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shades-of-stony · 3 years

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ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left.

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter.

Stuck in a... by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

#stony #stony fics #stony fanfic #steve and tony #stevetony #stevetony fanfic #stevetony fic rec #stevetony fic #stony fic #SUPERHUSBANDS #fic rec

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.20)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twenty) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,859 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Author’s Note: Steve has feelings! But he’s still a dick. And so is Tony tbh.

Part Nineteen || Part Twenty One || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Steve walked into the Avengers facility, heading towards the conference room where Bucky and Sam were supposed to be waiting. He was already on edge with how Y/N had reacted to the whole situation. He had expected her to be upset but she acted like she hated him. Even after he had told her she should think about the money. He hoped the next time he saw her, she was a little more grateful and had more perspective on the situation considering she would be more separated from her initial adrenaline.

The meeting was quick, the supervisors meeting with them over hologram. They were pleased with the result, having captured Qian and the illegal bombs he was trying to sell to Perez. The trio hung up feeling relief that everything had gone smoothly. Sam got up quickly after they hung up, telling them he had to meet Natasha to go over the next mission he had already been handed. That just left Steve and Bucky in the room.

“Is she alright?” Bucky asked as Steve started to get up from his chair. Steve leveled him with a look before settling back in the chair.

“She’s fine,” Steve returned curtly.

“She didn’t seem fine,” Bucky told him. Steve shot him an annoyed look and Bucky said, “Well, she didn’t.”

“She’s prone to dramatics. She’ll get over it in no time. Plus, she’s got protective daddy Tony to coddle her. I’m sure he’s already back there to cuddle and pamper her. She’s becoming a spoiled brat. And he’s not helping.”

“Didn’t he tell you to not get attached?” Bucky half joked and closed his mouth when Steve glared. “Right. Stark is a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ kind of guy.”

Steve shook his head, tapping his fingers on the table. “With what everyone knows about us, you would think it would’ve been me to catch feelings,” he muttered. “Not the playboy.”

“So, you’re telling me you have no feelings whatsoever,” Bucky said, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice despite the calmness of his tone. Steve glared across the table at him again, and Bucky stared back defensively this time.

“Does it matter? She’s not my wife,” Steve finally said tightly. “Besides, like I told you, Tony is encroaching.”

“Tony’s married too—”

“Tony doesn’t give a shit about his wife. They’re married at this point for the kids, appearances, and for his ego. The last probably being the most important to him.” He chewed on his bottom lip and looked at Bucky with a guilty conscience.

“What?”

“I wasn’t even supposed to be around her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tony already threatened me to stay away.”

Bucky cocked his head, this being new information to him. Steve had not told anyone about the encounter between him and Tony after the meeting where they saw Laurie, save for Wylan and Eric who had seen the encounter. They had kept their mouths closed after Steve had threatened them.

“I might have… been messing with her birth control.”

Bucky looked dumbfounded and he shook his head, leaning back. “Steve—”

“Don’t you give me a lecture too!” Steve snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like. To be so in love with a woman and then realize she’s only in it for the money ultimately. And you can’t… let her go. Even then. And then you have her pregnant and not know if it’s yours or not because she’s been messing around.” He paused before exhaling sharply. “And then we had Y/N. And that seemed a perfect opportunity. One to start fresh. And I liked her. She’s cute, funny, great in bed, has her own interests. It was good. Even if it meant sharing…” He trailed off.

“You didn’t want to keep sharing though,” Bucky commented after a few moments of silence. “You wanted her to love you.”

Steve said nothing.

“And she went for Tony,” Bucky finished.

Steve’s jaw ticked and he clipped, “Even after his wife knocked her a good one.” He met Bucky’s eyes again and said, “So, again, what does it matter? I tried to give her an angle of paying her debt off – slowly but surely – and she still didn’t respond. So, The only thing I need to keep track of is if she’s pregnant or not. And we will cross that bridge when we come to it.”

<><><>

You woke up, hearing the soft purr and feeling the fluff against your neck. Luna had curled up on the bed next to you.

Tony was still in bed, dressed. It was dark outside; how long had you been sleeping? He noticed you were awake and looked away from the hologram on the tablet he was working with.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, closing the hologram.

You shrugged, stretching underneath the sheets. “I guess.” Luna jumped off the bed as you stretched, stretching on the ground herself before trotting towards the door. Probably to go eat.

“As well as you could,” Tony said as a matter of fact and you eyed him. He sounded like he understood what that felt like… sleeping under stress.

You nodded, “Yeah. As well as I could. Thank you.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I had Shake Shack delivered.” You smirked at that and he asked, “What?”

“You and burgers.”

“It’s a comfort thing,” he told you.

Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Well, yes I would like to indulge in comfort with you.”

Your eyes drug down his face and you bit your bottom lip. You needed to keep Tony happy, he was protecting you. Before dinner, you wanted to give him a good time. He had kept his word, staying by you while you slept when he knew you were frightened. That meant something.

“Wanna work up an appetite?” you asked, scooting closer.

“Y/N, you don’t have to—” Tony started to say but you silenced him by forcing your lips to his, your hand holding the back of his head. He gave up on protesting then, very easily, kissing you back with fervor.

Tony helped you get out of your dress and you went to tearing his shirt off, his belt going off next, and subsequently everything else. The skin on skin contact was comforting, and you fell into it, sinking into the intimacy to escape. He felt safe.

Climbing on top, you sunk down onto him slowly. He breathed shakily, his hands at your hips, holding tight as you adjusted to his width. Inch by inch you took him, deeper each time you rolled your hips.

Pushing the thought of the ending of the last time you had found yourself in this exact position, you rotated your hips slowly at first, picking up pace over time. Tony threw his head back against the pillows, his eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. Hands planted on his chest, you worked him and yourself up into a frenzy before you both fell into ecstasy in each other.

Panting, you rolled off of him, him rolling with you, holding you in a tight embrace. His kisses were soft and fierce at the same time along your jawline and up to your lips.

Holding you tucked to his chest, he whispered, “I love you” in between kisses.

The words got stuck in your throat, but he did not seem to notice as he continued caressing and kissing you. You were not ready to say that yet.

<><><>

“Baby, I gotta go,” Tony told you, hovering over you as you woke up the following morning.

That woke you up out of a dead sleep and you sat up further. “For how long?”

“Not long. Just the day. I gotta go home for a bit and then go to the office. Terrence is going to stay in here. I told him no matter what, to stay in here and you are not to leave, even if Steve tells him it’s okay.”

Worriedly, you asked, “And he’ll listen to that?”

“Yes.”

He sounded sincere and you reluctantly said, “Okay.”

Tony gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before he straightened up and walked out of the room. Luna had jumped on the bed and crawled on top of you, kneading.

You looked at her and asked, “Wanna watch Netflix?”

<><><>

Tony saw Steve coming down the hallway. He had gone home for a couple hours, hanging out with the kids. Alessia had not refrained from making the comments about the ‘vacation’ he lied about being on as the excuse of why he had been gone for the days he had been. He had ignored her and enjoyed the play time as well as he could.

But now it was business and he faced Steve with intensity.

“Coming in pretty late, aren’t you?” Steve commented stopping in front of him.

“Spent the morning with the kids,” Tony replied shortly.

“Not with the princess?” Steve taunted.

Tony was not impressed with this response and snapped, “My office.”

Without another word, Tony turned on his heel, heading for it without waiting to get a response from Steve. Steve simpered to himself before following Tony into the office and closing the door. As soon as the door was closed, Tony went in quick.

“I gave you a chance, Steve. I told you to not make me have to tell you three times!”

“So, is this you telling me for the third time?” Steve asked sarcastically.

Tony stepped closer and pointed angrily, “Do you remember when you were so fucking offended she even insinuated that you would hit her? Do you remember that? Let me be the one to tell you that you have done so much worse!” Steve gave a wry laugh and Tony snapped, “You traumatized her, Steve! She is a fucking mess!”

“Oh, give me a break. Don’t buy that overdramatic shit,” Steve retorted. “She’s milking it for attention!”

“And how dare you tell her I knew about it!”

“Was she mad about that?” Steve asked sardonically just to push Tony’s buttons more. “I’m sorry. Did she not let you ride her?”

Tony started to sneer, “You stupid son of—"

“She earned money,” Steve cut in.

“Don’t play that card.”

“What card?”

“Like you were helping her!”

“Was I not?”

“Were you serious about giving her money to pay off some of her debt?”

“Yeah. I was,” Steve told him, and Tony shook his head, furious. “What? Why not dangle the carrot?”

“Because that’s fucked up, Steve!”

“And what we were doing before wasn’t? Who cares if it never came to fruition? She still could have felt some accomplishment from it!”

“We weren’t lying to her about what the situation was like you just decided to pull!” Tony raised his voice defensively.

“You think she’s going to ever be happy? With either of us?” Steve asked Tony seriously. “Sure, we weren’t lying to her before and she knew she was supposed to do whatever we said. But is that really a basis for a good relationship? I mean… apparently you think it is. Like I said before.”

Tony ignored the jab and said fiercely, “Steve, if you have even a slightest bit of hope she is pregnant, why are you doing that shit to her?”

“I have confidence in myself and my team. And it proved right, as it usually does. She didn’t get hurt. And as far as her being pregnant, yeah, I had that on my mind. If you didn’t think I had that on my mind…” He paused before saying, “I wouldn’t have put her in that situation if I wasn’t confident. Trust me on that one. I’m not reckless like you. Racing for her when you’re not even a professional.”

“Oh, fuck off. That was completely different.”

“How?”

“I didn’t leave her! I had no intention of even attempting to do that! It was to protect her! Not to complete some stupid mission she had no business being a part of!”

Steve threw his hands out before they came to rest on his hips. He let out a laugh, “Right. Tony. Always the savior.”

Tony asked annoyed, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Steve snapped. “We’ve already had this conversation! It’s established you’re good cop and I’m bad cop now. I’m sure you already told her about me with the BC now that I’m painted as the bad guy just to make yourself look even better.”

Tony stepped closer, pissed off. “You know what, Steve? No. I didn’t. I didn’t tell her when I found out and I still haven’t told her. I wish you would have a little bit more faith in me than that!”

“Oh, so we are both in that secret now. I’ve made you an accomplice. Wonder what will happen when that dam breaks when she finds out she’s pregnant!” Steve snarled at him.

Tony exploded, “She’s not pregnant, Steve!”

Steve looked flabbergasted for a few moments before he scoffed, “You don’t—”

“I do!” Tony bellowed at him, causing Steve to close his mouth in surprise. “I made her take a test the same goddamn day you told me! It was negative! So, no! She’s not!” Steve ground his teeth, staring Tony down. Tony ran his hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. “So, you’ve got no stake in that. And it seems you really just do not give a shit about her outside of that. You’ve proven that! It seems like it’s just money for you now. And if it’s money you’re worried about, do you think I won’t buy you out?” Tony gave a wry laugh, throwing his hands out. “Me? Not be able to throw some money around? I’ll give you even more if it’ll guarantee you don’t come within 300 yards of her!”

Steve was still silent, shaking his head.

“What? What do you have to say?” Tony exclaimed irritated.

“You don’t know for sure yet about the pregnancy!” Steve said in a low voice, shaking his head again.

Tony gave him an incredulous look, “Are you deaf, Steve? I—”

“I heard what you said! You… god. Do you even remember how it worked or did Alessia just handle it on her own?” Steve asked him harshly. Tony waited expectantly and Steve shrugged, “That answers that. You need to do it two weeks after a missed period.” He held up two fingers for dramatics, pissed off. “You asked her about that? If she’s had one yet? She’s been off the pills for over a month! You can definitely take a test too early! It just happened with Cecile, I should know!”

Tony was silent now and Steve scoffed loudly. He stepped closer and said angrily, “So, you can coddle her and play your big bad protector, sugar daddy role.” Tony clenched his jaw at that, insulted by the comment and Steve pressed on, not caring; it only made him more animated. “Whatever you are planning on doing. She was far too fucking over dramatic when I saw her last anyway. She’s your problem for now.”

“’For now’.”

“Yes, for now,” Steve snapped back at him. “If she is pregnant, I am not going to let that go.”

“Looks like you’ll be waiting on yet another pregnancy test to see if it’s yours. Funny how you keep finding yourself in these situations,” Tony said coolly.

Steve stared at Tony, looking murderous for about two seconds before he laughed a curt laugh. Tony knew it was coming a split second before Steve swung at him. Tony almost moved quick enough but he got clipped.

As he stumbled, he hit the arc reactor. The suit built around him quick but not quick enough because Steve socked him again, sending him spiraling. But the suit’s hands dug into the floor as it completed, catching Tony before he fell completely flat. He was up in a second, meeting Steve’s oncoming fist.

“Steve!” Tony grated as Steve yanked his hands out of the suit’s grasp with effort. “Stop it!”

Steve ignored him, swinging again and Tony deflected. Steve swung again and Tony gripped Steve’s fist in his and struggled to hold him. Steve got free and socked Tony again, knocking him back. Tony sent a short burst of power at him, knocking Steve onto his stomach. Steve was back up in a moment and Tony was ready with an uppercut, sending Steve back to his knees.

His office door opened and Happy was standing there with Rhodes.

“Stay back!” Tony shouted at the two of them as Steve got back up.

Steve had a trail of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth, his hair and suit disheveled. His gaze was fixed on Tony’s suit.

“Final warning, Steve,” Tony said lowly, holding up his hand, lighting up the repulsor threateningly.

Steve was stiff, hatred in his expression. He straightened out his suit aggressively, brushing at his slacks.

“I’d do another pregnancy test, Stark,” Steve sneered before wiping at his mouth and turning on his heel. He shoved past Happy and Rhodey, knocking shoulders with them.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #dark!tony stark #dark!steve rogers #my shit

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writseo · 3 years

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Nathan Prescott | I Won’t Say I Am In Love

Word Count: 1.1k

Song: I Won’t Say I Am In Love by Susan Egan

(A/N: I found this song to be so similar and close to “I Can’t Believe My Heart” and decided to make it sort of like a prequel type of deal on Nathan’s perspective for that drabble! I found you don’t mind <3)

Part 1

Nathan couldn’t stop staring at you during all of his classes. He would watch you go down the halls, get your items out of your locker, loving the sight of you. He didn’t know you well, and he wasn’t familiar with your identity. You barely spoke in class, always laid your head low and would generally stay in your own lane. All he knew was that you two shared one class together. In his eyes, you were perfect.

Who’d ya think you’re kiddin’

It didn’t help when his friends would take notice of his strange, new behaviour. They saw the stares he gave you, the way he traced every move you made with his eyes, how sometimes he would accidentally end up following you when you were on your way to somewhere, how Nathan couldn’t even muster up the courage to speak to you properly, and it sure as hell didn’t help how he was in complete denial about you. They noticed how he was always so quick to defend you when the subject came up. In fact, the group would end up teasing him while referring you as “the little dove.” Eventually, it stuck itself into casual conversations. Nathan didn’t even know your real name at all though. It didn’t bother him. In fact, he kind of liked the presented mystery.

“Dude, just admit it,” Hayden said, pulling Nathan out of his thoughts. It was Jefferson’s class and they were just taking a break from their now distracted teacher.

“No, over my dead body,” Nathan snapped.

“At this point, it just might be,” Hayden giggled at his own joke, the rest of the students at their table following suit.

You looked over to the table and gave the group of boys a small stink eye. Those that noticed would tell Nathan, giving him a twisted version of “they just looked over here dude!”

And instead, he just rolled his eyes and he turned to listen to the professor that announced his next project.

It didn’t help his case when he almost choked on air as he saw you walking towards him. For once, at least he knew your name. (Y/N).

They are the Earth and heaven to you, Try to keep it hidden

Nathan never rested his eyes around you. They were always working and moving in some fashion. One minute they’d be gazing over you. The second he noticed your head slightly move, his pupils would focus on the ways his fingers would fidget. It didn’t help that you weren’t disturbed and intimidated by him like the others. You started carving your name into his walls and while he pretended to hate it, he loved every minute of it. He loved how you two spent your mornings making small chats about your dreams, how you asked him how it was going with his family, and especially when you asked how his day was by the time the night settled into the sky.

He was just sitting on the bench, watching you take photos of the streets into a crouched down position. Your head retracted back as you moved towards his direction. As usual, Nathan turned his attention towards his phone to continue scrolling on Twitter.

“Hey Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

He tilted his head.

“You’ve been acting off lately.”

“I am okay,” he looked at his fingers as he huskily replied, “thanks for asking.”

A part of himself was embarrassed, cringing at the aspect that he showed gratitude. When your stare lingered past its 1 minute mark, he looked back up at you. Even though he loved being the star of your attention, Nathan felt a tad bit uncomfortable and out of place.

“What?” Instinctively, he snapped at you. The attitude startled you, something that made him regret his actions, making you redirect your attention back to your work.

Honey, we can see right through you, Boy, ya can't conceal it

After the project had ended, Nathan would grow to hate your absence. He missed the time you spent together and how you two would go into the Blue Whale, just to order the same meal off of a dirty menu for the third time, listening to the same beat that had been playing all week through the jukebox. His friends started noticing him becoming more frantic. Always wanting to be near you at every chance he got, sometimes purposely being stuck with you in elevators or on the stairs.

Eventually, he would find a way to invite you after your class together had ended. He wanted to hang out with you, talk to you, have a full on conversation. Nathan didn’t want to sound too strong, but neither did he want to sound too ignorant. His first plan was to ask you help him with some homework. However, his words jumbled when he faced you, “Do you want to hang out some time?”

And of course, you nodded to him.

Hayden and Trevor would notice from the doorframe, wolf whistling at the anxious mess.

“Oh, shut up,” He rolled his eyes as he walked through the door, heading to his next class.

We know how ya feel and who you're thinking of

He’d spend his days dozing off into the clear air in front of him. Victoria would notice him being hazy all the time. At first, it was a mystery. At least until you came into the picture, she would notice a pattern. When you were there, his attention was as sharp as a whistle. When you went away, he was daydreaming about his future life. The small personality traits that he had, his aggression, his snarkiness, everything would all fade away the second that he saw you.

Nathan was staring out the bus, ignoring the conversation that was taking place next to him. He then heard and suddenly smelled a whiff of Victoria’s strong perfume next to him.

“So, dreaming about (Y/N) again?” She giggled. Nathan sit back up straight, looked at her with wide eyes.

“How do you-”

“It’s obvious,” she replied as he slunk back into his chair, defeat, ”I can help you, if you let me.”

No chance, no way

I won't say it, no, no

“There’s nothing to help with,” he grunted with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Why not?”

“Because they already have enough and don’t need me. Plus, I don’t need them for shit either,” he turned his gaze back out to the window.

“But you do. You don’t even realize that the last few weeks has been all about them for you. But if you don’t want my help, then fine. But here’s what I would do if I were you….”

I won’t say that I am in love

Despite his former protests, a thought overcame him the same night. And he thought long and hard about Victoria’s words. By the time the 15th minute came, he had made his decision.

Part 2 >

Tagging: @sacredwarrior88

#life is strange #nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #life is strange song drabble #song drabble

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sinisterlyhan · 4 years

Text

03. hwang hyunjin / 4514 words

established relationship, dom!hyunjin, mc being kind of a brat, unprotected sex, use of toys, female reader, degradation, light fluff at the end

tw: use of safe words, mentions of restraints

a/n: i think it’s safe to say i’m not very good with degradation.

you have not been feeling too good about yourself lately.

midterms had snuck up on you before you got the chance the blink your eyes for a moment's rest. one moment it seemed you were still discussing the start of a presentation project with your classmates and reading the provided lecture notes of the second chapter, then the clock ticks once and suddenly your professors were handing out exam review packets and tediously reminding the class not to be absent on exam day.

you were panicking, for reasons your friends kept on invalidating every time you brought up the fact that you felt anxious about this upcoming finals. your first semester went smoothly, they had told you. if you have done all the homework and aced all the quizzes, there should be no problem in passing the midterm exam either.

and you knew that, you did, you were just stressed about it.

exams are always a little different than tests and quizzes. and since you've picked a handful of harsher and unfamiliar professors this year, who were all rather vague about their criteria, you had no idea how to properly prepare for their papers.

not to mention, if you do mess up on your midterm, you would most likely sulk for the remaining year thinking about how much of a failure you are, and that never ends well for you in both the academic and relationship perspective.

that anxiety has given you nothing but mere torture. you couldn't understand the review lectures, you kept forgetting deadlines, and writing notes served more as a task than a genuine study session now. you were learning nothing new and understanding nothing old, and midterms were approaching, and you just felt... useless.

hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of your face when he noticed how you had been staring blankly at your textbooks for far too long. a frown was evident on his face when you glanced up, dazed and exhausted. he dropped his pen, and propped his chin on the back of his palm, tilting his head at you.

"babe, are you okay? you've been out of it lately," he asked, raising a curious brow.

"no, not really." you shook your head, pouting a little with a heavy exhale. "i don't get anything this professor is saying. he makes everything so complicated when it doesn't have to be and–ugh! i hate it!"

"(name), i'm sure everyone already told you this, including me. and you are probably sick and tired of hearing it but," he paused, shifting in his seat and placing a hand out to you on the table. "you are most likely going to be fine."

"most likely," you whined lightly, leaning your head down on the table as you laced your fingers through his in a loose manner.

he laughed. "most likely as in, like, almost ninety percent."

"ha ha, very funny." you rolled your eyes, not raising your head to look at him.

hyunjin had experiences of you getting like this back in high school. it was always before finals week or big tests that you think you hadn't studied enough for, only to have you ace them all at the end. it was almost infuriating to see you flash them the big red '100' on your tests sometimes; it was the kind of scores he could never get no matter how hard he studies for a subject.

he dealt with it before, with a lot of reassuring words and a big bag of your favorite snacks placed between you both during study sessions. your mood was always so easily lifted with delicious food and a good boba drink. but that was long before he took a shot on senior prom and confessed to you under the disco ball.

his method changed after you two started dating in university. there are still boba drinks and family-sized chips, of course, but there is also never a lack of sex around your shared apartment when either of you starts feeling stressed out from school. no matter at what place or at what time, having your walls tighten around him and having your pussy stretched by his shaft is never unwelcomed.

it eases the stress, fucking each other. your lips make each other forget about the world and for a brief moment, it is just a wave of moany, sweaty, irreplaceable bliss.

he knew what to do, he knew all too well, and he definitely wasn't opposed to it considering how much school has occupied the both of you lately. you two just kept brushing past each other at home without a second to spare for him to give you a mildly decent kiss. and his hands haven’t been around you lately, much to his dismay.

this midterms week has done nothing good to his high libido, and he has been aching to fuck you once the week finishes. who knew the opportunity would present itself to him now?

you hummed in confusion when you felt hyunjin pull your torso up by the arm. you didn't even realize that he had already made his way over to your side of the table, his legs opened wide as he sat on the chair next to yous. his attempt to pull you onto his thigh was effortless, and within a blink of an eye, his lips were on yours.

you protested playfully the first time, pushing at his shoulders and laughing about needing to study. but hyunjin's got you all smitten with the way he nibbled down your jaw after you pulled away, and he knew he was doing a fantastic job just from the way your cheeks jutted out with a smile.

you two met lips again for the second time. this time you pulled him closer and sunk into the kiss, with your hands barely clinging onto his shoulders. his finger danced up and down between your waist and your thighs, really touching you for the first time in weeks and reminding you how it's been some time since you two got so close to each other.

as the kiss slowly heat up, your paces going faster and messier, hyunjin finally stopped pacing around and clutched the end of your shirt. he pulled it over your head in a swift motion, discarding to the side before he quickly connected his lips with yours again.

his hand rubbed down the spine of your back, delicately caressing down to the skin of your sides with his nails. his touches felt like a brush of the wind, faint and ticklish, making you gasp out faint jolts here and there. he took the chance to pull away from your face when you giggled, his lips going down your neck carefully before he set his hands on your hips and pushed your weight down on his thigh.

your clothed heat pressed against his toned thigh, a lumpy feeling present between your lips. a sigh escaped your lips along with the satisfying feeling of your clit being stimulated. and you adjusted your hip to accommodate with hyunjin's control, grinding your hips down on his thigh needily when you got the first taste of your sexual release.

god, how did you never thought about doing this earlier? the notes and lectures have occupied your head to the maximum that you couldn't bring yourself to remember anything other than what was written on a powerpoint slide. even when the person is hwang hyunjin and the thing is about how amazing the sex has always been with him, especially when he was stressed out and he goes just a tad bit rougher on you during those times.

"ahh, oh god," you gasped out when he attached his mouth to your breasts, teasing and flicking your nipple with his tongue before lightly biting on it for more arousal.

your back gradually arched into his mouth, yearning for more of his kitten licks as you continued to ride his flexed thigh, feeling the wetness in your core increasing with each harsh rub.

hyunjin could sense that you weren't going at a pace where you were hoping you'd chase your release, indicating that you weren't planning on orgasming from riding this thigh along. it was just a little bit of foreplay to get your pussy slick with wetness. what you really wanted was seated hard and erected between his legs, and it impatiently twitched whenever your moans hit his ears or whenever you tugged at his hair to bring him closer to your breasts.

ahh, he was always so fond of the needier side of you. so shamelessly horny, so greedy for his touch, and so impatient to get filled up by his cock—he would make you beg for it, he loved making you beg for it with your little breathy voice, and he knew you would if he continued to give you pleasure little by little at an agonizing pace.

but today was not the day. he desired this as much as you did and he didn't plan on waiting another moment before he could feel your lips wrapped around him.

hyunjin pulled away from your breasts and grazed his lips up your skin before he arrived at your ear. "you want me to fill you up, hmm?" he asked, running a hand through your hair and pulling a small piece behind your ear as he moved to look at you.

"oh please, what do you think we've been building up to, hyunjin?" you whined, giving him a faint roll of your eyes.

pleasantly surprised at your attitude, he breathed out a low laugh as he tugged at your hair quite harshly, tilting your head to the side and causing you to hold in your breath. he glared at you with a smile, saying, "i don't really appreciate that kind of tone, babe. you're gonna have to rethink your answer before i leave you hanging with nothing."

"i said talk, you bitch," he demanded after a moment of silence.

you exhaled fully while meeting eyes with him. his gaze was overwhelming; he wasn't angry, but you knew you've unintentionally got him in a more dominant mood with that sarcastic retort. and the excitement contorted inside you, surfacing through your head at what was about to come.

"see? how easy is that?" he let go of your hair then, his smile widening in a rather sadistic way as he hoisted you up in his arms and stood up from the chair. you held onto his neck, a short yelp leaving your lips when his sudden movement while wrapping your legs around his waist.

"sor–sorry, hyunjin," you whimpered, pursing your lips together as you wracked your brain to try and remembering what he asked in the first place. damn, you're letting everything get to your head lately. it was the textbooks at first and now it is was your neediness.

you should probably get it together.

eyes wavering for a moment, you heaved a shaky sigh at the way he continued to pull at your hair, and you stammered. "i–i want you, hyunjin. please fu–please fuck me."

hyunjin leaned down to the table you two were just studying on, one hand pressed against your back while the other reached down so he could push the textbooks and stationaries off the table to make space. you didn't get the time get shocked about his action before he pushed your back against the table surface, his hand moving down your body before they looped around the waistband of your shorts.

he pulled them off quickly, ridding you of both your shorts and your panties with one swift move. you pressed your knees together with a frown, the cold air hitting your hot, exposed core as you acknowledged how you were completely naked in front of him.

and after that was a gasp when hyunjin leaned his face down to you to distract you from his wandering hands, one clutching the side of your waist while the other palmed over your heat roughly. you flinched, your legs jittery when he dipped two fingers into your cunt from the get-go, thinking that your wetness would help his fingers ease inside.

and it did. he was pumping in and out of you in no time, his fingers hitting places you never could and his skin rubbing against your naked walls. his fingers were getting slicker and slicker with each pump, coating it up with your juices as the squelching sounds echoed through the room. it felt good. needless to say, you wanted more but you'll take what you can get now since you have angered him—just a little, but he has the tendency to exaggerate—previously.

you were squirming underneath him, quick and rapid breathes leaving your lips that did not cater towards hyunjin’s liking whatsoever. there was joy in hearing you sound so breathless, of course, but he didn’t want that now. he was craving for loudness; moans and whimpers that uncontrollably fall out of your tongue when he is causing too much pleasure.

“what happened to you today, hmm? first, you talk back to me, then you don’t answer my question, and now you can’t even moan?” he hummed close to your face, hot air hitting against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. his glare almost felt threatening when you glanced down at him. “guess i have to fuck some senses into you, huh? can't have you acting that stupid the whole time.”

he removed himself from you, leaving your walls to clench around the air as he moved over to your head. he planted a short kiss to your forehead, despite your whiny protest, telling you to stay in your place before he left the living room and headed into where you assumed would be your shared bedroom. you waited only for a brief moment before he returned to the living room with something clinking in his hands.

you turned to him with furrowed brows, curious to what he’s got in his hands. and you frowned even more as you tried to access exactly the toy present in his hands. a shiny, metal bar lodged between two black cuffs at either end of the object. hyunjin rubbed the rigid pole in the middle with his fingers before he finally turned his eyes to you, and he laughed a little at your incredulous expression.

“is that a spreader bar?” you asked, a short laugh leaving your lips and breaking the tension flowing you both for a moment.

“yeah, i found it in minho’s room when i was over last time since he forgot to hide his box of trinkets,” he exclaimed in an excited hiss. “i got curious and looked it up online, and then i impulsively bought one!”

“how much did you pay for that?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“like… around… fifty dollars–who gives a shit!” hyunjin cut you off with a wave of his hand before you could begin telling him off for spending that much money on something he could have replaced with some simple cuffs he could get for way cheaper. he moved closer to you then, his fingers curling around your ankle, holding your leg up for him. “the point is that this thing will make you feel really nice.”

“i’m sorry, i thought you are fucking me, not the spreader ba–ooh, okay.“ you let out a shaky breath when hyunjin suddenly tightened the cuffs around your ankle. he gave you a glare when you meekly smiled at him, and when he leaned down to your face with his finger tapping against your inner thigh, you turned your face away so his lips meet your cheek instead.

hyunjin groaned in annoyance. just because you’ve got him at the palm of your hands doesn’t mean he planned to let you go about saying and doing whatever the hell you wanted. mind you, you’re the one with your legs cuffed and your body bare, not him.

“that was a lot of strikes in the past few minutes, you fucking brat,” he mumbled as he pulled away, his hands working on the other cuff as he wrapped it around your ankle and tightened the buckle on it.

when he was finished, your legs could no longer clamp together no matter how hard you tried. he leaned back to take a good look at you, his eyes grazing past your skin lustfully as his hand reached out for your heat. you flinched, your knees going together without your feet following when you felt hyunjin slips his fingers back into your heat to gather up the wetness.

ahh, the way your eyes widened at the force of the pole made his cock twitch. the idea that you were left completely exposed, waiting for him to do whatever he wants to do with you simply sends his desire over the edge. he has the full ability to destroy you if he so sees fit now, with you laid on your back on full display for him, and he planned to. he did say he is going to fuck some senses into you, so he would.

his fingers shifted out of your heat and immediately went to tug his pants down. he pulled his member out of his boxers and pulled you closer to the edge of the table. holding your leg up around his shoulders, you inhaled sharply when he poked his tip against your cunt, your glossy eyes rolling down to look at him as you felt your wall clench in excitement. hyunjin raised a brow, waiting for your cue, and you gave it to him with a faint nod.

“good girl,” he praised lowly, his hand reaching down to caress your cheek before he slowly pushed himself inside.

you moaned at the stretch, the sensation both familiar but foreign at the same time. and hyunjin exhaled heavily at your tightness, his hands unconsciously pushing against the back of your thighs. has it really been that long since you last had sex with him? or did the sudden tightness came from you feeling turned-on over the new toy caging your legs open?

he stayed in you for a brief moment, allowing you time to adjust to his size and allowing himself a quiet moment to hold himself back from climaxing immediately. when he saw that it was time for him to move, he dipped his head down, his hair falling slightly over his eyes, and he said, “keep your knees open for me, hmm?”

you breathed out a sigh, your mind somehow still managing to race with retorts despite at such a vulnerable position. you snorted a little then, a smile on your lips. “sure, it’s not like i can close my legs with this thing holding them open anyway–shit!”

the smile was wiped off your face and replaced with an opened mouth, a whine slipping past your lips as hyunjin pulled out before easing himself back in. he did that once, twice, three times before he suddenly decided to pick up his space and unruly rolled his hips into yours. there was a sinister glare in his eyes, visible only in the gaps of his sweaty bangs, and your body shivered simply from the way he looked at you.

“you know, i’ve had it with you today. you can’t answer a fucking question normally?” he said through gritted teeth. the scraping against your wall continued relentlessly, the living room filled with his low grunts and your hefty moans, and you couldn’t speak much without him cutting you off every other word with a sharp thrust.

“stupid bitch, can’t think of anything to say this time, or am i fucking you too good you lost your voice?” hyunjin scoffed at you then, rolling his eyes to the side at the way you kept stammering. he placed a hand on the metal pole in the air and pushed it down slightly with his body weight, leaning down to look at you better. “come on? what’s stopping you from talking back, hmm?”

you shivered at the change of position. oh, this felt different, not quite in a good way but no so much horrible either. a sore pain rose from the back of your knees, your inflexible joints slowly starting to ache when hyunjin decided to push your restrained legs back against your shoulders and over your head instead of folding them to your chest.

“hey, i asked you a question, dumb slut,” he said, one hand gripping your cheeks together until your mouth molded into a weird shape, your lips all mushed up together. his other hand continued to push on the pole, pulling your feet farther behind your head while he leaned his weight on you for support. “fucking whore, think you can just lay there and take it?"

you whimpered at the ache then, your rigid muscles burning and screaming at the impossible stretch. you have never been a bendy person, you’ve spent your life unable to stretch your muscles as far as most people could. and while some pain you could handle for the sake of continuing with the sex, sometimes the pleasure melts in perfectly with the pain, and all you could feel was bliss. but this? this was beyond what your body could handle.

the lack of sounds coming from your throat contrasted the way you were squirming underneath him, you were trying too hard to breathe that your chest started to heave uncontrollably and your face was slowly turning red. but hyunjin mistook all of that as a sign of pleasure rather than uncertainty and pain, therefore when he wasn't all too pleased about the silence flowing around the air, he acted upon it with harshness.

you choked out when his hand slid down from your cheeks to your throat, miscalculating his strength as he squeezed your throat and cut your airway short.

no. you couldn’t breathe, your sight was blurry and your muscles were painfully clawing at your flesh. you couldn’t find it in yourself to enjoy this anymore, it was all pain.

you reached your hand out, trying to push him away. ”hyun–hyunjin–i think–"

"oh? so stupid bitch here does have a voice? and you're wasting it to speak?" he cut you off with a grunt, rutting himself into you at an increasing speed as his grip on your throat tightened, causing your face to go redder than before. he leaned down to you when you didn't get the cue to release any sounds he had always loved hearing from you, your mouth a tightly sealed vault he needed to pry open with even more heavy thrusts. "i need you to fucking moan, whore.”

your chest heaved.

no, this hurts, this really hurts.

"hyunjin–" you pursed your lips together, feeling a stir in your heart before you finally gave away and breathed out. "red! hyunjin, red! stop, please!"

the word took less than a second to register in hyunjin's head. red means stop, red means bad, red mean scary—red means safeword.

he immediately pulled out of you and released your neck, noticing the way your chest relaxed immediately and you coughed out the breath you have been holding. your legs immediately retreated to a normal position, trembling from the forced stretch from a while ago. and hyunjin fumbled with the buckles to take the cuffs off of your ankles before throwing the bar off to the floor with the rest of the things.

he cursed to himself as he watched you gasp on the table, shivers running down your body as stressful tears ran down your eyes. he was unsure of what to do now that the safeword has been uttered. it has never happened before.

if you said it then that meant you felt uncomfortable, right? and that he has hurt you in the process? oh, no, that's terrible, that's absolutely terrible. what has he done? should he touch you, but what if you didn't want to be touched right now? oh god, hwang hyunjin, why did you let it get to your head? why didn't you read the damn signs?

“fuck–(name), i’m sorry! i'm so sorry, are you okay?" he blurted out impulsively, his hands rubbing together anxiously as he awaited knelt at your side. he whimpered out when he saw tears streaming down the corner of your eyes, and he hesitated in wiping it away. “oh god, you’re crying–i’m so sorry–what did i do, what did i do?"

you sat up on the desk slowly, your naked body still on display but you didn't quite mind it as much as you did earlier. you focused on hyunjin, finding his shrunken body and teary eyes a somewhat endearing sight—he cared about to feel this worried. not to applaud a fish for swimming, but it was always nice to have your personal space be respected like this.

"i'm fine, hyunjin. it just got overwhelming,” you said, pulling your legs up to your chest and looking down at him. “you pulled my feet over my head and choked me, i couldn’t breathe at all and my muscles are really sore.”

god, he didn’t even register how he had done that. he knew he pushed your legs back, but he didn’t consider enough about how that would cause your discomfort. “i’m so sorry, are you feeling better now? do you want me to run you a bath?” he asked, sitting up on his feet and gazing up at you worriedly. “i’m so sorry.”

you smiled slightly at the way his eyes sparked innocence up at you. his duality really never ceases to amaze you. “i think a bath would be nice.”

"oh, okay, you just stay here and wait!” he perked up, scrambling up from the floor and looking around as if he has forgotten the structure of his own apartment. before he could leave you sitting on the table by yourself, you stopped him.

"come here," you beckoned, waiting for him to get closer before you reached up to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. hyunjin didn’t move, letting you do as you please in case he would accidentally hurt you again. “i’m okay, hyunjin. you apologized, i forgive you, and we talked about it. just don’t do that next time.”

"yeah, of course," he said, holding onto your hands with a somewhat remorseful smile. "i love you, you know that right?"

"i know." you nodded. "i love you too, thank you for listening to me."

“of course.” he couldn't imagine not doing that. “now, the bubble bath. i got one of these bath soap online recently–“

“you bought things again?” you exclaimed, frowning. “how much did that cost?”

“they’re like eighteen dollars each.” he shifted around, inching farther and farther away from you.

“and how many did you buy?”

like five of them, but he’ll let you find out yourself when he asked you to pick a scent.

#skz smut #skz dark hours #stray kids dark hours #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut

401 notes · View notes

plaidbooks · 3 years

Note

I was going to request a Nick fic, but I see you have a lot coming up so I’ll chill ☺️ Instead can I request a Rafael one where him and Liv actually do have some sort of secret thing going on, but reader starts as a new detective with SVU and her and Rafael have an instant connection.

To Love Again

A/N: Heya Anon--never feel hesitant about sending in a request! Even if I’m backed up on someone, I’ll gladly take any request haha!. Anyways, this got...a lot more angst than I meant for it to, whoops. I hop you enjoy (and there’s a small possibility for this to get a sequel, depending on inspiration).

This also jumps perspective, between Rafi and reader. Just a heads-up.

Tags: implied smut, angst with a happy? ending, mentions of sexual assault (no details given), alcohol

Words: 2650

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @dianilaws

It had started one drunken night, by mutual agreement, after a rough case and an even rough loss. Rafael and Olivia had gone out for drinks, to take the edge off after getting back the “not guilty” verdict. To show that they weren’t mad at each other. To show that they could work through the arguments and disagreements they had through the whole trial, the whole case. And the night had ended with Rafael waking up in Olivia’s bed. It was awkward at first, but they had talked about it; they cared for each other, but not in that way. It was simply…stress relief. And it didn’t happen again. Not until another rough loss, about two months later.

“We’re both single adults—we’re being safe about it. Who cares?” Olivia had said one day, and Rafael had agreed. Like they said, they cared about each other. Just not in that way. Who cares if they found relief in each other’s bodies once in a blue moon? It didn’t go beyond that, which was fine with Rafael; his heart was too shriveled up for a relationship, anyways. This was simpler, easier.

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

There was a knock on his office door late in the afternoon. Glancing up, he called out for whoever it was to enter, curious as to who was coming to meet with him. He had no appointments at this time, though it wasn’t rare that people stopped by for one thing or another. He quirked an eyebrow though as you entered his office; he had never seen you before.

“Mr. Barba? I’m here to drop off some signed statements from the Jackson case, and to pick up a warrant for Wilson’s apartment,” you said shyly, coming to stand in front of his desk. You held the paperwork out to him, and he took it from you, that eyebrow still raised. You swallowed nervously as his bright green eyes roamed over your face.

“And who are you?” Rafael asked. His voice was light, a conversational tone.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “Oh! Detective [Y/L/N]; I just started with SVU a few days ago. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself,” you replied, smiling sheepishly and holding out your hand.

His lips twitched up at the corners, and he took your hand, shaking it. Olivia had told him that she was getting a new detective soon, but he didn’t know she already did. Nor that you would look so….

“You said the Wilson warrant, correct?” Rafael asked, pulling his hand back, flipping through files.

“That’s the one.” You watched his fingers run over the pages on his desk, flicking through the paper. Your face grew warmer as you thought about what those fingers would feel like against your skin, moving down your body, pushing under your pants….

“Ah, here it is,” he said, breaking you out of your lewd thoughts. He passed the folded warrant to you, and you thanked him, face now completely on fire. His eyes were sparkling with mischief, as if he knew exactly where your mind had been. “Would you like to get a nightcap with me tonight, Detective? Get to know each other a little better?”

Your breath hitched. “I-I’d like that very much,” you replied, smiling at him. “I’m off at 8 tonight. Is that alright?”

Rafael nodded. “Of course. Meet me at Forlini’s after you’re off.”

You turned to leave, warrant in hand, then you remembered that your new business cards had come in, with your personal cell phone number on it. Taking one from your pocket, you handed it to Rafael. “Here’s my number…if I’m late, feel free to text. I’m the new kid, so don’t be surprised it I get stuck with OT,” you laughed, and he smirked, tucking the card into his pocket.

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

You made it to Forlini’s shortly after you got off; no OT, not tonight. Rafael was already sitting at the bar, a glass of amber liquid in front of him. His suit jacket was off, hanging over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms, and you had a moment to stare before he turned and saw you heading over towards him.

“Detective,” Rafael greeted, nodding towards you, a grin on his face. “What are you drinking?”

“Ah, vodka cranberry. I’m on call tonight, so only one drink for me,” you smiled back at him. You could hold your liquor well enough that one drink wouldn’t kill you. But that was it; you didn’t want to mess anything up, especially this early in your new career as detective. You worked too hard to get here.

Rafael nodded in acknowledgement. “Fair enough.” He waved down the bartender, ordering your drink onto his tab.

“Thank you,” you said, to both the bartender and Rafael as you were handed your drink. You both sat in silence, sipping your drinks, eyeing each other. Rafael was, well, attractive. You had heard about him, of course; when Olivia had sent you to get a warrant earlier that evening, everyone in the department had a warning for you about his sass, his sarcasm. But he seemed nice enough, and those eyes…those forearms…those fingers….

“What made you decide to go for SVU?” he asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve always wanted to help people. And so many of my friends were…assaulted when I was younger, back before we knew what the word meant. I’ve seen firsthand what it can do…what it does to people. And if I can help even one person reclaim their life, then it’s all worth it.” You didn’t mean to go so in depth, but once you started talking, you realized you couldn’t stop. And something about Rafael seemed…comforting. Like you wanted to tell him your whole life story. Maybe that’s why his conviction record was so high.

He nodded along with you, his eyes boring into you, watching you intently. “That’s a noble cause. You do realize that there’s a lot of grey areas in this job, though, right? And that the justice system doesn’t always win out?” He said it matter-of-factly, his voice unwavering. But there was a slight sadness underneath, tinting his eyes as he said it.

“I-I know…. We won’t always get our guy. We won’t always win. But the fight is worth it, if only to validate the victims, to put the behavior in the spotlight, to make it easier for the next victim,” you sighed, “because there will always be another victim.”

Rafael noticed how your voice had changed and decided to go for a lighter topic. “So, who’s your partner?”

“Uh, Fin, so he can keep an eye on me. And also Carisi—he tells me it’s because it’s getting colder and Fin doesn’t want to leave the warmth of the precinct,” you answered, smiling slightly.

“Stuck with Fordham, huh? I don’t know how you’re going to stay sane with him. He’s started shadowing me, and I already have a headache just thinking about it.”

You laughed, and Rafael chuckled. “Come on, he’s not that bad. A little excitable…. That’s cool that he’s shadowing you, though. Getting some hands-on experience.”

“Yeah, cool for him. Though, I have to admit, he has some…decent points every now and again,” Rafael conceded. Then, he gave you a sharp look, “you are to never tell him that I said that.”

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

Conversation flowed easily between you two, and you ended up staying much later than you thought at Forlini’s, simply chatting with the counselor. You switched to water after your one drink, making sure you had a clear mind in case you were called in. But by 11pm, you still hadn’t received a call, and you were getting tired.

“I think I should head home…I got work in the morning,” you said reluctantly. You didn’t want to leave; you were having a lot of fun with Rafael. You had no idea why the other detectives had warned you about him.

“I’ll walk you out,” Rafael replied, finishing his drink and waving the bartender down. You waited while he paid, thanking him again for your drink. And then he was leading you out of the bar, his hand on your lower back, sending electricity through you.

“Thank you for tonight, Rafael; I had a lot of fun talking with you,” you smiled at him.

He grinned back at you, waving down a cab for you. “I had a good time, too. I’m excited to work with you.” A cab pulled up, and he opened the door for you. You brushed past him, and he grabbed your elbow, turning you back to him. His lips were suddenly on yours, the kiss gentle, innocent. You froze for a moment before you kissed him back, savoring the taste, the feel of him against you. Pulling back, you both looked at each other, panting slightly. It took your brain a moment to catch up to what just happened, and now that it did, you panicked, mumbling a goodnight, and climbing into the taxi, leaving Rafael standing on the sidewalk.

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

He wasn’t sure what had come over him, what had possessed him to kiss you in front of Forlini’s. This was…different than what he had with Olivia. With Liv, it was all stress that was shoved down, down until it burst out of both of them. There were no feelings when it came to sleeping with Liv, just primal urges, actions. But sitting in Forlini’s, talking to you, Rafael felt….

That was just the problem, wasn’t it? Rafael felt, something that hasn’t happened in so long, he almost forgot what it meant to feel, what it…felt like. And you had returned the kiss! But then, before he could even attempt a next step—whether it was an apology or inviting himself over to your place, even he wasn’t sure—your eyes had gone wide with surprise, and you had fled. And now, Rafael was at a loss for what to do. He had your number; should he call you? Text? Should he apologize? Or should he lay on the charm, try and slip into your pants, your bed? And what the fuck was he going to tell Liv? Sorry, we can’t sleep together anymore cause I’m fucking your new detective? But that wasn’t even true yet! Sighing, he went back into Forlini’s, ordering another drink.

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

Thankfully, one of these situations had fixed themselves…though, it still fucking hurt. Olivia had come into Rafael’s office late one night, a few days after the incident at Forlini’s, closing and locking the door—the tell-tale sign that they were going to discuss some…personal matters.

“We can’t do this anymore, Rafa,” Liv had murmured, her voice soft. Even in his secluded office, the walls had ears. And while she was being vague on purpose, Rafael understood immediately.

“What’s changed?” he asked idly. He wasn’t…mad, but he was a little surprised, and hurt. He had enjoyed having a warm body in his bed, rather than his hand.

“I’ve…” Olivia dropped her voice lower, and Rafael had to strain her ears to hear her. “I’ve started seeing someone.” Rafael nodded, keeping his face neutral. He was happy for his friend; she deserved someone who loved her, cared for her. But he couldn’t stop the jealousy that cropped up. Not so much at her, but at the fact that she had found someone.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Rafael smirked, going back to the motion he was currently filling out. He thought back to the kiss with you, and his heart constricted.

“Are we okay?” Liv asked, her voice low.

Rafael glanced up at her, his eyes softening. “Of course, we are. I’ll always care about you, Liv. And I’m happy you found someone.”

Olivia nodded once, her hand rubbing Rafael’s shoulder lovingly, before she left his office. Sighing, he pulled out his phone, your card, and typed in your number.

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

You didn’t know why you answered your phone when an unknown number called, nor why you gave him your address when you learned it was Rafael. You weren’t entirely sure why you let him into your apartment when he showed up 20 minutes later, nor why you opened the bottle of spice rum when he asked if you had alcohol. But the most confounding thing to you was when he kissed you again, you didn’t stop him. In fact, you escalated it, pulling his shirt off.

Groaning as you woke up, you froze as you felt strong arms around your naked body, a warm chest against your back, a heavy breath tickling your neck. Oh fuck, you didn’t…no way. But the soreness between your legs, your naked body against his, and your memories of the night prior were slowly coming back to you, and you grimaced. You were not the type of person to sleep with someone you had just met, drunk or not. It didn’t matter that you found him attractive, or that from what you remembered, the sex was phenomenal. This wasn’t you, so what happened?

“Morning,” Rafael’s voice was still thick with sleep, husky in your ear. His lips brushed over your shoulder, his arms tugging you tighter against him.

“Uh, morning Rafael,” you replied softly. But he heard the hesitance in your voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his breath warm on your skin.

You sighed, rolling over to look at him. “This…I don’t know how to say this…” you trailed off, and he furrowed his brow. “I’m…I don’t just…sleep around with people….”

Realization swept over his face. “Oh. I’m…I’m sorry. You seemed…you seemed okay with it last night. And I used a condom—”

“No, I’m not blaming you, I promise.” You sighed, looking away. The sadness, the regret on his face was too much for you to bare. “I mean…I like you, Rafael, but I don’t know you.”

In the softest voice, he said, “this is…this is all I know. I’m so sorry.” He rolled over, pulling away from you. He got out of bed, moving around your room, grabbing his clothes, and pulling on articles of clothing as he went.

You watched in silence, your heart breaking. What did that mean? “I’d like to, though…know you, that is.” Rafael turned to look at you, his brow furrowed once more. “But let’s take it slow, go out on a date or two, learn about each other.”

“A date?”

You smiled softly at him. “You have been on a date, right?” you joked.

“…not in many, many years.”

Your smile faded and your heart strained for the man—that kiss at Forlini’s and last night made so much more sense now. You wondered when the last time he felt genuine love was…and how badly it must’ve ended for him to be this broken over it.

“Then I’ll remind you. We’ll go slow, take baby steps…that is, if you want,” you said.

Rafael nodded, his head barely moving, and he blinked away the tears that threatened to form. “I’d like that. You’ll…you’ll have to be patient with me,” he warned.

“Lucky for you, I have all the patience of a detective,” you grinned, and his lips twitched upwards. “Let’s start with lunch. Today work for you?”

He nodded once more, then left your room to let you dress. This could work; you’d teach the counselor about love again, let the walls around his heart down, let him feel again. Rafael was, of course, afraid of being hurt again; he felt like his heart still wasn’t fully put back together. But after this many years, he alone obviously wasn’t enough for the job. Maybe he needed someone else to help. And he trusted you, more than he thought he could after everything he’s gone through throughout his life, especially since you had just met. Sure, he was terrified about all of this. But for you…for you, he was willing to try.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #the slightest bit of barson #but not a focus and it ends p quickly #Anonymous

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psycho-slytherin · 3 years

Text

Strangers ch. 46

The truth begins to be untold, from multiple perspectives.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, strangers to friends to ??? I honestly don’t know what this counts as anymore

Warnings: Strong language

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

You can’t breathe for several seconds. You feel yourself begin to tremble, and Wonho must feel it too, because he places a protective hand on your shoulder. “Y/n?”

For a moment, the club swims before you. No. No. You’re not letting her win, not again. With enormous effort, you summon that numbness once more, letting it settle over you. In a single moment, you adjust your posture and expression, and although your throat feels like it’s about to close up, you don’t allow your voice to change. You’re an actress, after all. “Good to see you’re having fun,” you tell Yoongi cooly, ignoring Seoyeon. The redhead’s eyes narrow at your obvious disinterest. Yoongi’s gaze sweeps between you and Wonho, who’s glistening with sweat from dancing. Wonho’s mesh top is sticking to his defined abs.

“Looks like you are too,” Yoongi replies quietly. His brows knit together and his eyes search yours, almost pleading –

He can’t do this to me. It’s not fair. And you can’t keep your voice steady much longer. You take a long pull of your drink.

“Suga-bear~” Seoyeon whines.

“Hyung!” Out of nowhere, Hoseok breaks through the crowd, looking wildly between you and Yoongi. “Ha… I-I didn’t know you’d be here!” He says through a too-wide smile.

Still looking at you, Yoongi jerks his head toward Seoyeon, who continues clinging to him. You notice Hoseok twitch.

Without breaking eye contact with Yoongi, you reach up and rest your hand on Wonho’s, who’s still holding your shoulder. “Wonho, I’m going to BTS’s private room. Hoseok, is it okay if Wonho comes with?”

“Of course.”

Wonho seems confused, but – bless him – he goes along with you as you turn your back on Seoyeon… and Yoongi.

“So! Tell me about your mixtape, how’s that going?” You hear Hoseok shout over the music as you lead Wonho away. By the time you finally shut the door, closing yourself off from the club, you feel like the night has lasted for far longer than a few songs.

The other members have disappeared, surely out on the dance floor or by the bar. Coats are strewn on the couch and chairs, and you can spot several empty bottles of soju on the counter.

‘Hey… you okay?” Wonho asks, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” you answer too quickly.

“Want to talk about it?”

For a moment, just a moment, you consider telling him everything: about Lisa, missing and possibly dead. About Xiumin, who proved that you really couldn’t trust anyone. About Yoongi, whose betrayal hurt you more than any real boyfriend could. About Seoyeon, how she and her cronies followed you out of the hospital. About that night, the shove, the blood, the walk, the cold. About the photo, and how it ruined your lamppost meetings with Yoongi forever. You could tell him about how you found Seoyeon’s picture on Lisa’s laptop, making you fear the worst.

Or the relentless cyberbullying. Would Wonho understand? You reach up, rubbing your thumb against the Starry Night pendant. Your situation is comically unique – would anyone understand? You’re stronger now, yes, but what does your strength mean if Lisa is gone forever and Yoongi is dating your attacker?

Your phone buzzes. Finally, is it the contract from FYP Entertainment?

@mrsminnie<3: Guys! I made a poll, vote who u think Yoongi is better with- @seoyeonnielovesbts vs @yourname!

@jjksaysfuck: WHY does @yourname still think she’s relevant? Suga BROKE UP WITH HER lollll her career is #deadinthewater

@captainkookie21: @jjksaysfuck kinda like @yourname soon ;) #SUGA belongs to ARMYs! You’ll see ^-^

@streamDIEnamite03: Ok but like,,,, did anyone see that commercial with @WONHO and @yourname??? That was spicy 0_0

“Y/n?”

“Oh, sorry!” You realize you’ve been silent for several seconds too long. “Yeah. I’m fine. I should’ve known this would happen eventually, just…” You tuck your phone away. Not so soon.

“Dunno what he thinks he’s doing, showing up like this after that PR fiasco,” Wonho says, eyeing the door as though Yoongi is right behind it. “I mean, it looks like the girl wanted to come, Yoongi’s never been one for clubs. But seriously, dating a fan? You’d think he’d know better.”

You freeze. “Right.” You forgot that to the public, you and Yoongi met on the set of Possible. You forgot that you were never an ARMY – Yoongi wouldn’t date a fan.

“She gives me weird vibes, I dunno. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod. “I just want a few minutes without having to worry.” You’re both still standing awkwardly by the door, and you nod at the couch. “Wanna sit down? We can go back to the dance floor once we’ve caught our breath.”

“Sure. Hey, I never mentioned it earlier and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but that outfit looks really great on you.”

You laugh. Maybe the night doesn’t have to be a waste after all.

~~~

“Suga-bear~” Seoyeon coos. “Buy me a drink?” “Get your own,” Yoongi growls, tugging his arm out of her grasp. He forgot the group had a VIP room at Club Xyon; what were they doing in it?

Spread around the dancefloor, he sees Jungkook and Jimin having one of their famous dance battles; Taehyung is dancing in the front, vibing with the smitten DJ. Jin and Namjoon are sitting in a booth, surrounded by gorgeous idols.

And Hoseok is with him. Y/n and Wonho are alone.

Seoyeon is still whining. “But Suga, I want you to get it for me!”

Ugh. “Fine, what do you want?”

“Anything. Make it strong.”

Yoongi locks eyes with Hoseok, making sure he knows to keep an eye on Seoyeon, before heading to the bar.

“Suga!” The pretty mixologist grins broadly at his approach. “I’m a big fan! What can I get for you?”

Yoongi nods. “Thanks. Can I get some sparkling water with vodka on the rim and – I don’t know, something strong? Whatever you want to make, but with an extra shot.”

She nods, and sets about making the drinks. As he’s waiting, Yoongi’s phone buzzes with a text:

D-man: eyo Gloss [11:13]

D-man: got some shit for u [11:14]

Yoongi: Please tell me it’s good [11:14]

D-man: u don’t pay me for good u pay me for results [11:15]

D-man: anyway idk about good, but it’s something? [11:15]

D-man: seems weird tho [11:16]

Yoongi: What do you mean? [11:17]

D-man: hang on there’s more [11:17]

D-man: lemme call u soon [11:17]

Yoongi: ???? [11:18]

“Here are your drinks – oh, no charge!” The mixologist says with a wink. “I’m never taking a cent from BTS.”

Yoongi laughs, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Call it a tip, then. I insist.”

Hoseok’s smile is strained as Seoyeon dotes on him. Yoongi wishes he could laugh at his discomfort, but Hoseok is the only one besides him and Y/n that actually knows what the girl is capable of.

“Here.” He hands Seoyeon the drink and sips from his own sparkling water. He refuses to lose his inhibitions around her.

Wonho and Y/n are alone. What if he hurts her?

Seoyeon takes a big swig. She was already drinking in the car on the way to the club, and Yoongi doesn’t understand why, with so much at stake, she can have fun.

She hurt Y/n. She has Lisa. She hurt Y/n. She has Lisa. She hurt Y/n.

What he can’t understand is why Detective Kang and the rest of the police department aren’t investigating Seoyeon. Y/n did turn Lisa’s laptop over, right? Seoyeon’s photo was there, open on her desktop. Maybe they knew each other for unrelated reasons? But D would have told him.

Argh. This night wasn’t supposed to be such a mess. And what is Y/n doing?

~~~

“You’re kidding!” You snort into your glass of soju, almost spilling the drink down your front. “He said that?”

“Oh yeah. So I was like, dude, I’m not gonna fight you. Right? He was a head shorter than me. He didn’t like that, so he started swinging, but he ended up hitting my buddy–”

Already buzzed and determined to forget about Yoongi, you laugh harder than you need to. “That’s crazy.”

Your phone buzzes once, twice, three times. Argh. You glance at Wonho, hoping he didn’t notice the notification, but…

“Go ahead and take it,” Wonho says, ruffling his hair. “You’re hoping it’s the contract, right?”

“Ah – yeah, sorry.” You scroll through your notifications, past more hate messages. There’ve been fewer lately. You suppose you’re becoming old news. Still, some accounts have been more persistent. A text notification catches your eye:

Hi, L/n Y/n. I’m messaging you on behalf of Mr. Park of FYP entertainment. We expect a response to the contract offer by 5:00pm Tuesday.

“What?”

Wonho looks up from his screen. “What’s up?”

“This…” you furrow your brow. “This says I’ve already received the contract. But I’m certain I haven’t!” You reload your email inbox desperately, but nothing changes. Wonho leans closer, until you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “Check your trash folder?” he suggests.

“But I haven’t deleted anything!”

“Just check.”

You sigh and click to view your recently deleted emails. There, staring at you, is an email with the subject line L/n Y/n FYP Ent. Contract of Employment 20xx.

“Oh my gosh, there it is!” You squeal, quickly moving it back to your inbox before tossing your phone aside and throwing your arms around Wonho. “Thank you so much!”

Wonho is quick to hug you back, laughing. “Of course. Glad I could help solve the mystery.”

As you gaze at Wonho, you’re filled with elation. Wonho’s easy. Unproblematic. Kind. “Wanna go back and dance?”

“Your wish, my command,” he replies with a wink. As you stand from the couch, Wonho steals a last glance at his phone- and does a double take. “Yo, what?”

“Wassup?”

“Ah, nothing. Just some stupid gossip about, er, Yoongi’s new girlfriend.”

Something burns in your throat. “Anything interesting?”

“Nah. Some people are saying that ‘cause her dad’s a cop, Yoongi must’ve committed a crime and her dad is letting him off if he dates Seoyeon.” Wonho chuckles. “The things people invent when they’ve got too much time on their hands.”

“What do you mean, her dad is a cop?”

He shrugs. “Detective, I guess. Same difference, and somehow I doubt Yoongi’s a felon. So! Are we gonna go dance?”

Kang Seoyeon.

“Yeah,” you reply, suddenly breathless. “Let’s dance.”

~~~

“I love this song!” Seoyeon squeals, waving her arms in the air. Yoongi, sipping his sparkling water, is doing his best to ignore her, while Hoseok is amusing himself with Seoyeon’s antics.

Yoongi wishes he could relax and enjoy himself, but with Y/n’s would-be killer and most certainly Lisa’s kidnapper now throwing it back to HyunA, and with D having something for him, Yoongi can’t do anything but stare around tensely. Suddenly, he notices Y/n and Wonho rejoining everyone on the dance floor. They’re laughing shoulder-to-shoulder. He feels a bolt of jealousy strike him like lightning, so fierce that he can barely breathe.

“Suga bear!” Seoyeon shouts, slurring her words slightly. She’s already finished her drink and is halfway through another. “You love me, right?”

Fucking hell. “No,” Yoongi replies, his voice flat. Behind Seoyeon, Yoongi can see Hoseok slap a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Seoyeon’s eyes fill with tears. “B-but you have to love me! I worked so hard, Suga! I did it all for you! You have to love me!”

Worked so hard? She had stalked him, tried to kill Y/n, and kidnapped Lisa. “Did all what for me?” Yoongi snarls. “You little –”

Bzzt. Bzzt. D is calling him.

Yoongi stares from his phone to Seoyeon to Y/n and Wonho across the dance floor. Shit. “Hoseok, keep an eye on her, okay?”

Hoseok salutes dramatically. “Yessir!”

With that, Yoongi snakes away from the crowd, eventually finding a less populated corner that gives him a perfect view of Y/n and Wonho having a great time. Wait… is it his imagination, or does Y/n look-

“Gloss! Yo, my guy!”

Yoongi tapped his foot impatiently. “C’mon, what’ve you got?”

“Jeez, gimme a sec! Okay, so. Remember how that photo of you and Y/n was going around?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, so it came from, like, one of the red-haired chick’s backup accounts.”

“D, you fuckin’ told me this shit already, man.”

“I’m getting there! Stardom’s making you annoying, come back to Daegu.”

Yoongi snorts. “Keep talking.”

“So, you asked if Lisa had any side socials that weren’t under her name, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Well, I did a bit of digging – I charge extra for all the thirst tweets I had to look at, by the way – and I found that the fan account Seoyeon posted on has a very interesting username… one that corresponds pretty damn well to one her mutuals.” D took a deep breath. “Seoyeon’s account was called ‘@capkookies_btsbff’, and her mutual’s account is @captainkookie21. Remember how she kept talking about someone named Cap? Sooo I looked at that account, poking around, yknow? First thing: This was a total BTS fan account till, like, a few months ago. But after that? Gloss, this is some of the worst hate I’ve seen in a hot sec.”

“Whaddya mean, hate?”

“Hate towards your girl, bro! All sorts of bullshit, creepy stuff. Now, the IP address – which I took the liberty of finding, you’re welcome – tells me they’re in Seoul. The more interesting thing is that the address changed, and only a little over a month ago.”

“How can that change? I thought IPs were tied to devices.”

“They totally are! But socials aren’t. So this person was using one device, up until a month ago, and then switched.”

“They got a new phone?”

“Maybe. Or maybe they were trying to hide their location and were forced to use a new device.”

Yoongi’s forehead wrinkled. “Wha…”

He could hear D sigh over the phone. “Dude! Don’t you get it? Before they switched devices, this account was linked to Lisa’s phone!”

Yoongi’s jaw goes slack. That night at Seoyeon’s house… “Cap said you’d come to me. We’re meant to be.”

~~~

“W-Where’s Suuuu-ga?” Seoyeon whines, clutching at Hoseok’s arm. She finished the rest of her glass and is now clearly well on her way to drunk.

“He’ll be back soon,” Hoseok replies, trying to blend his movement in with the heavy bass so that he and Seoyeon don’t stand out too much.

“All I did was love him,” Seoyeon says now, her eyes wide and doe-like.

Hoseok makes a face. “You stalked him.”

Shaking her head vehemently, Seoyeon takes another pull of her drink. “Nuh-uh. I never did.”

Hoseok purses his lips. She’s clearly willing to let slip information, but he doesn’t want to take advantage of her vulnerability. “You followed him to that hospital, and that lamppost. That’s called stalking.”

“Nooooooo I di-hic-didn’t,” Seoyeon warbles, swaying. Hoseok catches her and props her up, brows knit. Is she okay? Of course, Hoseok was the last to claim a title for holding one’s liquor, but Seoyeon seems insistent on getting wasted.

“I was just –” Seoyeon hiccups and giggles to herself. “Captain’s orders!”

“Orders?”

“Oops!” Seoyeon claps a hand over her mouth, stumbling backwards and bumping into an actress Heoseok recognizes from his favorite drama. “Nothingggg.”

This could be interesting. Hoseok plucks the glass from her hand, holding it away as she reaches for it. “Ah-ah-ah. I’ll give it back once you tell me what you meant.”

Seoyeon laughs, the sound going from a cute drunk giggle to something more intense, more concerning. “C-caaan’t~ Cap said I had to keep quiet.”

“Just tell me why you said you weren’t stalking Yoongi. You were following him, right? How else could you have found him at the hospital? And that lamppost?”

Seyeon sticks her tongue out. “Not telling!”

Is this really the same girl who shoved Y/n into a river and kidnapped Lisa under everyone’s noses?

Hoseok pauses and thinks. “Yoongi hasn’t kissed you, has he?”

Almost immediately, Seoyeon’s eyes well up with tears once more. “No! He never even touches me!”

“You know, I bet if you told me everything, he’d be really grateful.” Hoseok leans forward conspiratorially, barely able to hear himself over the music and shouts on the dance floor. “I’m sure he’d love you then.”

Seoyeon lets out a squeal that sounds practically inhuman. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Hoseok swallows down his guilt with the reassurance that he’s doing this for Y/n and Yoongi’s sakes. “So what were you doing at the hospital?”

Seoyeon stops and thinks hard, her face serious for the first time all night. “You really think he’ll love me? He won’t be mad?”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, Seoyeon shoots forward and snatches her glass away from Hoseok, downing the rest of the drink before he can blink. “I just wanted to be with him,” she says, wiping a droplet from her lips. “But I wasn’t following him. Cap said that she was at the hospital.” Seoyeon’s eyes turn dark, furious, the change so severe that Hoseok flinches. “Cap said she wanted to take Suga away from me. So I waited outside the hospital with my friends. Suga doesn’t belong to her!” Placing her glass on a nearby table, Seoyeon tugs at Hoseok’s sleeve desperately. “He belongs to me! To us, to ARMYs!”

Goosebumps erupt along Hoseok’s arms. Fans like this have always terrified him. To claim ownership of a person just because they were an idol… “And the lamppost? You didn’t follow Y/n, did you?”

Seoyeon blinks heavily. “I didn’t seeeee her after she fell into the river. Cap just told me where to go, and when I saw them hugging, I wanted to kill Y/n.” She smiles sweetly as though her words were nothing but innocent.

Hoseok can feel his stomach roil. “Why did you do all this?”

“Duh!” Seoyeon sweeps her arm around, gesturing at the club. “Cap’s friends with BTS! I was promised that Cap could set me up with Suga. And – hic – it worked.”

“We’re not friends. What?” Is this person someone the group knows? But Hoseok can’t think of many people the members of Bangtan are all friends with, except Y/n. No, surely…? She wouldn’t do that to herself.

It’s getting her a lot of publicity, a tiny voice in Hoseok’s head reminds him.

“W-What do you mean?” Seoyeon asks, a pout forming on her lips. “‘Course you are. After all, she has a video of Jimin saying her name.”

Hoseok’s heart is hammering in his chest. Y/n does love to tease Jimin. “At a fansign?” It would make sense, at least.

“Noooo~” Seoyeon says in a slurred singsong voice. “In your apartment.” She giggles, covering her mouth. “I recognized it from your lives!”

Hoseok’s own mouth goes dry. Had Y/n been manipulating his friend this whole time? “Oh.”

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paticheri · 4 years

Note

Would you maybe be willing or interested to write something in that “from starving to *very* stuffed” category? :3c

Oh, I’d love to!!!

A had never had a job in food service before, but they had just landed one after a while of searching. They would wait tables at a local restaurant. It seemed easy enough!

It wasn’t.

A had skipped breakfast to not get in late and make a bad impression on their first day but the smell of the food coming from the kitchen was making them hungrier by the minute. Not to mention having to deal with rude patrons and memorize special orders and getting everything right was way tougher than it seemed from a client’s perspective. Having to throw away the remaining scraps also hurt their heart a little. So much of that could have been repurposed! Mostly by getting in their belly. Man, was A hungry.

Finally, they were on their break. A couldn’t wait to get themselves some lunch and nothing would get in the way of them doing so!

“Um... excuse me?”

Something had tugged at A’s pant leg. It was a little girl, and she couldn’t be older than seven years old.

“Oh, hey! How... how can I help you?” A smiled.

“My mom and I were shopping next door... she told me not to get far away from her but I was in the toy aisle... I don’t know where she is and she always tells me to ask for help from someone wearing an uniform if I get lost!”

Dang, couldn’t she asked for an employee of the store she was in? A was too soft around small children, though. There was no way they would just delegate the task to someone else.

“You’re right! It IS important to ask someone wearing an uniform if you get lost at a store... but it’s better if you don’t get off and ask someone that works there, though!”

“Oh, shoot! I messed up! Mom will be SO mad at me!” She looked distraught. A bent over to get closer to the little girl’s height and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, she’s probably worried about you, not mad! Here, let’s go try and find her!”

A took the little girl by her hand and walked to the store. Luckily it didn’t take too long to find her mom, she was frantically looking all over for her lost child. She thanked A so much for their help they couldn’t help but blush a little.

That little adventure took the entirety of A’s lunch break, though. They had to get right back to work and that meant they wouldn’t be able to get a bite to eat until they clocked out.

By the time A did clock out... to say that they were famished was an understatement. They had to consciously stop themselves from picking at the customers’ plates as the hours went on, they were so hungry. They were sure people were able to hear their stomach growl in protest every time they had to get another plate of food to someone else and not eat anything themselves. Every part of their body felt weak. The walk to l their car to come back home almost felt like they had concrete slabs strapped to their feet.

“Hey, honey. I’m ho-what’s that smell?” As A had gotten home, they had called out for their SO B, but were immediately overwhelmed by the scent of delicious homemade food coming from the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetie! I’m so glad to see you home!” B ran to greet them, giving them a peck on the lips. “How was your first day of work?”

“It was fine... haven’t had time to eat, though. I’m starving.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” B looked genuinely concerned. “You DO look pale!”

“I’m just gonna hop in the shower real quick and I’ll be back to eat.”

“Good! Dinner will be done by then!”

A took the quickest shower of their life. B and set up the table. They had made a huge tray of baked Mostaccioli, and a whole portion of garlic bread to go with it. A felt themselves salivate just looking at it.

“I was thinking of opening up a bottle of wine as well... to celebrate your new job!”

“B... you’re a true angel.” A managed to say, which made their partner giggle. The food DID smell heavenly and A didn’t waste any time digging in. It was perfect. The cheesy, meaty pasta was hearty and A almost inhaled bite after bite, stopping only to sip some wine and switch to munching on the garlic bread from time to time. B dutifully refilled their plate after A was done eating and they didn’t need to be told twice to dig in again. Then they refilled it a third time when they were done with that helping.

GroWWLL...

The sudden sound that came from their stomach snapped A from their feeding frenzy. They hadn’t stopped to realize how utterly full they had become. Their pants were digging hard into their belly... oh god, their belly! It was bulging out in front of them, hard as a drum. No wonder it was making those sounds!

“Oh, Jesus! I’m... -hic- I’m about to explode!” A undone their pants with some difficulty, and it seemed to double in size with the extra room to expand. “Ow... B, why did you let me eat this much?”

“You were so hungry, I couldn’t just tell you to stop eating! Did you get a stomachache?”

“A... a little bit. I’m mostly only -urp!- really full. Oof.” A gave their belly a few taps. “It sure beats starving all day like I was, though. The food was amazing too, hun.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” B gave A a little kiss on their forehead. “Let me help you up, you look like you need to lay down for a bit.”

B helped A get up from their chair while they held their belly as if they were pregnant, then guided them to their bedroom. A let themselves fall on the bed, sighing with fullness and happiness. As much as they had stuffed themselves to a point they weren’t all that comfortable, the warmth and heaviness of all the delicious food inside their stomach made them feel bliss like few things did.

B laid down next to them, and wordlessly started rubbing their dome of a belly, and the sensation of bliss A felt increased tenfold.

“Ohh, you’re so full... how did you manage to fit so much inside this tummy, huh?”

“It’s easy when the food is so good...” A smiled. “If you keep doing this I’m gonna fall asleep right here...”

B smiled, planting a kiss on A’s belly.

“Rest up, sweetie. I’ll be right here for you when you wake up.”

Send me stuffing kink prompts!

#text post tag #stuffing #stuffing kink #belly kink

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my-proof-is-you · 3 years

Text

Secretly Broken - Pt. 2

Jared x Reader

Summary: When your best friend asked you to be a nanny for his kids, you jumped at the opportunity. You didn’t have much going on in your career, so it seemed like the perfect way to keep making money while you looked for your next job. Things take a turn, though, when you realize that keeping your feelings for Jared at bay isn’t as easy as you thought. Not only that, you would never want to come between him and his wife. While you are doing your best to keep your feelings secret, Jared has a secret of his own.

Warnings: fluff, angst

A/N: So because I think Gen is awesome, for the sake of what is happening in this fic, Jared married someone else. Kids names are the same, though :)

Honestly, this is based on a dream I had. So...idk. Apparently I love Jared.

Masterlist | Tag Yourself!

Jared

“Yeah, the kids are great. Y/N’s been doing a great job,” he said into the phone. Natalie had finally called him at nearly midnight, even though he’d texted her with his change of plans early in the day.

“Good. I miss them,” she said.

“I know. They miss you, too,” he said. It was true, but he didn’t really like comforting her in that moment. He’d really wished she would ask how he was doing at least once.

“Well...I guess I’ll talk to you next week,” she said awkwardly on the other end of the line.

“Yeah. You can call sooner if you want,” he replied, trying not to get angry. “I know the kids would love to hear from you.”

She sighed. “My shooting schedule is just hectic, Jared. I’ll definitely call if I get time.”

Jared rolled his eyes, glad he wasn’t on Facetime for her to see. “Okay. Well, goodnight.”

“Night.”

Jared hung up, trying not to throw his phone. Not making time for him had been one thing, but not making time for the kids? That just pissed him off.

Without thinking, he opened his messages app, finger hovering over your name. He sighed, closing the app and locking his phone instead.

I can’t bother her with this stuff. She does enough for me.

Although…

He opened his phone back up, writing a message to you.

Hey, I know you had planned on working tomorrow. If you want to take the day for yourself, I totally understand. Weather report said it’s supposed to get really hot in the afternoon though, so if you wanna come over and swim with me and the kids, you’re totally welcome.

He pressed send and waited a moment, sure that you were probably asleep already. After a moment, though, he saw the three dots that indicated you were typing.

That sounds fun! Ackles coming, too?

Jared hadn’t really thought about inviting Jensen, but it seemed like it was maybe a good idea.

Waiting to hear back from him, he lied. But I’m sure he will! Danny’s heading out of town so I’m sure he would love to bring the kids here to give her some time to get ready for that.

Cool. See you tomorrow.

Jared sighed, sending a quick message to Jensen to invite him over as well. He loved his best friend, of course, and he and his family were always welcome over.

For some reason, though, he felt a little sad it wouldn’t be just you coming over.

You

You watched as the boys and JJ splashed around in the pool, playing some made-up game they’d created. The twins were in their little flotation devices, watching the older kids play. You had Odette next to you in a shaded playpen as you laid in the sun.

A few minutes later, Jensen made his way out of the water to take a break, laying down on the lounge chair beside you.

“Hey, Jay,” you said, sliding your sunglasses down a bit to see him better.

“Y/N/N,” he said, flashing you a smile. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” you said. Jensen quirked an eyebrow up. “What?” you asked.

“And how is the completely-inappropriate-crush-on-your-married-best-friend going?”

Your jaw dropped. “I am going to murder Danneel.”

Jensen laughed. “C’mon, Y/N, even if she hadn’t told me...I’d have known.”

You groaned. “Am I that obvious?”

“Honestly, no. You do a good job of hiding it.” You waited for him to continue. “But I know you. You’re one of my best friends, too. And I see how you look at him.”

“You know I would never do anything about it, right?” you said, hoping he didn’t think the worst of you.

“Of course I know that, Y/N.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “It’s just...I can’t give up this job, you know? I love those kids, and I think they love me, too.”

“I know they do, Y/N. And let’s be honest, they are sort of lacking in the mother department right now.”

“I’m not trying to replace Natalie, you know that too, right?” you asked, suddenly nervous that was how it was coming off.

“I know. It’s not your fault or theirs that Natalie is never here,” he said, shaking his head. “I get it, I do. Being an actor is hard. Traveling is hard. Being away from family is hard. But you know what? Jared does the same thing, and he still makes time for his family.”

You nodded. “Well anyway, I trust you, but please, please don’t tell Jared about my feelings. They are well under control.”

“I won’t, Y/N. I know the situation sucks. If you ever need to talk, let me know. Though I know you have Danneel for that.”

You chuckled. “Never hurts to have another perspective, Ackles.”

“What are you two gabbing about over here?” Jared asked, making sure all the kids got out of the water safely.

“Just planning what snack we’re gonna make!” Jensen yelled, giving you a small wink. The kids all got riled up at the prospect of a snack, wrapping up in their towels and yelling out what they wanted.

“I’ll take care of this,” you said, standing up and heading inside. You padded into the kitchen, getting out a couple bags of popcorn to begin making in the microwave along with some small plastic bowls to fill for each kid.

You heard the sliding glass door open as you waited for a bag of popcorn to cook and turned to see Jared sliding it shut, using his other hand to dry off his hair with his towel.

“Everything okay?” you asked, watching as he padded over to the kitchen. You glanced down and had to stop yourself from staring at his perfectly toned abs.

“Yep, just seeing if you need a hand,” he said with a smile.

“Uh, sure,” you said, tearing your eyes away from him. “If you could start splitting this bag into the bowls that would be great.”

He did as told, stopping now and then to put a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. You were watching the bag that was currently in the microwave when you felt a tiny tap on the back of your head. You ignored it, thinking you imagined it until you felt it again. You turned around just in time to see Jared throwing a piece of popcorn at your head.

“You little shit,” you said, swatting it away. The dogs were at your feet, picking up and eating every piece that hit the floor instantly. You grabbed a piece of your own, chucking it at him. You laughed as he caught it in his mouth and soon it was a game of seeing how many he could catch.

“Um, hello?” Jensen said, poking his head in the sliding door, “Got some hungry and quickly-turning-grumpy kids out here.”

“Sorry, Jay,” you said, giving Jared a look like you’d gotten in trouble as Jensen went back out and closed the door.

“Oh well,” he said, grabbing a couple of the bowls. “I guess I’ll have to beat my record some other time.”

“You really think you could have kept going?” you joked.

“Oh, I could go all night,” he said with a smirk. You felt your eyes widen as he turned and took the bowls outside, a shot of heat running through you at his words.

You knew he was just messing around, but God, what his words did to you.

Snap out of it, Y/N, you scolded yourself. You let out a breath and grabbed the rest of the bowls, following Jared outside.

Later that night, Jensen took his kids home for a dinner with Danneel before she was to head out of town the next day. Jared insisted you stay for dinner, and you stuck around even longer to help him get the kids to bed.

Once they were down, you stood in the living room, rocking back on your heels. You didn’t really want to go home yet, considering it was early and you had literally nothing to do. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

“How about we turn on the fire pit? It cooled off a lot once the sun went down. We could make some s’mores,” Jared said, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes. “That sounds great,” you said with a smile. You gathered all the ingredients for the s’mores along with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses at Jared’s request while he got the fire pit ready. When you got outside, he’d pulled up the patio loveseat to the fire, a blanket waiting on it for you.

You sat everything down, getting to work putting some marshmallows on a stick while he poured some bourbon into the glasses for you. After you’d made and eaten your s’mores, you sat down on the loveseat, bringing your legs up under you and sipping your drink.

Jared sat down next to you, his long arm thrown over the back of the couch while his other held his drink. You stared into the fire, mesmerized by how it danced. You both sat like that for a long time, drinking your bourbon and making small talk.

After a while you felt Jared’s eyes on you and turned to see him staring.

“What?” you asked, no malice in your voice, only curiosity.

He shook his head, the tiniest of smiles on his lips. “Nothing, just...c-can we talk, like you offered before?” he slurred his words a bit, and you realized that over half of the bottle of bourbon was gone, and you’d only had two glasses.

You turned your body toward him more, showing that you were ready for him to open up to you. “Of course,” you said.

He pulled his arm off the back of the couch, leaning forward slightly and staring at his hands. His eyes were glazed over a bit. “Things have just been really hard lately.”

“Is it your depression?” you asked gently.

He nodded slightly. “Yeah. I’ve just been having down days, and when that happens and I’m away from home, away from the kids…”

“It’s hard to get through,” you said. You knew how he felt. He’d gone through this at times when you worked on Supernatural, too. You thought back to how he got through that. He’d had you and Jensen, of course. But…”What about Natalie? Has she just been busy?”

His eyes shifted away. “Yeah, she’s very busy. And I just can’t…” he sighed. “She just doesn’t get it.”

You weren’t sure what he meant, but it felt like there was something more going on with him and Natalie.

“And honestly, Y/N, I can deal with her ignoring me. But the kids…” he stopped, choked up. “I can’t believe how little she calls them.” You saw a tear slip down his cheek and your heart broke.

You set down your glass, reaching out and tugging on Jared’s hand. He set his down as well, leaning over until his head was in your lap, curling his long legs up on the couch. You combed your fingers through his hair, shushing him as he let a few more tears slip out.

“It’ll be okay, Jare,” you said. He relaxed a bit as you brushed the wetness of his tears off his cheek with the back of your hand. You hated to see him like this, and you were so worried that he was unhappy, you wished you would have seen it sooner.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, sniffling. “I didn’t want to put this on you. You already do so much for us.”

You continued stroking his head. “You could never put too much on me,” you said gently. “You are my best friend, and I love you.” You had of course told Jared you loved him before, but whether he knew it or not, you had more meaning behind it.

He closed his eyes, nuzzling into your lap a little more. It was a sweet action, and you couldn’t believe that Natalie could be so uncaring toward him. He was literally the sweetest man you’d ever known.

After a bit his breathing evened out and you knew he’d fallen asleep. If you could have stayed like that all night, you would have. It was getting colder out by the second, though, and you knew you needed to get Jared to his bed.

“C’mon, big guy,” you said, helping him get up off the couch. He was completely out of it, and you were sure he wouldn’t remember you helping him to bed in the morning. He muttered something a few times as you walked him up the stairs, and when he got to his bed he threw himself down on his stomach. You carefully removed his shoes for him, walking up by his head to make sure he had a pillow. You kissed his cheek and he grabbed your hand as you pulled away.

“Love you, too,” he said. You weren’t sure if that was a response to yours earlier, or if he was half asleep and thought he was talking to his wife.

You closed his door gently, heading for the guest room where you planned to sleep. You knew Jared would be hungover in the morning, and you figured if you were there to get the kids going in the morning it would be a big help.

Thankfully, the guest room had basically become your room for when both Jared and Natalie were out of town and you stayed with the kids, so you had everything you needed to sleep over.

After washing your face, brushing your teeth, and slipping into your pajamas you laid in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.

You fell asleep eventually, the sound of Jared saying he loved you echoing in your dreams.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14 @divadinag @lynne1993 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @onethirstyunicorn @sammykb1994 @lilulo-12 @mellorine-paprika @tranquility-or-chaos @collette04 @hoboal87 @chevyharvelle @miraclesoflove @defenderrosetyler @babypink224221 @calaofnoldor @beatifuldisaster018 @satans-0-spawn @coffeebooksandfandom @supernatural3002 @lainxcas @mylovelydame21 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @lovely-lynns-likes @ppeachygemss @screechingartisancashbailiff @metalfangirl @vicmc624 @polina-93 @hobby27

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ibelongtowrath · 4 years

Text

Come Find Me - Mammon x Reader

reuploading cause of tags lol let’s hope they work this time, also sorry i forgot to put the “read more” oop

Tags/Warnings: angst, lots of angst & mild cursing Word Count: 3.9k Notes: I tried switching perspectives, which are indicated by the dashed lines. I hope it doesn't make it too confusing! I was listening to “Give You Up” by Asking Alexandria, like really listening to the lyrics when I was smacked in the face struck by inspiration for some angsty Mammon. So, as I do, I dreamed up a scenario. This took me so long to write, and holy crap. Hope you love it!

Lyrics taken from 'Give You Up' by Asking Alexandria.

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11 months later.

“I wasted so much time on wasting time Made a million excuses, told myself I'm above it Now there's symphony where there used to be Nothing but silence, and I'm never gonna give you up”

Pulling open the closet door to find that one shirt you remember buying, but can’t for the life of you remember where it is, you wince. Clothes and shoes are strewn everywhere, organization severely neglected as of late. You hadn’t really been inspired to straighten out your mess, not since--

No. You shake your head, suppressing the memories. Not now, not for a long time...until it stops feeling like a hot knife is carving your heart in half whenever his name flashes across your mind.

Your eyes scan and assess the mess, landing on a black duffel bag shoved into the corner, emblazoned with an all-too-familiar gold badge. Your eyes close briefly, letting the familiar icy pain wash over you, as if you’ve been walking into the winter ocean until your entire body is submerged. You stare at the bag until your vision blurs, surprised to find yourself blinking away tears as you come back to reality.

You told yourself you wouldn’t leave the Devildom with any regrets, but you did.

“Okay. Well. We’re just going to deal with this now, and bury it,” you tell yourself, needing to hear yourself say it out loud as your own affirmation.

It was finally time to face the anguish head on, instead of compartmentalizing it, telling yourself you would process it eventually. Picking up the bag, you slowly back out of the closet, a torrent of emotions beginning to well up inside you, threatening to wreak havoc. You close your eyes. Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Step back, and lean against the wall, subdue the onslaught.

Tossing the bag onto your bed, you sit beside it, hand reaching slowly to grasp the zipper. Once undone, you reach inside and pull out your R.A.D uniform, skimming the small buttons embedded in the stitching. You smile softly as you remember Asmo pouting every time you complained about how ill-fitting it was. Your hand moves to the golden R.A.D. medallion, your fingers dancing over the hard, intricately grooved surface.

Folding the uniform and setting it aside, you reach into the bag once more, fingers brushing something hard and flat. Confused, you lift your hand, finding yourself grasping your D.D.D.. Your eyes study the yellow smart phone, remembering how he insisted...Fuck. The memories begin to crash into the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, Lucifer, ya gotta give her a yellow one! She’s gotta match with me! N-not that it’s all that important or anything...” Mammon blushed, looking down towards the floor.

“I-I just think...yellow’s a good color to have. That’s all. Symbolizes a lot ‘a different good things. Luck, lotsa Grimm...thank me later.”

You didn’t know it at the time, but that was the start of your undoing.

You came to the Devildom harboring resentment. Why the hell did you have to get uprooted from your life to serve someone else’s agenda? And not only that, but you had to live with seven fallen demon brothers, many of whom barely hesitated as they considered killing you. But...then there was Mammon.

It was always him, even when you refused to acknowledge it. The first demon you made a pact with. You slide your shirt down your arm, glancing at your now-bare shoulder, remembering the slight jolt of electricity as the sigil was emblazoned into your skin. You smile softly as you remember his persistent boasting, nearly on a daily basis:

“I’m Y/N’s first man! So get your paws off her!”

Mammon. Always so stand-offish about his feelings, but so were you. That resentment you bore dug deep into your core. Your heart was indifferent. You challenged Lucifer and the other demons without inhibition, consistently getting yourself nearly killed. You disobeyed the rules and expectations designated to you as one of the representatives of the human world. You did it all with no qualms about the potential consequences, even if it could have resulted in your death. You had given up. You didn’t give a fuck anymore, so bring it on.

They all gave a fuck about you, though, even if it was mostly because Lord Diavolo forbade the killing of the human students. But Mammon…

It was more than that for him. He grabbed your hand in the face of danger, thinking he could protect you. Despite his constant denial of how he felt for you, you could see it. Not only that, your feelings mirrored his; but you were so stubborn, you were headstrong. You were not going to let yourself fall, especially not for the Avatar of Greed. You had convinced yourself that he would be a selfish lover, always putting himself first. All he would do is take from you. After all, the demon was in love with his goddamn credit card.

You were so wrong.

Turning the phone over and over in your hands aimlessly, you remember it all. How easy it was for you to keep falling back into the darkness within you, the anger and resentment you bore deep in your heart. It was easy, it was familiar. Until...

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mammon remembers that night. He’s replayed so many times in his head, there isn’t a single detail he can’t remember.

As usual, his brothers teased him relentlessly; this time, they had gone too far.

“Oh! Y/N, I dropped my fork by your foot, would you mind being a dear and grabbing it for me?” Asmo asked, innocently enough.

Mammon had looked up upon hearing your name. He watched as you bent down and struggled to pick up the dropped fork, too far away to grab from your seat. His gaze remained on you as you stood, bending behind you to pick it up; then, Asmo lifting his hand to give you a playful slap on the ass. Then back to you, your beautiful lips upturned in a playful, flirty smile as you laughed and handed Asmo the fork.

Mammon’s anger blazed, his vision tinged red. It was like a knee-jerk reaction, the movements required no thought. He stood from his chair, nearly kicking it in, half-eaten plate of food abandoned. Wordlessly, he took his leave, the torrent of emotions welled up inside threatening to erupt. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to react, that it was only going to add more fuel to the fire for their teasing.

But he didn’t care. They took it too far, touching his human like that. He had laid his claim for you thousands of times, spelled it out, and everyone knew. Yet, it didn’t stop them. Mammon was forever the brother ridiculed and mocked most, despite being the second-oldest; his brothers’ contempt for him was never-ending. The constant jeers and derision about himself and his sin, he had put up with for millennia; but their taunting and blatant disregard of his feelings for you?

He couldn’t stand it any longer.

Mammon was on autopilot, barely feeling the movements as he walked swiftly throughout the halls of the House of Lamentation. He doesn’t even recall if he took a single breath on his journey back to his bedroom. He gripped the doorknob of his room, knuckles turning white as he nearly ripped it out while turning it. He stepped inside, slamming the door with a residual bang!, so loud that surely even Lord Diavolo could hear it in his castle.

His feet moved him to his bed, where he sat on the edge, head in his hands. He clenched his jaw, hard, in an attempt to subdue the anger pulsing within him. It wasn’t only anger, however, that was welled up inside. There was humiliation, resentment, and feelings of hopelessness; all directed at himself. Mammon clenched harder, hands beginning to shake as the emotions swelled furiously.

No matter what he did, he felt like he failed. He felt an overwhelming desire to protect what was his, and he had even failed at that. Mammon isn’t sure how long he stayed that way, caught in the middle of the emotional thunderstorm, staring at his hands but not actually seeing.

In his trance, he barely heard the knock on his door; three light taps, then one loud one. Your signature knock. It didn’t even register in his mind. He wishes he looked up to see you when you walked across his room to his bed. He only noticed when you grabbed his arm, gently, in that way your touch always was. He lifted his head slowly, the feelings of hopelessness finally starting to ebb when his melancholy gaze met your serene one.

There you stood, in all your beautiful glory. Your hair hung in glossy rivulets down your back, a stray piece hanging in front of your face; Mammon wanted nothing more than to reach up and tuck it behind your ear. Your face, your beautiful face, wore an expression that simultaneously made his heart race and feel peaceful.

“Mammon.”

You spoke his name, and in those two syllables, and he knew. He knew your soul shined so brightly in the darkness of the Devildom. He knew you were the light to all of his darkness within.

He knew he was irrevocably in love with you.

Mammon felt your grip tighten on his arm, ever so slightly. He stood before you, realizing your close proximity, and immediately felt the heat rush to his cheeks, tinting them with a rosy blush.

“Y-yeah? What do ya want, Y/N?” he asked, looking off to the side. He reached his arm up, rubbing the back of his head. “Sheesh, you didn’t even tell me you were comin’. A little advanced notice would be nice, ya know.”

You didn’t even answer. Before he could react, you had pulled Mammon into a hug, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Wha-?!” Mammon yelped. “Just what do you think you’re doin’, human?!”

He recoiled at first, arms hanging down at his sides, unfamiliar with the feeling of such affection...such love. Rarely was he ever shown such things, especially from his brothers. He hesitantly reached his arms up, wrapping them around your body, the soft texture of your hair under his fingers.

He leaned his head down, his cheek resting on the top of your head while he stroked your hair.

And then, you said it. You spoke the words that made him come undone completely.

“I love you, Mammon.”

Mammon’s body stilled for a moment. It felt as though his heart had stopped completely. The words caught in his throat, unable to speak, fingers threaded into your hair. He felt you squeeze him harder, turning your head to look up at him. His eyes met yours.

You had come here to the Devildom, and at first, Mammon was indifferent. He would have gladly sold your possessions for some extra cash with no hesitation. He insulted you, he acted like an arrogant fool. You did risky things, you talked back. And yet, you somehow were able to make your way into his ice-cold, tsundere heart.

He sunk back down to the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him. You sat upon his lap, legs on either side of his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you flush to him, fingers splayed across your back. He pushed your hair to the side, burying his head into your neck, lips against your soft skin. All he wanted in that moment was to breathe you in. He swallowed, pressing a kiss into your neck, hoping, praying that you wouldn’t react negatively.

It’s hard to remember the exact sequence that followed. The only thing Mammon knows is your lips pressed against his in a deep kiss, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. He pulled away, grinning, then kissed you again, and again, and again, his hands roaming under your shirt, across your back.

“Shit, Y/N. I guess you have me feeling some type-a way, too,” he whispered, kissing and biting the delicate skin of your neck, an overwhelming desire to leave his mark on you.

It hadn’t gone any further that night, and Mammon had been okay with it. He had walked you back to your room, grabbing you and kissing you deeply before you went in. He was sure the grin hadn’t left his face the entire rest of the night.

It was essentially the way you and Mammon had spent your final weeks in the Devildom. Stolen kisses here and there. Grabbing your hand in the hallways of R.A.D., lacing his fingers through yours. Spending the entire night together, not sleeping, watching movies on his projector or him teaching you how to play poker. Buying you little gifts using Goldie, much to Lucifer’s chagrin. He wanted to give you all that he could, to provide for you.

He held you close whenever he got the opportunity, stroking your hair, ingraining every feeling of your touch into his memory so he would never forget. He knew he was running out of time to be yours, to give you all of him. Mammon had never been so happy.

Then, that fateful day arrived. The day you were going back to the human world.

Mammon could hardly look at you when the time came, too afraid his emotions would well to the surface and tip over. He finally lifted his gaze to yours, thousands of unspoken words etched into the space between you, visible only to you and he. You had never spoken of a plan for the future, too painful to think about. He regretted all the time wasted, kicking himself for not telling you his feelings sooner.

Maybe then, you wouldn’t have left at all.

Mammon didn’t embrace you before the ceremony to transport you back began, knowing that once he did, he would never be able to let you go. He watched the light flash, as bright as your beautiful soul, taking you away with it, leaving nothing in its wake. The pain of losing you was like a knife plunged deep into his heart, twisting back and forth.

And then, you were gone.

Gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gone.

And then, Mammon was gone.

“Mammon.”

You speak his name out loud, for the first time since you had arrived back. You still for a second, the unfamiliar syllables passing over your lips. You hope he’ll appear suddenly, as if summoned. But of course, he doesn’t.

And he never will, not again.

The tears fall freely now, a gut-wrenching sob wracking your body. The anguish crashes over you as all the emotions and pent-up grief finally break through the dam you had built deep inside. You fall to the side of your bed, gripping the D.D.D. tightly, knuckles turning white from the effort, as if the phone holds the power to bring Mammon back to you.

You’re unsure of how much time passes before the tears finally begin to subside, opening your eyes once more, adjusting to the sudden brightness; the feeling of it unwelcome, as you had learned to cherish the dark in the Devildom. The false sense of comforting dark you felt when you closed your eyes was erased each morning with the unrelenting rise of the sun.

You lift your hand, the yellow phone still gripped tightly within. And in a moment of hopefulness, or desperation (perhaps both), you press a button, gasping as the phone lights up. Though you shouldn’t be surprised; you remember Mammon telling you he put a spell on it so that it would hold a charge long after you took it off the charger, essentially always staying on.

So you could talk to him whenever you needed it.

Fingers moving faster than your brain can compute, you open your messages with Mammon, feeling the knife twist in your gut once more as you scroll through them. You shake your head furiously, willing yourself to stop, and focus. Your fingers dance across the digital keyboard as you compose a new message.

I love you, Mammon. Come find me.

Send. You hear the all-too-familiar whoosh sound of the message sending, watching it pop up onto the screen.You stare at the phone for God knows how long, willing a notification to sound off, unsure of why you’re feeling so hopeful.

The reply never comes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mammon stares at his phone in disbelief. He reads the message, then stands, beginning to pace around the room. He has to be seeing things. He has to be. He’s convinced.

There is no way he just received a message from you, in the human world. Especially not one telling him that you love him and to come find you.

His fingers fly across the screen, furiously typing a reply to you, pressing send.

Error! Retry?

“What?!” Mammon exclaims, pressing “retry” over and over and over again.

Error! Retry?

“This piece ‘a junk!” he yells, furious. The feeling of anguish washes over him as he realizes you won’t get a reply from him, picturing you sad yet hopeful, staring at your screen. He finds himself leaving his room, legs moving automatically as they bring him to the large double doors of the last place he ever wants to be.

“Oi! Lucifer! Open up right now! It’s an emergency!” Mammon yells, pounding on the door.

Hearing an exasperated sigh on the other side of the doors, Mammon continues to pound relentlessly.

“Lucifer! Open up-” Mammon’s words are cut off as Lucifer opens the door, a pained expression on his face.

“How can I help you, Mammon?” Lucifer asks, oozing contempt.

Mammon storms past him into the office, beginning to open up drawers, sorting through files of papers.

“Lucifer! Where the heck’s Y/N’s info? I need it. Where is it?!”

“Mammon,” Lucifer replies cooly, “what is this all about?”

“It’s Y/N! She texted me! She texted me from the human world. Can ya believe it?! She told me to come find her. I have to go to her, Lucifer, I have to!”

“Mammon, calm down. Explain everything to me.”

Mammon shoves the phone in Lucifer’s face, panic etched into his voice as he recounts the story, impatience creeping in to his demeanor. He has to get to you, and he has to get to you now.

Lucifer nods, holding his gloved hand under his chin as he thinks aloud.

“Mammon, you will have to be patient. I will speak to Diavolo, and see if he will grant you permission to leave the Devildom for a few days. Unfortunately, we do not have an exact location for Y/N. I can only give you the general area of where she lives. You will have to hope that she has remained living there, or close to the area.”

“What?! What are ya tryin’ to say, that I won’t be able to find her?!” Mammon yells in disbelief. “Of course I’ll find her. She told me to! And I can’t wait, I gotta get to her now! I can’t text her back, can’t let her know I got it…”

“I know how important she is to you, Mammon,” Lucifer says, nodding his head.

“Like hell ya do! Have you ever loved anyone that much? Or anything?”

“Mammon. I will speak to Diavolo immediately, and he will set everything in motion. It is still likely you will have to wait until at least tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning…,” Mammon repeats, trailing off. “Y/N, I’m comin’ to ya. Just hang on one more day. Please, babe…”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

You find yourself at your favorite mall the next day, hardly remembering the drive there, as if you were on autopilot.

As you enter, you stand still for a moment, closing your eyes and inhaling briefly, taking in the sounds: the tinny music filtering through the speakers, other shoppers exclaiming to one another over a new collection in a store, somebody sipping their iced coffee noisily.

You had told Mammon about coming here quite often during those last few weeks. One night in particular, the two of you had lain on his bed, holding one another close, telling each other everything. You hadn’t cared if it was trivial, you wanted to know everything there was to know. Often, you had imagined coming with him here; holding hands, dragging him into all your favorite stores, trying on clothes.

Now, that will never happen.

You shake the negative thought from your mind, fighting as you feel the corners of your lips begin to tug downwards. Turning yourself to the right, you decide to head to your favorite bubble tea stand, smiling softly to yourself. Another memory you had shared with Mammon. Rounding the corner, a figure hunched over on the soft bench near the bubble tea stand stops you dead in your tracks.

Tousled white hair, orange-tinted lenses in his glasses. A brown leather jacket, striped with white across and at the collar, a fitted black t-shirt underneath.

No. No way. Your mind is playing tricks on you, Y/N, you think to yourself.

You walk hesitantly up to him, stopping a few feet away, watching as he notices your shoes, then moves his head up to meet your gaze, that adorable lopsided grin tugging at his lips as he stands.

“Knew I’d find ya here, Y/N. Lucifer didn’t believe me, that jerk,” he drawls.

“M-...Mammon?!” you exclaim, not caring who hears. You barely feel the movements as you throw yourself into his embrace. “H-how?!”

“Ya told me to come find ya. So I found ya.”

Gripping the collar of his jacket tightly, you lay your head on his chest, tears streaming furiously down your face. Mammon lifts your head, cupping your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, hey. No tears ruinin’ that pretty face. Unless they’re happy tears. In which case, cry away, I guess. But your makeups’ runnin’ down your face,” Mammon tells you, and you grin through them.

“How did you know to find me here?” you ask him as you pull away, brushing more tears away as you swallow.

“I remembered you tellin’ me about it. How you liked to come here when you weren’t feelin’ all that great,” he answers, draping an arm over your shoulder. “I tried to answer ya back, but my stupid D.D.D. wouldn’t let me. I thought ya might be sad, so I figured I’d try ya here.”

You laugh, grin growing wider.

“I love you, Mammon.”

He pulls you into another tight embrace, pressing you flush to him, lips crashing against yours in a deep kiss. You close your eyes, savoring every second of it before pulling away, eyes wide. You laugh once more as he pulls you close to him again, gasping a bit in surprise as his tongue darts out to dance with yours.

“Mammon, we’re in public!” you hiss, though you’re smiling against his lips.

“Don’t care,” Mammon retorts, kissing you again. “I have ya here with me now. And I ain’t ever gonna give you up. Never again.”

“In my darkest of days I've got a light now to show me the way It's like I've found my place And the world doesn't feel the same”

#obey me mammon #mammon obey me #obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me! mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me fandom #mammon avatar of greed #obey me swd #swd obey me #mammon #mammon swd #swd mammon

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

First Day Back (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: First Day Back Rating: PG Length: 2000 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set after Josie’s birth. Sorry for the delay in updating, you can read about it here. Summary: Reader’s maternity leave comes to an end.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@ @awesomefandomsunited @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @ah-callie @swhiskeys @exrebelshocktrooper @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @cinewhore@random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110 @katlikeme

Going back to work after weeks of maternity leave was an adjustment. Leaving Josie across the hall with the kind older woman who had been your neighbor since moving to Colombia was easier than expected. At least it was, right up until the moment you sat down at your desk and realized it would be eight hours until you saw her again.

Javier didn’t make it any easier. You had gotten too comfortable with him lately — which was easy to do, considering he frequently spent the night at your apartment and you had gotten used to waking up in his arms. But it also meant you were off your game.

Your hopes that he would be on assignment when you started back in the office were quickly dashed when plans fell through and Javier was stuck at his desk across from you.

Before Josie was born, you had gotten good at masking your emotions and framing your interactions with work-appropriate distance. Now you felt like every look set off a neon sign above your heads announcing what you were hiding.

Javier was shit at hiding his soft smiles and lingering looks. The kind that made your cheeks warm and your heart flutter.

“Welcome back.” Chris said flatly as he strolled into the office and threw his briefcase down on his desk.

“You’re late.” Javier stated as he fed a new piece of paper into the typewriter.

“Flat tire.”

“Pissed anyone off lately?” You quipped, shuffling through a stack of files on your desk.

“Oh, fuck off.” Chris sneered and muttered. “As if this day couldn’t get any worse.”

You snorted, “Happy to be of service.” Ever since Chris had been assigned to the office, you had butted heads with him. Before Josie, in those three awkward months before you told Javier about your pregnancy, things had been okay.

It was clear Chris hated you, simply because you were a woman who had the job he wanted, but the depths of his hatred became more apparent when the news broke about your pregnancy and your job — as far as you knew — wasn’t up for grabs.

“Peña, how was your weekend?”

Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he looked up from typing. “Yeah.” He shrugged a shoulder. “How was yours?”

“Took my lady friend on a little trip.” Chris boasted as he sank down in his chair, stretching his arms out before tucking his hands behind his head. “You get any action, man?”

You focused on the form you were filling out to get your firearm certification approved again.

“You know how it is,” Javier said vaguely as he shook a packet of cigarettes and tapped it against his palm. “I’ve been working a new informant.”

You knew it was a lie, but it didn’t change the fact that it didn’t sit well with you. Javier had been with you and Josie all weekend. The most action he’d gotten was when you both fell asleep on the sofa at noon because your daughter had decided to stay up the night before.

There was no new informant, but your brain still came at you with — “What if there was?”

“You’re a lucky bastard, Peña.” Chris drummed his fingers against the top of his desk, “I don’t seem to have the way with women that you do.”

“I wonder why.” You muttered as you signed your name on the bottom of the form and tucked it back into the folder as you stood up. “Anyone got any other forms that need to be processed? I’m taking this down to Betty.”

“I didn’t know you came back to be our assistant. Maybe this day isn’t fucked after all.” Chris smirked at you as he shuffled through his mess of a desk and tossed a file on top. “There.”

You offered him a tight-lipped smile as you snatched it up, before turning towards a Javier. “Got anything?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he tucked a cigarette behind his ear. “I’ve got shit to take her before a meeting with the director. I’ll walk with you and catch you up on what you’ve missed.”

“Alright.” You tilted your head to the side as you met his gaze, keeping your expression as impassive as possible. “Hopefully I haven’t missed too much.”

“Same old, same old.” Javier pursed his lips as he got his files together and stood. “It’s nice to have you back in the office. Chris is shit company.”

“You know you love me, Peña.” Chris chided, already focused on whatever work he had piled up on his desk.

“It’s good to be back.” You said casually, holding the folder against your chest as you walked along beside him. “You didn’t have to come with me.”

Javier’s fingers curled around your elbow, making you stop now that you were out of earshot, “You know that there’s no informant. Right?”

You blinked at him, pulling your arm out of his grasp. “Unless she’s hiding under my bed, I didn’t think there was anyone else.” You looked back down the hallway towards where the desks were, before looking back at him. “It’s fine, Javi.”

“Keeping this charade up—“

“Not now.” You scolded him, before starting back in the direction of Betty’s office. He was quick to catch up with you, falling into step beside you. “I just meant that I’ve had to keep up appearances here. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s an adjustment.”

You nodded your head in agreement. “The last year has been an adjustment. But we’re doing what we can.” You held out your hand, “I’ll take the files to Betty for you.”

Javier smirked at you, “Didn't need to take anything to her.” He told you as he sat the empty folder in your hand and used it as an excuse to brush his fingers over the back of your hand. “But I do have a meeting with the director,” He glanced at his watch. “In ten minutes.”

“See you later?” You questioned with a hopeful smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” A faint smile crossed his lips, before he continued down the hall and around the corner towards the director’s office.

——

You hadn’t anticipated just how relieved you were to have Josie back in your arms after work. Luciana regaled you with details about the day — nap times, feedings, how curious Josie was about her nephew that she also watched. You had missed all of that and there was no way to get that time back.

It helped put into perspective how Javier felt. He’d missed out on so much — during your pregnancy, during the birth, in the days and weeks that followed. You missed part of a day and you felt guilty over it.

But you knew better than to expect that he’d ever talk about it. He tiptoed around the more difficult topics and you didn’t hold that against him. Your entire relationship was difficult and you didn’t see a path forward that made it easier.

Javier was stuck in a weird sort of limbo where he lived two very different lives.

You cradled Josie against your chest as you peered through the peephole, before pulling open the door to let Javier in.

“There’s my girls,” He said warmly as he smiled at you, before looking towards Josie. “How did she do?”

“Luciana told me she was a dream to watch.” You offered, kissing the top of her head as she cooed softly. “I think we missed her more than she missed us.”

Javier’s hands went to his hips as he nodded his head, “Good.” He scrapped his teeth over his bottom lip as his gaze darted back to meet your eyes. “How are you?”

“Tired.” You shrugged, before walking towards the sofa. “But I’m so glad that I’m back at work. I missed it.”

“It was nice to look across the office and see you sitting there,” Javier drawled out as he pulled off his leather jacket, draping it over the back of the sofa before he sat down beside you.

“My firearms certification got approved.” You told him as you readjusted Josie in your arms so she could see Javier better. “I’ve got the course on Friday. I’m hoping that it means I have a chance to get back in the field… with you.”

Javier’s lips drew upwards at the corners, “Yeah?”

“It’s one step in the right direction, at least.” You shrugged. “You wanna hold her?” He nodded and you shifted so you could settle her into his arms. “I think she missed you more than me.”

Javier chuckled, “I don’t know about that, baby.”

You grinned at him, “Look at the way she’s looking at you.” You pointed out, watching as Josie looked up at him with a wide-eyed and marveling gaze. “And I seem to remember the way she was always kicking when you were around.”

He brushed his knuckles against her cheek gently, “Think we might have a daddy’s girl on our hands?”

“I know we do.” You slid your hand under his arm, curling your fingers around his arm at the elbow as you leaned against him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Are you staying tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

You squeezed his arm three short times, “Yes.”

Javier turned his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I won’t be here tomorrow night. I’ve got a lead to work outside of the city. I could swing by, but it would be late.”

“Javier?”

“Hmm?”

You played with the soft hair that curled around his ear, “I trust you.”

“I don’t want to fuck this up, baby.” Javier admitted. “This shit isn’t easy, but it’s worth it.” He exhaled heavily as he stared down at Josie as she curled her fingers around his thumb and tried to suck on it.

“I know.” You pressed your lips against the curve of his shoulder and let them linger there as you sighed. “But work comes first.”

Javier’s brows drew together, his lips moving like he meant to say something more than a simple, “Yeah.”

You trailed your fingers back towards the nape of his neck, ruffling the hair there as you watched his face. “I don’t mind if you show up late.”

“I don’t want to wake you up.”

“I’m getting pretty good at surviving on limited sleep.” You whispered, nodding your head towards Josie as she was slowly batting her eyes up at both of you. “I should feed her and get her down for the night.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding. “I’ll go grab my bag out of the car.”

“Alright,” You said softly as you ran your hand down his arm and squeezed. “We’ll be waiting for you.” You promised as you took Josie from him.

Javier rested his hand on your leg, giving it three squeezes before he hauled himself off the sofa. “We’re good, right?”

“Javi,” You shook your head incredulously. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

He shrugged, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m gonna go grab my bags.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched him walk away, your heart aching just a little at how uncertain he still was in your relationship. You couldn’t blame him — you felt the same way most of the time, you just tried to ignore it.

Going back to work would be an adjustment. Figuring out how to navigate the duality of your relationship — professional and private — would be a challenge. But it was worth it.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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hecticcheer · 3 years

Text

Abyss of Possibilities (T/M/A fic)

Finished the platonic Jon&Daisy sickfic thing!! This was based on an emeto prompt,* but I’m posting it here instead of on shiftytracts because. Frankly it comes out a lot better when considered as h/c or whump than as emeto/kink fic. As usual w/ me, I set out to write the latter and instead got? 4.6k of Daisy character study whose external plot happens to be that Jon throws up? Ft. also a little Melanie&Helen friendship. It’s not bad as a story though so I’m posting it anyway.

Basira was out on another mysterious errand, which Daisy figured put her and Jon in about the same wretched position. Scratching and baying at the doors of their owners’ empty houses. Commiserating with him seemed a better use of her time. What was more, Jon had spent all day wobbly and coughing—fingertips leaving trails of slime on everything he touched like a snail—and she still couldn’t stand to see that in a person she’d made one of her own. (Monster she’d made one of her own. Whichever.) So after one of his more pathetic fits of coughing she’d decided to make them both tea. It started out as an excuse to leave the room; in fact she’d told him she’d had to pee. But when she’d come to the fork in the hallway her legs had taken her several steps past the turning for the bathroom before she’d noticed her mistake, and, yeah, well. Steps were a limited resource these days. So she’d talked herself into going to the break room for tea instead, and figured if she made Jon some too then.

Well—it was just?—she felt like a hypocrite, alright. She’d told Jon in the coffin that she didn’t want to hobble around like wounded prey any more than she wanted to become a hunter again, but, since he’d pulled her out she’d pretty clearly picked the prey side? Complete with literal hobbling, especially those first few weeks. And he was good to her about it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to despise weak people anymore. It troubled her to know that was her—that she’d still felt it in the coffin where her thoughts were all her own.

Daisy managed to stay upright unsupported while the kettle boiled—hadn’t even had to take a break to sit before turning it on. But while waiting for their teas to steep she leant her palms on the low, cool countertop, even though shifting her weight to them at once made her upper arms ache a little. The muscles of her calves dully throbbed, and her ankles itched. She swore she could feel them swelling. Could picture the mottled pattern of orange and purple her legs must be turning, like the wallpaper at one of those cafés that haven’t been redone since before she was born. They’d told her at PT that the muscle atrophy would take a long time to repair, but that these other issues should go away on their own after a few weeks. It had seemed to improve, at first. Getting worse again now though.

When she got back to his office she found Jon frozen halfway through peeling himself back off his desk, elbows wobbling, like an old dog on a slippery floor. Must’ve Seen her coming back, she figured. He did a little smile, but that didn’t last long. “Here,” she informed him, setting the worse of two novelty mugs in front of him. “Tea.”

“Oh!” Jon’s eyes went wide; he didn’t smile again, but looked almost frightened. Like she’d opened an abyss of possibilities. The mug said #1 Pervert, with the 1 wearing an evil smile and a trench coat held wide open. This seemed to faze Jon not at all.

“It’s just tea. No need to look like that.”

“R-right. Thanks?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Now drink up, it’ll help with your.”

“Oh,” Jon said again. “Yes.”

He picked up the mug, looked inside, then set it back down without drinking any. Daisy got halfway through a sigh before worrying this counted as despising him, then made herself laugh instead and pat the back of his hand: “That’s the spirit.” Jon flinched, but seemed to want to own that no more than she wanted to own her sigh. He closed his eyes, and his hand relaxed under hers. Breath seemed to whistle and crunch on its way out his nose.

“You ill?”

“Wha—?”

“I said are you ill.”

Another half second of smile. “Maybe.”

“Hm. Good sign, right?” Jon blinked at her. “A point in the still-human column.”

“R…ight,” he said. The way his eyes changed made her suspect he had more to say on that, but for once in his life Jon seemed not to feel like talking.

“Take a break. Archers’ll be on soon.”

Usually when she mentioned The Archers Jon would do a whole big dramatic show of disgust, a long sigh or a snarl or a choking noise or at least an eye-roll. He exhaled, now, but shortly; it flared his nostrils a little, but that seemed all the drama he could muster. “Thought you heard it last night.”

“You didn’t, though,” Daisy grinned. “Get confused if you don’t keep up.”

They’d had this conversation before; he knew his next line. But his voice caught on something about three words in: “You seemed to”—swallow; another deep, crunchy exhale—“you seemed to do alright after eight months under a rock.”

“You’ll have unanswered questions. Can’t compel the radio.”

Another swallow, then a throat clearing. “Fine.”

Daisy stood and waded toward the couch in the opposite corner of his office, where he’d slept since he woke up after the Unknowing. By the time she took her seat and looked back, Jon had stood from his desk chair but not yet moved. Just stood there with his hands on the chair’s back, staring off into nothing. Typical. But she knew he did no better than her with standing still for long periods, lately. She thumped on the arm of the couch to snap him out of his trance. “Come here, Jon.” It worked; he blinked to life, gave her a disorganized smile, and slunk over to join her. When he sat his legs shook the whole couch. He sat down at the far end, as often, but, no more unusually, when she scooted closer so their legs and shoulders touched he leant his head toward hers til his hair crunched against the outside of her ear. Daisy patted his leg with one hand, and reached for his clock radio with the other. (This was one of few non-clothing items he’d bothered to replace when he lost his flat. Apparently its alarm made the only noise he trusted himself to take seriously as a wake-up call; every other one he had tried he would sleep through, either accidentally or out of spite.) She set it on her knee so she could monitor the time, but kept the radio muted for now. Only 1:43.

By 1:49 she noticed Jon starting to nod off; by 1:54 his chin seemed stuck to his chest for good. At 2:02 she turned up the volume dial on his radio, and, sure enough, heard the Archers theme song. Considered just turning it up loud enough to wake Jon, but figured he’d be certain to sleep through that out of spite. So she shook him by the shoulder instead. “Oi! Ceaseless watcher!”

“Mmmnnnwha? Oh,” Jon said, straightening. Then he bent forward to cough again. Daisy channeled her urge to snarl into a laugh, telling herself she felt sorry rather than annoyed.

His cough seemed stuck, just like it had all day but more so. It was almost all voice—none of that other, less personal noise a satisfying cough makes. She wondered if he was trying to keep quiet for her benefit. “Come on, let it out,” she told him, thumping the back of his shoulder—and he did.

Almost as soon as she touched him, he made another noise more like—well, more like the sounds they’d both made underground. Or like when she’d cut him, back before.

Anyway, and then a splash. And then a stench. Daisy yelped and flung her legs out of the way; the radio went silent as the clock’s plug flew out of the wall.

“Oh shit!”

Between dry heaves and gasps for breath Jon croaked, “Not technically.”

She barked a laugh—through her mouth, not her nose—but held back the impulse to elbow him. Learnt that lesson, thanks. Just kept her hand on his shoulder instead, fanning her fingers back and forth in a semi-circle like windshield wipers. Meanwhile she surveyed the damage he’d made. The clock itself seemed miraculously unharmed, dangling by its cord between her knees. Only a little of the cord had fallen into the puddle—unfortunately including the plug. That’d be a bitch to clean up. Should she try to get the smell out or just buy him a new one, she wondered.

Her shoes had fared pretty well, too. Only one fat droplet on the right one’s toe, where it’d come off easy. His might be ruined though—and the socks. Poor bastard picked a hell of a day for white socks. The trousers might survive; vomit washed out easier than blood.

Beside her, Jon seemed to have quit dry heaving. Now he just panted, and said, “Ugh.”

“Done?”

“Think so,” he said in his hoarsest voice; “sorry.”

He set his palm down on the arm of the couch, apparently plotting how to stand without slipping in puke. Daisy moved her hand from his shoulder inward, to the place where his neckbones turned into backbones, and pressed him gently downward. “Never mind; I’ll clean it up. You stay here.”

Jon said nothing, but didn’t move either. Not even a flinch. Daisy slid to the end of the couch farthest from him and his puddle, stood, and crept past it on the balls of her feet, careful to avoid all the puddle’s little splattery fingers.

This was the first Archives mess Daisy’d ever volunteered to clean; only after she’d closed the door of Jon’s office behind her did she realize she should’ve asked him where they kept the mops and buckets. Probably outside the Archives proper, near the boiler and all that crap. Her stomach dropped—settling halfway down her legs, like all her innards did these days when she stood up. Melanie’s desk was empty, but Daisy shouted for her just in case.

The first door Daisy encountered whose destination she didn’t already know led to… a long corridor full of more doors. “Hi, Helen. Melanie in here with you?”

Melanie emerged, not from any of the doors Daisy could see, but from what looked to Daisy like the blank wall in between them. Just the perspective, part of Daisy’s mind rushed in to inform her. She closed her eyes so she could roll them at this part unseen.

“Daisy, hi,” said Melanie. “What’re you doing here, I didn’t think….”

“I invited her in.” Daisy heard the words a full second before she saw Helen emerge from a picture frame in the corridor’s opposite wall. “She was looking for an unfamiliar door. It seemed only polite to offer one of mine.” Helen said this with her head cocked to one side, coiled hands facing the other. Her left elbow disappeared into the wall.

Daisy made herself look into a framed mirror on the opposite wall instead of at Helen herself. Except the mirror didn’t show Daisy or Melanie or Helen—just the floor and other wall of this same corridor. Except also that in what passed here for real life the wall was a dark, 70s yellow, while, in the mirror or picture or whatever, it was more like highlighter yellow. What she saw in the frame still moved like a reflection though, not like a painting.

It was hard for Daisy, still, to be around… beings like the Distortion. Monsters used to be so simple. See someone glitching through the wall? Great; that means they need to die. Not like she’d never cooperated with an enemy before, just. Helen maybe wasn’t an enemy? And Jon was the only non-enemy monster she knew how to interact with. Jon was one of hers, now; he was a friend, the opposite of an enemy. But Helen, God, who knew. Stranded in the middle somewhere. Around Helen Daisy felt like the last person standing in musical chairs.

She shifted on her feet; her ankles still itched, but her toes had gone numb and cold. “I was looking for a mop,” she corrected.

When she looked back over at Melanie and Helen she found them sat on an invisible bench. She glanced back at the mirror. A wooden bench with green velour cushions. Made sense enough. Melanie still had her cane, after Jon and Basira’s whole surgery debacle; she wouldn’t come in here so often if it had nowhere to sit. If Daisy squatted down would another bench appear beneath her?

“Oh,” said Melanie; “yeah, there should be one in the broom cupboard. You remember how to get to Artefact Storage, right?” Daisy nodded. “Well it’s the last door on the left before you get there.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“No problem. What do you need the mop for?—is it—do you need some help?”

Daisy said, too quickly, “No I’ve got it.” Then worried Melanie might think she was hiding something of hers or Jon’s more sinister than dignity. She let out a long breath through her nose, lifted her foot and pointed at the circle of puke on her shoe. “Nothing big. Jon just threw up all over his office.”

“Statements gone moldy?” asked Helen, in that voice of hers like a doorbell.

“Oh, god, yeah—did he finally find that Corruption statement covered in actual mold?”

“Thought Martin burned that one?”

Melanie sighed. “No. Said he didn’t want to stink up Jon’s office.”

“Yeah, well,” Daisy scoffed.

“Probably just didn’t want to burn any that weren’t already on tape,” muttered Melanie. “Got him to burn the first one I ever recorded, though. That one about the stupid blanket.” She scuffed the carpet with her foot, crossed her arms, and leant the back of her head against the wall. “So. What’s wrong with Jon this time.”

“Don’t know,” said Daisy, shrugging; “think he’s just ill.”

“Huh. Wait—human ill or monster ill?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask.”

“It can be hard to tell,” allowed Helen. “They look remarkably similar. The first time Michael lost his lunch after he became me he thought his sick would have comic-book stink lines curling up off it. Terrible disappointment.”

Don’t ask what “lunch” means, Daisy told herself, scratching lightly at the pad of her thumb with her middle fingernail. Not your business, not anymore.

Meanwhile Melanie cackled and stamped her foot. “What about Helen?”

“She hoped she could click our fingers and make it disappear.”

Now Daisy smiled too. “Have to try that with Jon’s.”

(“Or turn to gold,” mused Helen, chin resting in the palm of a hand so long she could still click its fingers without their nails poking her face.)

“So you’re cleaning it up for him?”

“Apparently.”

“Typical,” growled Melanie; Daisy could see another I-hate-the-Archives rant on the horizon.

“I chose to do it; it’s not like he made me.”

“That’s what people always say about him!” Melanie squawked, her fingers curled like claws. Her voice had begun to climb not only in volume, but pitch too, the way it did when she hoped to pass off real anger as jokey anger. “He’s a grown man—why can’t he keep his messes to himself?”

“Yeah, well, he’s cleaned up enough of mine,” shrugged Daisy. “You all have,” she added, remembering her first week out of the coffin, when Melanie and Basira had had to follow her and Jon around the Archives with brooms. Every morning Basira had shaken her cot and pillow cases and sleeping bags over a bin to tease out clods of dirt. And Daisy herself had never even learnt where the broom cupboard was. “I don’t mind returning the favor.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Melanie pleaded. “You’re talking about the coffin, right? But it’s his fault you got trapped in there in the first place!”

Daisy had no reply to this; she remembered asking herself whose fault it was she had died (as she’d thought of it then), while trapped in the Buried, but couldn’t remember what conclusion she had come to. Since she’d got out she’d rather enjoyed not having to think about it. Maybe she could put questions of blame off to one side, in the Hunt pile, and focus her energy on the Daisy pile.

“Last door on the left before you hit Artefact Storage, right?”

“Yup!” she heard Helen chime on her way out.

Of course, the second she stepped out of the corridors she thought of a good comeback: Guess he did clean that one up then.

To revenge herself for that detour she let herself sit on Melanie’s desk a minute before continuing. Good thing, too: carrying even a dry mop and bucket back to Jon’s office took more out of her than she’d remembered to anticipate. When already dizzy and aching she found the smell of his puke overwhelming. If he notices, blame it on the Hunt, she told herself. It took constant effort to remember to breathe through her mouth rather than just holding it.

Jon looked up when she came in, and smiled a glum thank you, but then returned to the position he must have taken up while she was out: head on his knees, arms crossed between torso and legs. So when she’d mopped up everywhere else, she had to tell him, “Shoes.”

He lifted his head and looked up at her through the gap between curtains of hair. “Wh…what do you want me to do with them.”

She pointed upward; his brows crumpled.

“Lift them up so I can clean around them, Jon.”

“Oh.”

Jon looked slowly down at his feet, bared his teeth in disgust. Then he sat up enough to free one arm, whose hand he planted beside him on the couch. Gingerly lifted the opposite foot. Daisy nodded; he was doing his best, she told herself. “Thanks,” she said aloud. He nodded back, but did not smile or speak. His mouth remained a washed-out line of effort.

Daisy’s mop slurped up the part of the mess Jon’s foot had blocked off; then she used it to dab at the sole of his shoe itself. “Put it back down now and I’ll get the top.” He yelped when the mop wet his sock. Daisy tried not to smile. “That feel weird? Sorry. Just figured those socks were done for anyway.”

“No, you’re right. It’s just. Unpleasant,” he concluded, beginning his final sentence at the same time Daisy started her own.

She said, “I’ll help you off with them when I’m done here.”

“I can get it,” Jon said, but did not move.

This time Daisy did smile, before she could think better of it. “Other foot?”

“Right.”

After finishing with that shoe, Daisy told Jon to hang his feet off the arm of the couch while she corralled as much as she could of this vaguely puke-flavored water off the floor and back into the bucket. She expected him to stretch the rest of himself out on the couch, but instead he bent double—as before, but with one side leant against the couch’s back cushion. Chin on bent forearms on bent knees on arm of couch.

“Do you think it’s safe to clean the plug off with the mop?”

His head snapped around to face her. “What?”

Daisy sighed, trying to rearrange her shapeless panting mouth into a smile. “The plug at the end of the cord—not the one in the wall.”

“Oh. Maybe? It’s not plugged in, right.”

“‘Course not.”

“Then I don’t think you’ll be electrocuted.”

“But do you think it’ll ruin the clock?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Can’t you ask the Eye or something?”

Jon shook his head, which he then set in his hand as though to keep it out of danger. “Maybe it’s like a phone.”

“Come again?”

“Like when you drop your phone in the toilet.”

“Yeah? What happens then.”

“You leave it in rice for 48 hours.”

“In rice?”

“Dry rice. Uncooked rice.”

Again she sighed. “Right.”

“Wait, no”—his eyes went wide—“the rice thing is a myth.”

“What?”

“Silica packets might work though.”

“What are those.”

“Like you get with a new pair of shoes.”

“Huh.”

“They say ‘Do Not Eat’ on them. Usually in inverted commas, for some reason.”

“Oh. Yeah. What happens if you do eat those?”

“No idea. They’re a drying agent, so, they dehydrate you I guess?”

“To death?”

“Possibly.”

“Weird.”

“Nope—scratch that. Turns out they’re just a choking hazard.”

“Oh.”

“A-and we can’t digest them, so if you eat a lot of them they could cause intestinal blockage.”

“Bleugh,” pronounced Daisy.

“Oh, and. Sorry we missed The Archers, by the way.”

“It’s fine, Jon. I heard it last night. I’ll catch you up on it later.”

There was his usual snarl. When Daisy looked smilingly up at him, though, meaning to add, Feeling better, are we? she saw him flinch like he’d been nodding off to sleep again. “So should I mop off the plug or not?”

“Oh. Yeah, seems worth a try.”

By the time Daisy got the floor as un-wet and -soapy as she knew how, she figured neither one of them had the energy to deal with Jon’s shoes. Nor had she the strength to drag the bucket away just yet. Instead she nudged it toward Jon, in case he had to puke again. Then she sat down next to him, so the side of her bum touched the back of his—though from this angle that was a lot less cushy. Mostly tailbone, in fact.

To free her feet from the suffocating heat that made them itch and buzz Daisy yanked off her own shoes (the right one now sick-free but soggy), without untying them, and plopped them down on the couch’s unused other arm. Rested the back of her head on the back of the couch, and closed her eyes. Her whole body throbbed and itched instead of sweating. It was new; maybe a coffin thing, maybe a Hunt-withdrawal thing. Probably the latter. (Oh—I have that too, Jon had said once, when she’d had to explain why her face and hands were red.) Never thought she’d miss feeling slimy.

When she found the strength to speak again she asked, “You comfortable like that?”

“Er,” said Jon. Then, after a pause, in a hoarser voice, “My legs are asleep.”

Daisy smiled, and then, when she remembered he wouldn’t see that, huffed a single syllable of laughter. “No wonder, smooshed up like that. Stretch out, if you like; you won’t be in my way.”

He complied at once, but said, “But then your legs will fall asleep.”

“Probably. I’ll let you know.”

He laid down across her now, or at least his torso did. His head spilled off one side of her lap, legs off the other. Daisy helped him shove the couch’s one throw pillow (now the one he slept with, when he slept) under his head.

“You don’t find this—claustrophobic?” Jon asked, after going to all the trouble to get himself comfortable.

“No.” Daisy blinked, trying not to show how much questions like this irritated her. She wouldn’t break like a china doll if you touched her, Basira. Human weight wasn’t like the Buried. Humans were warm and squishy, and they smelled like life; even vomit smelled better than grave dirt. But at least Basira had a good excuse not to understand that? Coming from Jon it didn’t make any sense. When he’d reached her down there, the first thing he did was take her hand and squeeze. She didn’t know if he’d done that to reassure her or himself or both, but—it shouldn’t matter, right? If he’d known to do that then, why didn’t he know now?

At last she went on, “You said it’s called Too Close I Cannot Breathe. Don’t breathe through my legs, do I?”

“N—?—no. No, I guess not.”

He closed his eyes. Daisy could feel his flesh deflate and ooze outward as the muscles relaxed. This felt like a lot, coming from someone she’d first known as a paranoid little freak. How could he trust her so much, when—? It made her smile, even though she knew only Elias would see. Could muscle atrophy make it hurt to smile?

“Hey Jon?” she waited for his answering Hm. “What’s with the #1 Pervert mug?”

“Oh. Er—Tim.”

“Uh huh…?”

“There was, uh—a statement? Wh-when we first came to the Archives, we looked into a statement given by a man who found a Leitner in a charity shop.”

“Aaand you sent Tim to check out the shop’s records.”

Jon nodded, to the extent that was possible in his position, but his Yeah came out inaudible. “Martin had recently broke one of the mugs that came with—that Gertrude and her assistants left. So, Tim, in a, uh, perhaps a slight overreaction, bought every novelty mug in the establishment.”

“Every mug? I only saw six in there.”

“Or so he told me.”

“Doubt it. That collection looks curated. I didn’t see a single teddy bear, or. Souvenir from a breast-cancer walk.”

“I didn’t press him on it.”

“Right,” Daisy scoffed.

“Sasha used”—a trumpetty nose-laugh interrupted Jon’s sentence—“Sasha used to joke they should be in Artefact Storage.”

“Well she’d know best. Didn’t you say she used to work there?”

“Yes!” Jon squeaked, in a delighted whisper-shout. One hand covered his face; the other fist shook in the air. “She had literal horror stories about that place. The way she talked about those mugs was like—hearing a nun say there should be a circle in hell for people who order the wrong kind of donuts.”

When they’d both quit laughing Daisy said, “You sound like you’re starting to feel better.” She poked him in the stomach, though so lightly for fear he’d throw up on her that she doubted he could even feel it through his cardigan and shirt. “Gonna puke again, you think?”

Jon breathed out through his nose and looked at the ceiling. Apparently she had poked him hard enough to tickle: he batted her hand away like a fly, then left his own where hers had been. “Probably not. Don’t think so. Not sure how much I have left to.”

“Yeah.” After a pause to put the words in a convincing order, Daisy said, “Surprised you had that much—I’ve barely seen you eat today. How long were you feeling sick?”

Guilty smile. “Sorry, Daisy, I uh. Thought I had it under control.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Oh. Uh… few hours, maybe?”

“Why’ve you been coughing and sniffing all day then. Thought you had a cold at first.”

“Yeah—so did I, til.”

“Huh.”

Jon propped the back of his head on his folded elbows. “Maybe it’s a monster thing,” he said, with the cynical sigh of someone pretending to be okay with this.

“Could be,” Daisy agreed. She could feel his eyes on her, but looked at the opposite wall instead of answering his gaze. Meanwhile she patted his knee. When he’d been quiet long enough she was sure he didn’t mean to say more about the monster thing, Daisy said, “Let’s get you out of those wet shoes.”

*Whose OP I can’t find, though I know I’ve seen it before, but. It’s the prompt referenced here:

person has been involuntarily letting out nauseously [sic] coughs intermittently all day, and their friend thinks they just have a cold or something, but surprise! they are about to puke everywhere

ETA 6/16 fixed a few Americanisms, whoops! If I’ve missed any more of those please point them out to me

#sickfic #emeto cw #the file name for this is 'opposite of convert.pages' but that joke makes so little sense that if you get it you deserve a prize tbh #permasickfic #(ish. much discussion of post-coffin daisy and late s4 jon's habitual weakness. 'permanent' is a strong word BUT THAT'S THE TAG OK)#alsoooo just realized all the references to pulsating blood clash pretty bad w/ how daisy conceptualizes losing the hunt in the coffin as #not being able to hear her blood but YOU KNOW WHAT. both unaccustomed exertion and hunger make your heart thumprace so.#Shut Up. i can only write these things how i know them. *blows raspberry*#OH RIGHT also #unreality cw #(for the scene in helen's magic corridor lmao)

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

The Dragon Egg (Parts 14-18)

If she knew that that night would be her last good night, she might have savored it more. Oh, Agni, she would have smiled wider and laughed more freely. But how could she have known that she would be smiling again.

.oOo.

Azula holds her hand against the swell of her belly. It has grown more prominent, seemingly overnight. Pregnancy test or none, morning sickness or peaceful awakenings, mood swings and unstable hormones; until the bump she had still been able to pretend like it wasn’t real, that she still had a chance.

She can’t see her father anymore, not unless she buries herself under bulky layers of sweaters and jackets. Even then her father will know that something is amiss. She used to never wear baggy clothing, of the opinion that it looks sloppy and lazy. He’d surely question why she has traded her crop tops and--formerly--form fitting dresses for loose fitting t’s and sweatpants.

She is some five months along now and certain that it is far too late to terminate the pregnancy. Her window for making that decision has come to a close. As have the window to keep it a secret. Trying to pass it off as a few extra pounds no longer cuts it and even if it did, it wouldn’t earn her a much better reaction than the truth would.

Spirits, what was she thinking, keeping this baby. She should have just ripped the bandaid and told her father. Should have dealt with the screaming and scolding, perhaps a good slap. Those things would have come to pass. The guilt over terminating the pregnancy would have come to pass. She would have given such a stellar performance at Audio of Agni that he’d be forced to forgive her, to love her, and to recognize that she is still his perfect, talented, gleaming star.

This, she runs her hand along the bump, won’t come to pass. It will be with her forever, should the delivery go smoothly. Spirits, she doesn’t want to think about the delivery. And, Spirits, what if she finds herself in the hospital during Agni of Audio? She is certain that her due date will fall around the same date as the performance.

She rakes her fingers through her hairline. Fuck, she doesn’t even know her fucking due date. She is a mess and it is her fault. She can’t even be sure that she and this baby are healthy. She isn’t sure that her diet has been good for the baby, isn’t sure that her lifestyle is safe for it. She knows that the stress can’t possibly be doing it any favors.

She feels her phone vibrate and unlocks it to confirm that they are still on for practice. It won’t be a practice so much as a meeting and, by, Agni she isn’t ready. Not even slightly, but she has to tell someone. She has to tell Chan specifically. Maybe she should talk to Seicho first. Maybe she should speak with Chan alone.

She closes her eyes and taps her phone against her lips. She will assemble all of them and speak with Chan first. It is time to stop delaying. Time to stop stalling. Time to grow up faster than she already has been.

.oOo.

Mai still refuses to speak to him outside of practice. Other than a curt reminder that he is lucky that she was generous enough to snatch her mother’s money and pay his bail, thus incurring the woman’s wrath.

Zuko is certain that Michi’s wrath is nothing like that of the magazines and morning shows. The ones that won’t let his arrest become old news even months later. Somehow they always find some fresh new angle to talk about it from. Some brand new perspective. Seldom are do any of these perspective’s paint him in a good light.

The boy, Kei-Lo, has been getting more attention than he. What started off as a ridiculous clickbait video titled ‘Almost Killed By My Idol!!’ grew into an entire platform. He has been on talk show after talk show, retelling the story of how he almost got ‘murdered’ by the lead singer of From Ashes To Phoenix. He recounts have gotten more and more absurd--“for humor’s sake, I promise!”--to the point where Zuko had allegedly picked up a chair after splintering his guitar. And when that hadn’t worked, he’d allegedly begun trying to stab Kei-Lo with the splintered end of his guitar.

And somehow the media has latched onto that image, churning out t-shirts of him wielding his guitar like some sort of stone age brute and foils stickers of his enraged expression. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so horrible if he were receiving a cut of the cash. Or, at the very least, if the publicity were doing him any good.

No, it is only kickstarting Kei-Lo’s career as a comedian and talk show host. And in the wake of his goals, From Ashes To Phoenix is taking the fall. Even Azula hasn’t so directly kicked him down to lift herself up. At least Azula could say that she was bringing him down on talent alone; that she is simply better without having to make him worse.

Zuko’s brows furrow, when he comes to dwell on it, Azula has been rather quiet lately. Quiet, even after being the subject of talk shows herself. Raava and Vaatu of the Tui La’s and Wan Shi Tong have only been raving about she and the rest of Blue Talon. It has only been fantastic press for her. And she hasn’t even sent him a link to remind him of that.

Maybe she is simply too busy to do so; too important to bother with even mocking him anymore. He balls his fists, if he grips his pencil any tighter, he might break it. And he hates her with more fury than ever. He picks up his phone to tell her off. Why not? He needs an outlet for the anger brewing within him. And she is perfect for it, she could do with someone telling her that she isn’t so great.

He pulls her number upon his phone. He cringes all over again when he sees that he has already messaged her. At least several times and with variations of the same few messages; ‘You think that you’re so great don’t you? You’re so perfect. That’s fine, it’ll make it better when everyone else realizes that you aren’t’, ‘dad start beating you you yet?’, ‘oh so you’re too famous to insult me now’, and one final comment about her one failure, ‘how’s it feel to be in the tabloids, fatass?’ It is a wonder that she hasn’t blocked his numbers. Likely she sees that as a weakness. Likely, she finds his insults laughable, a sign that he’s doing worse than ever. Likely, it entertains her. He rakes his hands through his hair. He doesn’t even remember sending those.

A lot of things are fuzzy these days. He writes songs, he even records them, but he forgets to include Mai and TyLee in them. And on the days that he doesn’t wake up there, he forgets that he has gone to the recording studio at all.

He rubs his hands over his face. His heart is beating so fast and, no matter what he tries, he can’t stop shaking. He can hardly breath, the room feels so small and the more he thinks about those texts and the other things he has forgotten, the smaller the room seems.

He raps the heel of his hand against his forehead.

He should try to sleep, that might do him some good. He hasn’t slept in a while. He is damn certain that, even if the coke wasn’t making him restless, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Every time his head hits the pillow it seems to whisper to him, telling him that he is a waste. His life is a waste. That he is no better than his father.

And the pillow--his own inner voice is right. Just because it isn’t alcohol, doesn’t mean that he isn’t the exact person he hates. He wonders how he’d let this happen, all he needed was a small boost of energy, a shot of confidence, and euphoria when he couldn’t produce it on his own. He supposes that, that is the problem exactly. He never can produce it on his own.

He was just going to use it until he had his first singles out. He wishes that the plan hadn’t worked so well. He wishes that he would have had a trip so horrible that he’d never want to do it again. But he had pumped out singles at a rate that Azula would envy--that she did envy when she saw that he had released his new singles before she did.

And just like that, ‘only until I finish my single’ became, ‘I will only use it until I finish the album.’ By the time he finished the album he found that he couldn’t stop. That he needed the extra kick. He can’t produce anything worthwhile without it.

And now he can’t function without it. Oh, Agni, he wants to function without it.

He slaps at his forehead again. He is more useless than ever and the press is finally catching onto his horrid habits. He wishes that uncle were here to offer him advice, and yet he can’t bring himself to tell the man just how much trouble he is in. He wonders if an hour long video chat a day is enough for him to be able to tell.

He wishes that he were home and not sleeping on a tour bus or in some sketchy motel, where dealers make exchanges in the alley over. He wishes that he hadn’t dragged Mai and TyLee into this one with him.

He has let Mai down; he thinks that she is falling out of love with him and in love with TyLee. Has let TyLee down; she is scared to be alone with him. Has let uncle down; he just doesn’t know it yet. He has let himself down; if he had the opportunity to walk out on himself, he probably would.

He always lets everyone down

He sits in his room, pencil in hand. He can’t seem to write songs when his head is so turbulent. When his hand is so twitchy. When his arms are so soar and bruised. And yet he can’t stop himself from putting down the pencil and taking up a needle.

He has let everyone down and he is doing it again. He can’t stop doing it. His band is a lost cause.

He can hear in his head, his father sneering about how he’d told him so; he told him that he would never make it big. He can hear Azula’s dainty little laugh, “oh, Zuzu, you’re pathetic, Tom-Tom can upstage you by banging on pots and pans.”

He cups his hands over his head. He just wants to succeed. He just wants a chance. He just wants to be happy.

.oOo.

For a moment she allows herself to hope. Perhaps everything will just be okay. Maybe father will handle it better than she anticipates. Even if he doesn’t, she has made a name for herself. She is revered by the metal masters. She has a strong voice, a sharp mind, and the tools to make something of it. Even if he doesn’t, she has her bandmates. She won’t lose everything. Perhaps her father will take well to knowing that there will be someone to inherent the family legacy, another little prodigy to teach.

Perhaps, Chan will make a good father. Perhaps the Blue Talon fandom will find a baby dragon to be precious. She should know better than to get idealistic. It never does her any good.

She swallows hard before pushing the door to the recording studio open. As things are, she is the first to arrive, it is just as well, she can use a few moments to prepare herself. She inhales and exhales several times, until at least some of her nerves settle.

Azula is more than relieved when Chan arrives first, it makes speaking to him in private that much easier. She waits for him to prop his guitar against the wall before greeting him. He looks her up and down. It is the first time in a long while that she has worn something that isn’t baggy. He keeps his thoughts tactfully to himself. “Yes, this is what I want to talk to you about.” She clasps her hands over her bump and clears her throat. “We will proceed with practice, but first I have to tell you something.”

“Are you…? You’re not…” He sputters, his eyes are fixed on her belly. She finds herself growing heavily uncomfortable under his stare. She swallows, the look on his face tells her that she is in for a difficult time. That he isn’t going to take this well at all.

“I am.” She confirms. “I have been for the past five months.” She looks up from her hands. “It’s your baby, Chan.”

He shanks his head. “No. No way.”

She nods. “I’ve only ever…” she trails off. “You��re the only person I got that close to.”

He rubs his hand over his face. “I can’t be a father!” When he pulls his hands away from his face it looks as though he has aged several years. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I wanted to make sure that there were no distractions along the way to battle of the bands. Now that we have a stable standing…”

He shakes his head, “you’re only telling me this because you can’t keep it a secret anymore. Why did you keep it!?” He is pacing rather frantically now. “I don’t want a baby! I don’t want to be tethered to you for the rest of my life!”

Poor word choice or not, it comes like a forceful kick to the teeth. She furrows her brows, “we’re in a band together. And if we make it big we’re going to be spending plenty of time with one another anyhow. If anything, Lo and Li can watch the baby. They took care of me after my mother died.”

The laugh Chan gives is unsettling. “I’m not going to be a father. I have a career to focus on.”

“So do I.” Azula hisses. “You don’t get to just walk away from this.” But that’s just the thing, he very well can. He can walk away in a way that she can’t. “You...we don’t have to keep it. But you’re not going to pretend like it isn’t your baby.”

“Do you know what my dad will say if he finds out?”

“Do you know what my father will do when he finds out?” She isn’t even certain of this and, spirits, does she dread it. She needs someone to be there even if that someone is the asshole who put her in this position in the first place.

“It’s not my fault that you got pregnant!”

“I don’t know if things have changed since I last looked at a biology textbook, but from what I remember, this is a two person job.”

“What’s with all of the shouting?” Zirin grumbles.

“We have a band whore, that’s what.” Chan declares.

Azula’s face colors, a cross between outrage and mortification. “It’s your baby.” She insists through gritted teeth. “Who else’s would it be?”

He turns from her and appeals to Ruon and Zirin instead. “Who knows how many people she’s had backstage.”

“That’s not exactly characteristic of Azula.” Ruon mumbles.

“Neither is party sex.” Zirin shrugs.

“Chan is the father.”

“Just own up, dude.” Ruon frowns.

“Let’s say that it is mine. What the hell am I supposed to do about it? Her dad’s wallet can cover everything, she doesn’t need my help.”

Her eyes narrow, he has missed the point entirely; it isn’t money that she is seeking. She is yearning for something that her father will most certainly deprive her of--something that he has never been that good for in the first place. She craves comfort. She needs reassurance. And yet she is hesitant to ask for either. “Do you really think that my father is going to take this news very well?”

“I can’t do anything about that!” Chan throws his hands up.

“No, I suppose you can’t.” In the silence to follow, she thinks to just walk away. What more is there to say? And, really, what had she been expecting? That Chan, immature Chan, who draws phallic imagery on restaurant menus and attempts keg stands, would readily embrace the responsibilities of having knocked someone up. “Forget it. I’ll deal with it on my own.” She mumbles. “Let’s just get on with practice.”

Ruon seems to cringe.

“Really, I can deal with it on my own.”

His expression doesn’t change. If anything he is flinching harder still. “Azula, should there even be a practice?”

She furrows her brows, “What? What are you talking about, of course there should be a practice.” She thinks that her voice has raised a pitch or two.

“You’re pregnant.” He says gently, carefully. “Should you really be focusing on music right now?”

She swallows, feeling almost nauseous with nerves. “I can do both. I’ve been doing both. I can think about two things at once.”

“Realistically,” Ruon begins, “are you really going to have time to tour?”

She nods almost frantically, “I’ve been managing.”

“You haven’t been going to the doctor.” Ruon points out. “That takes up time.”

“If Zuzu was able to manage school and being in a band, then I can manage being in a band and one appointment every now and again.” She rolls her eyes, “are you really underestimating me now?”

“Am I? Or are you overestimating yourself?” Ruon asks. “Being in a band is a lot of stress and pressure without a baby…”

But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how essential being in the band is. Doesn’t understand how every aspect of her life hinges on it. On how well she performs at Audio of Agni. The competition will be the make or break moment of her life. Things have fallen into place so well and so neatly, she can’t imagine that she will have another chance at it. “Ruon, I can handle it.” She punctuates every word.

“Well maybe we don’t want to.” Zirin throws in. “Every fucking time it’s all about you. What you want. How being in this band effects you. I need this band too, and I can’t afford a wild card.” Her eyes wander to Azula’s bump.

“It’s not a wild card, I can plan…”

“Even if it’s not a wild card, it’s a risk. Zirin can’t afford risks right now.” Ruon replies. “She needs to be able to get out of that home and this band is her way out.”

And Azula is reminded of each time that Zirin has wandered into the recording booth with a collection of fresh bruises on her arms and legs, on her ribcage and back. “Which is why I need to be here. I can get where we need to be and Zirin will be able to…”

Zirin shakes her head. “You don’t get it do you? You’re still making this about you.”

“You’re not the only person in this band who has talent!” Chan speaks up again. “Zirin can sing too. I can sing. You aren’t creative and you need to be creative to be an artist.”

“I am creative.”

“No, you’re good at planning and organizing. You’re good at taking our ideas and fine-tuning them. Anyone can do that. Ruon and I write the lyrics and concepts for our videos.” He pauses for a breath. “You shoot down any ideas that aren’t copies of what we’ve already done. You refuse to try new sounds and styles.”

“I wrote the last few songs.”

“And they sound like everything else that we’ve ever done! Fine. Maybe surf rock isn’t it, but we need to change our sound somehow. We need to try something new. And you’re holding us back.”

“Holding you back, I--”

“And you’re going to hold us back more and more the further along you are.”

She clutches her belly, unsure of which emotion has the strongest grip on her--anger, distress, hurt, or anxiety. She can feel the baby kick, adding another layer of pulsing to the unsavory emotions already throbbing and throbbing within.

“Chan, that’s enough.” Ruon puts a hand on his shoulder.

He shakes it off. “Is it? She’s been giving us demands, talking down to us, and blaming us for setbacks this whole time! And this whole time she’s been carrying a bigger setback than any of us.”

“Because of you!” She hisses. She is nearing her compousre’s very end and she isn’t sure what is going to tear out when the last of it is worn away.

“We’ve been pushing along and pretending like nothing is wrong. Something needs to change.”

Her stomach sinks even further and the queasiness in her tummy grows, twice so with the shifting of the baby. “And what needs to change, Chan?” Her voice has dropped so dangerously low. Not that it can vocalize anything more than an empty threat. She is outnumbered and out of cards in a hand that wasn’t even winning to begin with.

“The lineup of this band.” Zirin puts in. Chan nods in agreement.

She waits for Ruon to tell them that that is ridiculous. She looks to him, letting her mask slip long enough for the plea to reflect in her eyes. He only turns his head. “Ruon?”

He sighs heavily. “I’m not saying that I agree with everything Chan said just now. But I do think that it might be a good idea if you...took a break from Blue Talon.”

“Ruon!?” Her composure splinters further and her voice cracks.

He takes her hand, she knows that he means it as a comforting gesture but she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want to be touched right now. She snatches her hand away.

“I guess I can’t tell you what’s best for you but I don’t think that being in the band is good for you right now. How are you going to handle the headlines and the bad press? It’s going to be a lot. I don’t think that I’d be able to deal with it very well.”

“I’m not you, I can handle it just fine.”

“You can’t even adjust to changing the band’s style, how are you going to adjust to…”

Ruon cuts him off.

“How far along are you right now, Azula.”

‘Five months.” She answers, her voice so small and quiet now.

“From the looks of it, by the time Audio of Agni comes around, you’ll be expecting to have your baby at any time.”

She swallows hard, tears are finally starting to well up behind her eyes. Because he is right. Even if they don’t kick her out of her own band, she is almost certain that she won’t be in any shape to perform, especially not to the degree she would like. It was a lost cause from the start. A losing battle that she tried to fight single handedly anyways. What is the point in wasting her energy on a battle that can’t be won; perhaps it is time for a while flag. Perhaps the time to wave one is well overdue.

She takes a deep breath, regaining as much composure as she can and mustering all of the poise as she can manage. “Good luck with Audio of Agni.” She picks up her microphone stand and hastily strides away.

The slamming of the recording studio door is the closing of the door to her aspirations, her future.

__________

She wonders how long it will take for the tabloids to tear her self-esteem to thinner ribbons than it is already in. How long it will take for them to churn out headlines officiating her departure from the band. She supposes that she could save herself some dignity and post an open letter of sorts on her social media before the other three can.

If only she had the drive.

If only it mattered.

She is already simmering in shame, what’s one more layer?

Anyways, she has to conserve her planning and word play for when her father comes home. And her time is running thin, his vacation expires two days from now. She has a feeling that there is no adequate dialogue; that even the most seasoned authors, poets, and intellectuals wouldn’t be able to scrape up a speech that would satisfy Ozai.

She longs to pull her knees up to her chest and bury her face in them. This is just one more thing that her baby gets in the way of. She settles for leaning her head against the wall and rubbing her hands over her face.

Her phone vibrates again.

She ought to put it on silent.

Once or twice the doorbell had rung.

She wouldn’t have answered even if she had the willpower to do so.

The phone vibrates. This time it is only a text. She has a growing list of missed call notifications. A steady steam of names; mostly Ruon and Seicho but Chan and Zirin are in the mix. There is one or two from her father and a voicemail message from Zhao.

She doesn’t answer any of their calls or texts. She doesn’t want to. They are just like Mai and TyLee. Perhaps worse. She’ll leave it to them to explain her departure to Zhao. Chan has left her with a mess to clean so she will leave him one.

Her phone lights up with an incoming call, Seicho’s name appears on the screen.

She should answer it.

It would have been better if she did. But her life has been reduced to one mistake after another, just what is one more anyways?

.oOo.

The empty pouch lies several feet from her. She hadn’t meant to. But she is at her wits end, her sanity’s very edge. And she hates to admit it, but she loved it. She loved it so much. She hadn’t felt that energetic and inspired in a very long time. For a time, her appetite hadn’t been so horribly ravenous. And by Agni, conversation had come much easier when she finally got around to responding to that stream of missed calls. It was a sublime half an hour. She finds that she can no longer blame Zuko at all for craving the drug so furiously.

She can’t quite remember what she said to everyone. She doesn’t think that it matters anyways. She is so thoroughly drained, so much so that she can’t fathom leaving her bed. Can’t fathom anything at all. And this is a mercy to what comes next. To the slap of awareness that comes the next day.

Azula hasn’t felt so dreadful about herself since seeing her pregnancy test marked positive. She thinks that she might feel worse now than she had then. Her mind is a whirlwind of shame and guilt. She wishes she could pretend that she hadn’t done cocaine but she had been too lethargic in the crash to have even discarded the pouch.

It sits upon her dresser amid a light dusting of the powder, reminding that she is a failure just as miserable as her brother. That she is more so. At least Zuko never had a chance. She had all of the cards in line for her, all of the game pieces set in place and she still has managed to lose.

The noise that tears from her throat is hideous, tortured. The product of a failed attempt to conceal a sob. She used cocaine.

There is a baby in her belly and she used cocaine.

Spirits, she has probably killed it. She digs her nails into her hairline. She didn’t want to kill it. Whether she wanted it or not the baby is still hers. It is still a part of her. It might be the only thing that she will have left. And she might have just killed it or poisoned it.

She can’t stop the tremors and shakes that run through her body and she isn’t sure if it is an effect of the drug or if she is simply an anxious mess. Can cocaine give someone the shakes after one use? She trembles harder still.

She needs help.

She should call someone.

She is scared.

She has no one to call.

She wipes it her nose, she can still feel tingles and tickles. A faint static dancing on her nostrils and it won’t go away. No matter what she does or tries to think about, it doesn’t go away. The feeling builds in her sinuses until she is overtaken by an urge to claw at her nose.

It is ludicrous, the power is not there anymore--she has been to the mirror five times over to check.

She rubs her hands over her face.

She hears her phone vibrate.

She covers her ears.

She still hears it vibrate and it vibrates in unison with the static.

She slides onto the floor and bunches herself up as much as her bigger belly would allow. She finds that she is no longer even allowed to take comfort in bunching herself up. And so she lays there, strewn haphazardly, on the kitchen floor, tangled locks of hair fanning out around her.

Maybe she should lay there and die. Maybe she should go fetch the rest of her father’s stash and hit it all in one go. Maybe it is a mercy that she has probably gotten her baby killed. It doesn’t need to be born into a world that will emotionally rip it to tatters. It doesn’t need to be born to an inept mother...an inept person like her.

She should get off of the floor.

She can’t.

She is terrified.

She still has no one to call.

________________

Azula doesn’t remember opening the door. She doesn’t think that she had. But Seicho is there all the same. There and cradling her tightly, running her hand over her hair. Azula feels so, so weak. Weak and somehow more drained than she had even before.

“What happened, Azula?” She mumbles into her hair.

“They kicked me out of my own band.” She says softly, her voice straining as she tries to choke back a fresh batch of tears. “Chan got me pregnant and they kicked me out. It’s my band. My father is the one who…” she loses it at ‘father’, her words falling into the sob that she tried to suppress. “He’s going to...Agni, he’s going to disown me. Just like he did to Zuzu.”

Seicho’s brows furrow. “He’s your father, he wouldn’t…”

Azula shakes her head. “He’s a drunk, Seicho! I found the drugs in his desk.”

“You took drugs!?”

Azula grits her teeth. “I…” she what? There is no excuse. “I fucked up.”

Seicho squeezes her tighter and mutters, “let’s get you to the doctor.” She helps Azula to her shaky feet. “You should have seen one months ago, anyways.”

“What’s wrong with me, Seicho?”

“You’re stressed and pregnant and stressed because you’re pregnant.”

“I can’t afford to see a doctor. My father isn’t going to pay for that. I only have so much money saved up from the band…”

“Let’s just get you to this first appointment.”

Azula sucks in a deep breath. Seicho is right. She needs to regain rationality and start figuring out what to do. Really figuring it out as she should have done in the first place. Seicho helps her into the car.

.oOo.

Watching a dragon lose its wings is worse than finding out that her idol is the sort of asshole who would abandon his daughter for drugs and then abandon her twice over when she makes a mistake of her own.

Azula had been such a proud woman, head held high and vibrant. She is pale now, her eyes baggy and bloodshot, hair in a state of disarray and her clothes unkempt. She is softer, her face rounder. But there is no warmth in it; there is no glow of pregnancy. There is no glow at all. It is hollow and grey.

She squeezes Azula’s hand as she lingers in front of the door. It is as though walking in will put the final nail in a coffin that has been sealed for quite some time now. “Come on,” she implores softly, “I think that you’ll feel a lot better once the doctor tells you your options.”

Azula nods.

“How far along are you?” Seicho hears the receptionist ask.

“Five months.” She sounds so small.

“And you haven’t seen a doctor yet?”

She shakes her head.

“Why have you waited so long?”

“I didn’t want to tell my father…”

The receptionist sighs. “I’m sorry, we can’t take you as a patient.”

Azula’s dreary eyes grow that much more dismal. “What do you mean?” Her voice is caught somewhere between distress and anger. Seicho thinks that it is pure shock. “Why not?”

The receptionist has the decency to cringe. “You’ve already missed several important screenings, tests, and milestones. You’re also very young…”

“So?”

She flinches back further. “You’re a liability. There are a lot of risk factors and most physicians don’t want that liability.”

Azula grows paler still. “I-I don’t know what to do. I need to see someone.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. We can’t accept new patients that are this far along.”

Azula doesn’t speak another word. Stiff and tense is her walk back to the car and all Seicho can do is rub her hand in small circles on her back as they walk. Azula lays back against the headrest, almost limp in defeat. “Is there anywhere else we can go?”

“We can try the next place over.” Seicho suggests. And she suggests it again and again until she has to look up clinics she has never heard of. Azula finds one, a small practitioner. And they drive there.

.oOo.

Azula is under the impression that they have only taken her as a patient as a good will gesture. That the receptionist had taken one look at her dejected state and called for the doctor herself. Azula shifts uncomfortably in the chair as the woman looks her down with a smile that is much too big.

“Geez, that Joo Dee woman is creepy.” Seicho whispers.

Azula shrugs. “At least she’s giving me a chance.” She will stomach the creepiness as she stomachs everything else that is thrown at her. At last a woman appears, she is terribly old with bright white hair and fierce blue eyes.

“Azula, is it?” She greets.

Azula nods.

“My name is Hama.”

“You’re going to take me as a patient.”

“You’ve come unorthodoxly late.” She clicks her tongue. “But I’ve been doing this for a very long time so I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Azula exchanges a glance with Seicho. One that is not missed by Hama. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

The old woman chuckles. “I suppose it’s strange to be in a place like this instead of some facility that smells like ammonia. But I think that better births happen in a relaxed environment. Hospitals are not relaxing. Nothing comforting about giving birth when someone is dying just down the hall.”

“No, that’s not comfortable at all.” Azula agrees but it is no less comforting to be in what looks like someone’s house. “Do you even have…” “The medical equipment necessary to deliver a baby?” She quirks a brow. “I get asked that all the time, girl. I certainly do and if you will follow me I can show you. Forgive me, I know that I just criticized the scent but it does smell like disinfectants back here.”

Azula doesn’t think that there is anything to forgive. It is a comfort to know that the woman is properly sanitizing everything. She supposes that, that is a good sign. The room Hama leads her to is much like a standard doctor’s office, save for the wallpaper, a helping of potted plants everywhere, and a faint odor of incense that cuts through the disinfectants.

“Please sit. We have quite a lot of things to go over. Namely your situation with your father, Joo Dee informed me that he is not aware.”

“He isn’t, no.”

“This first visit will be free of charge, dear.”

For the first time all day, perhaps in months, she feels a refreshing current of relief. She could very well cry.

“Thank you.”

“Because you are coming in so late, I need you to sign a waiver. There could be complications that are...difficult for me to work with, things that haven’t been detected because…”

And she hasn’t even told the woman about her cocaine use. She isn’t sure that she should, Agni forbid she loses her last chance. She reads the forms over and signs them. Hama hands her more of them. “I need you to fill out your medical history. Allergies, past illnesses, the usual. After you do that I will give you a general check up and we can schedule your first real appointment.”

“What if I can’t pay?”

Hama considers for a moment. “I will work with you, dear. My daughter is a fan of your music. Perhaps you can sing for her some time.”

.oOo.

Azula looks better, if only a little, now that she is sitting in the car with a rather clean bill of health; a healthy heart rate and body temperature, no fever nor infection, and a body weight that is rather typical for someone at five months.

She looks better still to see that Ozai’s car is still not in the driveway.

“Spend the night with me?”

“I can do that. Just let me text my parents.” Seicho smiles.

_________

It is a mercy that her father is so late to return home, she thinks to call and ask him why he hasn’t come home. She is beginning to wonder if the man has overdosed in his hotel room. Drank himself to death and yet to be discovered. More likely, he has heard word of her departure from the band and is leaving her to fester in her dread for a while.

Still, it is better this way; she had needed the extra time with Hama unable to get her in for another three days. It is just as well, the cocaine should be out of her system. It has been decided that she will pay for the treatments using her band savings, it isn’t as though she has any use for them anymore, anyhow. She still feels awkward sitting in Hama’s chair. Though the woman has been more than friendly.

Seicho lounges in the corner while Hama lifts Azula’s shirt above the bump. The ultrasound gel that she applies is cool on her belly, uncomfortably so.

“We will call you with the results of your blood work as soon as we receive them.” Hama says as she carefully sweeps the transducer over Azula’s bump.

“Alright.”

“So far, it looks like your baby’s development is on the right track.”

She wouldn’t say that if she knew about the drugs.

“It’s a girl.”

“A girl.” She repeats distantly. At least she can stop calling the baby an ‘it’ now.

Hama cleans the gel away and pulls Azula’s shirt back down. “Based on what we’ve discussed I’ve given you a care plan going forward. I also have a list of foods and drinks to avoid. I’d like to see you again in two weeks.”

.oOo.

Ozai’s car is in the lot when Seicho pulls into the driveway. Her throat constricts.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Azula shakes her head. It is better if she faces him alone. It is better if she is alone when she is shamed. She takes a deep breath and steps into the foyer. She looks to the recliner that he usually occupies when he is seeking to yell at her. It is vacant.

She finds him at the dinner table, with a bottle that is already half empty. She feels nauseous but she forces herself into the room. She tries to be quiet about it when she pulls out her chair but it still squeak and scrapes upon the floor. Not that she isn’t in plain sight of her father anyhow. Even still she feels as though she should take her seat with a stealthy silence. As though sound will break whatever peace there is left. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair.

Her father looks her over, taking her in. And she realizes that it has been several weeks since he has seen her. She wonders how she looks to him with her belly swollen and her sad eyes. She braces herself for a good scolding but he doesn’t say anything at all. Somehow this is so much worse. She clears her throat, “father.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The lump in her throat grows, swelling until she can barely breathe. “I can fix this.”

His expression says it all. She has made a perfect fool of she and him both. He wants nothing to do with she and her baby. He simply lifts his arms and slides the sheets of paper that were underneath them over to her. She picks them up and looks them over, they are printouts from various online newspapers.

Now that she has seen the headlines she is grateful that she had been too busy fretting over appointments to seek them out and pay them any mind at all. Surely there are article that lament her departure, sympathize with her, or wish her a safe pregnancy. But the ones that Ozai has selected for her to read are brutal and merciless; ‘Blue Talon to Enter a New, More Creative Era Following Departure of Lead Vocalist’, Blue Talon Vocalist Lets Down Fans’. ‘Disappointing News: What Losing Their Vocalist Means for Blue Talon and Audio of Agni.’ The ones addressing her pregnancy are worse still; ‘Tour Bus Sex: Blue Talon Vocalist Pregnant’. They quite bluntly imply that she is slut, that she is easy all the while they try to speculate who the father is.

There is an interview with her former bandmates. She only needs to read Chan’s denial of being the father to decide that the article isn’t worth reading.It is teeming with lies and stirs the rumors. And she has missed her window of merit; to tell her side with some scrap of believability. Chan has ruined her and she thinks that he probably knows it. She supposes that it is better her than him in his mind. She can’t say that she wouldn’t do him the same if the roles could be somehow swapped.

She looks up from the printouts. She opens her mouth but she doesn’t trust herself to speak without choking up or sobbing. She waits for Ozai to begin yelling. She practically yearns for it as the silence drags on.

“I finished reading them.” She manages finally. Maybe now he will begin his tirade, now that she has a full understanding of how disgraceful she is, he will elaborate. He still holds his tongue. She shifts in her chair, absently and nervously rubbing circles on her belly. He reaches for his bottle and takes a swig, he refuses to look up from his phone. But he finally speaks, “get out.” He noisily clatters the bottle against the table top.

She swallows. She must have misheard him. He wouldn’t just kick her out without a discussion. “What?”

“Get out of my sight.” He says it with such finality that she can only rise shakily to her feet and hope that Seicho will answer her phone. Her mouth is dry and her fingers shake as she punches Seicho’s number into her phone. She can barely see the numbers with her eyes as misty as they are.

She makes her way to her room and tosses her favorite clothes into a suitcase alongside her microphones and critical recording equipment. She takes her comb, her toothbrush, a bar of soap. Her fingers hover over her first musical award and her invite to Audio of Agni. She retracts her hand, they will only take up necessary space in her suitcase.

Upon gathering everything that she needs, she drops onto Ozai’s recliner and sits there, shaking, until she sees the headlights through her window.

“What’s going on?”

Azula shakes her head. She isn’t sure where Seicho is taking her, she isn’t sure that Seicho knows where she is driving to. Right now she is just driving. Right now Azula wants to just drive. Right now Azula wants her to drive into a lake.

“Are you alright?”

She is anything but.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“He...he told me to leave.”

“Like, just for tonight, or…”

“He doesn’t want me back.”

And Seicho’s parents want nothing to do with her. They want their daughter to have nothing to do with an influence so negative; with the sort of tramp who would find herself knocked up at sixteen.

Despite scathing protest from Seicho, they evict her from their daughter’s car. She finds herself wandering down the streets, suitcase in hand. She finds herself a park bench, the metal is too cold for sleep but she can’t imagine herself getting any anyhow.

She opens her phone; Seicho is already apologizing profusely, making promises to find a way to see her. Right now she doesn’t have the optimism to believe that she will be able. She scrolls through the names on her phone; Chan, Father, Mai, Mother, Ruon, Seicho, Tylee, Uncle… She scrolls all the way to the bottom, her finger hovered over Zuko’s number. She can’t bring herself to enter it.

She can’t think of anything else to do so she decides to return Zhao’s call. Maybe he can help her work out how to salvage her musical career and her reputation. She finds that he can do no such thing; he is no miracle worker. She needs a miracle worker but she will settle for a samaritan.

It isn’t ideal by any means, but she doesn’t see any other options so when his car pulls up she gets in. Her head is dizzy with many scenarios, many unsavory possibilities. She braces herself to just deal with them, take whatever ugly things life throws at her.

Of all of the dark stories she has written in her head, she could have never anticipated what did happen; she is greeted by three children and a rather plump woman with gentle eyes and a warm smile to match. She kisses Zhao’s cheek and welcomes him back home as his children fuss about at his feet. “Misaki, this is Azula. She is going to stay with us.”

She is so inexplicably relieved that the worst discomfort that Zhao gives her is informing her that her options are the floor or the sofa.

__________

While they get better, she gets worse. Blue Talon rises and Azula falls. They rise on her material, on her story, on her hardwork and soul.

She doesn’t know why she has taken to keeping such close tabs on Blue Talon. There is nothing to be gained from watching each new live performance. Nothing to be gained from stalking about their social media and viewing their announcements about introducing a brand new sound.

Nothing to be gained but more self loathing, a heavier heart, and a renewed hatred of her former friends. She can’t even be sure if she can call them that; were they ever her friends, they would have the decency to stop performing songs about her abuse. Bad split or not, they can afford her the respect of not letting Ruon sing her story, her pains.

It is a mockery, a hollow rendering of the person wrapped in those lyrics. Really there is nothing she can do; though it is fully hers, Blue Talon has the right to those lyrics, to that story. She doesn’t have the legal backing or the funds to take them back.

Azula supposes that she shouldn’t be surprised, she doesn’t have the ability to reclaim the story she has yet to tell either. And so she clicks the next link.

She does this for hours, an endless stream of mindless scrolling. Her only comfort comes in the form of radio silence from From Ashes To Phoenix. An arrest and then total silence is never a good sign. At least she is not alone in her failure. At least it, like most sufferings, is a family activity but without the bonding that could make it worthwhile.

Late in the night, she shuts the computer down. She drags herself to her suitcase and finds herself a pair of pajamas. She curses herself for--in her moment of distress--forgetting to make sure that she grabbed pajamas that would fit. It is an extra kick when she needs it the least to find that she has packed only one set of pajamas designed for pregnancy and only a few accommodating day clothes. She sinks to her knees and grips the sides of her head, nails digging into her hairline--it is just one impulse disaster after another, ranging from minor to major.

She’ll deal with the awkwardness of asking Zhao’s wife to take her shopping or borrow clothes in the morning. She slips out of her day clothing and into the pajamas, they are just snug enough to let her know that these pajamas she had brought during month four.

She lays herself down on the couch. Agni, she wishes that they didn’t have a mirror hanging across the room from it. Now that her eyes are locked on her reflection, she thinks that it would have been infinitely healthier to have kept her eyes fixed on the computer screen. It is so much better to hate her old bandmates than it is to hate herself.

Her life is a mess and her entire being reflects it. In her life she has never looked so dreadful. Her hair is such a mess--she hasn’t bothered with it in several days--it frames a face that seems swollen and puffy to her. Her entire person seems swollen, no doubt, the result of eating for two. She wraps her hands around her middle only to be dismayed by the way her shirt stretches over her chest. It doesn’t feel right and her only comfort comes from the knowing that the occasional tenderness in that area has already reached a peak and subsided. She should tear her eyes away from the glass but they have already locked on patches of discolored skin. She furrows her brows, unsure if this is normal. She supposes that, that is just one more uncomfortable question that she will have to ask Zhao’s wife. Each and every one of her birthmarks and freckles seem to have darkened as well.

To some degree, she has trouble recognizing the haggard person who stares back at her as herself. She could reach out her hand but she doesn’t want the extra confirmation.

But worse than her bump, her softened face, her swollen chest, and those unsightly discolorations is the inky blue dragon curling around her bicep. Its blue talon stretches out to remind her of what she no longer has. She brushes her fingers over it, with a sudden impulse to claw it away. To rake her nails across her skin until scar tissue engulfs the whole of the inkwork.

She resists the impulse and swaps it for another. She punches Seicho’s number into the phone and screams at her until her voice goes raw and her mind numb to the point where she can’t even remember what she had said. She knows that at least part of it had to do with yelling at the girl for tattooing her with no questions asked.

Lucidity only comes back in with a slap when Seicho, tearfully from the sound of it, shouts, “my parents were right about you!” The line goes dead before she can even begin to explain why she’d called in the first place. Before she could even try to articulate some sort of apology.

In that one end call tone, she knows that she has no one left. No one and nothing.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #2021atlasummerevent #Azula #Zuko #Azula/Background Character #Mai #Maiko #Fanfiction

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semi-imaginary-place · 3 years

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rewatching decadence part 2 because part 1 got too long

ep7: Getting to see the game Deca-Dence as a new player would with the opening cutscene, skipping the TOS, character creation and all was a good touch. Also the fact that Kaburagi could look like anything, but he wants to look like mid 40′s dad both times. I wonder who it was that decided Minato should vape. The conversation on the top of Deca-Dence is real interesting because its like only 20% of the actual conversation is spoken out loud and the other 80% left unsaid, so we have to guess what was left unsaid. Minato tells Kaburagi to not make things worse for himself, condoning his actions, but also vows to himself to help Kabu even though it is very dangerous for him. Kaburagi leaves after regretfully saying he doesn’t want to cause Minato more trouble, and yet his current and future actions are and will be doing just that. The obscuring fog in this scene adds to the sense of distance or disconnect between these two. Somewhere over the past 7 years they have fallen off the same page.

This episode again highlights how while for the Tankers this is life and death situation, for the cyborgs Deca-Dence is a game. We get a shot of some Gears lightheartedly discussing how fun the latest game event was, followed right after with what that event meant for the Tankers as we see a makeshift medbay in the streets filled with the dead and dying to really drive home the gap of compassion between the two groups. Minato is one of the few cyborgs we really see besides Kaburagi and the show uses him to show how cyborgs don’t think of humans as people. Humans to the cyborgs are just npcs in a game. Now anime and manga about videogames have been around a long time and were especially popular in the mid 2000s (mmorpgs especially) after which the genre dropped the “in a game” part but kept everything else which were today know as the isekai genre. Hot takes like “the videogame characters are actually people all along” aren’t new either, but Deca-Dence is one of the most successful in generating sympathy and compassion for the Other by flipping the script. Most of those series come from the perspective of the player and show the player coming to care about the npcs. This often isn’t done very well or comes off as patronizing, like the other characters act in service of making the mc look like a good guy instead of actually acting like fully realized people in their own right. (*cough* sao *cough*). In contrast to this, Deca-Dence initially starts from the perspective of Natsume who is human just like us the audience, and thus predisposing us to feeling with and feeling for her. So later when its revealed the humans of this world aren’t seen as people by the cyborgs or the the corporation that rules all their lives, it is granted greater weight in the context of all of us who have played videogames before and met npcs and maybe not cared all that much about them. Decadence places the viewer in the position of the npc, the Other.

Episode 7 is also the beginning of several letters exchanged between Kaburagi and Natsume. Its a presence that lingers long after the person has left and also acts as a contrast to the call/social networking apps of the cyborgs. In episode 5 we saw Kaburagi choose Natsume over following the orders of Solid Quake, but through to episode 7 he still believed in its system. Look even at episode 6 where he still believed that if he worked hard and played by the rules, the system would reward him and everything would be ok and compare that calm assurance in episode 6 to his mountain frustration in episode 7. He’s starting to see how thing are run in Deca-Dence makes life really hard and kind of terrible for the Tankers. This frustration at the system culminates at the end of the episode when he realizes the real human cost of perpetuating this system of oppression in how it hurts Natsume. I mean “Late stage capitalism made my adopted daughter Natsume cry, so I'm going to dismantle it.“ is a joke and pretty funny, but like, that’s what actually what happens. Both Kaburagi and Natsume further the theme of pushing the limits. Kaburagi realizes the limits of his society and why its time to break them down, while of Natsume’s side we see her struggle in the face of things much larger than her. Much like how the cyborgs are stuck in their lifestyles of working for Solid Quake, earning oxyone, and playing Deca-Dence, the Tankers are stuck in their role in society to leave their fates to the Gears and Deca-Dence. So Natsume asking everyone to take charge of their own lives and close that the hole is them stepping out of the comfort of what they’ve always done, which is leave it to someone else (deca-dence administration, gears, etc.). Natsume asks the Tankers to push their limits, the step outside of what they’ve always done and to believe in things they thought were impossible to do. We see Fei representing the belief a lot of Tankers that nothing needs to change, thus nothing should change and they will not act to bring change to their own lives. The Tankers live lives that are decided for them. The Deca-Dence administration controls their population, and the system eliminates any who would disrupt it. They don’t have a lot of control and are resigned to live like that, until Natsume comes along. This episode we see her do what she does the entire series, inspire people to be more. Natsume’s doing alright, she might not be where she wants to be but she’s taken steps in that direction. Where Nstsume is psychologically contrast Kaburagi who’s a bit of a mess realizing he can no longer live under the thumb of Solid Quake’s Deca-Dence system and is kind of floundering about. When kaburagi meets Natsume again... he is so awkward, I’m getting second hand embarressmen. and again the assault jokes have got to stop. The shot of the empty chair calls back to the first episode and another talk between Natsume and Kaburagi. I always love it when an anime plays the credits early.

ep8: again the importance of the individual over the group with kaburagi’s lines at the beginning on why he’s taking down the gadoll factory. I’m just thinking about how kaburagi is certain minato kept his avatar. and everyone just agreeing that minato has that vibe. I really love the avatar retrieval part of the first episode. Its a heist sequence. I love heists!. They also did a good job with pacing and tension in that part. Still can’t believe the creators put a sex toy in this show but at least this joke is actually funny. Oh Minato pulled strings to get Kaburagi out of the poor jail. I missed that part. but now the two of them are not only on different pages, but on different books. Minato doesn’t see the tankers as people and follows the Deca-Dence system on what is good and what is bad, so he can’t comprehend why Kaburagi is throwing away everything the Deca-Dence system values for something the system has deems less than worthless. While Kaburagi has formed a moral compass independent of this system, he sucks at communication and doesn’t explain anything to Minato. Interesting how Minato views bugs as bad but has made an exception for kaburagi and probably did some mental gymnastics to do so. It reminds of those homophobic family members that make an exception for their gay family member. Minato never wanted anything but to be by Kaburagi’s side so he prioritizes Kaburagi above pretty much everything else which is why while he defends the establishment, he also breaks rules for Kaburagi. Their little convo continues the same dialectic, Kaburagi’s been inspired by Natsume to push the limits of himself and society, to choose how he lives instead of letting the Deca-Dence system tell him. Kaburagi underwent character development when Minato wasn’t looking and he can’t recognize him anymore but desperately wants to. Kaburagi moving forwards without him and him realizing that he was never as much a priority to Kaburagi as Kaburagi was to him, means that Minato’s really hurting by the end of the scene, and he doesn’t take it out on Kaburagi, he just leaves. ...if it isn’t obvious by now, minato is my favorite character. gotta love the gay robot having a mid life crisis. (i mean his feeling aren;t necessarily romantic, but you know the joke I’m referencing). Turkey just wakes up and chooses evil every day huh. I predict someone on tumblr with a history of unhealthy relationships is horny for turkey.

ep9: why does the reactor look like a cyborg core? Again. WHYYY does Donatello have a gun??? idiots let him keep a working gun. I love the contrast of the actual pretty gritty situation of the prison riot being represented with super cartoony slapstick animations. This probably saves on frames as well as keep the series from getting too dark, because if you think about it the labor camp conditions are pretty horrifying but its disguised with cartoony designs and wacky characters. Kaburagi and Natsume are doing very important plot things, but the core of episode 9 are Sark and Turkey. Through them we see the same conversation that has been repeated through out the series of conforming to society and staying in line, that things won’t ever change so you should just duck your head and follow order, or the “I’m comfortable how things are” versus you should make your own choices with live life how to want to, to push your limits. Turkey sees the Deca-Dence system as absolute and eternal and thus tries to play by the system and help it continue by selling out everyone else. Sark is passive and doesn't really have an opinion of his own, just following whatever the others are doing whether its Kaburagi stealing his avatar or Turkey in betraying everyone. Sark unlike Turkey isn’t malicious, he wants the best for everyone but also isn’t quite willing to put himself at risk for others. After seeing everyone be destroyed as a consequence of following Turkey however, his new resolve and subsequent suicide bombing is the only reason the plan ends up succeeding. For total destruction of the gadoll factory two things were needed: flipping the kill switch on all the gadoll in the dome, and destroying the reactor powering the factory. We aren’t told how Jill and Kaburagi originally planned to destroy the reactor (like was he just suppose to wander around until they bumped into it?), but Sark’s explosion is what allowed Kaburagi and Natsume to get away from Hugin. Without Sark, Hugin would have totally caught them. So it was Sark taking charge of his own life and pushing his limits that saved them all. That said, if the explosion was powerful enough to reach all the way up the giant tube and destroy the reactor, why didn’t it break the tube and why didn’t it destroy everyone left in the prison? ah well it makes thematic sense so I’ll let this pass.

So I’ve talked before about how Deca-Dence’s ending could be improved to build on some of the themes established in the first couple episodes. The problem is that this show isn’t pushing a narrative of collaboration and the power of collective bargaining, its pushing an individualist narrative about how each and every person can reach out and better themself. Now I don’t think these two themes are mutually exclusive, but it would take a very delicate touch as well as an attentive and thoughtful audience to successfully weave these two theme together into a nuanced whole. And if a rewrite were to happen with the minimal amount of changes, I think ep 10 is a good divergence point. The final little arc is about the rogue gadoll outside of the Deca-Dence system and the threat of total annihilation by solid quake, and while big kaiju fights look cool, they don’t quite deal with dismantling systems of oppression at the hands of your corporate overlords. So, I would have preferred something like the cyborgs and Tankers coming together to seize the means of production, destroy Solid Quake, and take its assets for themselves. The ideal rewrite situation though would for this all to be 24 episodes and the big gadoll to be the episode 12 climax while taking down Solid Quake happen in ep 23-24. And since we’re doing a rewrite, Natsume kinda drops off as the main character after episode 5 and I’d like to see her back at the forefront of the show.

ep10: If this show had leaned more into the futility of Natsume seeking to improve herself within a system that rendered it meaningless, it would have ended up much darker, but I also think it would have been richer. Ah poor Natsume, she’s at a low point since the context of what she has been doing has wildly changed, afterall, what’s the point of improving yourself if nothing else ever changes and what you do doesn’t matter. The letter writing continues and it is good. So I’m not going to question how the exit tunnel is still intact, but watching into robot kaburagi angrily drive a car and swear is really funny. I’ve been wondering for a while, the humans literally live in a fuel tank, how is there enough light to grow plants in there? Like as part of the post-apocalyptic aesthetic, a lot of Tankers have little house plants which in addition to being inside the fuel tank, are also inside their houses. oh yeah for any who didn’t get it. The reason as a child Natsume went into cardiac arrest and her chip was read as dead wasn’t because of the severity of her injuries, Deca-Dence’s system had deemed her too dangerous to live and flipped her kill switch.

ep11: on a thematic level I might be meh, but the writing and execution are what really pull the ending through. Everything is nicely set up from the mutated gadoll the victim of animal abuse several episodes earlier to fighting hugin in the factory being how hugin finds out about natsume. I think about Jill’s lines here, that no matter how hard you try to keep things from changing, you’re just fighting the inevitable. Also Natsume took Kaburagi’s switching bodies really well like seeing someone you care about die in front of you but then surprise they just got another body would give most people such whiplash. “our bodies are under the system’s control, but our core’s are independent of it” I’m still thinking about this. It makes sense given how the first generation of cyborgs where humans with mechanical implants, but cyborg’s cores are still such a mystery. The things you can’t control are a part of life too. In Deca-Dence bugs are uncertainties that the master control system doesn’t know what to do with. More than just individualism good, here we get a little more nuance to Deca-Dence (the show)’s theme. Jill was one of the creators of the Deca-Dence game (giant mech, control system, and all), and they tried to create perfect system where everything was under its control and order could be maintained forever, and this inevitably failed (the show tells us). Trying to perfectly order everything is to attempt the impossible, disorder will always creep in and those little individual differences should be celebrated. and is to the backdrop of an old Deca-Denca(robot) part that is rusting away, plants and animals overtaking it much like how the Deca-Dence’s currently enforced status quo of the game will fall away in the face of those it deems bugs. wait did we ever figure out what the bug was that jill left in deca-dence? mmmm I’m still thinking about Minato logging out because the system told him to but unwilling to let things end this way so physically going back down to earth in his real body. Facing the possibility of truly losing Kaburagi forever is what pushes Minato to question following the Deca-Dence master control system. He totally became a bug for Kaburagi. I doubt Kaburagi had any idea how much Minato wanted to hear the words “let’s fight together to the end”, but offered the thing he truly desires, Minato probably would have done anything. mmm he’s got it bad. there’s also that linking Kaburagi and Deca-Dence’s core takes two people and yet, Kaburagi didn’t bring anyone with him. Which is terrible planning, but allowed for this really great scene. that he knew Minato would come after him. And then the last thing me sees in Minato. Minato truly is ride or die. literally. He could have gone back to the spaceship so that he’d survive no matter what, but he choose to stay. If the plan succeeds then he will see it through with/right beside/literally inside of Kaburagi, and if it fails and Kaburagi is annihilated when Solid Quake wipes the dome, Minato will also be annihilated along side Kaburagi.

ep12: so kaburagi just straight up demands admin privileges and the governing sys is like “sure”. Yeah pretty sure the governing system convo was a season 2 hook to show the big wigs. The independent all governing system tells Kaburagi that all this, him and bugs are a part of the system’s learning process, to which Kaburagi responds that all that doesn’t matter since he’s going to do what he wants independent/regardless of the governing system. the context in which you do things doesn’t matter. Also I never pointed it out since its like the 4th wall of scifi, everyone is just trained to suspend their disbelief, but oxyone is total bullshit. A non toxic liquid energy dense fuel that can be concentrated into orbit range lasers. The tankers all helping Natsume push the spare part is a feel good moment seeing everyone working together. Its an unnecessarily scene for the purpose of including the tankers in the action, since the part wasn’t ever really needed and the writers didn’t have to have it severed by the laser to begin with. the Natsume montage overlayed with the music is very good. wait. i just realized, limiter release can be reversed. Afterall, Kaburagi released his limiters with his first avatar, and if he had still been fully connected to it when hugin killed that avatar, cyborg Kaburagi should have died too but he didn’t and just immediately logged in on a different account. Kabu-Dence releasing his limits here and literally giving all of himself to destroy omega is fulfilling both for his character arc and on an emotional level. This entire show has been about pushing one’s limits and making your own choices, and it culminates here’s in Kaburagi literally releasing his limiter, thus putting him in mortal danger, and then giving every last ounce of himself to the path he has decided. The destruction of the mech fortress Deca-Dence is also symbolic of the end of the game of the Deca-Dence mmorpg as we know it. wait wait did Kaburagi hold on just long enough to hear Natsume thank him. aaaaahhh and then the ed song plays!! and then the play the new mmo intro scene. Still real weird that they’re using a cyborg brain as a ball.

#deca dence #deca-dence #decadence #deca_dence #anime #reviews

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barrysjumpsuit · 4 years

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the dark side - jj maybank x shoupe’s daughter, ch. 2

w/c: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of domestic abuse

summary: catherine shoupe has the perfect life. when she gets hired by heyward to run groceries, she has a new coworker - jj maybank. as the deputy’s daughter, she can’t help but hate him. but when jj decides to bring her to the dark side and woo her over, cat not only has to hide her activities from her father, but learn who her father really is.

a/n: this is mainly character development (with plenty of JJ), angst and fluff to come next chapter :-) for the first chapter my tags weren’t working, so if you haven’t read it, you can read chapter 1 here

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“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, and Pope was quickly in between the two of them.

“Can we not?” he addressed both of them, exasperated. “At least not in front of my dad.”

Cat rolled her eyes, moving to the side of the boat to push off the dock while JJ sauntered to the steering wheel.

Maybe this was a bad choice. Lane three sounded nice right now. She tried to push her thoughts away as she sat on the back of the boat.

Pope sat down next to her, and they sat silently until he spoke. “You know, Cat, he was a kid back then.”

“He still said and did that stuff though,” she grumbled, picking at the frayed hems of her denim shorts. “And nothing has changed since then.”

She remembered that day well. Back when she went to the same middle school as Pope and JJ and the rest of their crew. It was the age when kids become cliquey, and start to push boundaries. Cat had always been the girl whose dad was a cop, and when she was younger, it was cool. He would do talks at her school. Her classmates’ attitudes changed once she hit middle school. Kids were becoming more in tune with their parents’ perspectives on cops, and they started getting trouble as well. In a place like the Outer Banks, although it is paradise on Earth, kids got bored.

Kids like JJ. He had always had a troubled life in addition to a smart mouth and loose lips.

She overheard him one day, talking about how his father would beat his mother. Cat felt like it was her obligation to tell her dad and, after enough pestering and begging from her, he agreed to look into it.

A few days later, JJ had decked her across the face with a solid right hook. He yelled at her, awful things about how her father was destroying families and lives and that she was too dumb to see it.

A month later, his mother left them in the middle of the night.

The two of them hadn’t associated since. Cat’s dad brought him up sometimes. “JJ stole another box of condoms from the Dollar General.” “JJ got into another fight at the Boneyard.” “Someone saw JJ stumbling down main street drunk.”

Ever since his mother left, JJ’s mischief escalated.

Cat looked over at him, piloting the boat. His back was to her, and he was leaning against the side of the cabin, gazing out onto the water, his loose hair fluttering in the same breeze that rustled the grocery bags.

JJ looked over towards her, his icy blue gaze chilling her despite the warm air. Looking away, she trained her eyes on her feet.

“Brr,” Pope said, as if reading her mind.

“He can apologize to me,” Cat decided, thinking out loud. Part of her hoped her words were lost in the wind, so that JJ didn’t hear them. Another part of her hoped he heard.

Pope just sighed before they launched into small talk the rest of the short ride to Figure Eight. It didn’t take long; JJ pulled the boat up beside the dock while Cat jumped onto the worn wood, clipping the boat in at the stern and tying it at the bow.

As Pope and JJ handed the groceries down to her, she noticed that JJ’s gaze was intense and lingering. Purposefully avoiding it, once the last of the groceries were unloaded, she picked up the bags and started walking down the dock to the Thompson’s house.

The boys eventually caught up to her, and they delivered the groceries, Mrs. Thompson slipping each of them a $20 bill as a tip.

“Is this a normal thing?” Cat asked, holding up the money as soon as they were on their way back to the boat.

“Sure is,” Pope said.

“The more good looking you are, the more they tip,” JJ said, peering at Cat over his sunglasses and pretending to lick the money. It was crumpled up from being shoved in his pocket.

The three of them finished up six more deliveries that day. The sun was setting as they docked at Heyward’s. Cat’s skin was reddened from the sun, her hair sticking to her face with sweat. Her interaction with JJ hadn’t been any more than a couple brief exchanges. Luckily, Pope seemed to stick to Cat’s side and JJ kept to himself.

Dinner was just being put on the table as Cat got home, and she didn’t bother cleaning up before sitting down. Her parents flooded her with questions about her new job. She told them about Pope, but not about JJ.

----

The first week of work had passed uneventfully. Most days she worked with JJ, but a couple of days, it was just her and Pope. JJ hadn’t addressed the tension between them, and Cat sure as hell wasn’t going to make the first move. He largely ignored her when they worked, which she was fine with.

She decided she liked the job well enough. She made good money with the pay raise and tips, and she could work on her tan, rolling up the sleeves of her work t-shirts and knotting them at the bottom while she was on the boat for a little extra breeze and exposed skin.

Cat and JJ had just finished their last delivery of the day. The sun was slowly dropping down towards the horizon, casting everything in deep shadows and a golden glow. She definitely couldn’t help but notice JJ’s hair, tousled by the wind of the day, and how it caught the evening rays of sunlight as he disconnected the gas can from the boat.

End of the day checks usually went pretty quickly. There was a checklist kept on board that Cat went over, and she held it while she locked up the cabin of the boat.

JJ’s voice sounded from behind her. “Kitty Cat…”

“Don’t call me that,” she interrupted, not looking up from what she was doing and maneuvering the padlock so that she could lock the door.

“...I’ve blamed you, you know. This whole time.”

JJ’s words made Cat stop going through the checklist. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck the checklist,” he said, pulling it from her hands and tossing it on the table in the middle of the boat. Did JJ want to get real with her? The look on his face said yes: the way his blue eyes were hard yet soft, the way his jaw was clenched, the way his fists were balled up.

Cat raised her chin to meet his gaze before he continued.

“I’ve blamed you for the past five years. For everything.”

“That’s not very ni-”

“Shut the fuck up and let me talk,” he burst, bringing his hands up and waving them in a frenzy. Cat took a step back at the movement, and JJ’s face dropped. “Cat, I-”

She turned and walked away, but she could only walk a few feet until she was sitting on the side of the boat. JJ sighed, then went to sit next to her. He was silent for a few moments before speaking. “I’d like to talk things out between us. Want to get dinner?”

“My parents are expecting me home for dinner,” she replied, not looking at him. He sighed, moving slightly.

“Oh. Yeah. Of course,” he said quietly. “I forgot people do that kind of thing.”

His words hurt. She felt stabbing pangs of guilt inside her.

Almost without realizing, Cat picked up her phone, dialing her father.

“Hey Cat, what’s up?” he answered, the sound muffled. She heard the clicking of a turn signal in the background.

“Hey dad, I’m not going to be able to make it home for dinner tonight. We’re flooded with orders at work and have to do some late runs.”

“Alright sweetie, just text me when you’re on your way home, okay? We’ll save you some leftovers.”

“Thanks dad, love you.”

“Love you too, Cat. Be careful on the water tonight.”

At that, Cat hung up, meeting JJ’s eyes for the first time. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Where are we going, Maybank?” she asked, and a grin spread across his face.

Half an hour later, they were seated on the back patio of The Wreck, JJ claiming the Carreras gave him a “best friend discount”. They ordered, then sat in an awkward silence, Cat waiting for JJ to speak up.

“I’m sorry I hit you that one time,” he said suddenly, pulling Cat’s eyes up to meet his intense gaze. “I never should have done that. You were worried about me. You were trying to help. I never got to thank you for that.”

“I’m sorry I made your business mine,” she replied quietly. Cat was absently messing with the paper straw wrapper, folding it and ripping it. “I guess I just… felt like I had to.”

JJ was nodding, clearly thinking about her words and how to respond.

“I shouldn’t have blamed you like I did,” he said finally, giving her a tight smile. “It was just a lot. At the time. It’s still a lot.”

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, and JJ looked up from his drink, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re kidding,” he said, his voice flat.

“I won’t tell my dad. I promise.”

JJ smiled, which turned into a laugh, dimples cratering his cheeks and his hair falling in his face. Behind him, the sun was almost set, only the faintest of oranges lighting up the otherwise dark sky.

“This is a conversation for another day, kitty Cat,” he said, sitting back in his chair. His eyes flicked towards the interior of the restaurant, and Cat turned to follow his gaze. She saw Kiara inside, gesturing wildly and mouthing words at JJ, but stopped and smiled and waved as she noticed Cat looking back.

“Are you sure you’re okay though?” she asked, looking back at him.

He laughed again. “I’m fine. Trust me.” There was an awkward pause. “We cool now?”

“I’m cool if you’re cool,” she replied, taking a sip of her lemonade and raising her eyebrows at him.

“Well, if you’re cool then I’m cool.” She smiled at his play on her words.

“We’re cool, then.”

“Cool as cucumbers.”

They burst into a fit of laughter as Kiara arrived with their food. “I’m not even gonna ask,” she said, shaking her head, visibly confused. She set the chicken sandwich down in front of Cat before handing JJ his food, whacking him on the head with her serving plate before heading back inside.

“You two still good friends?” she asked, picking up a sweet potato fry. JJ was in the middle of attacking his burger.

“Very,” he said around his food, and Cat made a face at his manners. She shouldn’t have expected anything less from JJ. “We ‘ang out almost every day.”

“You what?” she asked, grinning, leaning forward on the table, her elbows pressed against the soft wood. “Can you repeat that?”

“We hang,” he said, and a piece of mashed-up food flew out of his mouth as he stressed the word. “H-A-N-G.”

“That’s what I thought, thanks for specifying,” she teased before taking a bite of her chicken sandwich.”

“You should come hang with us sometime,” JJ said, once again carefully pronouncing the word.

Cat almost choked at the proposition, realizing he was serious, but made a point by carefully and thoroughly chewing her food before answering, making direct eye contact the whole time. JJ quickly caught on, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows, waiting for her answer.

“Maybe,” she concluded.

“Your dad tell you horror stories about us?” JJ’s words were nonchalant. He leaned back, tossing a fry into his mouth, expecting an answer.

“Mainly about you,” she replied, taking another bite.

“Me?” he asked, and she nodded. “Well, I’m flattered. What would he think about you and I here, now?”

“‘e’d ‘ate it,” she said, holding a hand over her mouth, catching herself as she spoke with her mouth full.

A wicked grin spread across JJ’s face. “What’d you say there, kitty Cat?”

“He would hate it! He’d disown me!” she laughed, and JJ smiled back at her.

“Unfortunately, I think that’s the truth,” he said. Cat hung her head in agreement, and the conversation died.

They ate, and Cat was almost done with her meal when JJ broke the silence. “Does he know we work together?”

She shook her head. “He’s bound to find out eventually, though.”

“Can I ask something else?”

“Sure.”

“Do you associate with any other Pogues?”

“No, aside from you and Pope,” she replied, her voice soft. Cat didn’t have to think about her answer. “I mean… I don’t associate with too many people. I have a few good friends. A bunch of Kook families really kiss ass to my family, I guess so the cops stay away from them and whatever they do. My dad hardly even lets me drive through the Cut when I want to surf down there or anything like that.”

JJ nodded, his eyes fixed on the table.

“You associate with any Kooks?” she asked, turning the question onto him.

“Kie,” he said. “I mow some lawns. Kiss some asses,” he added, winking. “But no, they don’t exactly welcome me over there.”

It was Cat’s turn to nod in response, not able to think of any words that could break the heaviness of the topic.

Luckily, Kiara arrived to take their plates. “One check,” Cat said, and Kiara’s eyes grew wide, looking from Cat, to JJ, then back to Cat.

“Get that smirk off your face, JJ,” she sighed, turning and leaving.

“What’s that smirk for?” Cat pressed, smiling.

“Nothin’,” JJ replied, shrugging dramatically, his smirk softening into a smile. Cat rolled her eyes, and Kiara returned quickly with the check.

“I’ll drive you home,” Cat proposed, leaving $25 in cash with the check. They stood and began down the steps from the deck to where Cat’s car was parked.

JJ quickly shot her offer down. “My dad isn’t good at forgiving people, kitty Cat. I’ll walk, it’s not far.”

“Oh- okay.”

“Thanks for dinner tonight. I’ll make it up to you sometime.”

“JJ Maybank? Offering me, a Kook, repayment? That’s a shocker.”

“I’m not all what your dad makes me out to be,” he said, walking backwards away from her. “There’s more than what meets the eye, and that goes for everyone, including your father. Come hang with us sometime, I’ll get you out of your bubble, kitty Cat”

“What do you mean?” she asked, but by the time the words left her mouth, JJ had turned and was jogging away.

---

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