#and i will always reply "Of course Master Flake

[the-black-manor]

Bad Decisions

Vampire Dom x GN Human Sub Requested by @transpunkslut

Summary: You've been living with your vampire for a few months, but you've never been fucked by him. Tonight, you found the nerve to ask him to be intimate.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, blood drinking,

Kinks: Vampire, terato, blood drinking, master/pet, excessive cum, primal play, oversized cock, rough kisses, multiple orgasms

Words: 2,140

More writings on Patreon.

You had been living with him for a while now, the vampire. It started with a swipe right and an invitation to dinner that you couldn't bring yourself to refuse. He was honest from the very beginning - even before you got to his mansion - that he intended to drink your blood. You still went, and here you still were, months later.

You were cattle to him. Fresh blood in the pantry. That's why you hadn't gotten up the nerve to ask him to do anything more with you. Anything... intimate, even though you so desperately wanted to feel him inside of you. You doubted he would say yes. The night began as it usually did, with breakfast in the living room before the fire as snow fell in heavy flakes outside the grand windows. You were breakfast, of course. After that, things progressed as they usually did, though he seemed to be more present than usual. More attentive.

You were talking and laughing, telling stories, when he rested his hand on your bare leg and gave you that dazzling, sharp smile you had come to adore. Later, he squeezed past you in the kitchen between the island and the counter, his crotch rubbing against your ass as he went. Then, when you were reminiscing about something upsetting, he had taken your hand in his and gave you a soft kiss on the knuckles. There were more instances than these - many more - and every time he so much as grazed you, your heart skipped a beat and your stomach fluttered. Your head was spinning all day, your legs clenched together to provide some friction.

The sun began to rise, and you were beginning to lose control of yourself. He wouldn't need to feed again so soon, but god you wanted him to. Maybe you could convince him to have a snack...

You rapped gently on the heavy walnut door that closed his office off from the rest of the house.

"Come in," his voice came from the other side, always friendly, always inviting.

You stepped into the office and closed the door behind you, then padded forward on bare feet.

"What are you up to?" you asked.

He glanced up from his paperwork to see you in nothing more than an oversized sweater and underwear.

"Working," he replied, and there was curiosity on his lips.

You stepped around his desk, and he turned his chair toward you instinctively.

I hope he doesn't kill me for this, you thought as you sat on the edge of his desk.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

You bit your lip nervously.

"Are you hungry?" you asked.

"I'm always hungry."

You tugged the sweater off one of your shoulders, revealing your neck and the puncture scars there.

"You know I won't feed on you in such quick succession, darling." His voice was part purr, part growl, and despite his words, his pupils were blown.

"I know. But you're hungry and I want to make sure you're well fed."

He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing, and rested his hands on your legs. He was cool to the touch, but his hands were soft, and the contact send electricity up your spine. You spread your legs, only barely.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low. Warning.

"I'm being good," you answered.

Your heart was pounding in your chest. No doubt he could hear it.

He smirked.

"You're trying to seduce me, aren't you, you little minx?"

You smiled and tried to avert your eyes, but he forced you to look at him with one clawed finger beneath your chin.

"I just want to make sure you're well taken care of... Master."

You had never called him that before, but you saw a fire start behind his blood red eyes when you did. He stopped breathing as yours picked up. He didn't need to breathe, of course, but it had become habit to make you more comfortable. Now, though, he was struggling to restrain himself, so breathing wasn't on his list of priorities.

You took hold of his wrist and slid his hand over your thigh and between your legs, where you pressed it against your crotch.

"I'll hurt you."

That wasn't a threat. It was a warning.

"No, you won't. You wouldn't do anything to risk losing your steady meals."

His pointed tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

"I know you want to, Master. Please. I want it too."

"I know what you want, pet, and it's not for me to drink your blood..."

Despite his hesitance, he pressed his palm against your crotch and began to massage. You let out a huff of breath and your hips jerked forward of their own accord. He pushed his chair out and stepped between your legs. His face was inches from yours, and you could feel his cool breath on your cheek. He smelled like vanilla and nutmeg.

"This is a dangerous game you're playing," he whispered.

"I know."

One hand worked between your legs while the other came up to cup the back of your neck.

"Once we get started, I won't be able to stop."

"Good."

"It will take hours."

"I hope it does."

"You don't know what you're asking for."

"I don't care."

"Your body won't be able to handle it."

"Try me."

Finally, he allowed all reservations to crumble and fall away, and he pressed his lips firmly against yours, holding you steady by the back of your neck. He wasn't gentle. His tongue snaked into your mouth to dance with yours. It was long and slick and strong, and he easily dominated you. His saliva tasted like honey cakes, and you throbbed underneath his palm. Your skin prickled with want. You could feel his long nails digging into the nape of your neck, but you knew he wouldn't break the skin. He wouldn't want to waste any of the crimson wine that flowed through your veins. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted to feel his hands on every inch of your body.

His tongue snaked down your throat and he fucked you with it as his hand made its way past your underwear to paw at you properly. You allowed him to continue as long as you could before you had to push him away to gasp for air. He might not need to breathe, but you definitely still did.

He didn't allow a second to go by before his mouth was on your neck and he sucked deep bruises into the soft flesh.

"M-more..." you begged. "Please..."

He licked a long line up the side of your neck, following your carotid artery, and then his hands were on the hem of your sweater, tugging it up and over your head, and your underwear down and off. He tossed them both to the side and then pressed his chest against yours, forcing you to lie back on the desk. He ground his clothed member against you. You could feel the thick bulge in his pants. He was... much bigger than you expected.

"Please..." you whined again.

"Please what?" he purred in your ear as his fingers tangled in your hair.

"Please. God, fuck me, please."

"You can call me Master," he replied, and you could feel the smirk on his lips as he kissed you again.

Your head was cloudy, filled only with thoughts of him, with wants for him. Your body ached and you arched up to meet him as he pressed his hard cock against you.

"Please..."

A tear ran down your cheek. You couldn't take this teasing. You needed more.

When it seemed as if you might pull your hair out, he finally reached down between your legs. You heard his zipper, and then his cock sprung out of his trousers to slap against you. His length was throbbing and hot, and you nearly screamed in frustration.

"Master, please!"

His cockhead pressed against your entrance, his precum lubing you up, and then, agonizingly slowly, he began to push himself inside. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a moan as the head slipped in, and you clenched as the bulging shaft followed, stretching you painfully wide.

God, he was big.

He bottomed out, buried completely inside of you. You were soft and warm around him. He stilled, allowing you a moment in which you panted and spasmed around him, trying to acclimate to the sheer size of him. He was breathing heavily and you wondered briefly why. It didn't seem like he was doing it to make you comfortable, but more like... he couldn't help but pant.

"M-move. Please, move."

He pulled out, leaving only the tip of his cock inside, before he slowly buried himself deep once more. He set a steady, slow pace, and you were grateful. You had never taken anything so big, and you felt like you might break. You hurt with each thrust, stretching painfully, but your moans gave away the pleasure you were feeling. He crushed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, and his tongue snaked into your mouth a third time. The taste of him... god the taste of him. It made you wild. Feral.

He picked up the pace and you grimaced against the discomfort, but it quickly faded into bliss.

"Uuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." you moaned, long and low.

Your voice caught each time he thrust into you, breaking the word into pieces that got caught in his breath and fluttered away to swirl around the room like music.

"You feel incredible," he broke away just long enough to pant into your ear. "I should have done this sooner."

"Have you ever... nnnng... drank from someone... oh god... while they came?"

"I'm about to," he growled and sank his fangs deep into your neck just as his cock hit exactly the right button.

You came hard, clenching around him so hard it hurt. Your eyes rolled back, you arched up into him, you clawed at his back. He didn't stop thrusting, fucking you hard and fast through your orgasm as he drank deep. Your head spun as you came down. You tapped on his shoulder.

"S-stop... Gonna... Pass out..."

You felt the confliction in the muscles of his arms and chest as he struggled to let you go.

"Master..." your voice was barely a whisper.

Finally, he tore his mouth away from your neck and froze, gulping in deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.

"Master."

His head whipped around to look at you. You had never seen him like this before, so primal. So... monstrous. His eyes were wild, his hair was a mess, his lips were painted with your blood, and the tips of his wicked fangs were visible beneath his frown. You reached a hand up and stroked his cheek gently.

"Cum in me."

He didn't need you to tell him again. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his pace, hammering into you like a beast breeding its mate. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around him as he fucked you. Minutes passed... First five, then ten, then more. You came at least three more times before he was done. Finally, when you thought he was going to split you open, he pushed inside of you so deeply that you were scooted up on the desk.

The snarl that ripped from his throat was unlike any sound you had heard him make before. It was desperate. His cock throbbed aggressively inside of you as it released cum like a faucet. He filled you quickly, and you dug your nails into his back to help ground you as the sheer volume of his seed forced your insides to stretch. More minutes passed. Two. Three. The heat of his cum was bliss. Knowing that there was no way it was leaking out past his bulging manhood was ecstasy.

He thrusted as he began to come down, seemingly trying to get deeper, and with the heat of his seed, the throbbing of his cock, and the thrusting of his hips, you couldn't help but cum again. You nearly blacked out from the force of it.

After what seemed like an eternity, he relaxed on top of you, shaking. You went limp beneath him, allowing your arms to fall to your sides. Your bare chest heaved. You licked your lips, and he licked his.

"That was incredible," you panted.

He didn't smile, didn't chuckle. Instead, he pushed away from you, hooked his arms beneath your legs, and glared down at you with dark eyes. It was then that you realized he was still rock hard inside of you.

"I told you this would take hours."

Your eyes went wide as he began to thrust.

"I'm just getting started."

#my writing #vampire kink #monster kink #monsterfucker #terato #inflation kink #impreg kink #primal kink #primal play #master/pet #pet play kink #excessive seed kink #overstimulation #oversized cock #blood kink

[jaxteller87]

my little empath 4

teenage years

I had just rolled my wheelchair through the door of my mentor’s quaint little metaphysical shop. Located on the quieter side of downtown, it was a nice little place where she not only curated mystical wares but also offered insightful tarot readingsthat I’d grown accustomed to.

“Hey, Amber,” the older lady greeted me with a warm smile that always made me feel welcome. I know that’s how she greeted everyone, but something about the way she did it just made it feel magically personable.

“Hey, sweetheart. I know I’m a little early; I just couldn’t resist browsing the shop before our lesson for the week,” I explained. “There are just so many amazing things here; I could literally get lost for hours amongst all this great stuff,” I recalledhow the rain had unexpectedly soothed my empathic soul earlier that week. 

“Of course, my dear, browse to your heart’s content,” Megan smiled. “How’s everything been since the last lesson?”

“Amazing! You know— it’s funny how certain practices seemed trivial until I tried them, especially after our conversations about empathy these past months,” I chuckled. I tuned out for a few seconds as my eyes became drawn to a shimmering crystal on the counter.

“That’s wonderful to hear, dear,” Megan replied.

“Thank you again for your patience these last few months,”I finally settled at the table and watched her as she gathered thetarot cards.

“No trouble at all, Amber. I’m always here for you,”Megan reassured me with her sparkling green eyes. “So, what’ll be?”

Opting for something light and playful, I asked her to inquire about the presence of a romantic soulmate in my life. It felt a bit weird— even corny, perhaps, but why not? They always say there’s someone out there for everyone; there’s a ton of fish in the sea, everybody has a soulmate— the list of romantic couple cliches goes on and on. Why not see if there was something in the universe’s master plan for me?

As Megan revealed the cards’, my jaw dropped to the floor. My soulmate was apparently someone with the last name Teller. How on earth could she know that after a few short lessons with me? I thought.

“Holy cow,” I exclaimed, utterly flabbergasted. “Forgive me for asking, but how did you manage to get a name? I’venever so much uttered a word about him or our situation,” I genuinely could not believe it. It was at that moment that I realized Megan possessed an extraordinary gift—an innate ability to uncover the hidden truths of the universe. She spoke words that resonated with my innermost being, confirming what my heart had quietly known all along.

With my mind literally blown over the revelation, I was on cloud nine. I couldn’t stop asking her about how she came up with his name— I knew I sounded like a broken record. The crazy thing was when I got here this morning, I was excited, but I couldn’t wait to leave to see Jax. Now that I’m here and the cat’s out of the bag, I feel like gossiping to Megan about how right she was. However, I had plans, and she had customers, so I thanked her a few more dozen times, and then I purchased somestones and incense before heading home.

Later, in the comfort of my room, I had just laid out my purchases and was going to start examining them before adding my new haul to the rest of the collection when I heard a knock at the door.”

“What’s got you grinning?” Teller asked with a smirk. Those eyes of his caught me off guard, and I momentarily flaked on how to respond.

“Uh, one sec—” I partially shut the door, careful not to slam it in his face. I quickly wheeled back over to my bed andconcealed my belongings. I know this spiritual stuff I was into is a popular hobby for a lot of people, but I know just as many think that it’s stupid. I knew Jax wouldn’t say anything to my face regarding the stones and tarot stuff, but I was still hesitant to share my private life with him as I didn’t know how he really felt about it deep down.

“What are you up to tonight?”

“Oh, nothing much,” I replied, shuffling everything back into the bag and hiding it under my pillow. “Aw, shit,” I whispered, realizing my whole room looked suspicious with all the stones and incense burners out.

“You okay in there? Something smells nice— is that— is that sandalwood?”

How the hell did he know what sandalwood smelled like?“Uh— actually, it’s Champa, but yeah, I’m fine- one second; I’ll be right there.” I probably wouldn’t be bringing him into my bedroom, not unless the love spell I was thinking of casting on him somehow subliminally worked (joking of course). Don’t be crazy, Amber, just through a blanket over it and join him in the living room already.

So, that’s what I did.

Many Years Later

I found myself in the living room of my childhood home when I stumbled upon a box filled with my spiritual relics—crystals and tarot decks from my teenage years. Back then, I immersed myself in these practices regularly, but as life unfolded, those hobbies gradually took a backseat to adulthood, as most things that brought us joy did.

However, recently, I started to play with the concept of trying to take my understanding of spiritualism to the next level.With my growing knowledge of empathy, I had come to believe that I no longer required the aid of crystals. Nonetheless, a smile tugged at my lips as I heard the familiar rumble of my husband’s motorcycle pulling into the driveway.

“There you are, my love,” he greeted me, spotting me surrounded by my rediscovered treasures in the living room.

“What’s all this?” he asked as he settled down beside me.

“You promise not to make fun of me?” I teased, shuffling the tarot cards in my hands.

“Scout’s honor,” he replied, picking up a shiny amethyst I always liked.

“Alright, one tarot reading coming up! But go easy on me. It’s been years,” I chuckled nervously, laying out the cards.

Taking a deep breath, I began the reading, each card revealing glimpses into the inner workings of Jax’s life— if you believe the cards, that is. “The Fool,” I announced, laying down the first card. “It seems you’re on the brink of a new journey, one filled with endless possibilities and untapped potential.”

He smirked, “The first card you pull on me is the Fool— that’s accurate enough right there.”

I laid out the next card in his reading: The Lovers. “This card signifies deep connections and choices. It seems there’s a profound bond in your life, one that brings harmony and unity.”

“Card two is the Lovers, huh?” Jax said, puffing out his bottom lip. Unless you’re rigging the deck, this is feeling specifically accurate— kind of creepy, too, if I’m being honest,” he chuckled.

“That’s how it works, my love.” Our eyes met briefly, and I felt my heart skip a beat. “And the final card, The Chariot. Here we have determination and victory,” I declared, “It appears you have the strength and willpower to overcome any obstacles that come your way.”

Silence lingered in the air as Jax absorbed the revelations. “Chariot—Harley. I mean, come on, did you get goosebumps too?” The excitement in his voice was real. He held his arm out next to mine, and it was riddled with bumps.

“Pretty crazy, isn’t it? Teenage Amber spent countless hours reading up and practicing this stuff. I don’t know why I ever gave it up.”

“Honey, thank you for this. Seeing you so passionate about something you believe in—it’s truly special. A little creepy that it was as accurate as it was— but remarkable nonetheless.”

As we reached the end of the reading, I glanced up to see tears glistening in his eyes. “Honey, don’t cry,” I comforted him, cupping his face in my hands and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“I’m not,” he laughed, hastily wiping his cheeks, “You’re crying!” He let out a forced laugh to try and snap himself out of it.

“This stuff always fascinated me,” I kissed his head again and then started reshuffling the deck.

“You know,” he began, “seeing you light up with a passion for something is truly heartwarming. I just wish you felt comfortable sharing these parts of yourself with me back when we were kids.”

“Well, I guess I was apprehensive. I was afraid that if the word got out, everyone would think I was some sort of wannabe witch or something. I had enough bullshit to deal with— I didn’t need to go adding any more targets on my head if you know what I mean.”

“First of all— fuck anyone that prevents you from being yourself. I never would have thought that. I may be the rough and tough badass biker who lives the life of an action star, but you, Amber— you’re my hero.”

“Jesus, Teller,” I scoffed, “You want some butter to with that corny ass comment?”

“Yeah, that was kind of bad, wasn’t it?” Jax threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“It’s okay, babe; I still love you,” I leaned over and kissed his lips.

“So, did Donna know about this?” he asked.

“Oh, she most definitely did. I used to give her readings all the time. We made moon water, dandelion wine, mixed some potions, held seances, danced naked in the woods, and sacrificed some goats to the devil.”

“My little tarot card reader,” Jax smiled affectionately, “Wait— what was that last part?”

I laughed, “I’m kidding! We didn’t sacrifice any goats.”

“Not that,” he said, wearing a pervy grin, “the dancing naked part.”

#jax teller fanfiction #jax x oc #jax teller x disabled reader #jax teller

[jazzy-art-time]

Universe Swap, Flake as the protagonist of WastelandLabs instead of JenniChu.

I switched the chu’s. Of course, Jenni in Flake’s universe would just be feral Jenni (which already has a design) but uh have this.

#no matter universe. Flake will be like give me pink and black outfits bitch #and i will always reply "Of course Master Flake #Flakepichu #pichu #anthro #ask blog stuff #sfw #my art #digital art #is this cursed? we just don't know

[navegandoaciegas]

Sunshine Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff, soft!Bucky, mentions of injury (no graphic descriptions), 3.6k words

Summary: You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish he wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

Two years ago you were supposed to enjoy a solo road trip after years of Avenging, but Bucky invited himself along. Now you’re forced back to New York, and your boyfriend is ready to surprise you once again.

A/N: Bucky’s POV. Sequel to I love my baby to death, but I suppose you could read it on its own. As always forgive any mistakes, English is my third language.

Had to repost this cause it didn’t show up in the tags, hopefully this time it will

“I swear Buck, if I see one more damn corn plant I’m losing it. I am this close” you say pinching your thumb and pointer finger real close “to a mental breakdown. I’m never eating corn again, mark my words. No corn flakes, no corn on the cobble, no nothing. I’m done.”

“We’re in Iowa, in the middle of the corn belt, I don’t know what you were expecting.” he replies, slightly amused by your little outburst and sour mood.

“Well, clearly not ending up on the set of Children of the corn.” you groan, getting back to sulking in the passenger’s seat, seething at the fields that are only a scapegoat to the real problem.

You’d been merrily skiing in Montana when his skis got somehow tangled with yours and he tumbled down on you, dragging you down the slope. Hadn’t you injured yourself, rolling in the snow like it only ever happens in cartoons would have been pretty comical.

“What?” you screech, almost jumping off the stretcher and grimacing in pain when your left foot hits the metal poles at the side. “No. It’s just pain, I’m sure it will go away, right? I mean I was an Avenger, I’ve suffered worse than a fall.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but knee surgery will be necessary, the MRI here shows you’ve torn your ACL and from the looks of it, your left knee was already damaged badly, numerous times at that, probably a result of your time on the field.”

“I can’t, I can’t just get surgery, we’re miles away from home and I-”

You’re almost sobbing and Bucky feels like shit because he’s the reason for all this and all he can do now is pat your back reassuringly.

“Given the extent of the damage, I’m afraid there’s no other option.”

“How long is the recovery time?” he asks, voice unsure.

“Well, it’s my knowledge she’s not an enhanced individual, so like any average human it will take anywhere from 6 to 9 months to recover fully. In the meantime, no more hikes or sports.”

Bucky inhales a sharp breath. Six to nine months. No more hikes. Surely you’ll have to go back to New York.

God, you are so going to break up with him.

Turns out you didn’t dump him in Montana, you didn’t abandon him in one of those auto stops along Interstate 90 in South Dakota, and you don’t seem to want to break up with him amidst the green fields of Iowa, but still, he knows he will drive through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It almost seems like a cruel twist of fate, driving the same route you did as friends two years ago, along Interstate 80 headed East instead of West, only this time he’s not hoping to be more than the annoying old man who invited himself on your trip; he’s your boyfriend now, but maybe not for long.

“You know, you really are dramatic.” you say in a teasing tone, “I’m not going to break up with you, stop thinking about that, it was an accident, ‘s not like you beat me.”

“I know, I’m just sorry because you’re in pain and it’s my fault and now we have to get back home but I know you wanted to stay more and I did too and if I didn’t-” he’s rambling, and your place your hand on his thigh and squeeze reassuringly, offering him one of those sweet smiles he dies for.

“Buck, it’s okay” you interrupt his word vomit “like I said a million times before, it was an accident, it’s going to be fine I promise. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise with my mood, I swear I’m just pissed at all this damn corn. We’re never going to a maze again, by the way.” That gets a laugh out of him, and he loves you even more because you’re always there to lift his spirits. “I’m dreading these next months, the surgery, physiotherapy and all, but I know you’re there for me, yes?”

He nods, teary eyed, and you continue, “And I can’t lie, it’s been a while, I’m kind of excited to see everyone again, I mean except for Sam of course,” you say, as if he didn’t “live rent free in your head”, like Sam himself put it, “Jesus that man, how many of our trips has he invited himself on? I’ve lost count. ‘Member when we found him waiting for us in Phoenix? Fuckin’ weirdo.”

You both chuckle at the memory of Sam in your motel room, waiting on your bed with crossed arms like a disappointed parent, pissed off because you hadn’t called in a week and he was worried sick that something may have happened to you, a deadly sniper, and him, the Winter fuckin’ Soldier. Truth is, Bucky was so excited about your new relationship that he rarely let you leave the bed when you were in your room, and when you did you were in no condition to Facetime anyone, with your smudged mascara and swollen lips.

“I’ve heard Clint will come visit us with Laura and the kids. Nathaniel must be so big now.” you add, your eyes glazed over as you think of the little boy who was named after your Natasha.

“God, Morgan is probably all grown up.” he muses, a tinge of sadness in his voice. You squeeze his thigh again. “And the spider kid too, he’s a grown man now.”

“That he is.” you chuckle, “But to me he’ll always be the boy in the red spanx who knocked us on our asses in Berlin.”

He smiles and shakes his head at the memory, and you both fall in a comfortable silence. Now that he’s not consumed by fear anymore, Bucky kind of agrees with you that all this green is, in fact, nauseating.

“You know what, no more popcorn either.”

“Deal.”

-

A year and something ago

Arizona

“Can you believe there’s a city in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences? We should totally go and visit just for the hell of it, sounds like the type of place Steve Rogers should have been born into.” you state with all the seriousness in the world, and he snorts because after all this time you still haven’t found it in yourself to stop mocking Steve’s righteousness.

You’re walking ahead of him and he’s so distracted by your tiny denim shorts that he, the master of stealth, almost trips over a boulder. You’re always pretty but tonight, illuminated by the orange sky of Arizona, you look like a dream. And you’re so happy, snapping photos at everything you see, that even if Bucky hates the desert and the heat makes him uncomfortable, he won’t tell you, because the look on your face makes it all worth it.

“Baby, look at this big boy here, he’s like 20 feet tall. Oh my god, he’s so cute and beefy, just like you.” you gush at one of the giant cactuses of Saguaro National Park.

He raises his eyebrows skeptically.

All he sees are green spiky motherfuckers that he’s accidentally hurt himself with more times that he’d like to admit in all those damn ‘hikes’ you like so much, but to you cactuses are the most beautiful sight in the word. He genuinely does not see the appeal, but he understands now how you feel when he talks about all his ‘nerd shit’, as you call it.

“I’m cuter.” he says frowning.

“Of course you are.”

For some reason you don’t sound convincing at all.

-

It’s only spring but here in Tucson the temperature is 85 degrees today and he’s sweating buckets underneath the long sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing to conceal his vibranium arm. He’s long past the time when he was forced to hide from authorities or the general public’s judgement, but still he doesn’t want to be recognized and attract attention. He doesn’t do well with crowds, and he doesn’t understand how you can be so calm and collected when people stare at you and ask for photographs while you’re minding your own business.

As soon as you get back to the motel you’re staying at he takes off his soaked shirt, not caring that the air conditioning is probably going to end his old ass.

“What the hell happened to you?” you ask, scowling as you analyze the skin around his prosthetic.

He shrugs. “It happens sometimes.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me James.”

You only call him that when he’s in big trouble. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose: why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the damn time? “It’s nothing sweetheart, just sometimes the skin becomes flared when it’s too hot.”

“Nothing?” you shrill, throwing your hands around animatedly, “Nothing? Bucky your whole shoulder is super red and irritated, don’t act like it’s normal. We’ve been in the sun for hours, for days really, why didn’t you tell me anything? I would have driven us back here immediately. Does it hurt?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to ruin your fun, you liked it so much there. And no, it only itches a little.”

Your eyes soften and you move to cup his face in your hands, looking at him with so much love that he feels himself melt away into a puddle, “Baby you don’t need to do that, you know I care more about you than anything else.”

“Even more than the cactuses?”

“Well, now you’re asking too much of me.”

He snorts and playfully hits your arm, then he falls back on the bed and drags you down with him. You stay cuddled like that for a while before you pull back to look into his eyes.

“I appreciate you doing this for me Buck, but you don’t ever need to sacrifice your own comfort for me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But you looked so happy.”

“Don’t be, and I’m always happy with you, I promise.”

“I’m always happy too.”

“We’re such saps. Gross. Anyways, guess where we’re going next?” you ask him cheerfully, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

“The plan was New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana, right?” he frowns. You’d made plans together ages ago and you were so excited about visiting Texas of all places for God knows what reason. He’s predicted already that he won’t stand the suffocating, humid heat of that whole area. At least Arizona was dry as hell.

You on the other hand, everyday he’s become more aware of how much of a lizard you are, seeking the sun and walking around in the scorching heat not even breaking a sweat.

“Guess again baby boy, we’re going straight to Oregon. I mean, it's not Alaska but it’s not as hot as the desert here, right?

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to overheat?” you state like it’s obvious, rolling your eyes, “We’ll do New Mexico and the rest next fall, and now Oregon and Washington because it’s a little cooler there. So what do you say?” You ask with a hopeful look in your eyes.

“Princess I appreciate you doing this for me, but I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t have to change plans for me, this is your road trip.”

“No you won’t Buck, you’re not doing good and I don’t ever want to see you suffer, you understand? By the time we get to Texas it will be summer and you won’t stand it, it’s better if we visit when it’s colder.”

He smiles softly. He knows he’d do the same for you. “Then Oregon it is.”

You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom to shower, “Oh, and baby?” you call out,  peeking your head from behind the door, “This is your road trip too, never forget that.”

-

Oregon

“Why does Thor get to have places named after him and we don’t? We were Avengers too.”

“But are we norse gods?”

“I mean, not yet, but I definitely deserve some nature’s wonder, or at least a star, to be named after me.”

“I’ll call WMO and get them to name a hurricane after you, princess. It seems more fitting.”

“Asshole.”

You’d been camping somewhere in Oregon’s wilderness when he came up with the idea of visiting all of the State’s so called seven wonders, starting from Thor’s Well on the Coast and ending in Mount Hood near Portland. You took a thousand photos of each attraction and sent a video of the water seemingly draining inside the famous well to the God himself, who enthusiastically expressed his appreciation.

Bucky’s cherished every minute of it, from the hot springs of Crater Lake to the chillier temperatures at night that force you to snuggle closer to him to warm up.

You’re in Portland now, and you’re thoroughly enjoying it, but what’s new about that? You’re always so full of life, so genuinely excited about everything the world has to offer that he’d be worried if you weren’t having the time of your life as you usually are.

He likes the city too, which is saying a lot.

“Blueberries are the superior berry and that’s the hill I’m willing to die on.”

You’ve been eating your way through Portland for weeks, and you’ve been discussing pies for a solid thirty minutes now. It’s raining outside and you’re cooped up in a small pie shop, eating more than an average human can and receiving weird looks from the waitress as you tell her to ‘keep ‘em coming’.

“I’m sorry but you’re wrong princess,” he states with a stuffed mouth just for the sake of aggravating you to no end, “blackberries are just so much better.”

It works as you grimace in disgust, both at his statement and his manners.

He’s found out you are weirdly opinionated when it comes to pies: pecan pies are an abomination, pumpkin doesn’t belong in dessert, lemon pie and key lime pie are only acceptable if someone’s grandma is kindly offering them to you, rhubarb pie without strawberries is a threat to mankind and cherry and blueberry pies are the absolute best. Apple pie is too bland to even take the time to discuss it, although the taste is likeable enough.

He on the other hand likes anything pie and anything sweet. And anything that gets a rise out of you.

“Please Buck, this isn’t even a blackberry pie, it’s some sort of inbred experiment that turned out kinda right.”

He shushes you, barely holding back a laugh when he sees the waiter side eyeing you as you disrespect one of Oregon’s most famous dishes, “First of all, it’s called marionberry and it’s a type of blackberry. And second, keep it down unless you want us to be kicked out, you’re offending a whole state.”

“Sorry.” you shrug, “But blueberry tartness level is where I draw the line, anything more than that is unacceptable.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re still a child and haven’t developed adult taste buds yet baby.” He does love his senior citizen card a bit too much.

This earns him a kick under the table and a scowl. “Stop it, grandpa.” you groan.

He grins and digs in your slice of marionberry pie. You resume to people watching.

God, he loves Oregon. And he loves you.

He really is a sap.

-

Wyoming

Washington was nice enough. You’ve taken him bar crawling most nights, and all of them have ended with him giving you a piggyback ride, per your request, back to the hotel room you were staying at.

It takes 13 hours to drive from Seattle to Yellowstone and you’ve driven all the way. You refused to disclose the destination of the trip and he’s fallen asleep the last 3 hours in the car. He’d mentioned he wanted to see the geysers somewhere in Pennsylvania two years ago and you remembered and took him.

Bucky couldn’t be happier.

He’s still describing the constellations above you when you fall asleep, and he’s so absorbed by the sky that he doesn’t notice until your head falls on his shoulder and he hears your soft snores.

He picks you up bridal style and takes you back to the fancy tent he bought on a whim in Ohio after you both slept in the SUV and woke up with major back and neck pain. He smiles as he removes your makeup with a wipe and does your skincare just the way you taught him, and admires your relaxed state.

He grazes your pretty face with his vibranium fingers, something so unimaginable to him before he met you, as he never thought his arm could bring anything other than pain.

Back when he was a semi stable 100 year old man thrust in another fight yet again, he hadn’t realized the extent of his feelings for you, believing he was only attracted to your beauty and youth. He hadn’t seen the way your smile lights up a whole room, nor the way you listen, truly listen, to anyone who may have anything to tell you, without ever judging them. He hadn’t witness your kindness and patience, let alone experienced them on his own skin. He hadn’t been lucky enough to watch you feed bird seed to the ducks of every pond of the country, or try to rescue a cat from a rooftop and almost falling off to save it.

Then Sam told him you were leaving and he felt like the word was collapsing on him. He’d found the sunlight and he never wanted to be without it.

Now he’s seen it all, all the little things that make you who you are, including your flaws, and he loves you not regardless of them, nor in spite of them, but because even your worst imperfections make you… you.

Bucky doesn’t know if meeting you was a way for the universe to fix all the wrongs that have been done to him, a sort of payback for all the shit he’s been put through, but in case it is, then he’s got no objections. And maybe he doesn’t deserve someone as good as you, but he’s a selfish man, and now that his sunshine girl is with him he never wants to plunge back into the the darkness ever again.

He tucks you both under the sleeping bag and snuggles next to you.

“Buck?” you mumble in a haze, tugging at his t-shirt, “Love you.”

It’s almost imperceptible, but his supersoldier hearing allows him to pick it up. He kisses the crown of your hair as he caresses your back.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

He wants to spend the rest of his time on Earth proving you how much.

-

New York

6 months later

The doctor wasn’t lying when she warned you that recovery would take 6 to 9 months.

You said the aftermath of the operation hurt like a bitch and that physiotherapy hurt even more. Today’s your last session and Bucky is glad about it for many reasons, like how you’re not in pain anymore for starters, and maybe because of how annoyingly fun, smart and hot your therapist is. Not like he’d ever admit it to you.

“Jesus,” you groan, “he turned me inside out like a sock, I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“Sounds fun.” he deadpans.

“Someone’s jealous of the doctor?” you ask with a mischievous smirk.

“‘M not. He’s not all that.” he mumbles, blushing like a school boy.

You snort and drawl a ‘sure’. He sends you his best death glare.

“Whatever. I hope you don’t mind if we take a stop before going home.” he announces, helping you into the car. His palms feel clammy and he’s sweating despite the chilly winds of New York’s fall.

“Sure, where are we going?”

“Actually, that’s kind of a surprise, you’ll see.”

You beam at his words; he knows you love surprises and he hopes you’re going to like this one.

----

You look radiant as you lie on the blanket he’s spread on the grass, surrounded by colorful foliage. You’re sipping some of your favorite wine and nibbling on crackers as you admire a flock of birds migrating south in the sky.

You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish we wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

He’s prepared a long, passionate speech to tell you how much he loves you, of all the ways you’ve changed his life for the better and of all the reasons why he’d be a good husband.

But when you look at him with those bright eyes and beaming smile, he can barely remember his own name. He drops on one knee and holds the box out with shaky hands.

“Marry me, please.”

----

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog and comment, don’t be shy, feedback is always appreciated 🥺🤲

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n

[pindaleng]

Merry Pitchmas @anotherbechloeshipper !!

Had so much fun writing this one, hope you enjoy it :)

Title: In From the Snow

Pairing: Bechloe

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2943

Summary: Beca didn’t anticipate making many friends her freshman year, much less become best friends with one Chloe Beale. When a snow storm ruins both their plans to travel home, they get to spend some quality time together. Beca thinks this might be her best chance to tell the other girl how she feels.

Read on AO3 or below.

Beca stared gloomily at the large flakes falling outside her dorm window.

There was no way her old Camry would be able drive more than ten miles an hour in these conditions. The forecast said “heavy snow”, but she didn’t realize it’d be this bad.

She totally would have left a few days earlier if she didn’t have a final scheduled for the absolute last day of the semester. It’s not like she was super excited about heading back home either, but she knew her dad and step mom would give her shit for it.

She sighed. Might as well text them now to rip off that band-aid.

Shortly after she sent the message, she heard a knock on her opened door.

“Hey, you’re still here!”

In the doorway stood Chloe Beale, undoubtedly the coolest person on their dorm floor. Beca (to her surprise) got along with most of the people on her floor, but something about Chloe specifically drew her in.

Admittedly, she found the other girl annoying at first, as she seemed like the high school girls that were fake nice just to talk about you behind your back. She soon learned, though, that Chloe was the real deal.

But not of course before giving her a hard time for a couple of months. Frustratingly, but thankfully, Chloe was incredibly persistent. Beca hadn’t really expected to make so many friends, intending to keep her head down and make her way through, but everyone grew on her. Especially Chloe.

“Yeah, unfortunately still here.” Beca replied. “Wanted to drive out today but doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen.”

Chloe invited herself in and hopped onto Beca’s bed. She hummed in understanding. “I just got back from the store and driving was for sure a struggle. Definitely would not recommend.”

“Great. You’re staying here too, then?”

“Yep! Which means you get to spend time with little ol’ me.” She propped her head on her hands. “Any plans for the day?”

There wasn’t really a Plan B since she didn’t expect her driving-back-home Plan A to not work out. “Not really, probably just gonna work on some mixes.”

“Can I join?”

“Yes, please make it a little less sad that I’m stuck here on Christmas Eve.”

“Sweet, I’ll be back.” Chloe slid off the bed and make her way out the room. “Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Beca just rolled her eyes and started setting up her laptop.

Chloe came back moments later with her sketchbook and colored pencils, and settled on Beca’s roommate’s bed. Both of them were friends with Stacie, so they knew she wouldn’t mind her bed being used.

They passed time peacefully like this for a couple of hours, each doing their separate thing.

Beca was so engrossed in her music that she doesn’t notice Chloe call out her name until the other girl waved at her to get her attention.

She slipped off her headphones. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking about getting some food soon. You in?”

The hunger hit her stomach now that food was mentioned. “Yeah, I could eat. Where at?” Though the dorms stayed open, dining halls were closed. There were plenty of places nearby though, and many of whom delivered. They went back and forth suggesting restaurants until Chloe looked like she had an epiphany. “We should go to that new ramen place!”

Beca’s immediate reaction was to pout, as they didn’t deliver. Chloe laughed.

“Oh come on, it’s a five minute walk, max. You big baby.” Chloe playfully poked her cheek. “Plus it’s super pretty outside.”

“And it’s super warm inside.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m going with or without you.”

The ultimatum was effective. Beca grumbled but put her coat on anyways. The reluctance was really just all show, as she would probably walk naked into a freezing lake for the other girl.

Snow was steadily falling outside, blanketing all the surfaces in a thick layer of white. Campus was quiet, as most of the students had already left for the holidays. It was both eerie and calming. The absence of drunk frat guys yelling, though, was definitely a plus.

“Okay I admit, it is pretty outside.” But you’re prettier. The automatic thought was so cheesy she almost threw up a bit in her mouth. Since when did she think such gross things? She could practically see Stacie smirking annoyingly at her.

Chloe grinned in victory, and Beca’s heart swooped.

Her brain definitely wasn’t lying though: Chloe was undoubtedly beautiful. The snowflakes in Chloe’s hair contrasted perfectly with the red color, making her look like some sort of magazine model. It felt kind of unfair that she could exist like that and not know what she was doing to poor Beca’s soul.

—

When the waitress asked if they needed one or two checks, Chloe replied “just one” before Beca could get a word in.

As the waitress walked away, Beca sent a questioning look to the redhead.

Chloe shrugged, “It’s easier for them to just run a single card.” Beca offered to pay her back, but she insisted it to be a holiday present. If Beca didn’t know better, she would have swore it was a date.

They were on their way back to the dorms when Beca felt something hit the back of her head.

She whipped around. “Hey!”

Chloe was already packing another snowball, clearly out for blood. She quickly launched that one too, which Beca barely managed to sidestep. She bent down to create her own snow projectile.

Chloe began to run away to get out of range, so Beca went to chase her. Unfortunately, Beca slipped on the snow and fell. Chloe was immediately at her side. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

The snow cushioned her fall pretty well, but Beca didn’t want to give that away just yet. She faked a grimace. “I think I broke my leg.”

“Oh shit.” Chloe furrowed her eyebrows in worry. “I’m so sorry I-“

Beca felt too bad that she immediately stopped her. “I’m joking, I’m actually fine.”

It took a moment to register, and then Chloe slapped her on the arm. “You scared me!”

Beca rubbed the spot where she was hit. “Ok now I actually have to go to the hospital.”

Chloe just slapped her arm again, before offering a hand to pull her up. Beca took it but didn’t get up. Chloe looked confused as Beca smirked, and then pulled the other girl down into the snow with her. She fell on her face in the fresh snow with a satisfying poof.

“Oh my god, you asshole.” Chloe laughed after pulling her face up, and shoved at the other girl, who was still laying in the snow.

“Chlo you have a beard.” Beca was practically wheezing at the sight of Chloe having snow stuck all over her face. “Still hot though.”

Chloe modeled it, striking poses and getting up to walk down an imaginary runway, while Beca yelled after her, hyping her up.

They messed around in the snow for a while longer, then took the long way back. Beca considered complaining about the cold and wet seeping in, but Chloe just looked so happy. Plus, it really was nice outside. Walking with Chloe in the peace of campus was a moment Beca wanted to keep tucked in her pocket forever.

—

After getting back, they went to take showers (separately) to warm themselves up, deciding to reconvene later in Chloe’s room. Beca sat on her bed with her hair in a towel, scrolling through her phone. She opened a message from Stacie, who was definitely one of her best friends in college so far. She flew out a couple of days ago and told Beca not to “get too freaky” while she was gone. Beca practically shoved her out the door.

Stacie [6:31 pm]: You make it home?

Beca [7:13 pm]: No, stuck here. Stupid snow.

A reply immediately came in.

Stacie [7:13 pm]: Ugh that sucks, are you by yourself then?

Beca hesitated on what exactly to say, knowing Stacie would immediately make fun of her for the truth.

Beca [7:15 pm]: Not exactly…..Chloe is also still here

Stacie [7:16 pm]: !!!!!!!!!!

Stacie [7:16 pm]: BECA

Stacie [7:16 pm]: THIS IS YOUR CHANCE

Beca [7:17 pm]: Dude she doesn’t like me

Stacie [7:18 pm]: Do NOT bother coming back to campus if you don’t shoot your shot right now

Stacie [7:19 pm]: Joking but also not

Stacie [7:19 pm]: She hangs out w you all the time. She actually listens to your music recs. Plz do something.

Stacie [7:20 pm]: Ok talk later family is calling for dinner, good luck!!!!!

Beca [7:21 pm]: ??? I’m going to ignore that you basically implied not listening to any of the music I’ve suggested

She fell back onto her bed. She wanted to make a move, and she did feel like there could be something between them. However, each time Chloe was nice to someone else, she got psyched out believing that Chloe was always just being platonically nice to her. No flirting involved.

With each passing day, though, it became harder to deny she wanted her. And how badly she did. She caught herself staring a bit too long, and hung endlessly on the small touches Chloe would always do. A brush of the finger here, and a hair tucked behind an ear there. Beca thought some days she might explode.

She texted Chloe to ask if she was ready yet.

Chloe [7:25 pm]: Sorry got distracted!! Hopping in the shower now.

With the extra time, Beca decided to finish the mix she was working on earlier that day. There was something off about it that she couldn’t quite figure out, but coming back to it now, she figured out what it was missing. She listened to it a few times to make sure she was really happy with it before mastering it.

A text came in from Chloe, letting her know she could come over whenever.

Beca quickly added the song to a USB which already contained many music files, then placed the drive into a small pink, cardboard box she got from Stacie. The box originally held a necklace, which made it the perfect size for her gift.

She stashed it in her sweater pocket then made her way to Chloe’s room in the other wing of the floor.

It was still relatively early in the night, so Chloe suggested a movie. Beca wasn’t one for movies usually, but it wasn’t like she had any better ideas.

They cuddled together on the small dorm bed in Chloe’s den of pillows, with the laptop in front of them. The movie was actually pretty good, despite all the bad decisions the main character kept making, and the fact that Beca missed half the plot due to glancing at Chloe instead, and being nervous about how close they were.

“Thoughts?” Chloe turned down the volume as the credits began to roll.

“I think she should have gone with the second guy.”

“Really? I thought he was kind of iffy.”

They proceeded have a lively discussion about the movie, with Beca continuing to argue mostly to mess with Chloe, who seemed quite adamant about the main character’s end choice of romantic partner. It ended with Chloe tickling her until Beca finally admitted her defeat.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Beca looked at Chloe warily, still catching her breath from the tickling attack. “Um, why?”

“Just do it.”

She sighed but did as she was told.

“No peeking!”

Her index finger drew a cross above her heart, signaling her promise to not look.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

In front of her was a piece of paper carefully rolled into a tube and bound with a red bow. Beca picked it up, gingerly untying the ribbon, unraveling her gift. Her jaw dropped.

“Chloe…”

In her hands was a pencil sketch of her with headphones on, smiling and almost on the verge of laughing. Honestly, she never thought about what she looked like while she was happy. The image of herself in her mind was always some version of broody. Is this how Chloe saw her? Beca wasn’t one to usually cry, but she might have teared up a bit.

“This is…incredible.”

Chloe looked kind of nervous. The same way that Beca was protective of showing others her music, Chloe was hesitant to show much of her art. “You like it?”

“Dude I love it. Seriously.” That reassurance seemed to put Chloe at ease. “Okay, your turn to close your eyes.”

Chloe did it without hesitation, and also held out her hands. Beca shook her head a bit in amusement and placed the small box into her palm.

“Okay, open.”

She opened her eyes and lifted the lid of the box to find a black USB drive, with a piece of tape on the side simply labeled “For Chloe”.

Her smile widened as she realized what her present was. “Do I get to finally listen to your music?”

“Maybe.”

“It means a lot, Beca. Thank you.”

“Um yeah, no problem. Don’t tell me if you end up thinking it’s bad.” She joked.

“Oh please, you’re going to have to block me with how many good things I’ll say.”

“Don’t tempt me, I might delete your contact right now.”

Chloe laughed. “Oh please, like you could last a day without me. Also, I actually have another present for you.” She scotched a bit closer to Beca.

“Oh,” Beca furrowed her eyebrows. “Well, I don’t have anything el-“

She was swiftly cut off as Chloe kissed her, soft and sweet. So polite and unassuming it almost felt platonic.

But god did it give Beca butterflies.

Chloe pulled away so quickly that Beca wasn’t sure it even happened. Like maybe she just daydreamed too hard and manifested a hallucination.

She must have had a deer in the headlights look because Chloe suddenly got super shy. “Was that okay?” She whispered, face still close.

Beca finally came to her senses. “Yeah, totally. More than okay. Amazing really.” She must look like a blushing mess.

The corner of Chloe’s mouth quirked up in amusement and relief. “Yeah?”

“Still could be better, though.” Good work Beca, make a joke to regain some semblance of having her shit together.

“Oh?” She watched Chloe lick her lips, a mesmerizing motion. The shyness was all but gone, replaced by something much more confident, and destined to ruin Beca’s life. And she knew she’d welcome it with open arms.

—

Beca woke up in the morning to the light touch of fingers trailing along her jaw. She smiled, remembering where she was, and more importantly, who was besides her. She probably had the best night of sleep in her life. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, Beale?” She asked, keeping her eyes closed.

“Are you going to try and stop me?” Chloe whispered. Her raspy morning voice was really so damn attractive.

She opened one eye, smiling. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” Chloe leaned in for a long kiss, the hand on her face pulling Beca closer. Her breath hitched. She didn’t think she could ever get used to this. Kissing Chloe Beale. Touching her.

She pulled away all too soon, just as Beca began to want her even more. Beca was quickly learning how much of a tease Chloe was.

“i’m going to get ready, and then maybe we can go get breakfast somewhere?”

“Or…we can stay in bed all day.”

Chloe giggled, and Beca almost professed her love. “Becs, both of us gotta head home.”

“Do we though?”

Chloe just smiled as she slipped out of bed and grabbed her toothbrush and face towel. Before she was completely out the door, she gave her butt a little shake, as if she could tell Beca was staring at her clad in a large t-shirt and sleep shorts. Beca was sure Chloe was smirking as she did it.

As soon as she was out of sight, Beca grabbed her phone from the desk. A text from her dad and a couple from Stacie. She opened the messages from the latter.

Stacie [11:13 pm]: How’d it go?

Stacie [11:30 pm]: I’m assuming the silence is a good thing and ur just too busy making out with Chloe to reply ;)

Beca typed out a quick message.

Beca [9:30 am]: So…..

Stacie [9:30 am]: THIS BETTER BE GOOD NEWS

Beca [9:31 am]: How do you keep replying so quickly??

Stacie [9:31 am]: How about you stop avoiding

Beca thought of the million different things she could say, but opted for simplicity.

Beca [9:32 am]: :)

Stacie [9:33 am]: Is that good

Stacie [9:33 am]: Beca is that good

Stacie [9:34 am]: ?????

She set her phone down, feeling giddy. It might have been a bit cruel to leave Stacie hanging, but she’d get over it. She’d get the full story eventually, but right now, Beca wanted to keep as much of this thing with Chloe to herself as possible. Definitely not like a shameful secret, though.

Something about telling someone about it, however vaguely, made last night and this morning seem actually real.  She had this feeling deep in her chest that this was the start of something incredible, which made her both excited and a bit scared. Ok a lot scared. Terrified even.

It sucked that they’d have be apart right as they were starting something. Winter break couldn’t be over soon enough.

#bechloe #merry pitchmas 2020 #pitchmas 2020 #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #stacie conrad #college AU #snowed in #fic #anotherbechloeshipper

[songsoomin]

Begin Again Part 2 (A,F)

Word count: Around 6k

Idol! Jongho x Fem Reader, Best friend! Hongjoong. Reader has serious body confidence issues due to a past relationship but Jongho will help her through it. First two chapters will be angst with some fluff but a little smut will appear in chapter 3.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, both emotional and psychological, body shaming, anxiety issues. 

Author’s note: Reader is overweight but not as massive as she thinks she is. She has been conditioned through psychological abuse to believe she is very fat and unattractive. This is not intended to be the kind of story where reader becomes thin and is then happy and gets male attention (although, due to reader’s warped sense of self she does equate being thin with being happy). Even after losing some weight (for her own health and happiness) she is still somewhat overweight and curvy but the more important part is that she gets her confidence back and that is what makes her happier and more attractive. 

Part 1 Part 3

Posted 18th December 2020

@boss-baby-jongho​ Sorry it took so long

It had been a few months now since you and Jongho had been training together and you were much closer. You got on well with all the boys but Jongho was the closest to you now aside from Hongjoong. You still saw Hongjoong alone quite often - he would come over to your apartment and you'd watch movies and talk but you also spent plenty of time with all of them together.

This evening you had just come into the boys' dorm with Jongho after another gym session to the smell of cooking. You looked into the kitchen to find Seonghwa and Wooyoung cooking while Woo pestered the older boy like usual, telling him he was doing it all wrong. Hwa had his usual patient look on his face, completely used to Wooyoung's nonsense.

"Y/N!" Yunho called out in greeting . You could see he wanted to hug you like he usually would to others; he was such a warm, affectionate person but he knew it would make you uncomfortable. He settled for stroking your arm instead. You were getting much better at accepting physical affection from them these days. Hongjoong gave you your usual hug and Yunho looked sulkily at you.

"She'll get there, Yunho, just be patient. You'll get hugs soon." Hongjoong told the tall blue-haired boy and you had to laugh at how hopeful his face suddenly turned. You often referred to them as 'boys' but they were all grown men. You wouldn't think it sometimes, though, with how sulky they could get. Yunho and Mingi could appear intimidating with how big they were but really just loved cuddles, no matter who from. San loved his plushies and Woo was so playful and teasing that sometimes they seemed younger than they were. Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Yeosang seemed like the more mature of the group. Jongho was a bit of a mixture; he seemed mature despite being the youngest but he could be pouty sometimes. You were sure, however, that he just used that to get what he wanted. It usually worked, though, you could never deny him anything when he unleashed the full power of his pout.

Seonghwa had made tteokboki - your favourite - and you were all just eating and chatting happily but Mingi seemed quieter than usual and you could feel him watching you during dinner. The drinks had been flowing as none of you had to get up the next day and you felt comfortable enough now to ask him why on earth he'd been watching you so much.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't think you'd noticed."

"You weren't being that subtle, Mingi." You said, amused by his sheepish reply.

"I was just thinking...you always wear such baggy clothes but working out with Jongho must be working because they seem so much bigger on you now."

"You are looking smaller, Y/N." Hongjoong agreed.

"You think?" You asked, you had thought so but with wearing baggy clothes already it wasn't so easy to notice when they got baggier - at least to you...Mingi seemed to see it.

"Definitely." Jongho added, "There's no way my master-level instruction isn't working." You giggled while the others all groaned at his smug evaluation of his talents.

"Well, thanks, I guess...but why do you say so?" You asked Mingi uncertainly, naturally worrying it was something bad that caused him to bring it up. Did you still look that bad? You were hoping all your hard work would make you look better.

"There's nothing wrong if that's what you're comfortable in but I was just thinking it's a shame to hide all the hard work you've been doing."

"What do you mean?"

"Baggy clothes hide your real shape. Some people wear them because they are uncomfortable with their size but they tend to make a person look bigger than they are."

"Oh god, he's on about clothes again." Yeosang muttered.

Ignoring Yeosang's comment you felt your heart drop. Mingi could see exactly what you were doing and - worse - was calling you out on it in front of everyone. You looked down at your food not wanting to look anyone if them in the eye. You felt exposed having your size become the topic of discussion at the dinner table.

"You've made her feel bad, you moron!" Jongho said, glaring at Mingi.

"Calm down, Jongho, we all know you like - "

"Shut up!" Jongho warned, uncharacteristically ill-tempered.

"Well, as I was going to say...don't take it out on Mingi. You know he wouldn't have meant to upset Y/N."

"No! Of course not!" Mingi exclaimed, looking apologetic.

You were certainly confused. You'd never seen Jongho get worked up like that and couldn't see how it linked to what Mingi had said. Maybe what Yeosang was trying to say would've explained it but it was obviously something Jongho didn't want him to say.

"It's okay, Mingi. It's not your fault I'm so sensitive about it. Please continue with what you were saying."

"What I wanted to say is that you should let me take you out to get some clothes that would work much better on you." The brown-haired boy looked excited at the thought but to you even the thought was causing worry to rise in your chest.

"Oh, no. No. I'm no good at clothes shopping. Everything looks bad on me and I just end up crying."

"But..." Mingi continued, "I am very good at clothes shopping and I know exactly what will make you look good."

"You do?" You were still very uncertain about this but the alcohol was making you more suggestible.

"Excuse me? Have you ever seen me in a bad outfit?"

"Here it comes..." Mumbled Yeosang.

"I have never chosen a bad outfit in my whole life. I was born with amazing fashion sense." Mingi declared as the others all rolled their eyes at his overexaggerated claim.

"Uh...I don't know."

"Go on, Y/N... it'll be fun. As modest as he is..." Wooyoung stopped to shake his head at Mingi, "...he does actually know what he's doing when it comes to clothes."

"Okay. As long as I don't end up crying, though." You were already anxious and not really sure why you'd agreed to it.

"If you do it looks like Mingi will have Jongho to deal with." Wooyoung snorted.

In response Jongho stood quickly from the table and stalked down the hall to the room he shared with Mingi. You looked after him sadly. It was horrible seeing him upset. You had no idea what this was all about but it seemed like they were teasing him about something. You looked at the other boys with questioning eyes.

It was Seonghwa who answered your look, "Don't worry, Y/N. He'll be fine, he usually calms down quickly."

Later on when you and Hongjoong were alone in the kitchen doing the dishes you decided to ask your red-haired best friend about it.

"Joong?"

"Yeah?"

"What was Jongho so upset about?"

"Oh...uh...well, I probably shouldn't say anything...but I'm not sure if he ever will."

Hongjoong pondered his statement as he washed another plate. This was not clearing anything up at all.

"I'm not following."

"He likes you." Hongjoong said putting the plate on the drainer for you to dry up.

"I like him, too. He's really fun to be around."

"No, I mean he likes you." Hongjoong emphasised, looking you dead in the eye.

You were stunned. Why would Joongie think that?

"Don't be ridiculous." You scolded him lightly.

"I mean it!" He defended.

"It's not that. He's probably just feeling protective as we've got closer now. No one likes their friends being upset." You nodded to yourself at your more correct assessment of the situation. Anything else was simply unbelievable to you. No one ever thought of you like that. Least of all someone as perfect as Jongho.

                                                     ********

The next morning you woke up feeling just slightly hungover as you'd all continued drinking further into the evening. All except Jongho, of course. He didn't come back out and that really put a damper on your evening. However, you weren't feeling too bad until you remember that you'd agreed to let Mingi take you shopping. You groaned loudly and tried to work out how to get out of it before deciding you'd have to go because you really didn't like flaking out on people.

Noticing the time you quickly had breakfast and showered before dressing as you always did - baggy to hide your shape and size. You couldn't see how it was possible to look better in clothes that actually showed your figure but hoped Woo was right when he said Mingi knew his stuff when it came to clothes.

You were pretty much done when you heard a knock on your apartment door. You rushed over to open it and found Mingi on the other side, smiling brightly at you.

"Ready?" he asked, voice as deep as ever.

"No." Truthfully you were dreading it.

"Well we're still doing it so come on." Unceremoniously, he grabbed your wrist with his big hand and pulled you out the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." You laughed, "Just let me lock my door before we go."

                                                  ********

"Y/N...are you ever going to come out?"

"I'm really not sure about this, Mingi."

You were standing in front of the full-length mirror in the changing room, uncomfortable with what was reflected back at you.

"I picked out the perfect outfits for you so I can't imagine what you're not sure of." The tall brunette said matter-of-factly.

"It's just so...tight."

"Exactly. It will show off your figure perfectly."

"Mingi!" You yelled as he suddenly whipped the dressing room curtain back.

"See? You look amazing."

You looked at him skeptically as he smiled widely, appreciating his work.

"You're lying."

Mingi's smile faded and he sighed. "Y/N, you're not seeing yourself clearly at all. You have a great figure...amazing curves." He added, looking you up and down.

"Mingi, are you checking me out?" You joked, "I'm going to have to watch you."

"What?" He said defensively, "You look good."

Embarrassment came over you as you were only joking so you didn't expect Mingi's response. He, however, was not embarrassed and continued on a little more seriously.

"I know you don't think so but it's true."

The change in atmosphere caught you off guard. You'd only ever seen Mingi in a playful mood so to see him turn serious and caring was different.

"Thank you, Mingi."

The brunette smiled in response and you could see that he meant it even if you had trouble believing it. You thanks were sincere, though, because, aside from Hongjoong, you weren't used to anyone offering praise to you.

"You definitely need to get this outfit. It's looks great and makes you look a lot smaller than those awful baggy clothes you wear. Next outfit!"

Mingi pulled the curtain shut while you reluctantly did as ordered and started changing in to the next set of clothes. In truth, though, part of you was excited and enjoying the shopping trip with Mingi. The confidence you once had was buried deep down but you knew it was still there and maybe this could help you find it again. You used to love all the attention you got from boys when you got dressed up and you wanted that feeling back. That was why you let Mingi talk you into getting all the clothes he'd picked out for you.

                                                   ********

A low whistle sounded as you entered the boys' dorm with Mingi pushing you through the door as you'd felt too nervous to go in looking so different to usual. You had tried to turn and run away but Mingi was too big and strong.

You were in the first outfit he'd picked out for you which was a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a top cut lower than you were used to but not too revealing. You weren't used to the way the clothes hugged your curves and felt self-conscious because you were so used to hiding underneath baggy clothes but you could see what Mingi had been trying to tell you. You did look a lot better in fitted clothes than the shapeless ones you usually wore. You looked like a girl again.

You looked up to see that the whistle had come from Wooyoung, who was now appreciating your newly revealed figure.

"It's really nice," the darker-haired male said, "...Mingi, you chose well."

"Don't I always?" Mingi said in response, clearly proud of his work.

Just as you were trying to extract yourself from this new attention a sharp slap on your behind made you gasp and spin around.

"San!" You shreiked at the blonde, who didn't look the least bit sorry.

"Looking good, Y/N."

You really should've scolded him for smacking you but he always looked so cheeky and cute you couldn't really bring yourself to.

"Thanks, San...but don't do that again."

"Why not? In those jeans it looks too good not to." He said, motioning to your bum with both hands.

"She's not a piece of meat, San." Jongho said, annoyance lacing his tone. "And you can't just touch someone like that without their permission."

You and San both turned, neither of you having noticed the youngest's silent entrance.

San looked at Jongho with one eyebrow raised as if he wanted to say something snarky but instead turned to you and said,

'We're friends...it's fine, isn't it Y/N?"

"It's fine but I meant it when I said don't do it again - it really hurt." You gave San a look so he would know you meant it but you really didn't mind that much. You appreciated the sentiment, just didn't like the pain.

Jongho, on the other hand, was not convinced. He looked at San for a moment longer, huffed unhappily, then left the room.

It made you a little unhappy to see Jongho like that. He'd been a little weird lately. Distant. When you were at the gym together he was just the same as always but around the other boys he wasn't the same. He seemed sulky and spent more time in his room. What really hurt most was that he didn't talk to you as much in front of the others.

It's true that with them there, there wasn't as much chance to talk together but after your coffee 'date' he had made more effort to be closer to you - so what had changed now?

Thinking back you remembered the others teasing him and Hongjoong saying  Jongho liked you. Could that be it? You didn't see how; what Hongjoong said couldn't have been true so you had just ignored it. At the gym it hadn't made it awkward between you but was that why Jongho was distancing himself around the others...to stop them from teasing him? Maybe you could try talking to him; he had become a really good friend to you and you didn't want a simple misunderstanding to get in the way of that.

The chance to talk to Jongho didn't come that evening as he had come back out of his room to eat with everyone but there were so many of you that it was impossible to talk alone. You could have gone somewhere private to talk but you didn't want to give Yeosang and Wooyoung even more reason to tease him.

Although you were still worrying about Jongho, you still had a great evening. It had made you a little self-conscious but you had to admit that you liked  being told you looked good and feeling like your hard work was paying off.

Well...the evening was great until Mingi made a horrifying suggestion.

"Hey! Y/N has some really nice clothes now - courtesy of my incredible fashion sense, of course - so we should all go out and celebrate her hard work."

A communal groan was heard around the room at his less than modest statement but, for the most part, everyone agreed.

"What do you have in mind, Mingi?" Seonghwa enquired, ready to put a stop to any plans that sounded too crazy.

"Let's go to a club!" The excitement was clear on Mingi's face but anxiety was creeping on to yours.

"No." You said firmly as they all turned to you to see what you thought. "No clubs."

"What?

"Why not?"

San and Wooyoung complained in unison, obviously not happy with your opinion.

"Y/N..." Mingi looked at you with a pout, "we got you such nice clothes, why do you not want to show them off?"

You shifted on the couch, uncomfortably.

"It's nothing to do with the clothes...it's the people. Too many people. I just don't like clubs."

"Well," Hongjoong interjected, "strictly speaking it's not the clubs you dislike. I remember you used to love going out and dancing so if we chose a club that's less crowded then you should be okay."

You shot your supposed best friend a look of betrayal.

"Then we should do that!" Mingi cried, excitement flaring up again.

"Please Y/N?" San pouted at you.

"Don't worry about all the other people; we'll all be there to look after you."

Wooyoung added on and with all three of them looking at you with such hope, you found yourself giving in again.

"Fine...but I'm not going to enjoy it." You declared sulkily, slumping back into the couch cushions while the three boys cheered. You didn't miss Hongjoong quietly looking pleased with himself for his latest victory in 'getting you out there again'.

He was right, though you hated to admit it, you did used to love dancing but over the years your enjoyment of clubs diminished along with your confidence. Your dislike of them now was based on the assumption that people would judge you. Laugh at you for getting dressed up and trying to look nice when really you were just a fat mess. Laugh at you trying to dance. You had never been what anyone would call graceful - clumsiness and a poor sense of balance making that impossible. You didn't used to care about that but with no self-confidence you started to focus on every bad aspect of yourself.

While you were inside your own head worrying about all this, the others were busy making plans.

"Y/N!" Wooyoung called out, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said I know just the right club for you. It's got great music but it's a little more expensive so all the kids go elsewhere. It's never uncomfortably packed and doesn't get as rowdy."

You nodded and smiled but it had done little to relax you. Honestly you missed the old days you used to go out dancing confidently. When you looked in the mirror and thought you looked nice and didn't worry about if other people agreed or not. Now that you'd agreed, all you could do was make the best of it. You knew the eight boys would look after you and you'd never not enjoyed a night with them. Maybe it would be fun.

                                                     ********

Club night came and you were feeling strangely calm about it. A little nervous but mostly excited to spend another night with the best eight friends you'd ever had.

They had all arrived at your apartment unannounced - Mingi citing his concerns about what clothes you would chose, as if only he knew how to put an outfit together. He said he'd have to approve your outfit before he could let you out; you merely answered him with a roll of your eyes and let him get on with it.

Rather than falling back into your old habit of hiding yourself in baggy clothes, you had actually decided to go for it in terms of dressing up - after all, if you were going out, you might as well make the effort. It had also occurred to you that maybe people were more likely to look at you if you looked out of place, one person in shapeless, baggy clothes in a whole club full of well-dressed people.

Mingi looked you up and down, appraising your outfit. You had chosen a short(ish) black skirt and a sparkly top which showed a nice amount of cleavage but not too much. You'd even broken out your push-up bra for added effect. The outfit was finished with a pair of black heels because if there was one thing you knew, it was that heels made your legs look slimmer. You'd even done the kind of make up you used to with eyeliner and subtle false eyelashes. Why not go all out? you thought; you'd forgotten how nice it felt to get dressed up.

Mingi smiled and gave you the nod so you were good to go. Hongjoong, knowing you would be nervous, made sure to tell you how good he thought you looked and the others all agreed in their own ways. Seonghwa, Yunho and Yeosang nodding in quiet agreement while Mingi, San and Wooyoung  were more vocal about it. The only one who didn't say anything was Jongho - publicly, at least. It was only when the others were out of earshot that he quietly came closer,

"You look really nice tonight."

The blonde boy you'd grown so close to looked quite awkward but you still assumed it was because he didn't want the other boys to tease him again. Why else would he wait until the others couldn't hear him.

"Thank you, Jongho." You replied, feeling as awkward as he looked. "You look really good, yourself."

You looked at Jongho, dressed in black jeans and a dark blue button up shirt with his dark blonde hair parted to show his forehead, making his beautiful dark eyes looking bigger than usual because they were more on show. He looked amazing. He was so handsome it almost hurt.

You felt more awkward with Jongho's compliment...maybe because it meant more to you. You'd had a sneaking suspicion for the last few weeks that you were starting to like him as more than a friend but you'd tried to ignore it because you couldn't imagine it going anywhere. You'd witnessed him get angry when the others teased him about liking you and the only logical reason for that was that the thought of liking you was an unwelcome one.

It was true that Joong had said Jongho liked you but you were sure he was mistaken because of the distance he was keeping from you as well as his general moodiness recently. None of it mattered anyway because, as far as you could see, there was such a vast difference between Jongho and yourself that he couldn't possibly like you.

At best you were ordinary, nothing special at all but Jongho...he was ethereal. His smile was so cute that you couldn't help but smile back when you saw it and his eyes shone so brightly. Yet despite the cuteness he still had a maturity some of the older boys didn't. He was so strong, too and, to be honest, you found that really, really hot.

It wasn't just how he looked, though, Jongho was a wonderful person. He was clever and funny and he'd given you so much help and asked nothing in return. What would someone like that want with someone like you?

                                                 ********

Clubs were as hot, sweaty and loud as you remembered. It had been some time since you'd gone to one - preferring to hide away  at home than go out and be surrounded by people. That's depression's survival instinct...to cut you off from the world so you won't seek help. To keep you away from friends who could help you. Thank goodness for Hongjoong because he wasn't letting you get away with that and without him you'd still be hiding away. Miserable. Clubs might not be the most comfortable place for you due to the overcrowding but you knew that you'd be ok with Hongjoong by your side - as well as the other seven boys you'd now come to think of as 'yours'.

Maybe it was the fun of being out with them all but you'd found it easier than you'd thought to relax and enjoy yourself. You'd even managed to keep away from thoughts that anyone looking at you was judging you...until you noticed a guy at the bar had been looking for a bit too long. You were waiting for the bartender to get your drink and hoping he would do it more quickly so you could get back to the others but luck was not on your side and the guy started to approach.

"Hi."

You looked at the guy for a second. Tall, fairly good looking and he seemed friendly from his tone as he greeted you but you felt a little panicked, nonetheless.

"Umm...Hi." You managed nervously.

He smiled, "You looked really good dancing just now."

You waited for the smirk or laugh to reveal he was being sarcastic but it didn't come. You hadn't yet got to a place where you trusted people meant what they said but when nothing else was said and he appeared to have meant it you quickly thanked him. You'd left a longer gap than was normal before replying and now your worry was that he thought you were slow-witted.

"Are you with all those guys over there?"

"Yeah...they're my friends." You told him, glancing over and smiling.

"You're not going out with any of them?" He pressed on.

"No, we're just friends." You said, shaking your head.

"Ah. Well one of them is really glaring at me right now. I'd say he doesn't like me talking to you."

You looked in the same direction as the guy and, sure enough, saw Jongho looking very much less than friendly.

"Oh, we're quite close so he's probably just worrying about me. You are a stranger, after all." An awkward laugh left you - small talk was not your forte.

The man smiled back and looked about to say something more but the bartender finally returned with your drink.

"Well, it was nice meeting you." You said as you started backing away. You really wanted to be back with your boys; you were still far too socially inept to be in this kind of situation without back up.

"What did that guy want?" Jongho demanded as soon as you were back.

"Dunno...just being friendly, I guess."

The dark blonde scoffed while San jumped in to tease, "Ooh, Y/N's on the pull!"

"Don't be ridiculous, San!" You squealed in horror.

"I'm just saying..." the blonde continued, "...guys don't approach women in clubs because they want to be 'friends'." He emphasised that last word so you'd have no problem undersanding what he meant.

"I'm getting another drink." Jongho grunted before stalking off in the direction of the bar. You sighed. He still didn't seem himself.

"I'm sure he was just being nice." You said naively. It wasn't that you didn't know what men were usually after in clubs but you honestly didn't imagine anyone wanting that from you.

"Suuure he was." A deep voice cut in.

"Don't you start, Mingi!" Your new fashion adviser laughed as you scolded him. "All of you manage to be friends with me without wanting anything more so why can't he?"

Smiling smugly, you felt you'd won the argument until the tall brunette leaned in closer,

"We're all still men, though. I might be your friend but if you asked, I'd fuck you right now and I'm pretty sure one or two of the other guys would, too."

The only way to describe the look on your face was dumbfounded. That was absolutely not something you would've expected to hear from any of them.

"Whatever, I'm going to dance again."

It can't have been possible for you to look any more flustered as you headed back to the others on the dance floor, with Mingi's deep chuckle following behing you.

As the night wore on you really were enjoying yourself much more than you expected but that could have a lot to do with the amount of alcohol you had consumed so far. You were even relaxed to the point that you didn't notice the guy from the bar dancing next to you, getting closer and closer. Soon he was dancing with you but you didn't mind too much as long as he didn't start getting touchy. The attention was nice, at least. You vaguely thought back to what San had said and sighed internally because you didn't want him to have been right but you had to acknowledge it now. Maybe between Jongho's training and Mingi's outfits, they really had managed to make you look alright.

But men were disappointingly typical and, not long after getting close, the guy started to get handsy. You barely had time to turn around and tell him to stop before you felt his hands disappear suddenly. When you had turned you saw said man looking confused - and slightly pained - as one of his wrists was being held aloft by a very pissed off looking Jongho.

The guy looked at Jongho cautiously before saying, "Hey, I'm sorry man...I didn't realise she was your girl."

You could see why the guy was looking worried - Jongho looked pretty scary and you wondered just how tightly he was gripping the man's wrist.

Jongho let go but didn't stop glaring and the man backed away a little.

"She's not but don't you think you should still ask her before you start feeling her up?"

"Sorry...I didn't mean any harm." The guy answered, looking between Jongho's hard face and your quite confused one before walking away quickly. You turned back to Jongho; you really appreciated him looking out for you but couldn't understand why he was so angry.

"Jongho...what -"

"You shouldn't let random guys touch you like that, Y/N!"

You stared at him for a few seconds, a bit stunned until his sharp tone set off your own anger at being chided like that.

"I was turning around to stop him but, to be honest, it's not really any of your business who I let touch me!"

Jongho's eyes widened a little, taken aback by your reaction. You'd always had a temper but none of the boys except Hongjoong had ever seen you get angry. They only knew your milder, more timid side and the quickness in which you turned had taken them all by surprise. In your peripheral vision you could see the rest of them watching the exchange between the two of you.

The dark blonde collected himself and continued with a slightly less angry tone.

"These guys aren't good enough for you. It's just like San said, they only want one thing."

From the corner of your eye you saw San bristle slightly as if he really didn't want to be brought into this now.

"That's my decision to make, though, isn't it Jongho?" You hadn't softened much towards him - now you were free you didn't need another man telling you what to do.

"I know, I'm sorry..." He continued, more softly now, "...but you shouldn't be with guys like that."

"And you know exactly who I should be with?" You asked, sarcasm in your tone. "By all means tell me because I can't see men lining up to date me."

"Me."

"What?"

"You should be with me. I really like you, Y/N."

You stood in silence, trying to make sense of what he just said. Your mind recalled all the things you had previously dismissed as nonsense. Hongjoong telling you outright that Jongho liked you. Yeosang and Wooyoung teasing him about you. Had it not just been baseless teasing? He actually liked you?

Of course he doesn't like you. Who would want you?

"You don't like me." You said shaking your head. You didn't want to believe it because you couldn't trust it.

"I do. Let me show you." Jongho took a step closer and out of habit you fliched away from the closeness.

"What are you doing?" Slight alarm laced your tone.

"I'm going to kiss you." His tone added the silent 'of course'.

You froze at the words and Jongho noticed. It was out of surprise but he must've thought you didn't want him to as he started to look unsure of himself.

"If you don't want me to, all you have to do is say."

He paused, waiting for a 'no' that was never going to come. As much as you feared this was all some elaborate joke, you really did want this.

Hearing no protests, Jongho lifted his hands and placed them gently on the sides of your neck, his thumbs resting on your cheeks. Slowly he leaned down and pulled you closer. As you closed your eyes you prayed this was real and you weren't going to hear them all burst into laughter at any minute but before your fears could be realised, you felt Jongho's lips touch yours.

They were softer than you had imagined - and you had imagined it - and for someone so strong, he was remarkably gently. You could feel that he was being cautious as he didn't try to deepen the kiss, he just pulled back ever so slightly then reconnected, his lips moving softly against yours. When he did pull back to end the kiss, you kept your eyes closed a moment longer, not wanting it to end.

When you did open them you looked up at Jongho to find him looking back at you. He was searching your face for any sign that that wasn't what you had wanted and after a few moments  he was satisfied he could see nothing and gave you a small, somewhat shy smile. Obviously having heard something behind him over the music, his smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of annoyance. Following where he looked you saw the seven other boys all looking at the two of you with varied emotions on their faces, ranging fron happiness and surprise to approval. They had all known he liked you while you had stubbornly refused to see it - even when you were told outright.

Jongho turned back to you with a softer look, "You wanna go somewhere quieter - away from everyone else?"

"Yeah...that'd be nice."

Jongho took your hand in his larger one and led you out of the club. He had touched you before, of course, but only when correcting your stance during workouts. This felt different. It made your heard beat faster and gave you butterflies..

You briefly looked behind you to the others, noting that they looked slightly disappointed that you were both going but they'd get over it.

You and Jongho ended up back in the same coffee shop that first time. It was late, though, so you had the whole place to yourselves. Despite that being the first time you had properly talked alone with him, this was much more nerve-wracking. This wasn't a situation you'd have thought would ever happen. Despite what had just happened in the club you still couldn't let go of your fear. It was as instinctive reaction for you now, to just assume the worst about everything and everybody no matter how good they seemed to be. Just like right now you were quite aware that the both of you had been drinking - had that played a part for him? Would he have kissed you if he hadn't been? And would he think it was a mistake tomorrow?

The butterflies flew around wildly as the dark blonde boy made his way back to the table with the drinks. As he placed the tray down on the table you saw he had also bought a slice of red velvet cake like last time and he smiled as he placed it down. You wondered if he was trying to recreate it that first 'date' of sorts. It had felt special to you - maybe he had felt the same.

Your thoughts were flying as wildly as the butterflies in your stomach, going from hopeful that Jongho really did like you to fear that he was going to say it was just because he had been drinking and he'd got carried away.

Sitting there you'd realised the full extent of your feelings for Jongho...did he feel the same? The look in his eyes was soft as he looked at you and smiled. God, you hoped this meant what you wanted it to. Either way, it looked like you were about to find out as he opened his mouth to speak...

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez jongho #ateez x female reader #ateez choi jongho #atzinc #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #choi jongho

[dragonfiremage]

Destiny - Chapter Three

Author’s Note: Thank you for your interest in my series >< I’ve gotten more notes about having a taglist, and I’m going to repeat myself again. I have no idea how to make one T_T. So if you’re interested in being part of a tag list and you know how to make one, please reach out. As always, enjoy! I hope I captured Zuko and Iroh right ><. 

Chapter Preview:

You stop your tracing and asked softly, "So how are you going to do that?"

Zuko cleared his throat and with determination, he replies, "I'm going to capture the Avatar and bring him to my father."

The Avatar?  You turn to look at him from the floor with a quizzical look. "And then what?"

Zuko looks at you quizzically, slightly taken aback. No one's really asked him that before. His brows furrowed in confusion.

[Previous - Chapter Two]

[Next - Chapter Four]

You veered towards the market area, holding on to Iroh's arm that he had offered just minutes before. Zuko scowled, his mood still bitter. Along the way, you had bought some ingredients at various vendors and, while he found the shopping annoying, he couldn't help but remember the days when he would go to the markets with his mother. Looking over to you, Zuko could see the same kind of tenderness in your eyes that his mother would hold. A feeling bloomed in his chest and his eyes widened in a panic before trying to quell that feeling down.

He didn't need this now.

Meanwhile, you stole a quick glance over at Zuko, you couldn't help but feel your anxiousness rise. You chewed at your lip, you didn't mean to smother his fire like that earlier, let alone reveal that you were a fire bender...But you couldn't risk exposing yourselves as firebenders in these parts as they were often looked down upon as the enemy. You recall the first time your Firebending master did that exact same move to you whenever you got too emotional.

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"Discipline! You need to learn discipline. Without it, you cannot control your fire!"

Sweat dripped down your brow, the hot summer sun beating down your neck while the humidity made the air thick and heavy to breathe. Strands of hair that had fallen from your topknot stuck to your sticky skin as your muscles ached with fatigue.  You kept your form as you held the tiny leaf in your hands, focusing on the circle of fire within the leaf to prevent the fire from spreading.

A momentary slip of focus and the leaf burns through again, singeing your fingers. You yelp, waving your hand at the burn.

“Discipline! If you had discipline, your leaf would not have burned!"

For the upteenth time that day, Jeong Jeong yells at you and, with the built up frustration finally tipping over coupled with the agonizing humidity and heat, you let your frustration get the better of you.

"I'm trying!" You felt a burst of flames about to erupt from your hands but not before your Master clamped his hands over it, smothering the fire instantly.

The sensation was almost cooling as if the heat was sucked out of your hand somehow. If he was trying to calm you down, it did the opposite - you felt angry. It felt like a display of absolute power.

It was as if to say, My fire is stronger than yours.

"Ugh!" You pushed your Master back, anger flashing in your eyes. You felt the fire erupt in your hands again and spun it overheard, creating a wheel of fire, but as soon turn to faced Jeong Jeong, he was already walking back to his hut.

Puzzled, you put your fire went out and angrily yelled, “What? You afraid to fight a little girl?!"

Jeong Jeong spun around so fast, behind him a columns of fire erupted from the ground and you cower back, your own fire extinguishing.

You flinch under his stare.  Jeong Jeong had stern look on his face, the fire still roaring behind him. "Do you want to learn or not?! You need to master the art of discipline or you'll burst like that again and hurt people around you!"

You bit your lip and looked away, ashamed for letting your emotions control you.

Jeong Jeong sighed and softly said, his fire going out, "You need to be able to sort through your emotions, accept it, and let go. You cannot let it distract you from your purpose. It will hurt the people around you. Fire is life, and life is to be protected. We do not use fire for destruction."

Nodding your head in understanding and with breath of determination, you muttered, “Ok. One more time."

You grab a leaf from the ground and concentrated on making the fire, controlling it so it doesn't burn.

Life is to be protected, you repeat the line over and over as you control your breath.

You felt the heat down your back, the sun unrelenting, as Jeong Jeong looked to the distance.

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It's been a while since you last thought about your Master. Jeong Jeong was a hard person to like at first, but after spending months training under him, you had come to respect him.

A tug on your elbow interrupts your thoughts as your eyes met Iroh's. He always knew when you would spiral deep into your thoughts. You give a reassuring smile and glance back at Zuko to make sure he was still following.

Your eyes met his briefly and your cheeks reddened. Seeing him after so many years was unnerving, and it didn't help that he had grown to a handsome young man... Despite the scowl that constantly adorned his face.

After a few turns, you stop in front of your small apartment, turning to the other two with a timid smile, “Well this is it."

You enter inside, turning on your lanterns as you led them further in. "I'm going to start on dinner, please get comfortable."

As Zuko start slipping his shoes off, he felt your hand on elbow and he turns to give you a with a puzzled look. "If you or your uncle need to freshen up, there's a bathhouse around the back..."

You smile up at him, almost as if offering an apology for earlier. Zuko is slightly taken aback at your politeness, but nonetheless, he nods and mutters a thanks in return. Despite the mutual agreement with each other, there was a quiet tension that you could feel, and you bet that Zuko feels it too.

As you head toward your kitchen, rolling your sleeves as you leave Zuko, you could feel his gaze on your back.

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Zuko took up on your offer to take a quick bath. When he entered your apartment , the smell of home immediately overwhelmed his senses. He sniffed the air and wafts of toasted fire flakes had him drooling. He felt at home.

"Hey, there you are. I just finished making dinner... I figured you and your uncle miss the taste of home so I made extra spicy fire noodles."

Oh. Zuko’s stomach grumbled loudly in response. How long has it been since he's had authentic fire nation food?

Zuko's features soften when he sees his uncle comfortably situated by the table looking more comfortable than he was in the ostrich-horse and nods over at you with appreciation, and you respond with a small smile as you grab rest of the dinnerware for the table.

Even though you seemed to have eased some of the tension, you could be still feel the intensity of Zuko's gaze from across the table as you sat for dinner. It a was unnerving. Uncle Iroh acted as if nothing was wrong. You weren't sure if he knew there was tension in the air and choose to ignore it, or he was completely oblivious to it.

The three of you continue to eat in silence, the time seeming to stretch unbearably.

Zuko couldn't take it anymore, frustration building as he held his chopsticks stiffly. Both you and Iroh were sitting there so silently while you ate. How could the two of you be so calm?!

"Ugh! Can someone please tell me what's going on!?" Zuko slammed his bowl on the table, making it shake. You glared at him.

Iroh looks over his cup of tea, "I was wondering when you would start yelling."

You turn your head away to stifle your giggle.

"What’s that supposed to mean?” The prince snaps. You snicker even more. Zuko raises a brow at you, surprised to see you in a much lighter mood, before scowling and asking, "What’s so funny?"

You roll your eyes at him, and pointedly respond, “It’s funny because you’re so predictable. It was only a matter of time before you started asking questions."

Zuko glared and crossed his arms across his chest, his scowl deepening. "Ok, well its obvious you two know each other."

Rolling your eyes, you wipe your mouth before saying,”Come on Zuko! You were there when we met remember? When we were 8?"

Zuko pinches the bridges of his nose, a headache blossoming again. “You know what I meant! Why are you making this so difficult?"

You bite back, "Why can't you ask better questions then?"

"Zuko! (Yn)!" Iroh interjected and you huffed, crossing your arms.

Iroh sighs and looks at you as if asking for permission and with a small nod, he turns to his nephew and starts, “After the death of my son, I decided to travel across the nations. I came upon an earth kingdom village where I found (YN) at an orphanage. She had recently just discovered that she could fire-bend.”

Zuko looked over at you but you avoided his gaze while you absentmindedly moved your noodles around.

Iroh continued, “She lost her temper and set the orphanage on fire, but luckily I was there to help. The head of the orphanage didn’t want anything to do with her, especially since (YN) was a fire-bender. I took her with me during my travels and taught her how to control her fire. Zuko, when you were thirteen, your father, Firelord Ozai, invited me to a war meeting. I left her with another Firebending Master with intentions to return and train her again.”

You cleared your throat as you shifted uncomfortably under Zuko’s stare as Iroh trails off. Shifting your gaze from your noodles to Iroh, you continue for him. “But when we heard of your banishment, your Uncle decided to stay with you instead. I was angry, of course. But I insisted that he stay with you. So I continued to train under Jeong Jeong until I left.” 

Your words hung in the air after you finished and you avoided Zuko’s gaze, opting, instead, to look at your window. Iroh sighs as he places his cup of tea back onto the table. He reaches over and pats your hand with a sad smile as if apologizing for leaving you behind.

Puzzled, Zuko’s frowns when he realizes something amiss. Azula had told him that you were sent off to another palace. Mulling over the words, Zuko finally breaks the silence and asks, “An orphanage? I thought you went to some general's palace..."

Your head snapped to his and Iroh looked at Zuko with saddened eyes. You shook your head in disbelief. "You're telling me you didn't know...?"

Zuko's eyes flit from yours to Iroh's and before settling his eyes on yours to try and understand the tense atmosphere, but you had an unreadable look on your face.

His brows knitted in confusion, “Know what?"

You slam your hand on the table with frustration, seething, "Banished, Prince Zuko! My family was banished after my mom's death."

Banished?

Zuko blinked back in surprise. "What? But Azula said that - "

"That what? Tch. Azula always lies. Don't tell me you actually believed what she said? After all these years, did you even bother to ask?"

"I - I'm sorry...I-I didn't know…!"

"Whatever. I need some air." With a clipped tone, you stood up from the floor, placed, your bowl by the sink in the kitchen and walked out into the night, the door closing shut behind you.

“Uncle, why didn’t you tell me? I…I didn’t know her family was banished. I was always told that she was taken to another palace as a servant.”

Iroh shakes his head solemnly, swishing the tea in his cup. “It’s not my story to tell, Zuko. (YN) went through a very hard time - when I first found her in the orphanage, she was so angry, she had nothing but contempt for the Fire Nation. She even hated that she could fire bend, she thought that it was some sort of punishment. And she was so young when all of this happened, it took a while of her to understand and accept what happened to her and her family. She’s a lot like you in many ways, Zuko. I would encourage you to talk to her yourself."

Zuko finishes the rest of his meal silently, though he had lost his appetite quite a bit a go. His uncle had taken himself to sit by the window, playing some sort of flute he found among your things. You hadn’t come back yet so Zuko decided then to go after you.

“I’m going to go look for her.” Iroh peeks one eye over to him and goes back to playing the flute, with Zuko sighing in response. When he went outside, he felt the chill of the night air and wondered if you were ok. Pacing in front of your house, Zuko could only hope that you didn’t walk off to far.  He peeked around the apartment - no sign of you.

“Looking for someone?”

Your voice frightened him and he almost yelped in response, his hand over his to chest to try and calm his heart. He looked above him and saw you sitting on top of your roof, laughing at his expression.

“Yeah…mind if I come up there?” Zuko asks hesitantly. He saw you shrug and leaned back to watch the stars above you. As he ascended up the ladder at the left side of your apartment, he saw the wide expanse of the desert and the night sky that stretched what seemed like forever. It was breathtaking. Zuko sat tentatively next to you, making as much space as possible. When he was settled, he looked over to you, your gaze still up at the night sky.

Zuko swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry about...about your family and what happened to you. I -"

"It's ok. You don't…” You let out a sigh as you ran a hand through your hair before adding, “You don't have to apologize. It's just overwhelming and...and with you and Iroh being here, seeing you for the first times in years...I honestly don't know how to feel."

Zuko looked at you with surprise. Despite that hard exterior you seemed to put out, you easily opened up to him just like that. He felt the tension in his shoulder ease a little.

Hesitantly, Zuko says,"I feel the same. When I saw you fight in that ring, all I saw was the little kid covered in flour."

You laughed, making Zuko crack a small smile. "I can't believe you remember that. My mom was so mad at me that day."

You tuck a hair behind your ear and glanced over at him. Zuko returned your gaze and immediately regretted it. As your eyes locked, he could feel a breath catching in his throat. The way the stars reflected in your amber eyes, the moonlight basking on your skin - you were beautiful.

Reaching over, you tentatively squeezed Zuko’s hand who slightly flinched under your touch. You moved your hand away and whisper softly, "I'm sorry about what your father did to you, Zuko. No thirteen year old should ever go through that."

Zuko turns away, almost in shame, he didn’t want you see him weak. "I'll show my father. I will regain my honor as his son and show him something to be proud of."

You listened to him, your heart breaking for him. You could see why Iroh had such a soft spot for him. Zuko still had a lot to learn - and with Iroh’s guidance, you know that Zuko would come to understand the truth just like you had. Zuko was surprised that you didn’t immediately scold or lecture him, but instead, you actually looked were eager to listen.

As you lean back, your back reached the floor of your roof and you stretched your right hand above you, tracing some of the stars. As you continued to look up at the stars, you ask Zuko neutrally, "So how are you going to do that?"

Zuko cleared his throat and with determination, he replies, "I'm going to capture the Avatar and bring him to my father."

The Avatar?  How is he going to do that? Did he really think capturing the Avatar would help him regain back his honor?  You turn to look at him with a puzzled look, kneeling back on your elbows, "And then what?"

Zuko looks at you quizzically, slightly taken aback. No one's really asked him that before. His brows furrowed in confusion.

You go back to tracing the stars while Zuko remained quiet. You clear your throat, "I mean...let's say you captured the Avatar, you brought him to your father, and he gives you your honor back. So what? What's next? Is that it? You get your honor, you get a seat at the table…Are you planning to be the next Firelord and rule like your father? What is so important to you that you need to get your honor back so badly?”

The question hung in the air and Zuko chewed on his lip. He never thought about what would happen after the Avatar was captured. You were right. What was next? If he got his honor, what was next for him? He finally gets attention from his father like he always wanted? Would his father be proud like he was proud of Azula?

Zuko tore his gaze from your face and looked up at the night sky, feeling small under the vastness of the twinkling lights. “I—I don’t know. I just want to get my honor back and have my father finally be proud of me.”

You made a noise of agreement and left it at that. Zuko was really struggling with his purpose and you recalled a time when, you too, didn’t know what you were supposed to do in the world.

“So…what happened after you left the Fire Nation?” Zuko asks tentatively. Your tracing faltered and you brought your arm to your chest.

You sat back up again and slumped forward with an unreadable look in your eyes, “After my family was banished, we settled at a Earth Kingdom village. It was soon after that my father started hating the Fire Nation. Both my brother and my father didn’t cope very well with my mother death.  We were very poor and barely had any money so we all worked for scraps. Fed up, my brother left to become an Earth Kingdom soldier one day while my dad stayed behind to try and take care of me.”

You sighed as you weave a hand through your hair. “My father became really bitter and was always getting turned away from work because he was so angry all the time. When I found out that I could fire bend at ten, my father…he - “

You faltered, feeling the familiar pang of pain in your chest when you recalled the memory. Zuko felt a tugged in his chest, his gaze softening when you wiped a tear from the corner of your eyes. He had the sudden urge to scoot closer to you and comfort you, but you continued.  

“My father was livid when he found out that I could fire bend. He said I was a curse and he wanted nothing to do with me. He decided that he couldn’t take it anymore and dropped me off in an orphanage the next day. He left to go fight in the war and I haven’t heard from him or from my brother ever since.”

You had shed too many tears over your family. At this point, you had become numb to what they had done - even coming to accept it when you were still at the training under Jeong Jeong. But you could still feel the pain in your chest, the tightness in your throat, and the tears pooling in your eyes. And you just let yourself get lost in that feeling.

Zuko felt ashamed. The Fire Nation ripped everything away from you, he could understand Iroh’s words now and how his uncle recalled how thought firebending was a punishment. To have everything ripped away from you and be gifted the ability to bend fire was cruel. And here he was, trying to regain his honor and go back to the Fire Nation.

In a quieter voice, you add, “Your uncle - he saved me.”

Zuko snapped his head to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You smiled over at Zuko, your eyes shimmering with sadness in the dark, “I hated everybody at the orphanage. I was just so sad and so alone. And I was so scared and angry. I also didn’t realize that my dad was never coming back at that time. I just kept hoping and wishing he would come back. At that time, I didn’t have any control over my bending and I would sometimes feel like I would burst into flames at any second. I didn’t know how to fire bend and I was so scared that I would hurt somebody."

"One day, a kid had pulled my hair, breaking my mother’s hair clips. I got so angry that I started throwing fire balls everywhere without realizing what I was doing. Luckily, your Uncle happened to be at the same village I was in and helped evacuate the children. Your uncle found me hiding in the woods - he remembered me.”

You laughed lightly as your recalled your past with Iroh. “He is the kindest man I’ve ever known - he became the father figure I needed after my own father left me. He helped me control my fire bending...he helped me understand my abilities and I came to love firebending.”

Shaking your head, “When Iroh wrote to me about what happened to you, he expressed such sadness over your suffering. No one should go through what you did. I knew then that you needed Iroh more than I needed him and he agreed to stay. At first, I was angry...part of me felt like he was abandoning me like my father. But my new firebending teacher helped me understand.”

Zuko chewed on his lip. So his Uncle traveled with you for some time before he stayed with him to find the Avatar. Why didn’t his Uncle tell him? Why didn’t Iroh tell him you were still alive and that you were a fire bender? Why didn’t Iroh bring you with him?

“Anyways, we should get back inside. I promised your Uncle a Pai Shao game.”

You went to stand up before turning to Zuko, your finger jabbing to his chest and your eyes narrowing dangerously. “Your uncle is the best man I’ve ever met. If you ever dare to take advantage of him, I will never forgive you.”

You descended the ladder and Zuko could still feel your piercing eyes on him, your threat hanging in the air.

When you entered the apartment with Zuko tailing behind, you saw Iroh was already drifting to sleep with the instrument still in his hands. His eyes opened briefly and saw you two come in. As if he wasn’t drifting asleep just a few minutes, Iroh immediately clapped his hands excitedly.

“Ah, is it Pai Sho time?”

You shook your head. There was always time to play even if he was tired. Zuko rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll go boil some water for tea.”

You smiled over at Iroh and sat across from him, setting up the board and pulling out the lotus tile from your bag and placing it on the board.

“So you never did tell me how you got your hands on a lotus tile?” Iroh looked up at you, tucking his hand into his sleeves. Zuko glanced from the kitchen.

“Jeong Jeong gave it to me.” You replied.

Zuko strained, why did name sound familiar? Wait..

“Jeong Jeong? Like The Deserter? Your firebending master was the Deserter?!” Zuko looked at you with wide eyes. He had heard his father angrily spat Jeong Jeong’s name multiple times over dinner, disgracing him. Calling him a traitor, an enemy of the Fire Nation Zuko assumed that Jeong Jeong would be some sort of savage bende...

You smirked over to him. “Glad you know your history, Zuko. But yes, Jeong Jeong was my master. And a good one at that. Anyways, after a couple of years training under Jeong Jeong, I was ready to leave that swamp and go off on my own. I wanted to explore the world and see it for it was truly was. Before I left, he gave me the lotus tile in case I got into any trouble. Luckily, I haven’t had the need for it since I never really did understand what he meant by that.”

“I haven’t heard from Jeong Joeng for years now. How is the old man? Still -“

“Bitter? Yes…but still as enlightened. He taught me levels of fire bending that I never knew existed and helped me advance my training in ways that I could’ve never imagined. He really helped me control my fire bending. I could see why he was a prodigy in his younger days. Jeong Jeong also taught me about the world - it was actually the reason why I wanted to leave - he had so much to say about how the world worked and people worked.”

Zuko was intrigued and wondered what kind of advanced training you got. He would actually enjoy the chance to spar together and see your strength.

Iroh combed a hand through his beard, smiling at Zuko when he gave Iroh the teapot, the water already hot. Iroh dropped some tea leaves into the hot water and covered it back up, letting the tea steep.

Iroh placed the teapot on the table, on top of a piece of cloth as you and Iroh started your turns. You put tile after tile, a bit rusty at the game while Iroh seemed to know every move you were going to make. You looked at the board, trying to figure out Iroh’s endgame with the tiles. Zuko went to grab some tea, pouring you a cup and sliding it to your side of the table before pouring one for Iroh.

After some silence, Iroh says, “We were thinking of going to Ba Sing Se. It would be the perfect place to hide from Azula and her army…and perhaps start a tea shop!”

You were about to place a tile on the board when your hand faltered as you take a sip of the tea only to burn your tongue, “Azula is after you?”

Zuko crossed his arms. “Yes, we’re wanted by the Fire Nation. There’s a bounty on us.”

Iroh nods his head as he places more tiles on the board. “We will go to Ba Sing Se and start a new life there, as refugees! ”

Zuko grumbled, and you knew it was because he an ulterior agenda instead. You look to Iroh and ask with disbelief lacing your voice, “So you become refugees, you evade Azula and the Fire Nation…then what? Just live out your lives in hiding?”

Iroh faltered and said, “Hmm yes, that is the plan, but you and I both know how plans never work.”

You borrow your brow in concentration, placing more tiles on the board, already way behind Iroh. You shook your head even more as you reply, “No, they don’t.”

You raised your arms in defeat when Iroh places the last tile on the board  and Iroh quietly presses, “Maybe you would like to join us? I’m sure Zuko wouldn’t mind and I would love the extra company.”

Zuko snapped his head to look at his Uncle. “Uncle - why would she want to come with us? It's not like she’s running away from the Fire Nation and has a bounty like we do. Besides (YN) her own life out here.”

You sighed as you tuned out Zuko. To go back on the road with Iroh? And now Zuko? It was all overwhelming…when you settled here, you wanted peace and quiet. But as everyday passed, it seemed like something was missing - something still calling your name and you yearned to follow it. But to travel with Iroh? And especially Zuko? 

You shook your head hesitantly. “I…I don’t know, Iroh.”

Your response surprised Zuko, but Iroh seemed to have expected it. Iroh continues with a little more push in his voice, “Tell me, are you happy here (YN)? Do you see yourself living out in the desert for the rest of your life wearing a blue dragon mask and fighting to earn money?”

Zuko looked at you with a blank stare. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how he felt about you joining them. Both of you stood on shaky ground and though your conversation at the rooftop cleared some air, he could still feel some unresolved tension between the two of you.

You chewed on that question. Were you happy? You were out Fire Nation’s way - you never had to think about the Fire Nation anymore. You lived on scraps, but at least you had your freedom. You didn’t have to answer to anybody but yourself, and the only words and actions you lived by were your own. To give all of that up for something unknown - it terrified you. You had pushed down all of the past memories deep inside you, but Jeong Jeong’s words rang in your mind.

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Jeong Jeong looked at you with almost sadness in his eyes, as he tightened the strap of your pack on your horse. He placed an arm on your shoulder as you stood before and you looked up at him with admiration with a wide smile on your face.

You bowed slightly to him, politely, your fist meeting your palm. “Thank you for everything Master Jeong Jeong. I would never be where I am without you.”

He laughed, the sound always surprising. The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Child, in a couple of years, your fire-bending skills will be more advanced than mine when I was your age. It is truly an honor to have taught someone like you. You have come a long way and I could’t be more proud!”

You hung your head in embarrassment. “It wasn’t easy, but now, I can control my fire and I can protect the people I love, thanks to you.”

“Yes, and I will pray for the spirits for your safe travels.”

You look up at him, with tears in your eyes, your voice shaking. “To be honest, I’m scared. I just want to unpack everything and just stay here.”

He placed both hands on your shoulders and with conviction, said, “It’s alright to feel fear, but do not let it control you. It is when we embrace that fear and the unknown that we truly change and see the world for what it is.”

He reaches for you hand and places something smooth on your palm. When you opened it, you snorted when you saw the white lotus tile.

“In case you run into trouble, a game of Pai Shao and this white lotus tile will be your friend.”

You wrap your arms around his torso, and Jeong Jeong responded by tentatively patting your back. You peel yourself away from him, feeling lighter and full of courage. “Sure, Master.”

As you mounted your horse, you waved one last good bye to Jeong Jeong, and turned to face the path before you.

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Jeong Jeong told you not to fear anything, but looking at Zuko and then over Iroh, you realized it wasn’t fear that was holding you back. It was your past. Even though you had accepted what happened to you and your family, you weren’t sure if you could handle going down that path again.

And you knew that Zuko’s destiny is intertwined with the Fire Nation, and you weren’t sure if you wanted reopen the wounds.

After some tense silence, you shook your head, “I—I can’t.”

You could tell Iroh was disappointed, by the way his face fell. Zuko’s gaze remained stoic and unrelenting.

Bet he’s happy that I’m not tagging along…You bitterly thought.

“Iroh, I don’t know much about destiny. But I do know that mine is not with yours or Zuko’s. It seems like he has a path of his own, and I’m not sure how I fit it in all of that. Plus, I’ve accepted what happened to me, I just want to move on with my life. It seems like going down this path will only open up old wounds.”

Iroh places a hand on yours in comfort. “No need to justify your answer. I just wanted to put the offer on the table. After all, you were the one who encouraged that I go with my nephew.”

He sips his tea and turns to Zuko. “We can leave tomorrow morning for Misty Palms if you like.”

Just like that? Iroh wasn’t going to do more to convince you? Zuko was confused. He couldn’t understand why you would still want to remain here in this nothing of a village, but maybe he just didn’t know you (which was true). But to live here and continue to fight just earn a living? It wasn’t the life that he thought for you. 

After everything you went through, you deserve something better. Zuko concluded that you were just weak, but he didn't complain. At least you wouldn’t be breathing down his neck anymore...

“I have my final match tomorrow if you want to stay and watch. I can even make us a big feast with some of my earnings!” You offer to Zuko and Iroh with enthusiasm.

Zuko glared, snapping, “And why would we waste more time in this village? There’s no reason to stay.”

Ignoring his stinging words, you turn to Iroh with a sigh, “Well I’m glad I was able to see you, only if it was for a little bit. I have some extra blankets and pillows for you two.”

You stood and disappeared down the hallway. Zuko’s eyes followed you before turning to his Uncle. He was about to open up his mouth to give his Uncle an earful when a smack went up the back of his head. He flinched as he grabbed his tender head, glaring over to his uncle.

“Why are you treating our host like that? She made us dinner, gave us a place to bathe, and safe place to rest, and all you do is insult her? Where are you manners, nephew?” Iroh whispered, shaking his head with disappointment.

Zuko glared at his uncle. “Why would you invite her? It's obvious that she doesn’t want to come, Uncle.”

Iroh shook his head. “You have a lot to learn, Zuko. I know that there’s something else (YN) is yearning for. Deep down, I know inviting (YN) with us was the right thing to do. Destiny led us here, and I believe there was a reason why.”

Zuko could hear you come back and he quickly replied, “Whatever, uncle. She made her decision, we will leave in the morning…”

Iroh turned his head awa shook his head, “Come on, let’s at least stay for her final fight. Now that I know for sure that she was the Blue Dragon, I can place some bets.”

Zuko looks away before realization hit him and his head snapped back to look at his uncle. “Wait…you knew the whole time? I asked you and you said no!”

Iroh laughed, his belly shaking, “Her stance looked very familiar, but it was the mask that gave it away. It was something I gave to her during our travels. I didn’t think (YN) would still have it…”

You entered the room with a snicker, “Of course, Iroh, I kept everything during our travels."

“How come you didn’t mention that you knew where (YN) was?” Zuko asked and a tense silence followed. You placed some blankets in Iroh’s arms before turning to Zuko and almost shoving the blankets into his hands.

You looked straight at him, your amber eyes unwavering and sharp, and with a clipped tone, you reply, “Because I asked him not to.”

You turn and walk past him, bidding both of them a goodnight before entering your own room and retiring of the evening.

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

As soon as you closed the door, a waterfall of emotions rushed through you and you had to cover your mouth with a hand to stifle the whimper. You felt the hot tears stream down your eyes as memory after memory flashed behind your eyes.

Zuko.

Ursa.

Your mother.

Azula.

The Fire Lord.

Your mom’s death.

Your father.

Your brother.

The orphanage.

Iroh.

Jeong Jeong.

And now this.

It was all too much to take in as you slid down the wall of your room, the lone candle flickering in the night, tears streaming down your face.

#zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #atla zuko x reader #destinydragonfiremage

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 19

Grief | Survivors Guilt

Ao3

-o-o-o-o-

It's a cold autumn night when Tim enters the manor. There's been an early snowfall this year, one that has Tim shrugging off his winters coat and hanging it up beside the manor's front door along with his gloves. 

He looks around the foyer, thankful to immediately spot Alfred walking towards him from the familiar hallway leading towards the study. However, any kind of good mood Tim was in from being back at the manor for the first time in what was probably close to a month leaves when Alfred gets close enough for him to see the little, worrying details.

He's not wearing a suit or tie. Just dress pants and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. There's spots of red on Alfred's sleeves... and a rag is held in his wrinkled hands, stained with blotchy pink spots.

And Tim suddenly remembers why he's here.

"Hi, Alfred," Tim greets as Alfred finally finishes approaching. He looks haggard. Likes he's been up all night. He probably has been. 

"Master Tim," Alfred says, offering a small smile. "I apologise for not greeting you earlier. I trust the travel wasn't unpleasant?"

Tim shakes his head. Roads were scary slippery, but because the snow is still fresh and the time’s approaching dawn, there wasn't much traffic to make Tim's drive from the penthouse towards Bristol too horrible. "It was fine. And you don't need to apologise… I'm sure you've been busy. Where is…?"

Alfred sighs, his hands running through the rag without much purpose. Alfred's shaken. Tim heard it was bad, but he didn't think it was this bad.

"Masters Dick and Bruce are both downstairs with Doctor Thompkins. Master Dick has yet to wake, but considering we've just finished surgery, I don't expect him to be awake in the near future."

"How bad is he?"

Alfred sighs and moves so he drapes the blood stained rag over his wrists. "Major head trauma is the worst of it. Some broken ribs, a snapped wrist, mostly bruises and cuts. Doctor Thompkins is hopeful that he'll make a full recovery in time."

"And… Damian?"

Damian was there right? He was a part of this whole catastrophe? Nightwing and Robin were supposed to be on a team up. With a sinking stomach, Tim realizes Damian must have watched Two-Face repeat his ever so famous beating of Nightwing tonight. 

Tim hopes Harvey Dent and his stupid grudges stay in Arkham for a very long time this time around. If Tim sees him any time soon, Tim's not sure he'll be able to pull his punches as much as he should. 

Alfred's voice pulls Tim out from his thoughts. "Master Damian is… outside. Near the Graveyard. I was just about to check up on him, it's rather cold out..."

"Know what?" Tim says. "I'll get him. You look like you could use a nap."

Alfred's face softens. "If you're sure… then I will begin making some hot chocolate for the two of you to warm up."

"Thanks, Alf," Tim replies, a genuine smile rebelliously appearing on his lips. 

After he shoves himself back in his jacket and gloves, he's sure he’s prepared for how cold it is outside in the October air. 

Immediately, he's pelted by a harsh, gray colored wind speckled with small, glittery flakes of snow. The snow is wet, immediately melting when it touches his coat, and just managing to glaze the grass, but regardless of that it's still cold. 

What's Damian doing at the Graveyard at this time with this weather?

The trek towards the Wayne Graveyard is mostly uneventful besides a few slip ups on the stone path. He almost falls on his ass once, but by the time he sees the gate towards the family graveyard, he's relatively unharmed. 

The moment Tim walks past the gates, his eyes immediately fly towards the back of the plot where a giant angelic statue stands, her face shrouded with a hood and her hands brought up in prayer. 

Jason Todd's grave, Tim feels, has always been a part of Tim's life. Because his life never really began until Robin, didn't it. Which is… depressing to say but he can't really call the years spent practically alone with his emotionally distant parents anything close to a life. Tim decides to head that way. If Damian is sitting at any grave, it's probably near the ones dug recently, and not the old, weathered ones filled with names belonging to Wayne's no one actually really knows about. 

Ya know, no one knows about until they’re revealed to have been a part of some super secret old-timey cult or something.

He's probably at Martha and Thomas's graves, wondering what it would be like to have known them. The most experience he has with grandparents is Ra's Al Ghul, and, well, no one wants that guy as a grandfather. 

However, when Tim finally sees the form of a small teen squatting besides a grave, it's one that's no longer… valid. But one that keeps it's gravestone anyway, the dates scratched off. 

Tim feels something try to crawl into his throat to choke him. 

Of course the grave Damian's visiting is Dick's. 

Tim immediately decides to make his approach more cautious than what he was initially planning. He can't… really think of a time where he's seen Damian sit at this grave, even while they thought Dick was actually dead. Tim was… off with the Teen Titans and if he remembers correctly Damian wasn't even in the country for long after he came back to life. Bruce got amnesia and for quite a long time, it was only Alfred and Bruce in the manor, living in a carefully constructed illusion that Bruce wasn't Batman and had never taken kids into his home. 

Tim wonders when Damian found out Dick "died". How did he react? Did anyone even try to reach out to tell him gently, or did he find out on his own?

"Hey," Tim greets softly, lowering himself down to Damian's level in front of the fake grave. He sits on the balls of his feet and curls his arms over his knees before he turns to really get a good look at Damian. 

The kid huffs in response, just staring ahead of him like the gravestone was the most interesting thing in the entire world. His cheeks and nose are red, a stark contrast to his normally dark complexion. His green eyes shine vividly too beneath his sopping wet black bangs. Tim wonders if he's been crying. However, he doesn't dare ask.

"Alfred's making hot chocolate," Tim continues, really feeling out of his league now. He doesn't know what to do. He's never had to confront a clearly vulnerable Damian before. "I don't think we should keep him waiting."

Damian blinks slowly, his gaze finally leaving the gravestone to flicker towards Tim. 

And if eyes were the windows to the soul, then Damian's eyes have always been barred for as long Tim's known him. Barred and locked and shielded by blackout curtains. Now though? They're a stained glass window, shattered and hanging by twisted metal framework thanks to a rock that has been thrown through. 

Tim can't recall ever seeing Damian like this before. It makes him ponder what really happened tonight. If Dick's injuries were simply because of an unfortunate Two-Face run in. Bruce called Tim over to help go over evidence, but now Tim gets the feeling the real reason he's been requested is because Damian's hurting in his own way too, and Bruce doesn't know how to deal with it. 

Not that Tim knows how to deal with it either. The only person that really knows Damian inside and out is the very person who's just finished fighting for his life thanks to a brutal beat down via a psychopath armed with a wooden baseball bat. Again.

"Timothy…" Damian finally speaks, and Tim suddenly feels a chill enter his bones that's not from the wind. "What is Robin's purpose?"

Tim swallows, forcing surprise to stay off his face. Where has this come from? 

"What do you mean?" Tim asks slowly. 

"Tt." Damian turns back towards the gravestone, his usual sound of annoyance sounding half-hearted and incredibly tired. "Just answer."

And it must show how wrong this all feels because Tim doesn't even get the urge to roll his eyes at the demand. He lets out a breath that turns into a visible vapor the moment it leaves his mouth. 

"I guess… it's different for everyone. There's no… job requirement when it comes to Robin. What it means can change on who wears the suit. As long as you wear the colors and fight alongside Batman, then you're Robin."

Damian frowns. "I was told Robin is supposed to be Batman's partner. Robin is supposed to watch Batman's back and protect him."

"Who told you that?" Tim asks before he could stop himself. Damian gives him an unimpressed look. "Oh. Lots of people, huh? Um… I guess protecting Batman is a big part of Robin. I know… that's the reason I became Robin. To save Bruce from his own darkness."

"Then… I am truly an awful Robin."

The words are so shocking that it takes Tim a second to realize a single drop of clear liquid that wasn't snow has dropped down Damian's cheek. 

"Richard died while I was gone," Damian continues, water in his voice. "Even if his death was really a ploy to go undercover… he still got captured and tortured. I wasn't… there to protect him. And now, all I could do was stand uselessly while Dent…"

Damian brings a hand to his cheek to wipe the next tear that tries to fall. The sleeve of his jacket folds up around his wrists to reveal rope burns that definitely look like they sting.

Tim thinks he has a clearer picture now. Damian was definitely there, tied down and held back as Two-Face beat Nightwing to a bloody pulp. 

Tim is so caught up trying to imagine what Damian is feeling, that he almost misses what's said next. 

"If Robin is supposed to protect Batman, then… then it should have been me."

"No," Tim turns so he's facing Damian more head on. More tears drip down his cheeks and Damian looks done with trying to wipe them away. He's looking at the gravestone like he's the one who put it there. That the only reason it's there in the first place is because he wasn't there to stop it. "No, you're not allowed to say that. I take it back, Robin isn't meant to protect Batman-"

"You just said-"

"I was wrong, okay?" 

Damian opens his mouth, then closes it. 

Tim has to take a moment to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. "Look… Damian… you're a kid. It's never a kids job to protect the guardian. It's their job to protect you."

"That's the issue, Timothy, he was protecting me." Damian wipes his eyes furiously, his cheeks growing redder but not because of the cold. "Two-Face wanted me, but Richard tricked Two-Face into letting him take my place. Richard died because of me, and stayed away because of me, and now he's- he's hurt because of me-"

"Stop it," Tim snaps. He can feel his heart beating so quickly. His stomach feels like it's in knots. Damian snaps his jaw shut with a tiny, barely choked off whimper that almost has Tim wanting to stand up, go to Gotham, and show Two-Face what a baseball bat looks like from the other end of the beating. "Just… stop. It's… none of this is your fault. And if Dick heard you saying things like this… that it should be you… he'd tell you the same stuff. 

"You didn't do anything wrong Damian. Sometimes… Batman gets hurt. But you can't hold yourself responsible for that. Sometimes Dick gets hurt to protect you… us, and we can't blame ourselves for that. Dick did what he thought was right, and it's our job now to make sure he gets better. Okay?"

Damian's silent. Sniffs. From the cold or from tears, Tim doesn't ask. 

He wakes in the chilling silence of the Wayne Graveyard until Damian finally jerks his head in a tiny, ridged nod. "I… understand."

"Good." Tim then rises to his feet and grabs Damian's bicep, dragging his little brother up with him. Damian stiffens at first, but eventually complies. Soon, Tim has his arm wrapped around Damian's shoulders. Damian sniffs again and wipes his eyes. 

"You said… Alfred was making hot chocolate?" He asks, and Tim smiles. 

"He sure is. You think we can convince him to put in marshmallows this time?" 

Damian puts on a watered-down thoughtful face. Then nods. "I'm sure if we work together, we can also get cookies."

"Sounds like a plan, gremlin."

"Tt."

"Oh, don't give me that look. You like the nickname."

"I do not."

“Yes you do. Look! You're smiling!"

"You're seeing things, Timothy."

#damian wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #robin #red robin dc #drake #nightwing #fic #fanfiction #jin writes #whumptober2020 #no.19 #grief #survivors guilt #dc #dc comics #batman comics

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Andy Warhol Arguments

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

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

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

Word Count: 5.9K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.   .   .

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll spare you, then.”

“Thank you so much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuses, excuses,” Ella chided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not hungry.”

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

“You might be hungry later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jess nodded knowingly as he chewed.

“What?” Matthew asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Andy Warhol was an American treasure!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just checking, James Dean.”

“Bye, Ella,” Matthew said.

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

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

.   .   .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ella shrugged. “No reason.”

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

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

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

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

Her eyes perked up in surprise. “What?”

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

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

He nodded. “I’m fine.”

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

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

Ella furrowed her brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

.   .   .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.   .   .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “Sad but true.”

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

“Eleanor?” he asked, knocking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sick, Jess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Elle?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

#jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano au #jess mariano fanfic #jess mariano #jess #mariano #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls #jess mariano x original character #jess mariano x oc #original character #original character stories #oc fanfiction #original character fanfiction

[katsukikitten]

Rouge

A/N MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING. if you are easily triggered to spiral please DO NOT READ ANY further. If you want/ need to know the actual trigger warnings pls dm me before reading.

If you could kill yourself without anyone finding your body you would.

And honestly you may have found a way.

To turn your body into nothing but particles on the wind.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

Your heart swells at the thought, its simple, easy really, this new solution.

No one will have to deal with the trauma of finding you.

No one will say "I never knew" at your eulogy while fighting back tears when the signs, although extremely subtle, were there.

They will only say your "great" life was cut short too soon as they look longingly at the one and only photo of you smiling that was enlarged for all to see.

As if that's how you looked majority of your life.

Content.

Happy.

You joined the hero course for the sole purpose that it put your life at greater risk adding to it the perk of what would be viewed as an honorable death.

And maybe your departure would be less sad for some, if anyone would even be upset in the first place.

The only problem was making your "accidental" death look good. It did not help that you were at a disadvantage with your quirk.

You were the unlucky soul with the rare quirk of adaptability or as others deemed it, instant evolution.

Literally giving meaning to what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

You should know, you've tried, doing nothing but worsening the situation for yourself.

And tried countless times at that.

Grey knives drawing grey blood while grey skin snaps back together forever closing the open wound.

Grey bones jutting at odd angles punctured through grey skin snap back into place as everything rights itself.

So hero work was your only option. Someone somewhere would HAVE to have a quirk you could not adapt to.

So every mission you decided to put yourself in dangerous situations and not for the sake of others.

At one point you thought that, maybe over time, saving others could help deviate you from your search for the end by another's hand.

But even after almost a decade of hero work you have yet to change your mind. Stead fast on the idea of resting six feet deep at the ripe age of 25.

What better irony that it cannot fix the emptiness that gnawed at your innards.

You're not sure why you feel this way. It's not as if anything traumatic happened to you. You had a loving family, a quirk, everything to be thankful for.

One day you woke up feeling an ache in your chest that over the years turned into a weighted emptiness.

Almost like a phantom feeling of knowing something should be there and suddenly you realize it is not.

As if living your life like you were the foot that fell asleep.

With the slow absence in your chest the universe began to present itself differently. Not as if turning itself at an odd angle, no it turned itself into a painting that had faded from overexposure in the harsh sun. Colors bleeding into depressing tones of grey washing with it your ability to feel.

None of this stopped you from making friends or taking some lovers, you were well liked, popular even. Plus the internet said these things would help ease the dull ache that weighed heavy in your ribcage.

But the internet was wrong. If anything it amplified your desire for that sweet embrace of Death. Every single relationship was tainted with a greasy film, making them hazy in your eyes. A camera lens fogged over from heated breath capturing still moments of superficial dull feelings.

Everything forever diluted in those heavy tones of grey.

Until one day luck was on your side when you spotted potential in someone.

Someone who became blindingly vibrant even in their hues of grey as they reached their dried flesh outward, hair white as snow.

You often dream of the following moments.

It all happened in slow motion, his fingers slowly curling around the arm of a hero that called you for backup. Suddenly you felt something in your chest, it beat with a ferocity you hadn't felt in *years.*

Others would read into your frozen form as fear but honestly it was shock, *pleasure*, as your plan began to form into something tangible. Eyes fixated on the forgotten hero that slowly turned to dust. Grey ash carried on a heavy summer wind.

Abrubtly your life had been given purpose.

"OI Y/LN!" You look to see a grey haired man approaching at blinding speed, his fingers spread wide, palm facing outward telling you with his faint crimson eyes to move.

But you cannot if you want this villain to aid you later. You swallow thickly as you think of a good plan to fuck this up. You pretend to be too stunned and Katsuki has to waste his blast by hitting the ground by your feet to jump over you.

You do not know that he's fought this villain before, having transferred well after USJ and the kidnapping. You watch as greedy flaked hands reach out towards him, hungry to devour as dry lips pull too wide over white teeth. All the while Bakugou steadily closes the distance.

Something grips your stomach as your mind replays what happened just moments ago.

You jump with enough force that the pavement buckles beneath your powerful legs. You catch up to Bakugou with ease pulling him back by his skin tight shirt. You yank harder than you intended and the two of you return to the Earth with sickening cracks. Toppling over one another until you land on top of Bakugou. Instantly a warp gate opens up and the white haired man steps through it. Disappearing for now.

Not exactly how you planned it but effective.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Katsuki explodes beneath you and you take the massive explosion point blank. Blinding pops of white and grey while you land on your feet like a cat. Not a single burn in sight.

At this point you've pretty much become immune to his attacks from being forced to train with him at UA and the other countless "accidental" explosions that have kissed you with white hot heat during missions. Rage and resentment fuel his actions.

Katsuki jumps to his feet giving you a deadly glare when he cannot spy what you've deemed your new found hope he lunges for you. Forcing you back with a barrage of explosions until your shoulders slam into brick. Indenting your thick shape into the dudty wall, causing you to question the integrity of the structure.

Would the weight of a crushed building be enough?

No you already tried that.

When the smoke clears you're met with burning red ember eyes. He leans close, pressing his forehead against yours as he glares at you with such malice. If only he could act on that malice, especially with how it worsens everytime the two of you cross paths.

You're an ugly reminder that someone can withstand him and his deadly assaults.

"Stay the fuck outta my way." He growls and you say nothing, you just hold his heated faint scarlet gaze.

Tonight you cannot dream your wonderous dream instead numb tears fall down your cheeks like a movie star during a dramatic scene. Lying in the dark, mind plagued with two things.

One being hot ember and the other being a greyed hand.

It keeps you up and this endless sleep lasts for longer than you'd like.

A week and a half longer than you'd like, though you have survived longer without.

Learning the hard way that you can go *months* without eating, drinking, or sleeping.

As if you're some living statue in the renaissance representing the entire purpose of mortality as you lie in the dark. Moon light cascading over your shimmering cheeks.

Black night lightens to a grey sunrise just to pull the sun back into a deep pool of darkness once more.

All the while you sit at the agency in front if your messy desk. Working but not, it's more as if you're AFK in real life. You look at yourself almost in third person as you watch yourself stare at your screen and your mountain of paper work that you've been avoiding.

About six months worth and it's exactly why the Director has you in the office today. Its quite in the office, which is normal for seven PM.

Although thanks to winter it looks like midnight out. The darkness envelops you but it does not protect you from the weighted emptiness.

Its the loud footsteps that pull you into reality. Blinking furiously to soothe your burning eyes as you pick up your pen trying to bullshit your way in case it's the director.

But it isn't, instead its Bakugou who pauses at your open door with an ever present irritated snarl, still draped in grey. Cruel blood red eyes rove over your pitiful form.

"Oi, Director told me to check on you like I'm some sort of fucking baby sitter. So are you working or fighting a fucking possession?" He growls and you blink a few times, unsure how to answer.

Normally you were a master at the facade, of donning the mask appropriate at the time. As sadness was not always needed.

So for someone to notice your odd behavior was off putting. Worrisome. You would have to step it up a notch.

"I'm fine." You smile widely, sure to make it seem as if its reached your eyes. Like you've practiced countless times in the mirror. When he makes no move to respond you scribble on one of the reports, pretending to write. Doing anything to bullshit your out from under his scorching gaze. His maroon eyes narrow in suspicion.

"I'm leaving so get your shit done."

"Yea." Is all that you say, it must be good enough of a reply for him as he takes his leave.

Soon your body becomes stiff as you hardly move for the next hour and a half, slumped over inky paper. Truly staring through the reports on your desk. You blink slowly as you try to ease the pain in your eyes.

Maybe Bakugou was right. Maybe you were fighting off a possession but before you can give it a second thought your hero phone lights up with an alert.

Indicating you're the closest hero to whatever villainy is transpiring in the cold icy streets.

*"White haired suspect spotted by civilian wandering around the old warehouse district. Believed to be Tomura Shigaraki heavily associated with the league of Villans. Use extreme caution quirk decay."*

Decay.

The word sends a shiver of ecstacy down your spine.

Tonight was the night, tonight you would finally get your dance with Death.

You lunge, loading the rest of the report as you fly down the stairwell two steps at a time. Before breaking out into a full sprint.

How lucky could you be that your agency was only seven blocks away from the old warehouse district.

You silence your breath and your foot falls learned from years of practice as you near closer.

Opting out of standing in the dim light of the street lamps, that illuminate nothing more but spooked rats and rotting trash.

Oh this was just getting better and better.

The setting was perfect, late at night, pitch black alleyways that were narrow to boot.

Honestly you couldn't have asked for a better place for him to be spotted. It would be easy to fuck this up. You may not even have to force his hand considering he would have ALL of the advantage and all he would need to do was reach out of the darkness to touch you.

Wrap those five grayed fingers around you.

Your ears pick up on scratching. Not the type a rat makes where claws dig at brick or trash. No, that unique sound of nails scrapping into flesh.

You smile wildly, thankful you actually read the full report for once, the sound comes from two alley mouths away. It seems to be the only sound on the whole block.

You walk past the first one, practicing how you will look. Eyes shifting to the left alley then to the right, body language reading guarded.

Careful.

The things you were actually supposed to be doing but couldn't bring yourself to do. You could hear the soothing lullaby hummed through gnashing teeth and bones.

By the second alley you've perfected the look. If there are any still functioning cameras in this are their black glass eyes are sure to see it all. Your perfect final scene.

Because it has become too hard to continue to live the lie.

It becomes silent as you approach the mouth of the alley that the scratching came from. Too silent, confirming your initial thought, that he lies in the dark watching, waiting.

You peek to the left as you did the past two times before peeking to the right coming face to face with pitch black. The alley resembles a vacuum, greedily swallowing all light and sound in its wake. Fear prickles up your spine and your primal instincts tell you to run.

But they are dull, still draping the world in that damned veil of grey so they are easy to ignore.

You take the plunge as if jumping into cold water taking another step, turning away as if you did not see the gleam of his teeth.

Crusted lips again stretched too far over white.

He reaches out, fingers slowly curling onto your bicep as your boyd and your mind declare war with one another.

One demands that you fight, that you do anything it takes to get out of this situation while the screams of how tired it is.

How it can no longer go on.

Four fingers are wrapped tightly around you like a miniature snakes and your heart races with anticipation of the final finger.

You turn his way, eyes locking onto his. Savoring the motion of his middle finger getting ever closer to your sweet skin.

That is until the feeling of the grip is ripped away from you as a new vice grip pulls you into their direction. Strong arms wrapped around to you protectively, strong hand smoothing over the skin that was just touched.

"No." The small gasp escapes you as you turn to face whoever dared to deny you your one true wish only to be met with poison apple red.

"What the fuck were you doing?!" A nasty snarl and a shake before you're shoved to the side. Explosions propelling him closer to the target once more.

You fall to your knees in anguish, fat droplets dripping down flushed cheeks. You are barely able to register the scene in front of you as a trap is activated, pulling Katsuki's arms behind his back with a sickening crack. It echoes in the alley way but it does not reach you.

Cannot reach you as you mourn.

You had fucking tasted it, the sweet end just to be denied.

The ropes pull tighter, Katsuki yells out and suddenly sweat is falling from his grey face.

How long had he been in this position?

Ten?

Twenty minutes?

You weren't sure, time was painstakingly slow and blurring fast all at once.

Glowing red eyes cut to you in the night, demanding, pleading, for help.

You fail to see anything more that what you had once had. Reliving the moment where you felt most alive.

That special, promised hand reaches out for Katsuki, slowly curling itself around his throat.

Slowly enough that grey skin cracks to reveal angry vivid red.

Wait.

Red?

Where else had you seen red?

*Red* muscle tissue beneath sunkissed skin?

Suddenly a certain man is blindingly vibrant against the black back drop of the alley way. Ash blonde hair dampening and darkening with sweat as a rare emotion mixes with the rage in his eyes.

You lunge faster and harder than you ever had before. Quickly enough that there is a delay before the asphalt that was once beneath your feet ruptures, ripping open several feet deep.

Your hand is on a dry wrist that you twist away from Bakugou. You move without thinking as you take his hands into your own. Wrapping delicately strong fingers around two separate middle fingers. Bringing them back until they touch the top of his forearm.

He falls to the ground and for good measure you kick him square in the face. Shinning tooth arching with a red blood trail that slowly fades to grey.

You turn to Katsuki, the color draining from him like a dying star, cutting the ropes of the trap. You keep your hands pressed harshly against his arms as he tries to snap them back.

"Slow." You say sternly watching the ashen blonde of his hair dull into a light grey as he brings hyper extended arms back into their normal positions.

Nothing remains of his color as he shoves past you, forcing Tomura's arms behind him before securing his wrists with a zip tie. He heaves him onto his shoulder like a sac of potatoes and begins to walk away.

Almost leaving you to regret helping him.

After all he did take what you've always wanted, you stare after him as he walks away before he abruptly stops.

"Oi. Y/N." He calls out, "Let's fucking go."

He looks over his shoulder and you see it still there although it is just a flash before he begins walking again once your make way to follow.

Vivid scarlet  red cuts through the dark of the night.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha kacchan #bnha katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha au #bnha imagine #bnha angst #bakugou angst

[wwilloww]

SH. (they/them v.) | jjk

THIS VERSION IS WRITTEN WITH THEY/THEM PRONOUNS. YOU CAN READ WITH SHE/HER PRONOUNS HERE

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader (they/them) ft. OT7

RATING: Explicit.

GENRE: NonIdol!Au. Wilderness!Au. f2l. Smut. Fluff.

WC: 6k

SUMMARY: How could you say no to a month away in the mountains with your friends after six months of grueling quarantine?

WARNINGS: YN is a cuddling fiend. Untimely boner. Handjob. Nipple play. Fingering. Unprotected sex. Size kink. Slight voyeurism. Power play. Dirty talk.

AN: This is a little bit of a test for a potentially longer series. So please please please tell me what you think, what you wanna see, what you think is going to happen!! 💕😉

This version is also a bit of a test. As someone who identifies with multiple pronouns and who has varying levels of comfort/discomfort reading certain reader insert depictions, this felt like the right thing to do with this story. I’m happy to hear your experience with it! 

THIS IS GOING TO BE FILTHY STRAIGHT DIRTY FILTH

BAD PLOT ALERT AHEAD

Thank you to @hauntedlilies​ and @hesperantha​ for being the most beautiful beta readers ever. And of course, millions of kisses and hugs and thanks to the loveliest @thatlongspringnight​ for going off a cliff with me last night and helping me to plan ahead.

next chapter ->

|| join the taglist || masterlist || read with she/her pronouns ||

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

Chapter One

“Shh, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “Do you really want them to hear?”

Still, you can’t help the little “Oh,” that slips from you when he drags his cock out of you oh so dangerously slow and then rams back in.

Each thrust pushes you up against the kitchen counter.

The rest of the boys are in the other room, the movie playing not quite loud enough, filling the space of the previously lazy Friday night.

God, he feels so fucking good inside you. And yet, you hadn’t meant it to happen like this.

You’d always said that summer was your favorite season. But as you watch the light begin to fade from the sky, baby blue transforming into gold flakes of light that whirl across the gravel road, you think you might just have to change your mind.

The light glows and flickers through the pine trees as your car climbs the final hill to your destination. You begin searching for the cabin, although it’s nowhere in sight.

It’s the first day of a season away in the mountains. Two weeks ago your roommate, Namjoon, had bumbled into your tiny city bedroom, and just stood there for a moment before asking if you liked the mountains.

“Sure I do,” you replied.

He grinned. “Would you ever want to live there?”

“I mean— yeah, but like, work and quarantine and—”  

“Aren’t you working from home?”

“Yeah.”

“And haven’t we been quarantined — more or less — for six months?”

“Yes…” you said slowly.

“Then if those are your only hesitations, it’s settled!”

You’d stood from your little bed at that point. “What are you on about Namjoon?”

“I got a house in the mountains.”

“You got a house? In the mountains?”

“Details, buddy, details. I’m going, for a month or two — but probably until the spring. And I’d love it if you came with me.”  

It was as simple as that.

An offer, presented and received.

Perhaps six months locked away in your tiny city apartment had done you a bit of good. Decisions which you once might have weighed against reasonability or responsibility seemed to fall away. Instead, you did what you needed to do and the rest was up to whim and will. In recent weeks, you noticed it in the smaller things too. Eating when hungry. Moving when restless. Searching out company — virtually or in the form of your very large, but not very cuddly roommate — when lonely.

So when Namjoon offered you a season spent away from the prison walls of your tiny shared apartment, there was no hesitation.

“It’s all taken care of,” he had said with a gentle shoulder nudge when you persistently bugged him about chipping in. “Don’t worry about it.”

And even better than that, Namjoon had somehow rounded up your friends — even Yoongi who no one could tear away from his studio equipment.

The boys had already spent a night up at the cabin while you wrapped up some things in the city, packed a duffle bag, and headed out towards the great, yawning wilderness.

You were excited to see them. Quarantine had left you with little opportunity to spend quality time with your friends, and after 6 months in isolation with your roommate you were socially starved, and frankly, touch starved too. Namjoon tolerated your morning hugs, but the two of you weren’t really on the same page in terms of sharing physical affection the rest of the time.

Still scanning the trees for a cute lil log cabin, your eyes widen in shock as a building comes into view.

This is no cabin.

Before you stretches a beautiful home, designed with a graceful balance of smooth stonework, warm wood, and modern glass. A long driveway winds up a gentle hill. Are you sure you put the right address in? You think as you pull up in front of the house. But through the windows, you can see Jimin standing, waving at you.

What the actual fuck.

You park the car at the foot of the stairs leading up to the house, unbuckle the food from the passenger seat (would you dare risk the safety of Jungkook’s dinner?), and ascend the stairs. The door before you stands twice your height. Wrought iron vines tangle across a warm, dark wood. Just as you’re about to attempt to knock with your elbow, the door swings open.

“Baby!! You made it!”

You’re barely in the door, arms full of takeout, when he comes to wrap around you. It’s like all the time between you has washed away, replaced by the laughter bubbling through your chest. It’s been months since you saw your friend, months since you were held like this. It’s so easy to melt into his touch.

“Not your baby,” you correct, although you smile at the embrace.

“Not yet,” Hoseok teases back. “You know I would give you exactly what you need.”

“Is that a proposition?”

“I’m always propositioning you, it seems.”

You twist around to properly raise your brow at your teasing friend.

“Mhmm, seems like it.”

He winks at you, a playful smile teasing at his features. He bends down to press a kiss to the curve of your shoulder and kind of sways you back and forth. You stumble a bit, still carrying the heavy bags of food, but he holds tight to you anyways.

“Is this all you brought?” Hobi murmurs against you. “Just food? For the whole week? No clothes?”

You laugh. “My bags are in the car. I just figured you all would want to get your greedy little paws in some dinner first.”

“You brought food?” Jungkook peaks his head in from the living room.

“You didn’t think I would forget, did you?”

“You always know exactly how to take care of us, don’t you?” Jungkook comes to grab the three bags of takeout from your hands while Hobi still clings to your back like a koala.

“C’mon, Hobi, lemme go.”

As soon as the words leave you though, you regret it. He loosens his grip on you and the cool wash of the autumn air washes in through the still-open door behind you, replacing the warmth of his touch.  

“Promise you’ll be my cuddle buddy during the movie?”

“Course.”

How could you say no?

Perhaps that’s exactly where it all started. With them, there was nothing you wanted to say no to.

After a boisterous dinner, dishes being passed to and fro, jokes being shouted above the racket, more than one glass of wine downed — you all slump on the couches, full and exhausted and content.

“Movie?” Jungkook suggests, one leg thrown over you as you lean into Taehyung’s chest. He strokes your hair gently and you swear you could fall asleep like this, blissed out and wrapped in his arms.

“PJs first,” Jin declares from the kitchen, emerging as he wipes his hands with a dishtowel.

“Ugh, thank god,” you groan, sitting up from the couch.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing jeans,” Jungkook laughs. “What kind of world do you think you’re living in?”

“Obviously one where we put effort into our appearance,” Jimin sings, eyeing Jungkook’s oversized holey t-shirt and sweatpants combo.

“Fine,” Jungkook says. “I’ll change.”

“Where, uh, where should I change?”  

“Bedroom?” Yoongi cuts in, not even removing his eyes from his phone screen.

“Oh!” Jimin claps his hands together, turning back to face you. “We saved the best for you. Well, for you and Hobi.”

“Hm?”

“The master suite. There weren’t enough beds — and we figured a king-sized bed for two would be better than the couch for one?”

Hobi chips in: “Unless, of course, you’re uncomfortable, in which case I’ll sleep on the—”

“No, no, no.” You shake your head, stopping him in his tracks. “Nothing wrong with a lil more warmth in the world.”

“Good,” Jimin nods. “We figured putting the two of you cuddle freaks together anyways would be best for our sanity too.”

You sling the duffle bag you left waiting by the front door over your shoulder and follow your friend down a long glass hallway. The night has painted the exterior dark, but as you look down, you realize that the glass above and on either side of you is also beneath you. You’re walking over a bottomless bridge, the swirling darkness beneath you seeming to reach up towards you.

A squeal escapes you and you lunge forward, grasping onto Hobi’s arm.

“Shit!” You basically drag him forward, refusing to let go of him but desperate to get off of the glass floor. He chuckles at you but complies.

“Don’t worry, I got you. I freaked the first time too.”

He wraps you up again in his arms and more or less waddles you forward to where the hardwood begins again.

“See? All safe!”

Heat floods your cheeks as you look back down the long glass hallway.

“It looks a little less terrifying on the other side of it,” you sheepishly admit.

Hoseok chuckles and tugs you forward. You enter a large bedroom. Atop a large platform sits an extra large white bed with throws and pillows. You drop your bag and sprint towards the bed, launching yourself so that you land square in the center.

“Ah,” you sigh, taking what you think might be your first deep breath of the day. You spread your arms and legs out as if about to make snow angels. You prop your head up and take a look around the room while Hobi pads over to a large closet where he seems to already have unpacked.

The room is surrounded on two sides by entirely glass walls. The light that spills from the lamps that have already been lit makes it so beyond the walls, everything looks pitch black. Lush, fluffy carpets are scattered around the room, and in the corner is a small personal library, a little couch, and an armchair. And in the very center of the room is what you can only imagine to be an indoor fire pit.

Hobi throws a t-shirt in your face, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Get changed, slowpoke. I’ll take the bathroom.”

While Hobi changes in the bathroom you pull on the large t-shirt he threw at you and a pair of sleep shorts. While you wait on him, you scroll through your phone.

“Do you know what lies behind this door?” Hobi calls from the bathroom.

“What? No? Isn’t it a bathroom?”

“J-Hope’s hot body!” Your jaw drops before you are letting your phone fall to the mattress beneath you and laughing hysterically. He peeks his head out the door. He’s not wearing a shirt and you swallow quickly as you graze over the soft slope of his shoulders and the chiseled valley of his collar bones.  “Aren’t you curious?”

You quickly right yourself.

“Course I’m curious!” you laugh. “Who wouldn’t be curious?”

He grins at you. Sends you a wink.

“All you gotta do is ask, babe.”

“Get dressed, dummy.”

“Dummy that you love,” Hoseok corrects.

“Yes, my beloved little dummy.”

You wave him off and, taking your phone, head out back to the living room.

Jungkook plops down on the couch where he was before, next to you. You’re not sure if you’re hallucinating after so many months apart from your friends, but it seems like he’s hovering. He sat next to you at dinner. Insisted on you staying in the kitchen while he washed the dishes to chat with him. He was waiting for you in the glass hallway too after you had changed, leaning casually as if he had just stumbled in — but other than the master suite, there was nothing on the other side of the bridge. He had been waiting for you.

“I missed you,” he says, a soft smile spreading over his features.

“I missed you too.”

“It’s been weird not having everyone around all the time—”

“--Too quiet.”

“Exactly.”

Your impulse is to ask him where he’s been, what he’s done — but you know. The eight of you have kept in touch regularly over quarantine. Your group chat, while filled with memes, has kept all of you updated on your daily routines for the past six months. You know where he’s been all these months, what he’s done, and yet there is still a new kind of distance.

You think he feels it too because he’s soon opening his arms, inviting you. You crawl over the couch to him and he wraps his limbs around you, cocooning you in a strange but nonetheless comfortable position.

As you sigh and settle into his embrace, you realize he feels like a new man.

There is a quiet kind of confidence to him that you hadn’t noticed before. An ability to sit still and silently and find comfort in that.

God, it’s sexy.

What? Your eyes shoot open at the thought. But before you can do anything about it, Hobi is tripping into the living room. His smile falters when he sees you and Jungkook all wrapped up.

“They promised—”

“I know,” you groan, sitting up from Jungkook. He frowns at the loss of contact. “Come ‘ere.” You reach your arms out towards Hoseok, but instead of joining you and Jungkook he hooks his arms around you and pulls you into his chest as he sits down.

“Like a little ragdoll,” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m not a doll,” you huff, only upset at just how easy Hobi was able to haul your body across the couch.

“A little bit of a doll.”

Hobi wraps his arms around you as you lean back into him. You’d always end up like this with the young man, one of the two wrapped around the other. It was well known that out of all of your friends, the two of you were the most touchy. However, sometimes it seemed like more than that, as the two of you almost always gravitated towards each other in any group setting. It was just as simple as that. Hobi was by your side, no matter what.

The others come to settle into the living room, setting up in various levels of absolute exhaustion, tangled limbs, or apathy.

Namjoon scrolls through a couple of movies before settling on a title with lots of cars and noise.

The movie starts. Fast and Furious blares through the speakers, startling you slightly. One of those fancy, high-paced car movies. Despite the blasting of stuttering ignitions and roaring of top speed chases, you quickly find yourself drifting off, wrapped in the warmth of Hobi’s embrace.

A particularly loud car engine roars through the speaker and you startle awake.

Jungkook is stretched out lazily, one leg on the sofa, the other leg on the floor. As your eyes trail down his body — collarbone peeking out from his far too large t-shirt, forearms somehow still perfectly defined — you gasp softly when you see what’s tenting in his pants.

Fuck.

He has a boner. Between the thick spread of his thighs, the outline of his more than girthy cock presses up against the fabric of the grey sweatpants. He has a boner from a car chase.

He seems unbothered, unaware, even. You, however, are anything but.

Involuntarily, your mouth begins to water. The shock of seeing him like this reels through you. All you can think of is what it would be like to lean forward just enough, hands sliding up the hard muscle of his tights until your fingertips reached the elastic band of his waist. You wanted to dip your fingers underneath, wrap your hand around the thick girth of him, and lower your lips perfectly around the pink head. You want to sit on that cock, feel the way he fills you up and stretches you so—-

Jungkook catches your gaze. Heat rises to your face, a mix of embarrassment and arousal. As he takes you in, he smiles a little bit and lets his hand tral down his torso to fiddle with the band of his sweatpants.

Fuck.

You can’t be here. Can’t be imagining these kinds of things. Before you can think of what you’re doing, you’re rolling off of Hobi, a sound of question resonating from his chest.

“I’ll be right back,” you mumble, tripping out of the living room and around the corner to the kitchen.

What the actual fuck. What is wrong with you?

You can’t stop the images that flood your mind. Jungkook, towering above you, while you kneel at his feet, cock framed so perfected by your pouted lips.

All you want is to slip underneath the thick duvet of your bed and press the soft silicon head of your vibrator against your clit, working away at the unbearable tension that has built within you until you come. That’s not an option though, as you know tonight you’ll be climbing into bed with Hobi and the glee you first felt when being paired with your favorite cuddle buddy is now entirely by your frustration.

Head spinning, you grab your phone and begin to type into an empty message box.

This dude has a fucking boner, and all I can think of is stuffing it down my fucking THROAT.

What? Who are you going to text that to? Not Hobi, that’s for sure. And you’re sure your friends back home will simply shake their head at your message and respond with a series of question marks.

You shake your phone to delete the message and set it down on the counter. Turning your back, you head to the sink to pour yourself a big glass of water. Maybe some damn hydration will do something to quench this thirsty ass bitch, you think.

The water helps a little, and you gulp it down greedily.

Still, it's as if the image of Jungkook’s fat cock has been burned in the back of your mind.

You sigh and put the glass back down by the sink, looking out the bay window that sprawls over the counter.

You’ve never seen darkness quite like this. Without the lights of the city and with a new moon singing in the sky it seems as if the only light in your little world is that which shines from the house. All that you can really see is the vague silhouette of the mountains surrounding you and your own reflection. God, if only Jungkook were behind you, ramming into you at his own pleasure while you watched the reflection of him chasing his orgasm—

“Who’s cock are you wanting to shove down your throat?”

You freeze, hands curling into fists on the countertop.

“What?” you barely manage to breathe. Slowly, you turn.

Jungkook is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, your still-lit phone sitting on the countertop.

Without considering what you’re doing, your eyes flicker down to the still-prominent bulge in his pants. The gaze lasts only a moment. Half a second tops. It’s long enough to notice the way he strains so deliciously against the soft grey fabric of his sweatpants, the head of his cock clearly outlined against the material. And it’s also long enough for Jungkook to catch exactly where you’re looking.

“Wh— oh.” His lips purse perfectly around the vowel, understanding dawning.

Your mind chugs at hyperspeed, clunking through no reasonable explanation to offer a Jungkook who just very clearly caught you checking his dick out — the same dick you were just about to send a very steamy text about.

“I—” Your voice trails off into nothingness as you grip even tighter to the counter behind you. What is there to say?

“You?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow and takes a step towards you, a smirk playing on his features. “Hm?” His voice has dropped, resonating deep through you, any trace of questioning erased from his tone. “You saw my cock and the first thing you think is to text your friends about how you want to stuff it down your throat?”

“No?”

“So it was a joke then?”

“No, no!” You begin to say Not a joke, I wouldn’t joke about that — but you stop yourself before the damning words can slip your mouth.

He tilts his head to the side, just a bit, and comes to lean against the island, several feet away from you. You can’t help but suck in a deep breath at the divine swirl of playfulness and danger in his gaze. He notes your tight grip on the counter, knuckles turning white.

“I’m not mad at you. A little surprised. Pleasantly so.”

“Pleasantly?”

“It’s a pretty little compliment to have someone you like wanna suck your dick.”

Your eyes widen. “Like?”

He speaks your name slow with a hint of boredom in his voice. “Seriously?”

“Seriously what?”

Jungkook smiles softly at you. “Sometimes you can be so blind.”

“I am not blind,” you huff, crossing your arms over each other.

“For certain things,” he smirks, “It seems you can see just just fine.”

He steps closer to you.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean — I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I —”

“I’m not uncomfortable in the slightest.”

“You’re not?”

You look up at him. There’s something dark, deep swirling in his gaze, and that playful smirk you know all too well dancing in the corner of his lips.

“I just want to know why.”

“I mean—” He raises his eyebrow at you. “It’s been a really long and lonely time in quarantine. Can you blame me?” Rather than bringing closure to the situation, every word you speak only seems to heighten your anxiousness, your speech speeding up, words falling over one another. “Y’all are so fucking hot and I forgot! I forgot, okay! I forgot how to regulate my goddamn libido and my thoughts and forgot what it’s like to be fuc—”

You slap you hand over your mouth.

“You forgot what it’s like to be fucked?” Jungkook laughs.

You pout a little. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing,” he chortles. He is laughing. “I’m just—” he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “--just thinking that I know exactly what you mean and I — you know,”  His hand glides up his chest to rub at his collar bone. His signature nervous tick. He’s still laughing, only nervously now. “You know. You know?”

“What?”

He takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes for a moment. You watch as his chest rises, falls, eyelashes fluttering open again. Suddenly he’s leaning in, both hands on either side of you.

“If it’s a lie—”

“If what’s a lie?”

His nervousness is quickly replaced with the playful smirk you’re so familiar with. “Did you mean it when it was a joke or when you said you wanted to — what was it? — stuff your throat with my cock?”

You gulp.

Now or never, babe.

Quickly, before you can doubt it, you nod.

He grins.

“I have a proposition then.”

“First Hobi, now you?”

“What? What did Hobi say?”

“Nothing — forget it.”

“Okay…” His brow furrows.

“Forget it,” you repeat.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, reading each other’s gaze, trying to calculate exactly what the next step is. Surprisingly, you’re the first one to act, reaching out until your fingertips find the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You twist your fingers into it, not pulling him towards you by any means, but still, pushing him on.

“Proposition me,” you say, the nervousness gone from your voice.

His brows shoot up in surprise, but your gentle touch and the confidence in your voice seems to spur him onwards. “Well,” he starts slowly. “Considering you’re half the reason I’m even in this position—” He steps forward, just enough that you can feel his hardness press into your belly. He puts both hands on the counter on either side of you and leans into you. “I say we just sort this out here and now.”

“What are you saying?” you tease, twisting the fabric of his shirt into your hand, pulling him closer.

“I’m saying, let me fuck you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.” He’s so close that when he speaks, his breath brushes against your lips. “Are you going to let me kiss you?”

“Mhmm,” you hum against him.

He dives in like a starving man, lips pressing hard against yours. His hands begin on your side and slide around to press into your lower, back, pressing you tightly against him.

“Here?”

“Why not?”

You grin.

Your hands begin to trail down his torso, fingers tracing the outline of his abs, which, you think in passing, are far too defined to be real after six months of quarantine without gym access. You reach the band of his sweatpants and don’t hesitate to dip underneath.

Fingers trace over bare skin and you’re surprised to find — he’s not wearing any boxers at all. Your heart rate picks up as you realize he’s been walking around all evening, cock hanging free beneath nothing but a thin layer of grey sweatpants.

Just by pulling slightly at the band of his sweatpants, the head of his cock pokes up, caught between the fabric and his torso. With a wink, you push Jungkook back just enough so that he steps back a couple of paces, moving until his back hits the wall.

“Can I touch you?” you ask sweetly.

He nods, furiously. Reaching down to wrap your fingers delicately around his length, your eyes widen as you realize just how large he is.

Your hand barely even wraps around the girth of him.

His eyes flutter as your grip tightens around him.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Ever so slowly, ever so lightly you begin to stroke up and down the silky skin of his shaft. You watch as pleasure flickers across his face — always transparent, always easy to read. You’d always admired that about him, how he wore his emotions for the world to see. But getting to see the pleasure you caused, you created, worn on his delicate features is nothing like anything you’d ever experienced before.

With a slight twist of your wrist, you have him exhaling sharply.

“Jesus fucking christ, it’s a whole new world with someone else’s hand.”

You begin to drop to your knees, wanting to take him into your mouth. But he’s quick to stop you, hands coming to grip your elbow.  

“Fuck,” he hisses. “It’s been too long— if you keep going like that I’m not going to last very long.” He pulls you back up towards him.

You frown at him, almost comically.

“I promise you’ll have another opportunity to suck my dick,” he chuckles, reaching up to pinch your chin. “That is, if you want to do this again.” He presses his lips to yours and your frown is quickly disappearing as he now takes his turn to trail a hand down from your chin. You shiver as he skates around your chest, as he brushes up against your hardened nipples, protruding through your worn-out sleep shirt.

“Stop teasing me,” you whisper, and he grins at you.

“Am I moving too slow?”

“Torturously sl—” Your speech is cut off as he takes a clothed nipple between his fingers and twists, just enough. Your back arches into his touch, and before you know what’s happening, he’s slipping an arm around your lower back and twirling you around so that suddenly it’s you against the cold marble of the island, Jungkook pressing into you.

He kisses you furiously, lips moving against yours as if he’s searching for something.

“What about the others?” you whisper against him.

“What about them?” Jungkook’s hand traces down your torso and comes to tease the band of your sleep shorts. He looks at you, brow raised — a question of permission. You nod, bring your hand down atop his, and guide it underneath your shorts. “I asked you a question,” he says, as his fingers finally dip into your wetness. He slides one finger along your folds. The touch is delicate but the shock of the sensation has you arching into him.

“More, please,” you gasp.

He circles your entrance with a firm touch, before slipping one finger into you. You do your best not to wantonly grind down onto his hand, but you can’t help your hips as they buck up into him when he curls his finger. It’s still not enough though.

“I asked you a question.”

“Kook— please.”

“Answer and I’ll give you exactly what you want. What about the others?” Your mouth gapes open as he adds a second finger and hooks them both against that delicious soft spot within you, so he continues for you. “Do you want them to know I have you underneath me like this? Hm? Do you want them to see you so fucked out with the smallest amount of touch?”

You whimper at his words, but manage to speak, “Right now, just want you.”

He grins. Leans close, right up against your ear and whispers:

“Then why don’t you do your best and stay quiet like a good girl?”

Your mouth drops open at the term of endearment just in time for him to begin thrusting his fingers in and out of you. You bite down on your lip to stop the squeal that threatens to break loose from you.

“God you look perfect,” he whispers. “You fall apart so easily.”

“Mmf,” is all you manage to get out.

And then, all of a sudden, his fingers are ripped out of you and all you feel is empty, sensation lost, the trails of pleasure disappearing as fast as sand through the gaps in your fingers.

“Jungko—”

He silences you by crushing his lips against you. His arms come to wrap around your back and he presses you tight against him. You can feel his erection against your lower belly and you can’t help but push back against it. He groans into your mouth.

“I need you,” he groans.

“Please,” you speak against his lips.

“Yeah?” he kisses the corner of your mouth before kissing and biting down your chin and onto your neck. He keeps one hand at your lower back, keeping you as close to him as he can, the other, coming down to cup your now dripping sleep shorts. He ruts against you, erection pressing lightly into your stomach. “Does this pretty pussy want my cock?”

“God, yes.”

“I need to fuck you. And I need you to stay very quiet so that the others don’t walk in here while my cock is inside of you.” He pulls away from you just enough grap your ass, lifting you onto the island counter. His strength is surprising, but you don’t mind being a little manhandled.

He pulls your sleep shorts to the side, grips his cock, and presses the head to your entrance. You try to slide forward on the counter, try to hook your leg around his back so as to press him into you, but instead he just stays there.

“What a needy little one,” Jungkook growls. And with that, he finally presses into you, his eyes so carefully trained on your every expression.

The smallest of ohs slips from you as he finally bottoms out.

“Fuck, you sound so sweet on my cock.”

You didn’t think that you would break your quarantine chastity in a mountain chalet kitchen with your friend’s cock stuffed deep inside you. You wouldn’t have imagined it would have been Jungkook either — that’s not to say you hadn’t imagined it.

But looking at him, his eyes closed in satisfaction as he finally takes his pleasure — this is all you want.

Throwing your leg around his lower back, you push him further into you. He lets his head fall onto your shoulder, breathing the slightest of groans into your skin.

You continue like that, moving desperately against each other, frantically searching for the pleasure that has been missing for so many months.

And then he’s pulling out of you, lifting you oh-so lightly off of the counter and turning you around. With a hand pressing down on your lower back, your back arches deliciously, ass presented just for him.

He grips his cock tightly in his hand, and runs the head of it through your folds. He presses against your clit and you suck in a breath as he begins to tease you. In response, you roll your hips back at him and he hisses, gripping your hip even tighter.

Finally, he nudges the head of his cock at your entrance and pushes in.

It starts to slip out of you before you can stop it. A long whine, high pitched and needy.

“Shh, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “Do you really want them to hear?”

Still, you can’t help the little huff that slips from you when he drags his cock out of you oh so dangerously slow and then rams back in.

Each thrust pushes you up against the kitchen counter. The rounded pressure, though a little painful, only sparkes a deeper desire in your belly.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whisper.

The rest of the boys are still in the other room, the movie playing not quite loud enough, filling the space of the previously lazy Friday night.

And then he slows. Just enough that he can roll his hips into you at a torturously controlled pace, his cock reaching deeper, more sensitive areas than before.

As if he know what you’re going to do, he wraps his hand around your mouth, stopping your moan in its tracks.

“Do you really want them to know just how desperate you are for cock?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. His hand is so big it covers almost half your face. You imagine his tattoos covering you. This is exactly how you’d like to wear him, his cock deep inside you, his tattoos on beautiful display. “Because tonight, you’re just mine.”

Using the hand he has around your mouth and the other one he has pressed against your belly as leverage, he fucks up into you, hard and fast. The pace is punishing, and exactly what you need.

And just as you feel the pleasure building in your belly begin to climb, dangerously hot and searing you hear:

“What the fuck.”

There’s a figure standing in the doorway, mouth gaping.

Jungkook freezes. Doesn’t withdraw though, his cock still stuffed deep inside you.

“I—” You begin to speak but he raises his hands and you stop dead in your tracks, not sure what you would say anyways.

“By all means, please — don’t let me stop you,” Jimin says.  

next chapter ->

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {2}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret 

Part One 

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character Word Count: 5,915 6,275 Warnings: None  Author’s Note: Really excited to share part two with everyone!!! Send me an ask or message me if you want to be tagged!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Leaning against a lamppost at the entranceway to the parking lot, Finley twirled the lanyard connected to her car keys around her middle and pointer fingers, waiting for Stiles to show up. He didn’t seem like the type of person to flake out on commitments, so Finley convinced herself that his class had just run a little but over time.

While she waited, Finley let the warmth from the metal lamppost soak into her skin, a comfortable warmth spreading over her body. She watched as the fabric of her lanyard twirled around her fingers, eventually reaching the end before she twirled it out again. After getting out of her final class of the day early, Finley texted Stiles that she would meet him near the parking lot behind her dorm building after she dropped her lacrosse bag off in her suite.

Her pent-up frustration from the first day of classes led Finley over to her car where pull out an extra lacrosse ball she knew she had kept in in it; just for these types of occasions. She was always able to pull an extra lacrosse ball out of somewhere if she needed to, and it currently seemed like a better idea than hitting herself with her keys over and over while she spun her lanyard. The metal has already managed to leave a few bruises that had she had healed over due to her supernatural healing, but she was not looking to prolong the experience. Bouncing the ball between her two hands, Finley sighed and pulled her Ray Bans up onto her head so she could see the pathway that led out of campus a little clearer. 

After a few more minutes of mindlessly bouncing the tie-dyed ball up and down she heard a voice call out her name. She caught the ball in her left hand and turned around to see Stiles walking down the path, his backpack still slung around his shoulders and his flannel in his hand. He looked like he had recently started trying to bulk up but wasn’t quite sure how to do it properly. I had been a phase Cian went through his freshman and sophomore year of high school; it took time to master. She knew Stiles would eventually be able to get a hang of it himself, but she would try and remember to ask Cian if he had any good human-based pointers for trying to bulk up later.

“Hey,” Finley replied as she pushed off the lamp post and walked towards Stiles. She pulled her sunglasses back down and held her lanyard between her teeth while she grabbed her phone out of the waistband of her shorts. 

“Why are we driving?” Stiles asked as they made their way through the parking lot towards where Finley’s Range Rover would be. 

Finley laughed as she grabbed her car key, the lanyard now dangling by her side. “Because I really didn’t feel like having a half an hour walk into D.C. today. How were your other classes?” She asked while she unlocked her car once they got closer. 

“Oh fine, pretty boring but I guess that’s how syllabus week goes,” he shrugged. “I’m sure you feel the same way about it though,” he shrugged while he hooked his free thumb under the strap of his backpack, just like he did in class earlier that morning. 

Finley nodded as she popped the trunk of her car, throwing her lacrosse ball into the back before closing it. “Yeah, sylly week sucks,” she replied before opening the back door, “you can put your bag in the back with mine if you want. It’s a short drive but better than holding it.” She watched Stiles set his bag next to hers before he rounded the car to the passenger side.

“Smells like new car,” he said as he closed the door, watching as Finley turned the key and he felt hot air blow out of the vents. He waved the air away and reached out to turn the vents away from himself before turning to put his seatbelt on.

Finley reached out to her dashboard and turned the airflow off completely, “sorry about that,” she apologized. “But yeah, it’s really not that new. I’ve had it for almost a year now it was a birthday gift from my dad. My twin brother got a Wrangler.” Stiles found himself wondering more about Finley’s family life, her dad was a prominent government figure, it must put pressure on his kids and spouse, but the family seemed plenty well off to afford nice things. The sleek, black Range Rover he was currently sat in seemed to be a newer model, going by the touch screen mounted at its front. “So,” she looked out the rear-view mirror while she backed out of the spot, “what are you feeling for lunch, there’s tons of places the meal plan covers.”

Stiles found himself without an answer, he didn’t know the area well, and he really wasn’t all that sure what he wanted to eat. “Uhh,” he trailed off when he felt his phone vibrate and looked down to see a message from Lydia, right they were supposed to Skype later. He had gotten so wrapped up in trying to find all of his classes for the first time that he hadn’t been able to answer her messages all day. “Sorry!” He told Finley. “I’m not sure what there really is to eat around here, so whatever you want.”

“You good over there?” Finley watched as Stiles typed at an alarmingly fast pace, his body reeking of anxiety again while he overdramatically flipped his phone over, so it faced down on his leg that started to bounce nervously. He let out a long breath and she felt some of the anxiety get released from his body, his scent mellowing out significantly. 

Stiles nodded, “girlfriend problems,” he mumbled. “It’s kind of too stressful to be dealing with a relationship right now, I feel very-” Finley heard him trail off, unsure of what the right word to use next would be.  

“Tied down?” Finley asked as she turned on to the main road, flicking the air conditioning on again as she did. “Must be hard being away from her, how long have you two been together?” Finley wasn’t sure why she had asked the question. She found Stiles attractive, but she would never want to get in the way of anyone’s relationship. Especially if Stiles and his girlfriend were trying to navigate being away from each other and their freshman year of college at the same time. 

Stiles started to anxiously drum his fingers on his thigh and Finley watched his motions out of the corner of her eye. He really never stopped moving, but maybe he had ADHD or something, she couldn’t judge. “A while, we just yeah, well a few months technically,” he tried off, “life gets complicated sometimes,” he finally spoke clearly. “Us getting together kind of feels like a blur if I’m being honest.” Finley would have to remember to store away that information to tell her dad later when she called him. 

“Not everyone is going to have a solid timeline,” Finley shrugged as she parallel parked on the street. “My brother and his girlfriend,” she scrunched up her nose and Stiles couldn’t help but watch. It had been kind of cute, as much as he shouldn’t be thinking that when he was supposed to be making plans to Skype his girlfriend later that night. “They’re sickening,” she sighed as she turned her car off, “they’re at Notre Dame together actually, she plays lacrosse, and he plays football.”

Stiles opened his door and slid out, which had been easy since he was closest to the curb. “Oh, must be nice to be so close,” he spoke once Finley joined him on the sidewalk. She had both of their backpacks in her hands and gave him his. “Thanks. Anyway, where were you thinking for food?” He asked her as they started walking up the crowded street. 

Getting to spend time in Washington D.C. for his FBI internship had provided Stiles with some time to explore the city, however, he only knew a very small area well enough to navigate his way around without a GPS or map. He had eaten at most of the same places for the time he had been there, and he really hadn’t gone past a two-block radius of his summer apartment. 

“Oh right,” Finley pulled her Ray Bans up, so that they rested on her head while they walked. “You like burgers?” She asked Stiles. He hadn’t felt that hungry in his last class but at the mention of a good burger he felt his stomach rumble. 

“A burger sounds good,” he nodded, his phone going off in his pocket like crazy. Lydia could wait until after lunch, he was still doing schoolwork technically. “So, you know this area pretty well then I’d assume?”. He wanted to make conversation outside of their project for class, he wanted to try and make new friends. He still loved Scott and the Pack of course, but he also knew he needed more than just his Beacon Hills friends to get through college and life after.

“I do, yeah,” Finley replied. She had been very focused on the sidewalk in front of her and hadn’t fully processed Stiles’ question for a few seconds, engrossed in her own world. “I grew up outside of D.C. in a really nice little suburb area, but I was always in my dad’s office or out causing trouble with Cian,” she replied. The twins were often known for causing trouble when they were younger, especially at CIA headquarters, everyone knew Maxwell Mannulv’s twins. She knew her dad hated having to raise two kids who also happened to be werewolves by himself for most of their lives, but they had turned out to be pretty good kids. In Finley’s opinion of course. 

She felt Stiles’ eyes on her and turned to face him, “Cian’s your brother?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my twin actually. Think of me but make it male and six foot four,” she laughed trying to easily describe her brother. They were almost splitting images of each other, auburn hair, freckles, bright blue eyes. If they had been the same gender, they most definitely would have been identical. Finley knew that she would be considered tall for a female by most at five feet nine inches; the males in her family, however, made her look short. “We were terrors when we were younger,” she smiled at the memories she had with her twin. They were mostly good memories, of course a few arguments and fights came into play, but they were nearly inseparable a majority of their lives. “Gave my dad a run for his money let me tell you, I mean my mom too, but my dad got us by himself when we were in prime asshole age.” 

Stiles listened carefully as she spoke, trying to soak up all the information he could about hers that she offered, “yeah my dad thought I was a terror also when he had me at prime asshole age. Well and the last few years too, me and my best friend gave him a run for his money. My best friend’s mom too.” His dad and Melissa were godsends for dealing with him and Scott for as long as they did. Especially after Scott had gotten bit and they didn’t know what had been going on yet. Another thought popped into Stiles’ mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should ask the question he wanted to or no.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard,” Finley spoke as she stopped outside the door of a restaurant. The door read ‘Good Stuff Eatery’ and it looked cozy and welcoming inside. “You look like you want to ask something,” she added as she held the door open for Stiles to walk inside.

He quickly thanked her as he walked in, not sure what to say next. “I do- I just, don’t want to offend you?” It came out as more of a question and he wanted to punch himself for being so awkward, he had been getting better with it before he got to college. However, in the week he had been at American it seemed like all his progress had gone out the window. 

Finley smiled as she slid into one side of a wooden booth, setting her bag down next to herself. “I’m sure you won’t offend me,” she looked at Stiles who tried to avoid eye contact, “that takes a lot. Trust me I grew up with a twin brother and all his friends and their crude humor.”

“I-” Stiles cut himself off again and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his thoughts. “Did your parents get divorced and that’s why it’s just been you guys and your dad?” He asked slowly. He watched a new emotion flash across her face as she reached out for a menu but couldn’t read it when she handed him a menu with a shaky hand. Finley on the other hand could feel that Stiles started to feel slightly upset, but she couldn’t put her finger on what type of ‘upset’ he felt. 

Finley swallowed when she heard Stiles’ question, it didn’t offend her she got asked about her lack of a mom often throughout her childhood, but she didn’t talk about her mom all that often. Let alone to someone who was basically a stranger. She flipped open the menu, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts when Stiles spoke again. “Umm, if it means anything,” he started before taking a shaky breath, “My mom umm, passed I guess is the right word, when I was ten.” She noticed that tears were forming in his eyes and reached out to rest her hand next to his but didn’t touch him. “She had umm, frontotemporal dementia.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat at his confession and knew if he had shared that information, she should also be able to share some information about her own mother’s passing. “Me and my brother were almost seven when our mom passed,” she sighed, “she worked in The World Trade Center, and yeah,” she pointed to the number ‘11’ on her sweatshirt’s arm, “September Eleventh,” she looked up to Stiles. “Now that the depressing stuff is out of the way,” she laughed, trying not to show that she was on the verge of tears. “Anything catching your eye?”

She watched as Stiles scanned over the menu, she already knew she would be getting her usual. “Uhm, damn that’s a long name,” Stiles laughed looking at the menu, “probably the Big Stuff Bacon Meltdown and fries.” Finley watched Stiles as he closed his menu and set it down on the table before she raised an eyebrow.

She had been eating at Good Stuff for years, she knew she had to talk him into getting a shake. “Okay good choice on the burger and fries,” she closed her own menu, “but you can’t come here and not get a shake,” she told him very matter-of-factly. “Like it’s basically a crime to not get one.” She watched as Stiles opened his menu again, looking for the milkshake section, reading over it quickly.

He set it down again before looking up to Finley, making eye contact with her for the first time. “Cookies and Cream?” He asked her. Finley nodded before standing up.

“I always get the coffee one, but my brother loves the cookies and cream shake,” she said as they walked to the front to order. “You can go first,” she nodded for Stiles to make his way to the register. After he ordered his things, and they slid his ID, Finley stepped up. “Can I please have a steakhouse burger, the village fries and a coffee milkshake,” she held her ID out for the man working to take. He grabbed it and slid it through the card reader before handing her a number. “Thanks,” Finley took her number and followed Stiles back to the table.

After they sat down Finley pulled her bag towards herself and pulled out her laptop while Stiles was clearly answering text messages. Finley was still able to pick up the fact that Stiles felt slightly upset and it hadn’t been her intention to upset him when she hesitated sharing information about her mom at first. “I’m sorry if I uhh, made you feel forced to share anything,” she said while she turned her laptop on. 

“You didn’t!” Stiles assured her while he pulled out his own laptop after setting his phone down. “I just feel like if I’m able to make someone more comfortable in their own shoes by sharing something why not help?” He rested his cheek on his palm while he waited for his computer to finish turning on. She felt any sadness left in his body fade away when he cracked a small smile, the anxiety also leaving Finley’s body.

Finley nodded as she typed her pin into her laptop to unlock it. “It’s been however many years now and it still stings,” she sighed, “like that day every year at my house it’s always silent, no one functions, no one really talks to each other. It’s going to be weird being away from home for the first time.”

She watched Stiles as he looked at her over his laptop, he nodded as he typed something before speaking. “It’s really just my dad at home now too, so I think I felt guilty leaving more than anything.” He shrugged while he started to tap his fingers on the table in front of him. “My best friend back home, Scott, I’m sure he’s keeping an eye on my dad for now though. We grew up more as brothers if I’m being honest.”

Finley almost had an audible reaction to Stiles mentioning Scott for the first time, and the fact that they were basically brothers growing up, he had to know about Scott’s supernatural side. “He must be pretty special,” Finley nodded while she chewed on her bottom lip, choosing her words carefully. “Having a tight knit friend group can feel pretty essential to like, surviving sometimes,” she laughed lightly trying to brush off her word choice as a joke. She hoped her play on words could worm even more information out of him.

“You could say that again,” Stiles Scoffed as he let out a long sigh. “Okay so he sent us that email like half an hour ago apparently,” Stiles looked up to Finley as his leg started bouncing under the table. “Sorry, I get a little- hyperactive after being stuck in classes all day with nothing else to do.” Finley just nodded absentmindedly as she opened the email herself, clicking on the attached word document and waiting for the file to download.

She saw the words ‘Introduction to Law: Case Study’ pop up on the screen and scrolled down past the cover page to read the case description. It fell silent between the pair while they both read the case information over. 

‘The case you will be examining is based on an unsolved series of serial murders that occurs over a span of about twenty years. The case will remain unnamed by myself and within your preliminary court documents, your first part of this assignment is deciphering what well known case this is based off.’ Finley nodded and knew that they would be able to figure out what case they would be examining easier, and faster, than most groups due to both of their experiences. Finley’s reading was interrupted when a middle-aged woman brought their food over. 

“Well hello Finley,” the woman spoke as she set down her usual order in front of her. “First couple weeks of eating college food already had you needing your fix in?” She asked leaning against the table next to Finley and Stiles. 

Finley smiled as she ate a fry, “you know me too well Maggie,” she told the woman. “I’ll definitely be coming around more often though. I eat at the gym usually and there’s only so many eggs and grilled chicken salads I can eat.” She swallowed what she had in her mouth. “Oh sorry! This is Stiles, he’s my partner for one of my classes, and friend.”

Finley watched as Maggie waved to Stiles who still had not touched his food. “You been here before?” Maggie asked him.

“No, no! I’m from California actually,” he trailed off at the end. His anxiety levels were starting to rise again, and Finley sighed while she heard Maggie hum.

“Well,” she patted him on the shoulder while she started to walk away. “You’re very lucky you have this one to show you the ropes out here.” She winked at Finley whose eyes widened and she choked on her shake. Maggie really did know her too well sometimes.

Finley grabbed her water bottle and took a long sip before turning back to Stiles. “Sorry, 6that has a lot of pepper on it,” she cleared her throat. “Maggie’s been here forever, she knows my brother and I quite well.” 

“That’s nice,” Stiles popped a fry in his mouth and Finley watched his eyes widen as he chewed it slowly. “Oh my god, these are amazing!” He said while he put another two into his mouth. Finley smirked while she took a bite of her burger, knowing she had made a good decision taking him here. She watched him pick up the burger and squish it down as much as he could before taking a bite. He set it down and gave Finley a thumbs up while he chewed. 

Finley turned back to the case description and started reading out loud. “It says here,” she swallowed her bite of burger. “That ‘the case revolves around a series of bodies found along the North Shore of Long Island, New York.’ I hope you know it is very obvious what case this is already.” Finley told Stiles who just looked up at her confused while he shoved a few more fries into his mouth. “Google the LISK,” she said.

“The what?” He mumbled through a mouth full of food, wiping his hands on one of the brown paper napkins that sat in the middle of the table.

Finley laughed lightly, “The LISK? The Long Island Serial Killer, only one of the most iconic unsolved serial killer cases.” She told him. When Stiles still didn’t know what she had been talking about she sighed, “fine,” she mumbled. “Maybe I know too much about this stuff but just trust me and google it!” 

“The way you were able to just know it was whoever this LISK is off the top of your head is slightly concerning,” Stiles tried to hide is smile behind his burger while he took another bite, the fingers on his free hand flying across his keyboard while he typed. “That and this is seriously amazing,” he told her. “And you can eat this whenever you want?”

Finley tried not to laugh while she took a sip of her milkshake, not wanting to choke on it, “to your first point,” she started. “I hyper fixated on serial killers for quite a few years, I’ve seen like any show out there about them I’m pretty sure. But me and my brother used to come here constantly, especially if we were visiting our dad at work,” she nodded. “I’ll show you other places too, we can like, try a new food place once a week if you want,” she shrugged. Stiles turned back to his laptop and clicked on something.

He shoved more fries into his mouth before starting to read with his food half chewed. “The Long Island Serial Killer,” he swallowed, “also referred to as LISK, the Gilgo Beach Killer or the Craigslist Ripper,” Stiles paused and made a face of disgust which made Finley laugh. “The Craigslist Ripper, that’s interesting,” he mumbled.  “Anyway, they’re an unidentified suspected serial killer who is believed to have murdered 10 to 16 people over a period of nearly 20 years, mostly women who were associated with being prostitutes, and left their bodies in areas on the South Shore of Long Island, New York.” 

“See,” Finley crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the booth, “I know my serial killers, he just flipped the shores for the project.” Stiles held his hands up. 

“I didn’t say you didn’t!” He spoke in a voice slightly higher than his normal one. “It’s honestly interesting and disturbing at the same time and I can’t talk because my bedroom had a crime board in it for years and it’s still up.” She watched his eyes widen and he started to stutter. “I-I my dad’s the sheriff, so I get uhm, interested in some of his cases.” He rushed out. 

Finley finished the last bite of her burger and nodded, “I mean, can be a valuable asset,” she shrugged, “it says here that we don’t yet know who the killer is, and it will be part of our grade to use the evidence provided and decide who we think the killer is. It will be part of our grade that we thoroughly attempt this, however, we won’t be penalized if we’re incorrect. A correct response through evaluation of evidence will result in a significant boost in our grade provided through extra credit,” she finished. 

“Oh, we so got this!” Stiles held his hand up for a high five and Finley returned it with a smile before she closed her laptop. “Okay, want to meet on Friday?” Stiles asked. “We can start looking at all the information, breaking it down. It’ll be fun!” Finley sighed; she knew she had made plans to go to a party with her teammates on Friday night. The men’s soccer team had invited them, and she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to go to her first college party. She also realized that Stiles didn’t really have any friends yet on campus and missing one party probably wouldn’t kill her. 

“As long as we can order take out and do it in my suite,” she shrugged. “Because it is going to be dead by me most of Friday night,” Finley told him while she started to put her things away. She sighed as she noticed the time on her watch, she still had plenty of time until she had to be at lacrosse, but she still wanted a break, just for a day.

She felt Stiles’ eyes on her while he packed his own bag and looked over before raising an eyebrow. “You have a suite?” He asked her in slight disbelief. “A whole suite?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “And I have a single because my roommate decided not to come to school. It’s me and two other teammates in the other room. I made the two beds into a giant bed,” she laughed lightly as she watched Stiles’ jaw drop over dramatically. 

He glared at her before shaking his head. “I am jealous,” he spoke as he stood up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I’m in an actual dorm, roommate, communal bathrooms and all!” He laughed while Finley finished gathering her things and stood up, waving to Maggie while Stiles held the door open for her. 

“I mean, sometimes it’s weird having my own room to myself but it’s also nice not having to worry about if I’m bothering someone or if they’re bothering me,” she shrugged while they walked down the street to her car. She looked over to see Stiles typing away on his phone, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth while he did, looking up every few seconds to make sure he didn’t trip. He obviously seemed very concerned with keeping his girlfriend happy and not going too long with leaving her messages unread. Finley had never understood the clingy girlfriend act, Cian and his girlfriend had been together since eighth grade, and they had never been weirdly clingy. Surely the full moon makes Cian a little extra possessive, but it never got the to the point of bothering anyone else in the house.

Stiles sighed and tucked his phone into his pocket once they had almost reached Finley’s Range Rover. “Sorry, Lydia is just, high maintenance sometimes,” he apologized. “I’m actually going to call her once I get back,” he opened the back-passenger door and put his backpack in, holding his hand out to take Finley’s also. She handed it to him and watched as he set it next to his own, making sure neither would be able to fall off the seat.

“Some girls are just like that,” Finley said once she had gotten into the driver’s seat. “And that’s where you decide if it’s worth it,” she drummed her fingers on the wheel to the ticking of her blinker while she waited for the street to clear enough for her to pull out. “I personally don’t get needing attention twenty-four hours a day seven days a week, but some people do.”

She felt Stiles’ gaze on her while she finally pulled out. “I- I love her,” he said, “I really do, I’ve had a crush on her since third grade and now I finally have her, but it just feels-”

“Not how you expected it to?” Finley finally looked over again to see him typing out another text message. 

Stiles finished his message before sighing, “Sorry that was Scott not her,” he laughed lightly. “But yeah, I just- I’m not feeling it like I should be anymore.” Finley wasn’t sure what she should say, or if she should say anything at all. Instead, she waited to see if Stiles planned on continuing his line of thought. “I’m actually going to call Scott too, and my dad, ask them about it,” he ran his hands through his hair.

Finley smelled the anxiety radiating off him again, but this time it smelled different than when he had been nervous earlier, it smelled a lot more potent, and she couldn’t place her finger on why. She opted to crack the windows and let some of the stress filled air out before she breathed through her nose again. “It’s better to have a conversation about it before you act on it,” she nodded. “Sit on it for a little while, talk to her about it too. Air out your feelings,” she mumbled the last part.  

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be impulsive,” Stiles sighed as they pulled back into the parking lot. Finley pulled into the same parking spot as earlier and killed her engine. “Thanks for this afternoon,” he told her, opening the door, and hopping out. 

Finley took her bag from him and smiled, “no problem, I love D.C. I’m always down to show people around!” The pair started walking towards the school again. “I’ve been out to California a few times, it’s really nice.”

“Yeah, but thank you for not thinking I’m weird, or too weird just to entertain. I just- I needed to start making friends out here and I’m glad I sat next to you in class!” He rushed the words out, only stuttering a little bit this time.

Finley just nodded along as he spoke, knowing that she should just let him finish his thoughts and not interrupt. “I’m quite glad you did too,” she replied, “I have lacrosse in a little while, so I’ll catch you in class Wednesday?” She asked once they reached the entranceway of her suite building. 

“Yeah- yeah,” Stiles’ voice dropped slightly as he hooked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack yet again. Must be a nervous habit. “Totally,” he offered an awkward wave as she walked into the glass doors. 

Finley smiled after the doors closed and shook her head when she looked over her shoulder to see Stiles still outside. She playfully rolled her eyes before offering a wave over her shoulder. His eyes widened and he waved once more before turning around and leaving. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

“No! You don’t get it!” Finley told her dad and brother through the computer screen, “he just, he smells so strong it isn’t natural!” She watched her father’s smile widen in amusement while Cian just rolled his eyes, thanking his girlfriend, Clara, as she handed him a water bottle. 

“Freak,” Cian mumbled under his breath, hoping that the seal cracking on the water bottle would cover his voice, but Finley still heard it.

“Dad!” Finley whined at her brother’s word choice, hoping their father would tell him to shut up like he would when they were younger. 

Maxwell rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked up, “Cian,” he sighed while his son just rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re just hyper aware of what’s going on around you because it’s close to the full moon and it’s the first time you’re going to be away from home for it,” Maxwell spoke. 

“Or maybe,” Cian leaned closer to the camera, “he’s your mate.” He sing-songed.

“Dad!” Finley yelled louder this time. She had heard about the concept of mates before; her father had been the one to tell the twins about it after Cian had met Clara and felt ‘oddly connected’ to her. If it was any other child, one who wasn’t a supernatural creature, he would have passed it off as hormones, but the twins were different. 

Maxwell let out a long sigh before looking back at his kids, “Cian I’ll call you later, okay?” He asked the older of the two, “just, let me talk to your sister for now.” Cian didn’t have to be told twice and he stuck out his tongue at his sister before hanging up. “Now that I can actually talk to you.” Maxwell laughed while he settled more comfortably into his office chair. 

“He’s not my mate dad!” Finley rushed out. “And he has a girlfriend!” She watched her father’s gaze soften slightly and leaned back into her bed more. “He’s smart too dad! Scott McCall is his best friend. He has to know about what he is!” There was no doubt in Finley’s mind that Stiles knew about Scott and the happenings around Beacon Hills. 

Maxwell sifted through a few papers before pulling one out and holding it closer to his face so he could read it. “And his girlfriend’s a banshee,” he started chewing on the end of the pen he held in his right hand, it had been a habit Finley also managed to pick up over the years. “And his one ex-girlfriend is a werecoyote, and they’re pretty close with Derek Hale,” he looked up over his glasses. Finley looked at her dad, surprised. “So yeah,” Maxwell nodded, “he knows all about it, I’m sure.”

Finley rested her hands on her legs and cracked her back to try and avoid the awkward silence that fell between her and her father. “I-” Finley started, but wasn’t quite sure what to say. “All fair points,” she mumbled. 

“Look Finley,” Maxwell set down the paper and sighed, “he’s a valuable resource, but what we’re fighting now, he needs to stay out of it.” Maxwell’s voice stayed firm while he spoke to his daughter.

Finley shook her head and sat up straighter, “but dad,” she started. “If we could get help from Scott McCall, another Alpha, and his pack, we’d be able to beat them. No questions asked!” Finley watched Maxwell pull on the ends of his hair.

“McCall sided with hunters, Finley. Do you know how dangerous it is to trust hunters?” He breathed out opening the file he had on Scott McCall in front of him.

“Chris Argent is hardly a hunter anymore!” Finley shot back. “You know that! He’s possibly one of the biggest human allies the Supernatural has and- and you’re passing up the possibility of having a direct line of communication to him!” It wasn’t unusual for the pair to argue about things concerning how Maxwell dealt with the supernatural, especially when his children’s lives were considered on the line. “I’m not a little kid anymore dad and you hired me to be a consultant. I’m going to give my opinion on these kinds of things!” She let out a long sigh of annoyance.

Maxwell leaned in closer to the computer and clearly saw his daughter’s stress filled frown and the tension pulling in her jaw. “I’m sorry, Finley,” he mumbled. “I just think it’s best to leave this alone until you come into the office again.”

“Whatever else happens between now and then isn’t my fault. I might be in college and busy with that now, but this job is still my main priority,” she told her father. “And until you learn to drop the protective dad act and actually approve me to investigate the things I need to, anything that happens with my cases is your fault.” She leaned forward and grabbed her phone off her desk, checking the time. 

“Finley-” Maxwell started.

“It’s almost eleven dad and I need to be up early,” she offered him a lopsided smile. “I’ll text you in the morning.” With that she leaned forward and hung up on their call before flopping back on to her mattress. She had to figure out what else Stiles knew and if it required her breaking protocol, then so be it. 

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction #dylan obrien #teen wolf #dylan obrien imagine #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #human stiles #werewolf ofc #stiles x oc #stiles stilinski x oc #anna writes #inscrutable fic

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Part 18

Summary:  Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 18: The Solomons celebrate Hanukkah and face the struggles of winter

           Fall changed to winter and Louise was finding it difficult to try and keep Inglewood warm enough. She’d nearly forgotten how drafty it was sometimes. Their home in Camden was much cozier even if there wasn’t a fire running all night.

           Other than the chill of the frosty air, Louise didn’t mind the winter. London wasn’t sweltering and she wasn’t always a sticky, sweaty mess by the time the day was over. No, in winter she could indulge in the fur-lined jacket Alfie had bought her in Paris on their honeymoon. She thought it was too soon to think about the winter, but was glad when the snow began to fall.

           Although things were going well between the couple, there were things looming. Often times, Louise couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. And she couldn’t get Alfie to go to the doctor and get a diagnosis for his skin. But he always had an excuse and she couldn’t exactly force him. And she could only prompt him so many times. Besides, they had other things to focus on and Alfie was good at distracting Louise from his health.

~~~~~~~~~~

           It was their first time they would celebrate Hanukah as a married couple. As usual, they would go to Ollie’s home. The young man had a large extended family and hardly enough space for all of them. But he always invited Alfie and Louise because he knew they didn’t have much family to speak of.

           The Jewish community in Camden was starting to accept Louise even if she hadn’t converted. She made friends with some of the other newly wedded women or new mothers. Her Yiddish was getting better and she tried her best to fit in. They were welcoming, especially Ollie’s family, but Louise couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that she hadn’t seen the suffering most of them had.

           On the night of the celebration, Louise came downstairs. Alfie stood by the door and smiled when he saw her. She wore a simple dress, nothing fancy or anything revealing. But she wore a thin scarf to veil her hair. All of her Jewish friends who were married wore something similar. They said it was a tradition to show they were married. Louise wanted to respect the tradition during a holy celebration and she wanted people to know she and Alfie were married. As if he hadn’t gone around Camden and told every single person he came across.

           Alfie’s face softened. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. There she was, right in front of him. His wife. “Ready, love?” He asked. His blue eyes were full of pride.

           She nodded and smiled. “Ready.”

~~~~~~~~

           “Alfie, look at you, you’re too thin.” An older woman scolded the man and pushed a plate stacked with food towards him.

           “Tante Raisa, I have already eaten,” Alfie replied in their native tongue. He and Louise were mingling after dinner and saying hello to all the people they hadn’t seen since last holiday season. Although they were all Ollie’s relatives, they acted as if Alfie was linked by blood too. Some had known Alfie’s family, especially Perle since she’d been so active in the community before her death.

           It was quite a different experience seeing Alfie among people he considered family. They weren’t afraid of him, making jokes at his expense, clapping him on the back, and boisterously laughing along with him. But Alfie seemed to enjoy the company and never once resorted to his business tactics.

           He was especially happy to announce he was married.

           “Tante, you remember Louise.”

           The woman smiled. “Of course, of course.” She set the plate that Alfie had rejected aside and held her hands out to Louise. “I heard you were wed in the summer. Mazel Tov!” She congratulated.

           Louise beamed. “Thank you.”

           “Alfie, what a catch.” Raisa touched Louise’s cheeks. “Look at those beautiful brown eyes. How perfect they’ll look on a healthy baby boy.” She exclaimed.

           Alfie laughed a little nervously. It had been a while since they brought up the subject of a family. He’d agreed to it but now things were getting a little more serious. He wasn’t sure it was the right time.

           “May you live to lead your children and children’s children to the wedding canopy!”

           “Alright, thank you tante.” Alfie guided Louise away. “Got nothing on their mind but bloody children.” He muttered under his breath.

           Louise hadn’t quite understood the entire blessing but picked out a few words. “They’re just excited.” She soothed.

           “Any kids of ours won’t even touch the floor for the first year of its life.” Alfie shook his head but let a small smile through. “They’ll just be passed from one person to the next.

           His wife smiled and touched his cheek. “You have been thinking about it though.” She pointed out with a sly look.

           “Hmpf.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           The first year or so they were together, Alfie had given Louise a Christmas present. But this year, they gave each other all their gifts during Hanukah. So there was no need to celebrate it. Most of the bakery didn’t either so it was just another day of work.

           Except it was a blustery, gray morning with flakes of snow whipped about in the wind.

           Louise frowned at the conditions outside and decided it was much more pleasant in bed with her husband. She pushed the curtain back in place and snuggled closer to Alfie.

           He yawned and stretched. “Be time to get up soon.” He said.

           “It’s far too cold out.” Louise disagreed.

           “Alright, then you stay here.” He moved to get up but his wife latched onto him.

           “No, then I’ll be cold without you.” She pouted. “Stay.”

           He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “You always think you can get whatever ya want with those damn eyes, yeah?”

           She smiled and shrugged coyly. “Usually works.”

           He raised an eyebrow and sighed. “How ‘bout one more hour.” He bargained.

           Louise was more than happy to agree because she had a feeling she’d be able to get another two hours out of him.

           The morning took a turn for the worst. About fifteen minutes into their extended nap, Evelyn knocked on the door. “Mr. Solomons, Ollie’s on the phone. He says it’s urgent.” She explained from the hallway.

           Alfie groaned and pinched his eyes shut. “Yeah, right, I’ll be there in a second, Lynn.” He replied.

           Louise loosened her grip on him. “Come back.” She pled softly.

           “’Course, love, I’ll only be a mo’.” He smiled and pecked her lips before getting up and throwing on pants and a shirt.

           He was gone for much longer than planned. Enough time for his residual heat in the bed to fade. Louise coaxed Cyril up onto the bed and to take Alfie’s place. The man was gone long enough for the dog to settle and eventually doze off, drooling on his master’s pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Finally, Alfie returned to the bedroom. But he was in a much different state than when he left. He headed over to the dresser. “Cyril, fuck off there.” He shooed he dog off the bed. But he didn’t get back under the covers as planned. Instead, he began to get dressed for work.

           “Alfie?” Louise picked up on his frantic energy. Something Ollie told him had set him off. “What happened?”

           He shook his head but knew he had promised some transparency. He grunted as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “John Shelby was gunned down ‘bout a few hours ago.”

           Louise put a hand over her heart. “No that…” She got an acidic taste in her mouth. She got a nauseous feeling in her stomach and the room seemed to spin. In a moment, she dashed off to the bathroom and became ill.

           Alfie went to hold her short curls away from her face. “S’alright, love.” He rubbed her back. “Easy…”

           Louise staggered back to her feet and rinsed her mouth out. She rubbed her eyes and took a shaking breath. “Did you know?”

           “What?”

           “Did you know he arrived?” Louise knew who killed the Shelby brother. It had to be the man who was vowing to kill the entire family for months.

           Alfie swallowed and rubbed his hands together. “I didn’t know for sure.” He admitted. “He sent another telegram last week but it was just like the other ones.”

           Still feeling sick and faint, Louise went to sit back on the bed. “What are we going to do now?” She asked.

           “We’re going to be smart ‘bout it.” He replied. “No walking about by yourself, aye? Make sure you’ve got some protection.”

           Louise nodded quietly. She wasn’t going to argue with him. Suddenly, the world around her didn’t feel safe. She put a hand to her stomach as more nausea came over her.

           Alfie noticed her face paled. “Maybe you should stay home if you’re not feeling well.” He murmured and touched her forehead to see if she was running a fever.

           Louise circled her fingers around his wrist. “I’m scared.” She whispered honestly.

           “You don’t have to be, Lou, I’ll take care of you.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ve got to get to the bakery though. You’ll be alright here?”

           She nodded absent-mindedly and let her hand fall from his wrist. “I’ll be okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           After Alfie left, Louise went downstairs to talk to Evelyn. She seemed unaware of John’s death or Luca Changretta setting foot in the country. “Mr. Solomons said you were feeling ill, can I make you anything to eat? Maybe fetch you something from the chemist?” The young woman asked.

           Louise shook her head. She didn’t want to be alone in the house even though she had seen some of Alfie’s men lingering by the building. “No, Lyn, thank you. I think I’ll try and eat once my nausea’s passed.”

           “Can I draw you a bath?” Evelyn suggested. “Might make you feel better.”

           “Actually that does sound lovely, thank you.” Louise passed by the front windows and paused for a moment. She watched a few people pass by and her mind traveled to a dark place. What if someone just stopped, pulled out a gun, and shot her down. What would be stopping that person?

           Evelyn went to go upstairs to start the bath.

           “Oh, Lyn, before I forget, will you send flowers to the Shelbys in Small Heath?” Louise stopped her.

           The maid looked confused. “Flowers?”

           “One of their family members passed and I wanted to send my condolences. But wait Ishmael can bring you. Alfie wants to make sure we’re both safe. Things are changing.”

Permanent Tag List: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​

Tag List: @vehement-care​ @kimmietea​ @eleventhdoctorsangel​ @fire-treasure-iii​ 

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#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #john shelby #cyril solomons #ofc #oc #jewish character

[aegon-targaryen]

After

This is my Noragami secret santa gift to @floweryfandomnerd! Happy Holidays, and I really hope you like it! Read the full thing under the cut. 

.

Hiyori watched the snow fall.

Her body was inside, tucked snugly under the warm kotatsu blanket. She sat with her spirit cord draped over the edge of the porch. The cold barely touched her in this form. She was content to listen to the soft pattering of flakes as they settled over the garden, dusting the bamboo leaves and settling on the frozen surface of the pond.

It was quiet inside the house too, but that was the grim silence that had settled over Hiyori’s family since her grandmother had died. She preferred to sit here in the stillness and think of a different snowfall, over a year ago, when she had first seen that little spirit huddled behind a vending machine—just a tiny spot of light in the winter darkness until Yato gave him a name. And now…now…

Where are you? she begged the grey sky. Where are you?

Of course there was no answer. Now she was thinking of another day in the snow: Kazuma’s green eyes burning bright into hers, every line of his body angled towards her in warning: Gods are incapable of loving humans. This is my curse to you.

But it wasn’t a curse. Kazuma had been wrong. Meeting them, knowing them, loving them—it was never anything but a gift. Even if Hiyori never saw them again.

She took a breath, and under the crisp bite of winter, she smelled something else. Sweet. Achingly familiar. Faint, but growing stronger. Suddenly she was sitting up straight, every part of her alive and electric with foolish hope.

You’re dreaming, she told herself. You miss him so much that even the wind knows it.

But no. Hiyori would know the scent of her god anywhere. She waited for a few helpless moments, her breath coming in frantic clouds, and then she whispered, “Yato.”

It was his real name, the one he had chosen, not the one forced upon him. And as always, when she called for him, he was there.

His tracksuit was dark and bloodstained against the pale garden. He cradled a pair of swords tenderly between his hands. Snowflakes settled into his dark hair. Hiyori was on her feet. Every step seemed to take an hour. She managed to lift her gaze—his eyes were fever-bright in his bruised face, and he watched her approach with a swirling maelstrom of feeling.

And then she stopped a few feet away. There was no sound between them but the drifting snow. She was almost afraid to speak, as if he was an illusion that would shatter at the sound of her voice. His smell. She wanted to breathe it in for the rest of her life.

He pressed a hand to his bloody side, never looking away from her.

“Welcome home, Yato,” Hiyori said softly.

He tumbled into her arms.

.

.

.

With three doctors in the house, it was no real challenge to get Yato’s wound cleaned and stitched and bandaged. The hard part was explaining it to her parents and keeping them from sending him straight to a hospital. Masaomi, with his half-remembered knowledge of Yato, helped win them over. In the end, it didn’t matter; their parents forgot Yato’s presence with a speed that frightened Hiyori.

He drifted in and out of consciousness. After her family had left the room, he reached for the dual swords and croaked out, “Sekki.” And then Yukine was bursting forth in a shower of light and throwing his arms around Hiyori, sobbing and laughing and begging her forgiveness, and she could only cling tight and thank whichever gods had brought them back to her.

“Tell me it’s over,” she pleaded when they had both caught their breath.

“I think,” Yukine said unsteadily, looking down at the sleeping Yato, “I think it really is.”

“And the sorcerer?” Hiyori wondered. She couldn’t bring herself to call him Yato’s father.

“Gone,” Yukine answered with a shudder. There was a story there, but for now, Hiyori just took Yato’s limp hand and drew Yukine back to her. Stories would come later. Now was the time to heal.

.

.

.

Life marched on insistently. Yato slept for days, the way only someone weighed down by years of exhaustion can sleep. Yukine looked after him while Hiyori went to school. Her family was none the wiser. Even Masaomi forgot after the first couple of days.

So they waited patiently for Yato to wake up. They ate the food Hiyori smuggled in from the kitchen. They worked on her homework together. They sat nestled against the side of the bed where Yato slept and read manga or watched movies. They talked—sometimes of everything that transpired since they last saw each other, and sometimes of the unpainful routine happenings of Hiyori’s daily life. Yukine had scars running along his hands and underneath his sleeves now. When Hiyori asked about them, his only reply was, “Yato saved me.”

Finally came the day when Yato pushed the blankets away and sat up to survey the room bewilderedly. He looked at Yukine first, and his voice cracked with disuse when he said, “You okay?”

Yukine swallowed and answered thickly, “Y-yeah.”

Yato nodded, and then his gaze shifted. Hiyori—who knelt breathlessly beside the bed—stared back into his brilliant blue eyes. Her heart thundered painfully with the words she didn’t know how to say: I thought I’d lost you and I’m so glad you’re safe and I love you. Yato’s expression was just as complicated.

His fingers stretched out to brush against her face. She trembled at the feeling. It was never him who reached for her. He was always so afraid that the blood on his hands would ruin her as it had nearly ruined him. But something had changed in his face since that night when he had shoved the little shrine into her hands and left to face his death. There was a look of…relief. Maybe even peace.

“You didn’t forget,” Yato said.

Tears flooded Hiyori’s eyes. She reached up to fold his hand between her palms. “I almost…you could have…”

“I know,” he mumbled guiltily. “I know.”

The fear and the anger that had followed her doggedly since he left began to melt away. He was here and breathing and safe, and so was Yukine. She didn’t need anything else.

Hiyori leaned up to gather Yato into her arms. The smell of him filled her lungs, and when Yukine wedged himself beside her and embraced them both, the three of them fit together like pieces in a puzzle.

.

.

.

Yato slid out into the garden after the others fell asleep. The sky was clear and sparkling with a quilt of stars. Hiyori had told him about what had happened the night her grandmother died. As far as Yato knew, Nora hadn’t been seen since. Snow crunched under his boots as he approached the frozen pond.

He stood there for a long moment, wondering if he was being foolish, if he should go back inside to the warmth and to Yukine and Hiyori. Nora had been born and raised into cruelty just like Yato, but he had turned away from it, and she had not. Even so—Yukine had seen the childish good remaining in her, and Hiyori had seen the pain. If Yato still deserved to be here, if he deserved what his friends had given him, perhaps she did too.

The ice splintered with a crack that pierced straight through his heart. A pale form rose out of the water. She looked very small, and very young, almost like the child he had grown up alongside. A shock went through him when he saw that the dozens of names that used to cover nearly every inch of her were wiped clean from her skin.

“Yaboku,” she greeted very quietly.

“Yato,” he corrected.

“I’ve…been…asleep. Drifting. I don’t…where is Father?”

Yato felt his muscles tensing, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet: he was preparing to run, if that was what she forced him to do. He felt like he’d spent his whole life in flight. Today—with Hiyori and Yukine curled up together in the other room, safe and at peace and together at last—today was the day he began teaching himself to stand still.

“Father is gone.”

He felt nothing when he said it. No triumph or guilt or grief. Nothing at all. Nor did any emotion cross Nora’s face, even though Yato was certain that this news would have broken her apart not so long ago.

Good, he thought. Their father had left enough marks on them in life. At least his death couldn’t hurt them.

Nora lowered her head. “He cast me away.”

“Yeah. Yukine told me.”

“So did you.”

Her words hung suspended in the cold air. There were centuries of pain lying between the two of them. She had forced him to kill Sakura unwittingly. She had hurt Yukine and Ebisu and countless others. But Yato, too, had made more mistakes than he could count.

“I don’t blame you,” she continued. “Everyone else did too. I was always unwanted. I just fooled myself into thinking you and Father were different.”

“Father wanted whatever he could use,” Yato said flatly. “I cared. And that hasn’t changed, even after…after everything.”

She turned towards him, her face barely visible in the night. “Are you saying…?”

He thought of the shine Hiyori had built. He thought of Yukine saying, you will never kill again. “Father is gone. We have a chance. We have a chance to finally be good. But this time…tell me your name.”

“My name?” she repeated, looking down at the water pooled around her. “But I’m…I’m no one.”

“That’s what Father wanted you to think,” Yato said. “But we’re not what he made us to be.”

He felt the light flare into his hands, felt the words of the naming ritual resting on his tongue by sheer instinct, the same way they had all those years ago when the two of them were only children trying to please their father.

“You have a true name. We all do. Even after all Father did, after all the masters you’ve had, some of you is still the girl who used to bandage up my wounds and tell me that tomorrow would be better. Some of you is still my sister. I won’t tell you who you are. That’s what he did to us all our lives. So tell me what you choose.”

It took her a long time to answer. She looked down at her arms, pale and bare of the writing that had directed the course of her entire life. Then she tipped her face up to the stars, and it almost looked like her lips curved into a smile.

She murmured, “Hiiro.”

.

.

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#i hope this is what you wanted #i haven't written fic in a hot minute and i don't know how it got to be this long fkjgfjgf #floweryfandomnerd #noragamisecretsanta2019 #noragami #noragami fanfiction #fanfiction #yatori #my writing #yato #hiyori #yukine #hiiro #nora

[tinylilemrys]

Rating: T

Word count: 3,407

Summary: Richie Tozier was an open book – some would call it the best thing about him, others would argue that it was the most annoying thing about him.

There were only two secrets that Richie fiercely guarded. One: he had been desperately and completely inconveniently in love with his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, for years now, and two: Richie liked – no, loved – playing Dungeons and Dragons.

Richie Tozier was an open book – some would call it the best thing about him, others would argue that it was the most annoying thing about him. While it was true that you were never unsure of where you stood with Richie, there was also almost nothing others would classify as too much information that Richie wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing. They knew when he was angry, they knew when he was scared shitless about his Calc test, they knew when he’d eaten food that was more than a bit past its sell-by date as a dare and all about the day of spectacular gastrotechnics that followed, they knew (in great detail) when he’d found a new supermodel that he considered attractive, they knew when he had fought with his parents, and they knew when he was feeling particularly sentimental about his group of friends.

There were only two secrets that Richie fiercely guarded. One: he had been desperately and completely inconveniently in love with his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, for years now, and two: Richie liked – no, loved – playing Dungeons and Dragons.

He hadn’t meant to enjoy it as much as he did. He’d only agreed to sit on a few sessions because one of the girls from his Drama class told him it was really good way to improve his storytelling and improv skills, but after one session of being sucked up into the world that Will Jones, the Dungeon Master, had spun and being frustrated at not being able to influence the decisions the party made, Richie was hooked. He had spent all of that night creating his character and eagerly (though stealthily) handed his character’s backstory to Will at school the next day.

And that had been that. His little Gnome Cleric had been a vital part of the party for the past six months and Richie couldn’t remember what life was before he started playing.

Of course, finding excuses to duck out of plans with six other friends had proven more difficult than he initially thought it would. Though the party only met to play every second Friday, it was often when the rest of the group had made plans for a movie night or a night swim at the quarry and finding excuses to not be there was tricky. Though the excuse he’d finally settled on was guitar lessons, he could almost feel how annoyed the rest of them were each time he flaked out and though he felt bad about it, D&D had become too important to give up.

The only one who seemed to understand was Eddie, who had started tutoring to make a bit of extra cash on the same Fridays that Richie had D&D and as such was also subject to the ire of the group.

Eddie, however, had a far shorter fuse for these things than Richie did.

“Could you all just give Richie a fucking break?” he snapped one Thursday when Bill had complained about them never hanging out together anymore. “We’re in our junior year. Shit’s getting busy. You can’t accuse us of being shitty friends just because we’ve got other things going on. He’s trying his best and so am I, so back the fuck off.”

Richie had wanted to kiss him – even more so when he’d given him a shy glance afterwards to make sure he hadn’t overstepped.

Though honestly, there weren’t many times when Richie didn’t want to kiss him.

The Loser’s Club had backed off a bit after that, and it had become a routine for them to schedule their movie nights on the weeks where Richie and Eddie could make it. It had also become a routine for Eddie to come over to Richie’s place the day after the Fridays where they couldn’t hang out.

This Saturday was no different, apart from the fact that Eddie wasn’t quite himself. He’d sensed that something was wrong as soon as he opened the door, but when Eddie didn’t even fight him over which movie to watch, Richie knew for sure there was something up.

“Hey, are you okay, Eds?” asked Richie, setting down the VHS tape he was about to put on. “You seem a little down.”

“I’m fine,” said Eddie, but he chewed his bottom lip the way he always did when he was lying.

“No you’re not,” Richie replied, crossing the living room to sit next to him on the sofa. “It’s not your mom again is it?”

“No, not this time,” he replied, his face screwing up when he realised that he’d just admitted he wasn’t fine. “It’s really stupid.”

“If it’s making you this upset, it’s not stupid to me.”

Eddie looked up at him then and Richie’s heart jumped to his throat. He knew he was being reckless, that being this soft with Eddie would lead to him working it out, but he couldn’t imagine being snarky when Eddie looked so sad.

Eddie heaved a deep sigh.

“Okay, well, it’s my, uh, my babysitting.”

“You mean your tutoring?”

“Yeah, what did I say?” asked Eddie, eyes wide and cheeks flooding with colour.

“You said ‘babysitting’.”

“Fuck. Well, I meant tutoring.” He was looking down at his hands now, red-faced. “It, uh, it didn’t work out. I got let go.”

“Ah man, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Richie, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do you maybe want to ditch the movie and go for ice-cream instead? You seem like you need sugar. My treat, since you’re broke now that you’ve lost your job.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Eddie replies, and though he rolls his eyes, he’s grinning. “You know me, I’d never say no to ice-cream.”

“Thought so,” laughed Richie.

Half an hour later, they were sitting on a patch of grass near the river, quietly eating their desserts. What he appreciated about hanging out with Eddie was that the silences between them were never awkward. He didn’t feel the need to fill the air with the sound of his voice, because it was always so comfortable between them. When Richie was with Eddie, he could just be.

“Thanks for this, Rich,” said Eddie, finishing up the last of his cone. “I needed it.”

“Anytime,” said Richie, lying back in the grass to look up at the sky now that he had finished his own. “Don’t stress about it though, alright? We can find you another kid to tutor.”

Eddie sighed and lay down next to Richie, propping himself up on his elbow to look at him.

“To tell you the truth, I wasn’t… I wasn’t actually tutoring anyone.”

Richie frowned and propped himself up on his elbows too.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I lied about the tutoring because I didn’t want you or the rest of the Losers to know what I was really doing.”

“Okay, so what were you doing?” asked Richie. “Since you telling me the truth now obviously means that you want to let me in on the big secret.”

“You swear you won’t laugh?”

“Oh, my dear Spaghetti, I can promise you a great many things, but that is not one of them.” The crease in Eddie’s brow deepened. “But I can promise you that, depending on how serious this is, I will at least try not to laugh.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I suppose that’s as good as I’m going to get from you. Fine. The truth is that instead of tutoring every second Friday like I told you, ivebeeninadungeonsanddragonsgroupwithsomeoftheavguysforthepastfewmonths.”

“Jesus Christ, Kaspbrak, slow your roll,” said Richie, turning to his side to face Eddie better. “Tell me again, but slowly.”

“I’ve been in a Dungeons and Dragons group with some of the AV guys for the past few months,” Eddie repeated, his face the reddest Richie had ever seen it. Richie had been fully prepared to laugh or at least suppress a laugh, but none came. He was too astounded to hear that Eddie played D&D to do anything except stare at him. “At least I was until Steve, you know the president of the AV club? He said that because Grant and Matt can’t sort out their shit, he’s dissolving our party. That’s why I was upset earlier. And, yeah, I get that probably makes me more of a fucking loser than the rest of the other Losers, but I was really enjoying it. I wasn’t expecting to like it as much as I do, but it’s been really fun. See I play this Bard who’s less of a musician and more of a stand-up comedian and I’m starting to get really good at getting into character. He’s so different to me and it was just nice to be able to stop being Eddie Kaspbrak for a few hours to be someone else, you know. And I just –“

Richie places a hand on Eddie’s arm and his words, which had been flying at a mile a minute a moment ago, suddenly falter.

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” he said, knowing he should probably take his hand back now that Eddie had calmed, but somehow not being able to work up the will to. “If you enjoy it, fuck the rest of them, right?”

And it was at that point that he totally meant to tell Eddie that he was doing the same thing with his Fridays – that the two of them had been keeping the same damn secret for half a year – but it was also at that point that he felt Eddie’s lips crash into his.

Richie’s brain shut down. Eddie, Eddie who he’d been in love with for years, was kissing him. Eddie was kissing him. But no sooner had his brain began whirring back to life than Eddie was pulling back with a look of horror.

“Oh my god, Richie, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m so fucking sorry I–“

“Hey, Eddie,” said Richie, smiling as he slid his hand from Eddie’s shoulder to his burning cheek. “Don’t be.”

And all thoughts of dungeons or dragons or the president of the AV club left his mind as he kissed Eddie, enjoying the taste of vanilla ice-cream on the lips he’d been dreaming about for so long, enjoying the way that Eddie’s fingers began tangling through his hair, enjoying his soft laugh as they pulled apart again, and especially enjoying the euphoria rising in him at the realisation that this meant that Eddie felt the same way. He was looking at Richie shyly through his long lashes the way he often did, but now he finally knew what that look meant.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, brushing back a tendril of soft dark hair that had flopped across Eddie’s forehead, “though I totally get the appeal of wanting to be someone else for a few hours, I happen to like Eddie Kaspbrak. Like, a lot.”

“He likes you too,” Eddie replied. “Like, a lot.”

There was no way he was changing trajectory now to tell Eddie his other secret. Not when Eddie was scooting closer to wrap his arms around him, not when the two of them were lying together watching the blue sky turn from orange to pink and eventually deep blue, both the happiest they had been in years.

He later realised of course – long after Eddie finally announced that he should head home, long after the hour it had taken them to finally move after this announcement, long after trying to bring it up during the car ride home, though being unable to find the moment to – that there was no longer a good time to tell Eddie that he also played D&D, not without an unnecessarily awkward conversation.

He had missed his window and now he hoped and prayed that another would miraculously show up.

–

The next two weeks were the best of Richie’s life so far. Though he and Eddie had both agreed to keep it quiet for the time being, there were so many stolen glances, and brushes of skin and kisses that the secret felt less like a burden and more like a covert and daring mission. So far it seemed that the Losers suspected nothing, to the point that they had even gotten away with holding hands the whole way through that week’s movie night without anyone noticing.

As the two of them lived the closest to each other, they spent every moment they could at each other’s houses (though mostly at Richie’s – his parents were far more prone to knocking than Mrs Kaspbrak was). Despite all the time that they spent together, however, Richie still hadn’t found a good way of telling Eddie that he was in a D&D party. He fully acknowledged how ridiculous his situation was – he couldn’t bring himself to say it, though he also couldn’t imagine that Eddie would be too upset if he just told him and it would mean that he could potentially invite him to join their party. Their party could do with a Bard. The rest of the drama kids were too focused on exploring the tragedy of their backstories and the idea of having Eddie’s quick wit and banter at the table was a glorious one.

There was just no good fucking way to bring it up.

It was getting to the point by Thursday evening where he found himself, for the first time ever, dreading the next session. He knew he had to tell him – he wasn’t going to give Eddie a sloppy excuse – but he was already curling into a ball at the embarrassing idea of not only having to admit to Eddie that he also played D&D, but also that, for whatever reason, he had felt too awkward to talk about it until then.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to do anything when a beaming Eddie stopped by Richie’s place on his way home.

“I can’t stay – my mom’s inviting people over tonight so I have to help her set up. I just wanted to let you know that I found another group that plays D&D and I’m starting with them tomorrow. I don’t even have to change my time slot.”

“That’s great,” Richie said, pulling Eddie into a hug just as the pager in his pocket started beeping.

“Shit, that’s my mom. We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

“Always.” Richie kissed Eddie on the cheek and when it looked like he was lingering at the hope of more, Richie laughed and nudged him out the door. “Go, you dork. The last thing we need is your mom not letting you come over anymore because she thinks I’m trying to kidnap you or some bullshit.”

“Miss you already,” said Eddie and though Richie vowed he would never, ever, be one of those couples, the sentiment made his stomach somersault.

“Miss you too,” said Richie, closing the door before he said anything more cliché and sappy than that.

Richie got to Will’s house early the next night to help set up the game table and set out chairs.

“Are you alright there?” his friend asked, giving him a curious look. “You’re kinda bouncy today.”

“I have ADHD – I’m always bouncy.”

“You know what I mean,” scoffed Will. “It’s like you have an extra spring in your step or something.”

For a brief moment, Eddie’s face popped into his head and Richie couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

“I guess I’m just really looking forward to tonight’s session,” he replied and though Will still looked curious, he didn’t press the matter further.

“Oh shit, before I forget,” Will said, taking a tray of pizza rolls out the oven, “we have a new guy joining us tonight.”

It took every one of Richie’s spider-man reflexes not to drop the bowl of chips he was setting out.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded casual and not like his blood was suddenly pounding in his ears.

“Yeah. Steve Himble from the AV club says that two of his players were giving him shit so he decided to just stop the game, but he’d invited this guy from his Biology class to join them and he feels shitty that he dissolved the party just as he was starting to really get into it. Apparently, he’s really good. He’s playing a Bard, so that should be fun.”

“Yeah,” Richie replied, not sure what else to say. Was it too late to fake being sick to avoid the situation that was rapidly hurtling towards him?

The crunch of tyres in the driveway answered that question for him.

When the rest of the party had arrived and there was no sign of Eddie, Richie began to hope against all hope that Eddie had chickened out or that he wasn’t going to show, but there was a damning knock at the door five minutes later. Eddie strolled into the room a moment later, as adorable as he always was, cheeks flushed because he was no doubt embarrassed to be the last to arrive.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said as he strode towards the table. “I took a wrong turn and I got…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes locked with Richie’s and Richie, unsure of what else he could do to make the situation less awkward, waved at him.

“No worries, Eddie,” said Will. “We usually just talk bullshit for the first half an hour anyway. I take it you know Richie?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Eddie replied, pulling his eyes away from Richie to introduce himself to the rest of the party. When he took the seat next to Richie, Richie was certain that his heart was visibly thudding like in a Tex Avery cartoon.

“Sorry, Eds, I meant to tell you, but the moment passed on the first day and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up again without looking like a dumbass,” Richie whispered.

“The good news is that you don’t need to worry about looking like a dumbass,” Eddie replied under his breath as he set out his character sheet, notebook, and dice, “because you are one. And I’d be a lot madder at you if it wasn’t just such a fucking relief to see you here.”

He threaded his fingers through Richie’s under the table, and Richie beamed at him. The crisis had been averted.

Eddie was as good as Will said he was. It became instantly clear from the moment he opened his mouth that he was just what the party needed. His Bard was snarky, impulsive and had a witty comeback for almost everything. Richie had been right in his guess that they would role-play well together – their characters bantered back and forth seamlessly and it filled Richie with pride to see the rest of the party laughing at Eddie’s clever one-liners. It was also the best feeling in the world to glance over at the person he loved more than anyone else in the world and know that he was enjoying all of this as much as he was.

While in combat with several wyverns that had suddenly snuck up on the party, Eddie nudged Richie, pushing his notebook closer so that he could read what he had scribbled there.

Salvan is kinda based on you, just so you know.

Richie couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, despite the twenty points of damage Lucy’s character took just then. He scrawled his reply beneath Eddie’s message, the words curving up because of the angle he was writing at.

Pips is kinda based on you too.

Eddie gave him a confused look and began writing again.

An angry little gnome cleric? I don’t get it.

Richie raised an eyebrow at him.

Think about it, babe. You’re obsessed with making the people around you better – healing – and you hold a disproportionate amount of rage for someone so small.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at Richie after reading the note, but the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

Fuck you so much, Tozier. ♡

Richie’s stomach flipped at the little heart next to his name, and he smiled softly to himself as he penned his reply.

Fuck you too, Kaspbrak. ♡♡

Eddie blushed, and Richie wondered how he had gotten so lucky. For the first time in years, he officially had no secrets.

Well, he mused as he took Eddie’s hand again under the table, at least not from him.

–

@faequill

#reddie #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #reddie fanfic #reddie fic #it movie #i finally wrote the thing #whoop whoop #long post

[forallyourikemensengokuneeds]

Mitsuhide’s willful daughter

Mitsuhide's willful daughter

The princess knew of all her children with Azchui's Kitsune; their middle daughter would be the most like him. She not only looked more like him she also had his sneaky personality. Their sons were more laid back as she was, however, her husband had, of course, trained them to handle a sword as well as your friend Sasuke who taught them with essential skills for being a ninja. She often had to sit back and watch as the two would go at it head on when she was nothing but a toddler following him around day and night. Mitsuhide doted on all of his children; he loved them all in their own unique way. He trained Their daughters along with their older and young brothers, but the one who took all his lessons to heart was his second daughter who he knew was going to cause trouble when she was older than her ten years now.

He remembered her as a baby, the first of his children to look entirely like him with very little of her beautiful princess mother in her. She was headstrong from the beginning, and she was also the one who favored him over her mother. All the rest of his horde wanted nothing to do with him until they were older opting to stay and cuddle with the princess. Minka was different, she wanted him, and he spoiled the young girl until he saw the effect she had. His friends had dubbed her hurricane Minka because where she went things happened. He knew she was fearless and often started little troubles around the castle town, but when she was three, she snuck into the castle's kitchen with the help of one of her older brothers and got ahold of Nobunaga's konpetio. She moved it from its regular place to another not taking any but relocating it to a location she thought was better. She had heard her uncle Hideyoshi complaining about how Nobunaga would steal his own candy and she as a child thought that was ridiculous. Why steal your own candy? So she moved it, and she sat back and watched from the courtyard as Nobunaga lost his temper when his candy stash was gone. She thought silly men, even then. The whole castle was brought down as the lord and master was losing his mind when her father and mother both looked at her. Her mother was laughing slightly, and her father looked deadly as they both made their way over to her to ask if she had anything to do with this. She smiled at both, and they both knew she was going to be in trouble and get worse with age.

When she was five, Minka wanted to learn from Ieyasu how to use herbs. After talking with the princess, he agreed to show her a few but none that could be used in any poison. Minka was slightly upset with that news, but even then she could understand how misguided her uncles were. She was trying to help most of the time, and they were the ones being backward about it. So like always she took the labels off Ieyasu's jars to make new ones that were more clear to read and forgot where everything was again. She just wanted to make things easier for him, and he told her to go. She tried to help and yet again she knew she was just misunderstood. She thought it had to do with the last name as they always said "There goes another Akechi, just like her father," though she had no idea what that meant at the time, but that saying went with her as she grew. Funny as it was no one said that about her brothers and sisters

She was now nine and wanted to help more. She was taking cooking lessons with Masamune who was cooking for a feast, and she was determined to help. She knew by then taste and flavors were lost on her father, but her mother enjoyed them. She also knew Ieyasu loved spicy things while most others didn't. She wanted to help and her uncle Masamune was the fun uncle as he worked around the kitchen he was fun to watch chop things up, and he was patient enough to help guide her. She was in the kitchen as he was plating everyone's dishes while she was waiting to help she saw what she thought was Ieyasu's plate and she decided to add a half jar of red pepper flakes because surely he might like her again if she surprised him with the spice. That was until all the dishes went out and she saw her uncle, Mitsunari with the plate that Ieyasu was supposed to have. She went to stop him but it was too late, and he was already popping them into his mouth. She waited and watched as his color changed, and he started gasping for air. Her father instantly looked at her and knew as he got cold water for his friend and took his daughter outside before the rest of them could accuse her of trying to poison everyone.

"Minka, Why?", he asked as the two walked.

"I was trying to help again.", she replied. "It wasn't supposed to go to Mitsunari but Ieyasu. He would like the extra spice."

"Minka, My dear, can you not try to help for a little while?", He asked. Knowing that the others knew this one would be the one to follow in his footsteps and have doubt thrown on her always up to something as he was.

"Papa, I was just trying to hel.p.", she cried out.

"I know Minka. You are unlike your siblings who are tempered with a good portion of your mother, you, however, are special in a different way and very much like me.", he started. "You will often be misunderstood so for the time being could you please tone it down a bit in helping people."

"I guess papa.", she said as her head hung low.

"Run home.", He said as he went to go inside to make her excuse only to find Nobunaga laughing and everyone else in good spirits. He walked to his wife and cocked a brow at her.

"Mitsunari decided he liked it after all. I am taking it Minka had something to do with the spice war?", she asked.

"That girl will kill them all, I swear.", he said as he sat down next to her taking her into his lap.

"She is the most like you.", she said smiling.

"I know, that's what scares me.", he said hoping for the future as he knew his daughter would have a hand in future whether it is bad or good.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikémen sengoku #ikésen #akechi mitsuhide #re-release #willful daughter