkillers, as Mother Nature, that ruthless bitch, decided to drop by for her monthly visit. He was simply waiting for me at the usual spot, looking a bit off, but holding a large box of chocolates along with my breakfast. He made himself scarce for the following three days, but I could tell he tried to act natural.

“I should let you get some rest”, Vlad told me, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I nodded, slowly. “When are you leaving ?”

“Some time tomorrow. I will still pick you up, if that is what worries you.”

He smiled, teasing. “Yeah, that's... That's it. I'd miss my personal chauffeur.” I looked away a second. “Now, get off my window, I need to sleep.”

“Of course, my Lady”, he replied, and backed away with an overly low bow. “I bid you good night.”

Once again, with a fluttering sound, the usual bat replaced the tall man. I called out to him, offering my hand as a perch. The tiny black creature gripped a finger. I would have expected a Vampire Bat, to be fair, and almost laughed when I realized it was a common little brown bat, only changing in the darker color.

“Well, don't you look adorable”, I told him.

I could take a more frightening appearance, if you want me to.

“Telepathy, huh ? That's new”, I commented. Nothing surprised me that much anymore, to be honest.

I try not to pry, it's usually considered rude.

“You don't say.”

He stretched out his wings. They were so thin I could see the tiny veins running across the membrane. I had to use all my will not to just scoop him up and pet his tiny head, or scratch his belly. Now, that would have been rude. Probably. Those kind of reflexions were a bit new to me.

I would stay here all night if I could, but I am starting to feel a bit hungry.

“Oh, by all means. I won't keep you.”

I heard a small squeaky sound I interpreted as a laugh, and he left. I closed the window, and the quiet made me rethink the situation. If he was gone, that would leave me some time to look into the Helder situation without him interfering. Now, I just needed the help of my favorite professional stalker. With a little smile, I slipped under my covers, and almost instantly faded into sleep.

~ ~ ~

After Vlad let me off at the University, he only came over to say hi to Leah, and announce his departure. He left right after, with a kiss for her hand, and one for my forehead.

“Do you need some ice ? You look pretty hot”, she snarked at me once he was gone. “A cold shower, perhaps ?”

“Oh, shut up, will you ?”, I groaned, placing the back of my hands onto my cheeks.

She snickered. She was the best friend I could ever hope to have, but man, as soon as someone was involved, she became absolutely unbearable.

“By the way, I need your help with something”, I told her, lowering my voice a little.

“Oooh, sneaky voice, I like it already. Tell me.”

I brought her inside, and we went straight to my office, a small, cluttered room in the old building. I dragged a folding chair next to mine, behind the heavy wooden desk.

“I'm having a weird feeling about a transfer student”, I told her. “I wondered if you could-”

Before I could even finish my sentence, she had already taken out her laptop, her glasses sitting on her nose. She turned on a bunch of apps she left running in the background, and turned to me.

“Name ?”

“Stephan Helder, with 'ph'”, I told her.

I kind of felt bad about it. If it was nothing, I was just prying into his personal life – or having Leah pry, anyway. She began typing away, and in less than three minutes, she had results. Stephan Jonathan Helder, 18, your typical genius type. Skipped a few middle-school classes, finished high-school at 15, with straight-As. Spotless criminal record, less so for the medical one, with a few bad cases of pulmonary infections. Didn't have one in years, though. Seemed like he was from a good family, but then again, no information on them showed up. Huh. I asked Leah to look into them.

“That's crazy”, she said after a good five minutes. “I mean, there's barely anything.”

“You mean he's an orphan, or something ?”

“No, it's just blacked out. I mean, most of the stuff has been scraped, erased.”

She sounded annoyed, but also excited. I knew she loved a challenge.

“Nothing I can't break”, she commented, and went back to it.

After a few more minutes, she finally had a triumphal shout.

“Got 'em”, she told me. “Stephan Jonathan Helder, the father is Thomas Mark Helder, and the mother is Mary... Huh. That's a cool name.”

“What is ?”, I asked, leaning over her shoulder to read.

My blood froze in my veins instantly.

Mary Van Helsing.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @paracosmfantasy

#Sola Gratia #Sola Gratia part 9 #fanfiction #fanfic #dracula fanfic #dracula castlevania #dracula bbc #dracula bram stoker #dracula #vlad tepes #romance #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #vampire #vampire x human #dracula x human #dracula x reader #dracula x oc #slow burn

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demonboidies · 5 years

Text

𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝔂 - 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀

pt. 3

word count: 1, 802

●WARNING: mention of several mental illnesses (eating disorders, depression, anxiety, psychotic disorders, OCD, alcohol abuse, and more) I do not go into deep detail of each, more so simply mentioning the names, but if you are easily triggered please don't read. the reason I am mentioning these illnesses is because the boys(in my ff) suffer from several of them. all the mental illnesses mentioned in this chapter and their corresponding member are not based on true facts or actual evidence. this is fictional.●

"ah, well i graduated from college a while ago. majored in world language, i had this crazy dream of being a translator. but i obviously don't do that, although i've recently applied to several companies, i haven't heard from any." you ended with a neutral smile, making eye contact with the oldest who was nodding in understanding. "but i asked Jungkook which classes he took, since he still is a youngling."

you chuckle at your wording, along with the others. Hoseok even ruffling the man's hair teasingly.

"uhm, i do programming, computer stuff...yeah, it's nothing interesting like the arts b-but it's what i d-do best." a weak smile was on his lips and you chuckle softly.

"no, that sounds cute. you seem to be like a tech nerd, please take no offense. i mean to compliment you." you said, saving your mistake last second. even if they were younger than you, the level of respect and professionalism still had to be present between all of you.

red was painted across jungkook's face...he was cute to you? taehyung and jimin clenched the utensils on their hands, annoyed with how jungkook unknowingly one upped them. yoongi and hoseok sent glares to jungkook. namjoon and jin simply smiled, although they were fuming internally.

"oh, thank you..."

you nodded, biting into the food present in front of you. the taste was extravagant, even if it was a simple dish.

"my gosh, who made this? it is delicious." you moaned out, wiping your mouth. "this is so good, and home made?"

"that would be me, darling. and of course, home made. i like being able to overlook the food the boys eat, make sure they get their nutrients and stuff. i try to limit the amount of time they eat out,but sometimes i can't control it. especially if i'm in another country." you nodded impressed with the subtle fact he dropped, whether he did it on purpose or not.

"what do you guys do? i'm intrigued now with your professions." you said, resting your heaad on your hand.

"well, i graduated already...but i run my own dance studio. you should stop by sometime! we've won a couple awards, i'm very proud of my students!" hoseok smiles wide, and you could easily tell how much dance meant to him.

"i'm taking online classes for psychology. going to college is such a hassle, online is so much easier." namjoon says with a heavy sigh which you jokingly cheers to. making the males laugh at your humor.

"we, my friend, are on the same page!" you said and he laughed, making you smile widely.

"i produce music. i post my works on soundcloud...i promise i'm not like every other soundcloud rapper. i actually care about what i make, rather than the views it'll give me. i also have interest in photography, but tae is much better than me." yoongi was quiet and fidgeting when he saw the gaze of you on him. but at his last statement, you pouted a bit.

"i'm sure you two have your own styles and qualities in your work. also i've never met a producer before, i look forward to listening to your work as your career prgresses." you smiled kindly at him and he ducked his down to hide his blush. you chuckle before moving your gaze to the eldest at the table.

"oh, my turn. about time~" the boys scoffed and his attitude when you chuckled, at ease in his presence. "i mainly stay at home and do work in my office, but when push comes to shove i do have to leave the country. i'm heir to my father's company, so i have to take responsibility sometimes...and you must be wondering. so i'll answer the question now. the reason why i'm in this wheelchair is because i was in a bad accident when i was young." he nodded solemnly, although he was smiling weakly. there was a silence as you took the words in. "thank God my face was spared though."

he cupped his cheek, initiating a innocent look as everyone broke into a smile, looking over to the man with a wonder.

how could someone be so positive after such a horrific event? which was what you were thinking.

but the rest of the boys simply sighed in relief at their hyung. he was always a good liar. and they were lucky you were completely politely innocent and oblivious to their hyung's lie. he had lied more than once to you already, cheeky person he was

"yes, your face was surely spared." you said joining in with the joke.

the rest of the dinner consisted of you bonding over little things. your love for all kinds of games (including pranks) was shared with jungkook, love for animal life with namjoon, sleep with yoongi, culinary with jin, free expression with hoseok, puppies and dogs with taehyung, and family and friends with jimin. the general direction of every conversation was satisfying as it ended with everyone having a smile on their faces.

you had helped clean up, already beginning your new task as a house maid/nurse. "so what would like me to focus on as my first days?" you asked after everything was cleaned. the youngest had to go to their rooms, to begin getting ready for bed since they had school tomorrow. all their classes were in the morning which was fortunate for you since you would be driving them there from now on...and it didn't seem like fun to constantly drive back to the house and then to the university.

namjoon, who was standing in front of you, moved to the study table in the living room, and took a Manila folders into his hands. it seemed like a thick stack of papers and as you looked closer, there were a total of 7.

"no formal work, but all 7 of us saw it appropriate to give you an introduction to our needs. what exactly is wrong with us, y'know? we trust you're experience enough for this so we are confident you'll do just fine."

you took the stack of papers and thanked him. you walked through the house to find your room, which hoseok had shown you right after dinner was finished, and you still marveled at the sight.

it was a grand gray and white minimalistic bedroom with a huge bed in the center. there was also a large ledge with a window that you could sit on to see the night sky. you maneuvered your way over to the study table, turning the lap on to begin "studying" the males.

●𝖐𝖎𝖒 𝖘𝖊𝖔𝖐𝖏𝖎𝖓 / kim seokjin

disabilities/disorders: unable to move bottom half of body, a light case of schizophrenia, requires special attention on getting ready in the morning (may include dressing and showering)

meds: need daily dose for schizophrenia

your brows furrowed. that existed? you knew schizophrenia existed, but meaning a light case would specifically show what? you just shrugged and decided to what the papers were saying.

●𝖒𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖎 / min yoongi

disabilities/disorders: OCD, severe depression, social anxiety, prone to panic and anxiety attacks in a crowd of many people, values his personal space-do not enter his personal bubble unless asked

meds: needs dose for OCD, depression

you nodded slowly, understanding the conditions and seeing the familiar names once again. you've had patients like him before, but everyone is different, so you will still be careful.

●𝖏𝖚𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖔𝖐 / jung hoseok

disabilities/disorders: bipolar disorder, ADHD, OCD, fits of anger are dangerous, act hostile in any case and alert one of the other tenants immediately

meds: dose for ADHD & OCD

sudden shortness of his list made you a bit hopeful that taking care of 7 males wouldn't be as hard as it seemed. then again, you willingly signed up for this so you shouldn't be complaining in any way.

●𝖐𝖎𝖒 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖏𝖔𝖔𝖓 / kim namjoon

disabilities/disorders: depression, OCD, past with alcohol abuse (currently in rehab)

meds: dose for depression and OCD

you pouted slightly, only being able to imagine how hard it must be to recover from alcoholism. and it was saddening to see such an intellectual and kind person such as Namjoon suffer from the mental illness, although that could be said about everyone you had previously read.

●𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖏𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖓 / park jimin

disabilities/disorders: ARFID, anxiety, prone to panic and anxiety attacks

meds: none

reading the single line you let yourself think of the moment he introduced himself. he was enthusiastic about meeting you, it made you smile at the memory. you were suddenly thankful for getting such a sweet and honey-like expression out of the man.

●𝖐𝖎𝖒 𝖙𝖆𝖊𝖍𝖞𝖚𝖓𝖌 / kim taehyung

disabilities/disorders: OCD, ADD, brief psychotic disorder - periods are short and caused by stress, not dangerous unless triggered by something you do or say

meds: dose for OCD, ADD, and best if given sleep meds during pyschotic episodes

you nodded slowly, understanding and keeping the directions in the back of your mind.

●𝖏𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝖏𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖐𝖔𝖔𝖐 / jeon jungkook

disabilities/disorders: DID, psychotic, anxiety

meds: dose to limit psychotic episodes

the 3 things on the list made your eyebrows furrow. the 3 seemed to make a terrible combination and you began thinking of how calm Jungkook was before. You hoped you wouldn't encounter any bad alters of Jungkook, if he had any bad ones. and, honestly, you were a bit uneducated in the DID field, so you were determined to learn more tonight with the help of the internet.

and the last sheet in each file were filed letters to make sure you caught it :

THEY SHOULD NEVER BE KEPT UNSUPERVISED FOR A LONG TIME. MEDICATION IS IN THE CABINET IN YOUR ROOM WITH PADLOCK TO AVOID OVERDOSES. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING AND COMPLIANCE.

you took the words seriously, seeing the urgency in the message. shutting the folders, you stacked all of them in one pile and moved to freshen up. a shower was needed as you climbed into the steaming bathroom. after washing yourself, you climbed into bed and soon you were falling asleep. you fell asleep thinking about how tomorrow would be your first day of your new job.

a/n- thank you so much for the support of this book!!! I hope you guys stay tuned and enjoy the rest of the journey with yabdere!bts

oooh, curious question

》what other times do you think jin lied to you? hmmm?

♡♡♡♡♡SEND ME UR ASK ON WHAT U THINK ABT THATTTTT♡♡♡♡♡

#yandere bts #yandere #yandere bts imagines #yandere imagines #x reader #bts x reader #yandere x reader #sickly ff #ot7 bts #bts ot7 #yandere ot7 #bts sickly ff #bts ff

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