#and sometimes i just want to bang both of our heads against the first flat surface to give us both a little peace of mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nicka-nell · 3 years

Text

HQHQ Collab - First Choice

Pairing: Atsumu x reader, mention of Bokuto

Words: 6.822

Warning: mention of unnamed cheating ex-boyfriend, angst if you squint really hard, fluff, friends to lovers

Beta-reader: thank you for beta reading the fic @xmyshya

Summary: You’ve been living with your best friend for a few weeks, crying to him about your ex-boyfriend cheating on you. But Atsumu no longer wants to see you sad and offers himself as Wingman once more when he tries to set you up with his teammate.

This story is part of our HQHQ server collab with the prompt: When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when? You can find the other stories here. So check out all the other wonderful writers.

“Y/n now go on and get up!” Atsumu’s loud voice wakes you up. With swollen eyes you turn to him, your hair still ruffled, left and right of you lie the crumpled handkerchiefs with which you have cried yourself quietly and secretly into sleep.

You’re tired, your head hurts, and Atsumu’s loud babbling doesn’t help your headache to settle. Reluctantly you pull your blanket over your head, but in vain. Because even before you can get used to the darkness and the warmth underneath, to the calm without the voice of the dyed blond-haired man, he pulls the coat off your body with a jerk and confronts you with the cold morning air, through the open window in your room.

“Tsumu, you idiot, give me the blanket back!” You whine, but he doesn’t even think about it. “Why does your bed look like a mess again? It’s been two months, and you’re still crying after this asshole? It’s enough with moping around.” Before he can finish his sentence, you can feel his hands curling around your ankles and how your legs were jerking forward, setting your entire body in motion.

“Tsumu what are you doing?” You scream and try to hold on to the upper edge of the bed. For a few seconds you manage to resist his tug, but you soon realize that he is stronger than you.

But Atsumu has apparently forgotten to calculate that you would let go and pulls you off the bed with so much momentum that you both land on the floor.

“Ah, Tsumu you airhead! Now my ass and feet are hurting. Why did you do this?” You want to know while you’re rubbing your butt, which you landed on a few seconds ago. Sulking, you look over to your best friend, who is also sitting on the floor, supporting his weight on hands behind his back.

“Sorry, I forgot how weak you are.” He teases you with a grin. “But you seem to be awake now, eh?”

“Yeah, awake and angry…” You quickly add to his statement and look at him with a wrinkled forehead. “Don’t look so evil. That wannabe look doesn’t suit you. I told you before, if you want to talk, I’m just a room away. No need to cry yourself to sleep.”

Even if he annoyed you earlier, you realize in his words that he’s worried about you. It’s been two months since you saw your boyfriend… No Ex-boyfriend with another girl. Just “saw them” is wrong. He had kissed her, touched her, and you were sure that if you hadn’t confronted them directly, more would have happened.

Atsumu was there for you, caught you with open arms and told you that everything would be fine. Because that’s how he always was. Back then, when the kids at school had teased you, when the girls had blasphemed you because you had always gotten along better with the boys. He was also the one who comforted you at your first lovesickness.

Ironically, you had a crush on his brother, who at the time had no thought of such trifles as love. The first time you were really in love with someone, it was Atsumu who tried to set you up with that person. Because it was none other than his volleyball teammate Suna who had twisted your head.

The fake blonde had really tried everything to make you as interesting as possible for Suna, had always invited you and Suna to ‘learn’ and then left the room for hours to leave you alone. But in the end, it didn’t work out because Suna told you he had feelings for another girl.

When your heart broke into thousands of pieces for the first time, it was Atsumu who had carefully tried to pick up all the shards and cautiously glue them back to the right place. He was always there for you. And even though you know what your heart wants, you shut yourself away from it. Because Atsumu is your best friend. The man who will always stand behind you to give you a push forward so you can finally find your happiness. Without him.

“That’s enough sulking! What do you say you come to practice with me today? Get to know my teammates and friends? Maybe there’s someone in there who piques your interest, eh?” He grins mischievously and wiggles his eyebrows before he straightens up and stretches his hand forward to help you up.

“Mhm… You’re not gonna leave me alone before I say yes anyway, are you?” You mumble as he pulls your body upward.

He still grins as he nods and lets go of your hand just to bring it to your hair. “But before that… you go take a shower and make sure that this nest on your head becomes the normal beautiful hair you actually have. All right?” He laughs as he pulls a scrap of a handkerchief out of your hair.

Oh God, how embarrassing you think and at the same moment you have to laugh. No matter what you look like, even if you are wrinkled, with greasy hair, mustard stains on your top and swollen eyes, Atsumu still likes you. After all, he sees you as a buddy.

“Well, I guess… I’m gonna get ready. Can you make breakfast, Tsumu?”

“Are you nuts? There is no more time for breakfast. I can heat the last slice of pizza from last night’s movie.”

“Oh, you’ll be such a good husband someday, Tsumu.” You answer him sarcastically as you shake your head and pass Atsumu.

“Sure, and you eventually become a good wife Y/n.” He calls after you, but you already lift your middle finger and slam the door behind you with a smile on your face. “Tze… Tsumu you idiot.”

The knife slices the butter with ease as Atsumu greases the butter on a toasted slice of bread to put your favorite cold cuts on top. Because he was just joking. Your first meal shouldn’t be a piece of old pizza.

When you’re with Atsumu, you forget all the things that made you sad. You’re happy and glad to have such a good friend by your side. And even though you said it sarcastically earlier, you still meant it like this, that he would make a woman very happy. Just with the thought of him and another woman, you feel a short sting in your chest, but you are sure that deep down you have to think about your ex-boyfriend and that you still miss him.

“Ready to go! Give me that slice of pizza or I’ll eat your friends.” You shout out to Atsumu as you enter the hallway through the doorstep. Once in there, you can hear his muffled voice calling out to you while his voice comes closer and closer.

It is only a second where Atsumu stops in the doorway, looks at you before he continues his walk and pushes the slice of bread and an apple into your hand. “I can’t let you smell like tuna and garlic the first time you met my friends.”

With rolling eyes you take the bread from him, push it into your mouth before putting on your thin cardigan and place the apple in your jacket pocket. According to your phone, the weather today is anything but cool and gray.

But just as you want to pull your zipper up, you feel something heavy landing on your shoulders, looking confused from left to right before your gaze sweeps up from the yellow fabric on your shoulders to the fake blond-haired man.

You don’t need words, your gaze is filled with the question of why he gave you his jacket. But again he just lay down his arms against his hips, grins casually. “Well, you’re with me or not? Not that they’ll think you’re a paparazzo at the gym entrance and not let you in.”

With the words ‘you’re with me,’ your heart gives a beat. “Don’t you think your friends will think we’re together, Tsumu? That this is more such a friend-girlfriend thing?”

The entire car ride is quiet, but it’s not an unpleasant silence. Only the radio rattles quietly, while Atsumu complains about the careless drivers or cyclists, and that there is never a parking space in front of the gym.

“Ah, don’t talk such nonsense. You can tell we’re just friends, you dummy.” Another bang, no stab, making your chest heavier. “Sure… right.” You just mumble quietly. So quietly that Atsumu cannot understand it as you breathe in the fine fragrance of his harsh deodorizer as you walk past him and leave the flat.

You have to admit you’re a little nervous standing outside the hall with Atsumu. You can hear voices from inside. Probably his friends. As if Atsumu understood your feelings, he puts his arm over your shoulder to give you more security, and enters the room freshener smelling hall with you.

It doesn’t take long for all eyes to be on you until the first person beckons Atsumu and the next one goes on you. A boy with orange hair that you remember very well. Atsumu’s school team had a game against him. They lost and Atsumu was talking to you for weeks about how he wanted to play with this little boy sometime.

Behind him stands a dark-haired man, hands in the pockets of his jacket, while he lingers in place, watching you only from a distance. That should be Sakusa. The guy Atsumu always talks about, how clean and special he is when it comes to hygiene.

Just when you want to turn to Hinata again, as he is still waving towards you, another man runs towards you at an incredible speed, shaking your hand vigorously with sparkling eyes. Your whole body is shaking, you’re getting headaches, but somehow you find his overactive anticipation cute.

“Hey, hey, hey! I‘m Bokuto Koutarou! I’m a super ace and I’m really successful!” He grins proudly, which makes you giggle. Of course he is. After all, he plays in the same team as Atsumu.

Yet Bokuto does not remain long in his proud posture. His shoulders collapse after a few seconds, while his gaze wanders to Atsumu. “Hey, Tsum-Tsum, why didn’t you tell me you were coming with your girlfriend today?” He wants to know from the fake blonde one.

Irritated, you look over to Bokuto, wanting to clear up the misunderstanding as the voice of an older man interrupts you. “Miya, the next time you bring someone, please report this to me first. Now, warm up and let’s start training.” The man you consider to be the coach says to Atsumu, who nods in agreement before pointing at a bench where you should sit, before he goes to warm up with Bokuto and Hinata.

Although you talk little to people, you’re not bored watching them train. It pleases you to see how everyone is with full passion. From time to time the man who introduced you as Bokuto grins at you, waving a little awkwardly before Atsumu admonishes him and turns his attention away from you. He’s kind of cute.

“Oh Tsumu…” you mumble quietly while chuckling unconsciously as you watch Atsumu reprimand Bokuto for being so easily distracted, and how Bokuto lets his shoulders drop apologetically.

“You seem to have had a lot of fun today, eh?” The question is rhetorical, because of course you did. He recognized that in your face. With the rest of yesterday’s pizza and a salad with smoked tofu, he sits down next to you at the dinner table.

The training passes, and your attention on Bokuto grows. First a few glimpses you exchange, then words and sentences, up to such long dialogues that he completely forgets his break and is called back to the playing field by Atsumu to finally finish the training.

“You could have introduced me to your friends earlier. Especially Bokuto. He’s kind of cuddly.” You babble while you are in your thoughts about the cheerful man.

“So, so… Bokuto, huh? Looks like I got a new job as a wingman, eh? Give me a few days to figure something out. Operation Lovebirds begins.” His eyes are narrow and playful, while his face is only a few inches away from yours.

As Atsumu had said, a few days pass. Days in which you were always at his training, always with the yellow jacket which makes you feel much safer and more comfortable. Days when you often talk to Bokuto during breaks.

Your heart gives a quick blow as the warmth of his breath hits your lips. From the excitement? Excitement to see Bokuto again soon, right? With an unnaturally bright laugh, you slap him on the shoulder, turn to the pizza, before you both go to your own rooms and get ready for bed.

Atsumu has the idea to take Bokuto to Osamu’s store, like he’s doing almost every Saturday to eat together. Sometimes the other teammates come with him, but this time he will only ask Bokuto.

He wants to lure him to the store and write to him shortly before, so that he has no time. You would sit already in the store and then pretend after a few minutes as if you had randomly noticed Bokuto. You could eat, talk and maybe even exchange your numbers. The idea was perfect.

As agreed, you sit at a table near the kitchen, looking at the menu while watching Bokuto from the corner of your eye. How he reaches for his cell phone and how his cheerful look is slowly getting sad, because he probably reads the message from Atsumu that he will not come.

You consider going straight to him, but your vibrating phone prevents you from it. A message from Atsumu with the words ‘Mission lovebirds can begin’. An unconscious grin spreads across your face as you read the message before a voice makes you shrink.

“Has someone also dumped you?” You hear Bokuto’s sad voice and make a brief shout when you see him standing right next to you. “Bokuto!”

You laugh a lot, seem to have a lot of fun and get along great. At least that’s what Atsumu can see from his brother’s kitchen. Because of course he didn’t want to miss out on seeing if you two really come along well with each other.

“Ah! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you! Uh… mind if I sit here?” He asks clumsily, pointing to the free chair opposite of you. Nodding, you invite him to sit down before quickly putting your phone in a pocket and start talking to Bokuto.

“Why are you here, Tsumu?” His brother’s voice makes him look away from you.

“Eh? What do you mean, Samu? I want to see if I’m successful with my mission.”

“Sure, stop lying to yourself.” Osamu quietly talks to his twin while he continues to prepare the Onigiri for his guests. But his brother doesn’t answer him, just looks out of the round kitchen window at the table where you talk to Bokuto with a smile on your face.

“You know I didn’t reject Y/n back then because I had no interest in girls. So finally get some balls in your pants.” With a full plate of Onigiri, Osamu crosses his twin, passes the plate to his server at the counter, before he enters the kitchen without a word.

“If she’s happy, I’m happy for her too. Why don’t you understand, Samu?” He now turns his gaze away from you, instead looking at the unfinished rice that Osamu had prepared for the next order. It annoys him that his brother has to address this topic again and again. It’s not up to Atsumu to decide what you want. After all, it’s up to you.

“So? So you don’t mind if I invite her on a date if it doesn’t work out with Bokuto? As long as she’s happy, it shouldn’t be a problem for me to taste her lips.” He deliberately tries to provoke his brother, and for a split second he sees Atsumu twitching his eyes, his cheekbones sticking out from his clenched teeth before looking his brother in the eye.

“If that’s what makes her happy. Then make her happy, damn it, understand?”

“What the hell, what’s wrong with you, Tsumu!” His brother yells at him, furiously stomping to him and grabbing him by his collar. He expected such an answer, but not this flat, indifferent response, which is supposed to hide Atsumu’s feelings.

Atsumu also grabs his twin by the collar, pushes him away from himself and continues the scramble. Again and again he tries to explain to him it is not Osamu’s problem and he should not interfere in his things and anew Osamu tries to convince him to finally listen to his feelings. Plates fall over, knives that lay on the work surface as the voice of the server stops the two men.

“Eh… I’m sorry, but at table four, the lady was asking what was in the spring drink because of her allergies.” Both let off from each other while Atsumu’s steps carry him quickly back to the round window to look at your table. Because he’s irritated that you’re asking that question.

The fake blond man hardly notices the voices of the two men in the kitchen. His heart suddenly beats restlessly. A young girl your age sat next to you and Bokuto. Atsumu’s plan to set you up with Bokuto seems to be failing.

“Nobody ditched me, Bokuto. Actually, I just wanted to drop by and leave Osamu a nice greeting when it becomes a bit quieter here. But it always seems to be full here.” You lie because you wouldn’t even have come here without this plan from Atsumu.

He feels bad that a small part of him hopes Bokuto finds the other girl interesting, but Atsumu quickly talks himself up that he just wants you to be happy.

With a quick beating heart you hope that Bokuto does not see through your lie, but when he smiles at you, you are sure that he believes you.

“Oh sure, right! If you know one Miya brother, you automatically have the other on your back, don’t you? Especially when you’re so close.” He grins, and his words remind you of the incident in the gym. There, Bokuto said something similar. He wrongly portrayed you as girlfriend and friend, which was certainly due to Atsumu’s jacket. And just as you were about to correct him there, their trainer babbled something into the room.

You definitely need to clarify that you two are just friends, otherwise you can’t ask Bokuto for his number. Just friends…

“Uh Bokuto? I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Tsumu and I-”

“Y/n? Oh my God, is that you?”

Again, someone interrupts you. This time not Atsumu’s coach or Atsumu, but a person you haven’t seen for ages. Your old school friend, who was with you at the same club and with whom you really got along well.

Because of your ex-boyfriend, your paths somehow separated, but you’re thrilled to see her now. “Oh Mei, is it you? You’ve really changed, wow.” You smile at her before you greet her and sit down again.

“I don’t want to bother you guys, and I’m sure that’s rude, but is it okay if I join you? If I annoy you, I’ll leave!”

Mostly you’re just here to get a date with Bokuto, but sending her away now would be too suspicious. For a moment you think about how to best handle this situation, but Bokuto takes the decision off you by inviting her to join you and just stay as long as she wants.

You talk partly to Mei, partly to Bokuto for a while when you check if Atsumu has written anything to you. You’re surprised he hasn’t asked you how the date goes. Is he on a date right now himself?

“Y/n? Did you hear?” Mei’s voice gets you out of your mind again, before you look at her absent-minded. “I have to go now, but… I was really happy to see you again and I hope we can repeat that soon. And I was also pleased to meet you Bokuto.” She adds, before she smiles at you both and goes to the counter to pay her bill and leave the bar.

Just when Bokuto wants to say something, his phone rings and he apologizes to you for a moment. You take the opportunity to write to Atsumu, ask him if you should take some Onigiri with you from his brother’s shop and hope for a hint if he had a date. Because if he doesn’t want some Onigiri, he sure is having dinner with another woman.

Two minutes go by, four… Ten minutes until Bokuto comes back in, and you feel your phone vibrating at the same moment. A simple “No, I’ve already eaten.” is his answer. An answer that suddenly makes you feel so weird.

“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting. Akaashi, my best friend, called me. I have to see him. Is it okay if we postpone our meeting for another time? So… I mean this random meeting.” He smiles embarrassed, and scratches the back of his head as he puts his jacket around his shoulders and shoves the chair back to the table.

“Oh hm? Sure. I would be happy to meet you again Bokuto!” You answer him enthusiastically, even if you’re still on Atsumu’s date in your mind. Did he really go out with a girl? Why do you not know her? Why didn’t he tell you?

“Perfect! So, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Then let’s talk about some meetings during my break. I’ll go to Samu and pay the bill for us.”

“Wa-!” You want to stop him, pay your own bill but Bokuto already stamps away from you and knocks on the kitchen door to lure Osamu out and pay.

He doesn’t know how fast he ran to be home before you. Good thing he didn’t tell you about the shortcut, or you’d have run into each other. Fully sweaty, he jumps into the shower, trying to get the smell of Osamu’s kitchen out of his hair as he hears your voice dull from the hallway in the bathroom.

Together you leave the restaurant, but then go your separate ways. Although this is not the first time you walk this path, even though you don’t need twenty minutes on the way, it seems like an eternity to you. Absorbed in your thoughts, you kick a round stone along the sidewalk, burying your hands in your trouser pockets while watching it roll. The long gray road matching gray walls on the sidewalk, no car to see. Everything is dreary and you feel odd, but also happy at the same time. After all, Bokuto seems as interested in you as you are in him. You can quickly overlook the fact that Atsumu is probably on his own date right now.

“Tsumu? Are you home airhead?”

Hissing, he shakes his head, rubs his towel through his wet hair, ties it around his hip and glances into the mirror before he goes out.

“Tsumu! Put some damn clothes on!”

“I’m also pleased to see you. Got my clothes in the bedroom. Don’t worry, I’ll put something on. But first, how was your date?” The question was unnecessary. Of course he knew, because he was there, watching you. But you don’t know that.

Atsumu studies how you dance on your tiptoes, how you swing your body forward and backward, and tap your lower lip. You always do that when you’re nervous. But before he can even give another thought to you, your body moves forward in his direction.

Just a few seconds pass when your soft skin lies on his, your arms wrap around his neck and you hug him. Atsumu stops as if petrified. Because his heart beats fast, your body so close to his triggers so much in him.

Carefully, he pushes you away from his chest, hoping you didn’t hear his raging heart. Yet, your arms remain on his neck, your warmth on him, although this on his chest slowly fades.

Lovingly you look at him, a look that gives him an unknown sting. An expression that you would probably turn to a big brother, otherwise he cannot interpret it. But he cannot look away from your warm eyes. Those bright, happy eyes that captivate him.

“The date was really great and tomorrow at the training we want to make a new one! Bokuto is such an incredibly great guy, and he is so funny. He made me laugh so many times and it’s sweet how emotional he always is and ah! He is really fine. Thank you for introducing him to me.”

Silently you look each other in the eyes, speak with your eyes instead of words. Subconsciously, your fingers move, gently stroking his neck up and down, while your sugar-sweet laugh makes Atsumu even crazier.

His body acts on its own as it bends forward, coming to a halt just in front of your face. But his mind quickly catches up with his body, for his words wander down your cheek to your ears as he whispers to you quietly that he is happy for you.

“So mission complete, eh?” With a mischievous grin, he tries to distract you from his previous action, patting on your shoulders with his hands before he walks past you and strolls towards his room door.

“I’m gonna put some clothes on. You should take a shower and get some sleep. You stink and need your beauty sleep for Bokuto tomorrow.”

“Haha, very funny! I love you too, you idiot.”

Days go by when you talk to Bokuto a lot. At training, to the detriment of everyone else, eating ice cream after training or just sitting around in the park and doing nothing. You get along well, laugh a lot, talk a lot about his buddies - Akaashi and Atsumu. After your dates you always tell Atsumu how much fun you had and are sure that you deafen his ears with your Bokuto-talk.

Words that come so easily out of your lips, for they are meant amicably. Words that are so easy to understand, but leave a bitter heavy feeling in his heart.

Today you both sit on a wall in the park again, fooling around like good friends. For a moment your shoulders brush against each other, when Bokuto twitches and stares embarrassed down at you. You too feel your body getting more restless, out of balance as you look into his golden yellow eyes. Both of you are silent, always opening your mouth to say something, but then close it again.

“So, eh… Do you… remember our first random meeting? In Osamu’s store?” Bumpy, he tries to find the right words, starts playing with the moss growing between the grooves of the stone wall.

Your chest suddenly stops moving. Out of panic you hold your breath because you are afraid that he has found out that Atsumu is behind this coupling action.

“I was wondering if… Well, there was your school friend there, and I was wondering if maybe you could… could give me her number?”

“Her number?” You realize how anger slowly boils in you, how an unpleasant feeling rages in your body and you suddenly feel so uncomfortable and stupid. With a bitter hiss you laugh up, turn your face away from Bokuto so that he cannot see your sparkling eyes. Eyes that don’t sparkle with joy, no. Eyes that sparkle with tingling tears and leave small wet spots, like those of rain, on the stone wall below you.

Of course he wanted her number, of course he did. After all, it was always like this. Whether it was Osamu or Suna, your ex boyfriend or any other man you found cute or attractive. You were always the second choice. You were always good as a friend, but not good enough as a girlfriend. There was always another who came before you, who had taken the place that you had so longingly aspired to. It was always like this.

So why did you think things should be different with Bokuto right now? Did you really think there was a man who had only you in his mind? A man who adores you as much as you do him?

“Why all the dates Bokuto? Why did you invite me to all those dates, get my hopes up if you only wanted my friend’s number, anyway? Why...? Never mind, forget it!” You sniff and jump off the wall to get out of here as soon as possible. Only Bokuto remains, sitting on the wall in confusion, trying to understand your last words.

With his cell phone in his hand, Atsumu scrolls through your messages, through your enthusiastic and joyful words about Bokuto while lying on the couch, the free hand behind his head. On the table is the last bit of a spinach-garlic pizza he ordered shortly after you went on your date with Bokuto. His thumb stops at a note in which you jokingly wrote to him that you also love him when he teased you with your crush on Bokuto. Words that hurt more every day, the longer you stay at Atsumu’s flat.

“Get your hopes up? H- Hey, Y/n wait!” He calls you, but your silhouette gets smaller and smaller. You’re not thinking of turning in his direction again.

His gaze is focused on his cell phone, the thumb still on that one message as a new message covers it. Irritated, he looks at the name of his teammate, who sends him one message after the other. Although he hasn’t read the messages yet, he has a bad feeling. He doesn’t know if it’s worry or something else, but he must think of you directly as he opens the messages with shaky fingers and straightens up on the sofa.

>> Tsumu-Tsumu! Get on your phone! I think I screwed up! I thought Y/n is your girlfriend and today something weird happened, and! I screwed up, man. Tell her I- <<

Atsumu is still reading Bokuto’s incoming messages, can hardly keep up with them when the loud banging of the front door makes him startled. As if he has just been caught in something forbidden, he throws his cell phone in panic behind the couch and looks in the direction of the living room door in which you suddenly stand.

Your eyes are red, nose runny, and your words come to him only as a loud sob. In him everything hurts at this sight of you.

“Tsumu!” You sniff and want to make a step forward to your best friend, but Atsumu is faster. He takes you in his arms as you press your head against his warm chest. His fingertips glide slowly through your hair, calming you while his grip around your waist becomes firmer.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” His words that softly kiss your ears calm you down. He knows exactly that there is no point in questioning you now, because you are still too busy collecting yourself again. So he just keeps silent, caresses your head and listens to you as your sniffing gets less and less, your fast, hasty breathing gets calmer and calmer.

“You want to tell me what happened?” His muscular arm loosens easily from your waist, his hand stroking you, now raises your head and makes you look at him. With a loving smile, he wipes away your tears, puts his arms on your shoulders and waits for your answer.

Hard you breathe out, try to pull yourself together, but your voice remains shaky.

“Bokuto… He just wanted her number… He didn’t care about me.” You notice how your voice becomes unclear again, begins to tremble more and your sniffing is again to take over your voice. But Atsumu’s thumb, which caresses your shoulders, calms you down again and you try to spell your words back into clear sentences.

“He wasn’t interested in me. At least not so… Tsumu, it’s like that every time. Men always fall in love with other women. I’m always just the third wheel. Am I that ugly? Am I so unattractive that every man sees me as a buddy? Tsumu… When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?”

Your eyes glittering with tears, search for his eyes. His heart breaks with the sad look you give him. And although the answer to your question is on his lips, he would like to scream it out of himself, yet a big lump sticks to his neck and keeps him silent.

“Tsumu when?” Is the only thing that comes out of you broken, now that not even your best friend can give you an answer to that question.

It was probably his fault you’re so sad now. Because Bokuto didn’t mention that school friend of yours once. He probably only said that because he thought you were Atsumu’s girlfriend and he didn’t want to destroy the friendship of the two men.

It was Atsumu’s fault that when he introduced you to his team, he didn’t make it right that you weren’t his girlfriend. The fake blond had not done this on purpose. His words just didn’t want to come out of him back then. Only later he had understood why he had tried to make his friends believe that you are his girlfriend.

He’d have to answer his cell phone, read Bokuto’s messages to be one hundred percent sure he wasn’t serious about your school friend, but his body isn’t moving. Actually, he can’t move anyway, because you clenched your hands into fists and clutched them into his shirt.

Atsumu should set it right. But in him, Osamu’s voice pushes forward. The words Atsumu wanted to deny. ‘You’re in love with her… Stop lying to yourself… Finally, get some balls in your pants.’

Not even your best friend can answer your question. How could he if he met with others every time you were with Bokuto? But even though it hurts that Bokuto rejected you, it hurts more that Atsumu doesn’t give you an answer.

With a sad sigh, you push his hands off your shoulders and set your legs in motion to go to your bedroom and be alone. But you can’t take many steps, because Atsumu holds you to your wrist just to turn you back to him.

Slowly, without strength and without joy, you look up to him. In his face, which shows so many emotions at once, yet he tries to hide them all from you. You notice how he struggles with his words, not knowing how to begin. His grip on your arm gets tighter. It almost hurts, but you say nothing.

“You… You have always been… my first choice.” He says hesitantly, in such an uncertain tone which is unlikely for him. His words are so quiet that you don’t understand them, just look at him questioning.

“Y/n, you have always been and always will be my first choice. Shit, I know I’m gonna ruin our friendship with this, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m selfish, yes, I know. I didn’t correct the statement when Bokuto said that you were my girlfriend because I didn’t want to see you with someone else who would just hurt you again. Y/n I can’t see you sad anymore. I don’t want to see you like this anymore. It just doesn’t work anymore. Ever since you’ve began living here, swinging your sweet little ass around my apartment, eating with me, spending evenings, and almost all days, I can’t think of anything but seeing you as more than just a buddy. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? Shit, you airhead, I love you.”

His words become clearer and clearer, on the contrary to his expression. Then, as his tone becomes firmer, his gaze becomes more anxious. And now you understand. You always wanted the perfect boyfriend. Wanted to have a man by your side who loves you, who Atsumu gets along with since he is your best friend and had never noticed that he was always your second choice.

You always wanted someone who liked your friends, who understood you, and that person was always at your side. You knew why Bokuto’s words didn’t hurt you as much as Atsumu’s silence a few minutes earlier. You knew why you enjoyed wearing Atsumu’s jacket, and you knew why it didn’t bother you that Atsumu had not corrected the statement, and so the rumor arose that you two were a couple. Also you knew why you wanted to convince yourself that Atsumu met other women to not feel bad about going out with one of his friends. You knew, but you never wanted to face it. Because like Atsumu, you were afraid of losing the person you needed most.

You open your mouth soundlessly. If you say nothing now, you are sure that the man in front of you will immediately lose his temper with excitement and fear.

Although you have said the words many times, your heart is racing like crazy, your belly is tingling and your chest is almost painfully contracting. You’re nervous, nervous like when you had to introduce yourself to the big class full of people.

“I love you too, you idio-” Before you can finish your sentence, the warm lips of Atsumu, which lie gently on yours silence your last words. Full of pleasure you give a quiet whimper, trying to calm your loud throbbing heart in vain. Because your body burns, trembles, is numb and awake at the same time. Your thoughts are going crazy.

Atsumu also gives a relieved sigh, almost as if a huge load has fallen from his shoulders. His arms quickly wrap around your cheeks, stroking your face while his lips open a little and you feel his wet tongue on your mouth. You have the feeling that your body has just gotten warmer, reducing the last distance between you and giving off a gasp as you also open your mouth slightly to allow him to enter. His hand, which stroked your cheek earlier, seeks its way to the back of your head to bury itself in your hair and pull your head back a bit to kiss you better.

For a moment your tongues dance together, your bodies almost link as you interrupt your kiss and look into Atsumu’s excited face. His cheeks are reddish, lips slightly puffed up from your kiss, while his breath lands warm on your body.

“What’s the matter Y/n?” He whispers hoarsely, the expression slightly playful. But you just look at him with a slightly silly grin.

“Did you eat garlic, Tsumu?”

For a moment he looks at you, as if a fuse blew through him. He’s thinking about what you meant by that, before he starts sulking while stretching his head backwards, so that he’s looking at the ceiling.

“Ah shit, if I had known I’d tell you that I love you, that we would be kissing, I would have bitten into a rose and not into a pizza with extra garlic.”

Laughing, you put your head on his chest, looking up at him while he continues to stare at you sulking. “Is there still a slice, bunny?”

“One piece, but it’s already bitten, babe.” He grins and reminds you of all the nights you two sat on the sofa watching series and arguing about who gets the last piece of food. Once Atsumu had licked the last piece and thus reserved it for himself, sometimes you were faster. You were acting like toddlers, but you were having an incredible time. You just had fun with him, always.

“Your tongue was watching if all my teeth were still in my mouth a few seconds ago. Do you think it bothers me that the pizza piece is bitten?”

“Guess not. But give your sexy boyfriend a last stinky kiss. Okay?” He smirks and sharpens his lips playfully to tease you and brings his arms around your body so that you can’t escape. Only so you press his lips away from you, laughing until Atsumu finally gives you a fleeting kiss and you act as if you faint and lean against his chest.

Your loud laughter resounds through the room and your hands do not let go of the other until you are quiet and enjoy the moment in silence.

“I love you Y/n. You, my first choice.” He whispers to you as he gives you one last kiss on your crown.

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya x reader #hqhq server collab

200 notes · View notes

helenazbmrskai · 4 years

Text

Shush

Wow. I think this is the filthiest and the most messed up shit I’ve ever written in my whole life send me holly water pls (after you enjoyed reading this duh) I don’t know how this idea popped up in my mind one night but yeah don’t come at me.

💊Title ‹ Shush ›

💊Pairing ‹ Jimin x OC (f) ›

💊Genre ‹ adopted brother au, forbidden/unhealthy romance, smut, angst ›

💊Summary ‹ Forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest and when the fruit comes in the form of an innocent boy it’s even sweeter. ›

💊Warnings ‹ emotional manipulation, discussions about an incurable disease, unhealthy relationship dynamics, some fluff, multiple smut scenes filthy so be aware!, mention (and brief description) of sexual fantasies, sub! Jimin, soft domme! OC, teasing, mention of porn watching, brief imagined masturbation, corruption kink, first time, virgin! Jimin, blowjob, handjob, good boy Jiminie, jealous OC, oral (f), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this be safe!), exhibitionism, marking/biting, almost getting caught, dirty talk, riding, pls keep in mind that this is only fiction! don’t do this folks ›

💊Word count ‹ 6k ›

💊Masterlist

Brushing the snowflakes off my coat’s shoulder, I take a look around the spacious living room soaking in the warmth and waiting for my fingers to defrost, hearing nothing besides the wind that blows outside. Checking the clock on the wall I recall that mom should be still at work at this time around, nothing’s new.

I silently make my way upstairs then halting once I’m in front of Jimin’s bedroom door that has a big J on it. Mom would be upset if she knew I didn’t check on him first thing when I got home so I knocked once then twice before I heard muffled noises from the other side and the shuffle of sheets followed by a loud bang of something hard suddenly hitting the ground. The sound itself quite concerningly rings in your ears.

”Are you alright?” I place my palm on the wooden surface concentrating on the noises that I faintly hear filtering through the door, biting down on my lip as I still didn’t get an answer from him.

”Ok. I’m coming in!” I tell him after a couple of seconds of silence, I gave him enough time to yell out that he’s fine. I’m ready to burst through the door when his voice squeaks out a tiny unconvincing ’I’m good.’ but my hand is already on the doorknob. His body lays slightly off the bed when I enter his room, the bed under him is unmade and his hair is dishevelled sticking to different angles from all the tossing and turning looking soft, wearing only a thin white shirt and pyjama pants to bed. Probably haven’t gotten up from it all day.

”You fell off the bed again?” I chuckle, sending him an amused look spiced with an arched eyebrow – it’s not the first time I see him in this position – shaking my head from side to side, though my eyes reveal that I’m not angry just amused. I grab both his knees and help him to lay flat against the pillows just like he was most likely laying before. His eyes glow like a lightstick with a beaming smile on his face.

”Y/N, you’re home early.” Arching up a brow himself he situates his body to rest his back against the headboard interrogating the cause of my early arrival with a slightly hoarse voice. Jimin looks into a specific direction frequently enough for me to spot his staring. I reply to his statement with a roll of my eyes brushing his hair gently to the side after I checked he indeed has no fever. Giving him the benefit of the doubt that I have no idea he’s trying to hide something I smile back.

I scan through his room hoping to find out by the order of things are placed what he was doing before I got home, it’s easy to spot the differences since I’m the one who usually cleans in here but besides his laptop that sits on the far end of the bed instead of the desk, nothing else seems out of place.

”Why? Were you doing something you shouldn’t be?” I grin, at first the question was intended to be innocent but watching how Jimin’s face contorts into a scandalized look I know he’s up to no good. His expression soon gets replaced with shyness unintentionally a boyish blush spreads across his rosy cheeks. It gets me even more curious.

He gained some weight over the past weeks so his features are almost healthily filled out, the new medication seems to work better than the doctors had anticipated and right now he has minimal symptoms.

Mom must be pleased by the outcome, he regained so much colour to his pale skin too. I witnessed all his ups and lows, I still remember the day I met him. He was in a bad shape, bedridden, so pale and skinny like a skeleton. He couldn’t even sit up on his bed to greet me and when he opened his eyes hearing my mom’s voice calling out to him I came face to face with his teary eyes, hands grabbing his chest to ease the pain that he felt crawling his way up from under his ribcage as a silent tear rolled down his cheeks. He got better when mom decided to take him out of the care system and switched doctors to look after his further treatment.

I regarded him as a responsibility at the beginning of our relationship made sure he took his medication between meals just like my mother instructed. Cleaned his room and made him food when my mother was busy with work. She’s a nurse at the local hospital, she left me alone with him a lot, her job consumes a lot of her time so I had to take care of him almost every day after school even had to take a few days off so I can stay at home when his condition started to get worse and he needed more supervision than usual.

Be that as it may, he had his better days that I started to like so much, spending time with him stopped being an obligation and instead, the time spent together started to be the highlights of my days.

Listening to his angelic laugh, having him listen to me talking about my day. No boy or man ever paid this much genuine attention to me, only him. He has his eyes only on me.

His fierce response makes me come to my senses, dragging me out of my own consuming thoughts.

”Of course not!” He defensively spats my hands away when I try to pinch his cheeks. He looks very pretty when the sun shines on his face. He looks like an angel.

”Oh really? I guess it’s fine then to show me your laptop’s search history. How about right now?” I move faster than he can snatch the device so I’m able to get it and open his tab before he even lets a leg down to plant his feet on the ground.

However, I was not expecting to find something this interesting in his log history. Looking between the screen and his red face I tilt my head to the side seemingly deep in my thoughts. It’s not that I never acknowledged the fact that he’s a man in his mid-twenties and because of his unfortunate susceptibility to having a systemic autoimmune disease he never had the chance to socialise like it’s a norm for most people. The only other’s he meet day by day are my mother and I since he can’t go out because of his photosensitivity.

Maybe I could blame the stars that never flickered out of his naive eyes for the past ten years I’ve known him for not thinking that Jimin could have dirty thoughts. Well, this porn page clearly states otherwise.

I know it’s inappropriate to think about Jimin, my adopted brother, in this way but I can’t find it in me to stop the spiralling thoughts.

Wondering if he masturbates while watching these videos when I’m in school. How he grabs his cock with shaky hands, cute fingers coated in his precum. Wondering if he uses the same hand to hold mine innocently after he did dirty things to himself. I subconsciously rub my thighs together to ease some of the tension that gathered between my thighs, even fantasising about him makes me feel hot.

I feel bad thinking about him inappropriately when he’s sick but I can’t seem to feel the shame when I look directly into his bright eyes now. The rational part of my brain screams that it’s inappropriate even though we are not blood-related.

Heck, not at all as mom adopted him when his last remaining family member, his father died ten years ago.

Jimin’s facial expression is like an open book I read him so well. Poor boy can’t even lie everything he thinks about is apparent on his pretty face.

Afraid that I’ll call him names he lowers his gaze, waiting for me to tell him that I’m disappointed and disgusted by him now that I discovered his dirty little secret that he rubs one out to porn but oh boy he has no idea. That I think about him in a way a sister shouldn’t. That there is nothing wrong with being curious. He has all the right to be. It’s easy to forget he’s older than me when I’m the more experienced one in everything.

”Hey it’s ok,” I get to my previous position, sitting down on the edge of his bed right next to his waistline. I curl a finger under his chin to level his face with mine, showing him a small smile indicating that everything’s gonna be alright.

”I watch porn sometimes too, there’s nothing to be ashamed of here Jiminie. It’s only natural to be curious about it. It’s human nature.” He avoids making eye contact but a tiny nod in my direction shows me that he’s listening.

”If you want I promise I’ll forget that this ever happened. Do you want that honey?” Nudging his pinky with mine I offer him the chance to change the topic to something light.

”You won’t tell mom about it, right?” Nodding my head in agreement I assure him that this piece of information can be our secret and no one has to know that this conversation ever happened. It appears to calm him down gradually as he finally reciprocates my gaze and sighs in relief. What you didn’t expect to hear after that, however, was an explanation of why he started watching porn.

”I want to know how it feels.” Jimin admits shyly, looking around to avoid my eyes as he tells me his hidden thoughts and I find him truly endearing. The previous tense atmosphere seems to completely fade away as Jimin relaxes his muscles against the bedsheet and opens up his heart.

”What? Sex?” I asked, watching his reactions closely as I experimentally place my palm above his right knee. An innocent touch.

Jimin shivers into the contact but other than that nothing remarkably changes in his behaviour or posture. He pays careful attention to not let his feelings show up on his otherwise expressive face. Cute. Sooner or later I’ll know how he really feels about my advances as he can’t keep pretending for long. He was never good at it.

”Yes. They seem to like it so much when I’m watching those videos.” Humming approvingly I rest a manicured nail at the edge of his waistband, this earns a sharp inhale of breath but he doesn’t try to remove my touch that indicates he’s not uncomfortable with me touching him. He doesn’t seem bothered, just a little sheepish.

”You know, a video is nothing compared to the real thing.” I let a single finger slide under his shirt drawing circles into his hipbone eyes watching the way his chest moves up and down a little faster at that.

”What a shame that you don’t know pretty girls to have sex with.” Deciding it’s time to remove my hand I’m letting the limb fall to my side lazily. Jimin’s lips immediately form a pout after I stop making advances on his body, showing me that he was expecting something more. All this time I thought he doesn’t see me like I see him but maybe I was wrong assuming that. Gaining confidence I decide it’s time to push his buttons a little more.

”I’m sure girls would form long lines to get into your pants baby. I wouldn’t be surprised since you are so pretty.” The praise makes his ears bright red, mother did a good job with giving him a boyish undercut a good fashion choice to leave the tips longer so I can easily comb my fingers through it, curling a few strays behind his ears.

”Y-Y/N.” A breathy moan leaves his lips as I kiss the underside of his jaw on impulse, finding stability by grabbing onto his thighs to lean closer and breathe in his clean scent. I push him against the headboard but he doesn’t mind it at all, too lost in the moment, feeling my lips on his throat to register any pain.

I pull away slightly to reconnect our eyes. Jimin licks his dry lips, not having anyone to talk to until I arrived home, he kept his mouth shut only feeling now how dry his throat is all of the sudden.

A ghost of a smile appears in the corner of my mouth as I realise Jimin is watching my lips not even trying to conceal his desire to have another taste of the forbidden fruit. This is so wrong but his lips are so light against mine, afraid that if I apply pressure somehow this moment will end and I don’t want this to ever end but as the saying goes, nothing lasts forever in life.

The magical moment ends when I hear my mother’s voice from downstairs. ”Y/N, Jimin I’m home!”

The cheerful voice of my mother abruptly interrupts our first shared kiss, not letting him chase the taste of my cherry lip balm I place a small peck on his nose instead yelling back that we’re upstairs and we’ll be down in a minute.

”No need to rush,” I peck his forehead this time, giving his face small kisses to lift his mood. It’s comical how disappointed he looks with his nose scrunched up adorably. He really has no shame as he sighs licking his lips to taste the remaining flavour of our kiss.

”We can continue this tomorrow, we have so much time, I promise...”

And continue we do. True to my word I comply with his request pulling the oversized t-shirt over my head to reveal him my black lacy bra and the curve of my waist. His eyes devour the new uncovered flesh hands lingering in the air itching to touch my bare skin but too shy to do it without my permission. He remains frozen in the act. Dreamy eyes watching my reaction to his shy movements silently asking for a sign that it is alright to touch. He’s so curious he wants to hear those noises the couples always make in his videos.

I nod putting him out of his misery cradling his hand in mine to place the warm palm onto my covered breast I guide his movements fondling the flesh, his touch feels good despite the barrier between his skin and mine.

Slipping his hand under the cup his finger comes into contact with my nipple I show him how to circle the bud until it gets erect a small sigh escaping my lips. I had the sudden urge to steal a kiss so I leaned in to grab the back of his neck and crush our lips together no tongue just lips touching sweetly.

I removed his touch to intertwine our fingers placing both of our hands to rest against the bed leaning into his mouth more.

”Is that all that you want me to do?” I murmur the words into his mouth, encouraging him to say more, to do more. Jimin swallows the saliva in his mouth gaze significantly cloudy as he stares into my eyes, shaking his head. He got so far the current thoughts in his head are clearly not about stopping anytime soon.

”What else do you want then?” I press him to answer my question, following the line of his upper lip with my thumb smearing the lip balm that got transferred from my lips to his while kissing, Jimin took a shaky breath before opening his mouth.

”Y-your tongue.” His tongue seemingly came out subconsciously to wet his lips I closed my eyes moaning at the sinful image. He really did his research, I’m about to give him everything he wants if he keeps up with these innocent yet so dirty looks.

”Where do you want it?” I grin moving closer so our thighs are firmly pressed together letting go of his hand to cup his face with both hands. Bending my head to peck the outline of his vein on his neck his pulse quickens under my touch. Pleased to have had such a great effect on him.

”In my mouth.” He squeaks out his response when I bite into his shoulder careful not to really pierce his skin but let him feel a moderate amount of pain mixed with his pleasure. I smooth my tongue where I bit making sure that I don’t leave any marks on his perfect skin. I don’t want our mother to ask questions later.

”Hm,” I hum into his neck satisfied by the answer before lining our faces again to fulfil his wish. ”Open.” As soon as I command his lips part obediently waiting for me to slip my tongue into his awaiting mouth.

”Jimin. Can I touch you?” I sigh into his mouth, he tastes so sweet I can’t seem to get my fill as I discover every corner of his hot cavern licking the roof teasing him before letting our wet muscles touch in a heated battle for dominance. Jimin gets greedy soon as he pushes my tongue back to do the exploration of his own, the kiss turns sloppy and too much saliva. Hands clutching onto the duvet under him grounding his body swimming in euphoria from falling too deep into the feeling.

”Yes, please.” Our eyes open slightly to watch each other my mouth founds the corner of his lips then the side of his cheek and jaw before diving back in parting his lips with my tongue to continue tasting him.

With a feather-light touch, I snake my hands upwards his thin frame and tiny waist feels so fragile under my fingers. I want to pepper his torso with my kisses pushing his body down using his shoulders to see his weight bounce on the bed. But I can’t get so ahead of myself, Jimin deserves to be worshipped like the angel he is.

”Lay down on your back Jiminie.” I smile seeing how obedient he is following my orders without any complaints or questions. He trusts me so much.

The thought alone that he is under me letting me have my ways with him makes my underwear sit uncomfortably against my heat when I move my legs to straddle his hips I feel how drenched I am for him. So pretty and so eager under me as his head rests on the pillows he truly looks like an innocent angel.

I motion for Jimin to raise his arms so I can get rid of his shirt and finally do what I intended to do and kiss his body starting from his collarbones all the way to the line where his pyjama pants hide the delicious lines of his hip bones.

I press kisses of praises into his shoulder blades moving down following the line of his sternum to give attentive licks and pecks all over his stomach feeling his muscles tensing under my lips whines and other sweet sounds slipping out of his parted lips as he breathes heavily through his nose with his eyes closed.

When I let a couple of fingers slide under his pants I realise the lack of material under my touch. He’s not wearing his boxers. The outline of his dick is evident when I look down he’s not that long but where he lacks his grith makes up for it as I can already imagine how good he would feel buried in me stretching my walls so good.

”Do you want me to touch your pretty cock darling?” I don’t forget to ask for permission even though by now I can clearly see how much he wants all this. The sight itself, how his member strains against the concealing fabric is an awfully clear giveaway of his growing desires. Jimin maintains our eye contact with hooded eyes nodding his head fervently before he can confirm his needs with words. His body burns but not with fever.

”I..yes, please. I w-want you to.” Jimin squirms waiting for me to do something that would relieve some of the tension in his joints. His cock feels heavy in my hand ready to sink into my cunt anytime, I can’t wait to put my mouth around it first but I have to be patient. I circle a digit around the tip testing how much precum he has for me.

Holding the digit up to my lips I taste the slightly salty substance humming approvingly. Tugging his pants down I get to work giving a kiss to the tip before coating his member with my saliva so I can lubricate his shaft enough so it won’t hurt him. His whole body shakes when my mouth makes contact with his cock his virgin body overwhelmed with the new sensation the little pleasure already too much for him to handle.

I make a mental note about grabbing some lube on my way home tomorrow so I can be prepared for situations like this. My lips suddenly widen into a Cheshire grin as I deliver the last lick all the way up to the hilt replacing my mouth with my hand.

”Jiminie look here for a little.” I coax him to open his eyes again with a sweet voice. ”Like that darling.” I praise him when his eyes met mine, choosing the moment his gaze connects with mine to use the same hand that pleasured him to glide under my jeans and underwear mixing my arousal with his precum I moan for the show as I rub my clit before collecting my essence so I can use it on his dick giving him the needed extra lubricant.

Jimin’s eyes don’t stay open for long when I finally touch him properly with the intent of making him cum. He can’t seem to keep his moans and throaty whines to himself as I give him a confident grip increasing the speed of my wrist when his whines became more high pitched his body gives away all the signs when he shakes under my touch that he’s close embarrassingly fast but I don’t mind, it’s his first time after all. We can always work on his stamina later.

”Relax baby and just enjoy this.” I encourage him to let go, massaging his thighs with my free hand to relax his strained muscles, slowing down my strokes but give special treatment to the tip collecting the forming precum. ”There’s no need for you to hold back.” I peck his hip picking up my pace again for a few moments longer before taking him into my mouth waiting for him to cum swirling my tongue over the tip repeatedly.

”Y-Y/N.” My name comes out in moans like a broken record when he finally lets all the tension seep away from his body letting the building pleasure force him into submission as he cums into my mouth his body goes limp when the pleasure fades away after I let him ride out his high with gentle licks.

I place the duvet over his sleepy form after I help him back into his clothes, tucking him in as I kiss his cheek to say ’sleep tight’ with the gesture.

I toss the food around on my plate in front of me tentatively listening to the conversation held between my parent and her guest but not engaging, sinking my fork into the broccoli angrily as I hear Natalie’s sugar-coated voice destined for only Jimin’s ears to catch.

She leeched herself onto him as soon as she stepped into this house annoying me with saying stuff like ’you have such a nice brother’ just to emphasise my relation to him. Even my mom takes her side saying that they look cute together.

I know she wants Jimin to socialise, that’s why this dinner is purposefully held in the first place but I can’t seem to show a different emotion than disgust when I look at Natalie trying to woo my Jimin. She will never know how he sounds when he’s about to blow his load or how he would taste against her tongue because only I can see that side of him no one else, and especially not her.

His ears are red from her constant compliments and I swear I even saw her hand grip his shoulder when she laughed about something my mom said, he shies away from her because he never kept a conversation going on with another girl that wasn’t me or my mom before but that doesn’t mean jealousy doesn’t bubble up in my chest when he doesn’t deny her advances explicitly.

The dinner continues for an awfully long time before I could excuse myself from the table to hide away in my room and peacefully start yelling into my pillow to relieve my pent up frustration throughout this unpleasant meal.

Either Jimin genuinely didn’t have a clue what she was implying or he was aware but fine with it I don’t want to waste any more time and watch her all over him. I continued sulking in my room when I heard a knock on my door grunting a ’yes’ before I resembled smashing my keyboard I suddenly felt the urge to complete that assignment I procrastinated on so I can keep my mind focused on something else.

I avert my gaze from the screen to see who’s my intruder but I refocus on my computer when I see it’s Jimin. I’m not in the mood to talk to him right now since the picture of Natalie all over him is the first image to enter my mind.

”What? Dinner’s over so soon?” I’m careful to use an unaffected tone when I speak up, holding myself back from making eye contact even though I would love to see his face, we haven’t got time all day to talk or cuddle at all since I had to help my mother all evening to prepare for this dinner that was a waste of time anyway.

Jimin stays silent not bothering to answer my question but I still refuse to look at him as I pretend to be absorbed in my work. Even if it’s far from reality when the only thing consuming my thoughts right now is that I want him to tell me no one else is going to touch him only I can make him feel that good. That he wants. No, needs only me.

”A-are you angry? Please don’t be.” I still don’t turn around and looks like it makes him desperate for my attention he thugs at my blouse but I don’t react.

I want him to panic take over his body so he won’t do this to me again. I have to busy my fingers with typing so I don’t move to card my fingers through his locks like I long to do when he lays his head on my lap kneeling on the ground to do so. I don’t push his head away but doesn’t react either.

Half an hour passes in this manner, only my typing is heard in the otherwise silent room Jimin’s head still resting on my thighs hands circling my waist. I’m halfway done with my assignment when I feel Jimin’s nose nudge my centre. I showered after I excused myself from the dinner to blow off some steam and calm down grabbing only a pair of underwear and a shirt to cover my body with.

Jimin placed a kiss on my clothed clit making my body jerk in surprise forcing me with his bold actions to finally look at him our gaze locks as soon as I look down. Jimin folds the sides of my blouse so he can get access to the rest of my underwear following my panty line with his nose.

”Can I make it up to you?” Jimin looks up with innocent eyes that have my stomach twist in excitement but I try not to show him how much he can affect me as well. I’ll still make him pay for his actions.

”So you know you did something wrong.” I scoff but it ends up in a gasp when he licks the front of my underwear without a warning.

I grip his hair to keep him in place holding him close enough so his head still rests on my thighs but not that close to letting him lick my centre again. He’s playing dangerous games right now but I don’t know if I have it in me to be gentle with him.

”You should stop before I can’t guarantee that I won’t lose my control.” I warn him through my gritted teeth, closing my eyes for a moment to focus on my breathing, his eyes grew bigger for a moment before the previous shocked expression morphs into something else.

He can’t reach my cunt from where he’s restrained by my hands so he licks the inner side of my thigh his teeth nibbling on my sensitive skin.

I loosen my grip on his hair smoothing the silky locks out of his eyes but he cleverly uses the gesture to scoot forward and have another taste placing a more confident lick stretching the rubberband side of my panty with his teeth sliding his hands over my stomach that was previously so obediently circling my waist.

”You don’t have to do it.” I remind him, feeling out of breath from his kitten licks over my clothed mound.

”I know.” Jimin replies with a sweet smile adorning his face before he pulls my underwear down my legs slowly, watching with interest as I part my legs so he can have a good look at my glistening core.

”The girls from the videos always like it when the boy does this.” Jimin murmurs under his breath absentmindedly before rubbing my clit with his fingertips his digits dipping lower to catch where most of my arousal gathers a single digit nudging my entrance. I part my legs more so he can get more comfortable between them I let him get familiar with my most intimate part before I pull his hand away with shaky fingers.

”Taste it.” I order for him to pop his fingers into his mouth licking my arousal clean from them and he doesn’t disappoint as he does.

Now that his fingers are coated with his saliva I guide it back to my core. ”Want your finger in me.” I throw my head back when he enters, my walls sucking his finger in his movements are inexperienced and uncoordinated but I let him experiment until he gets the hang of it, and oh when he does. His one finger turns into two soon as he finds the best way to pound into my wet cunt curling the digits just the right way to make me see stars. ”Doing so good Jiminie.” I tell him between heavy pants as the rhythmical hard thrusts of his fingers starts to become too much to handle I feel my insides tighten just like my walls tighten around his fingers getting closer and closer.

I open my eyes to watch him lean down his hair tickling my inner thighs as he nestles between my legs licking at my clit while the movement of his hand never falters, the new stimulus that his visual between my legs and his tongue on my nub adds to the feeling, making me come undone around his fingers.

”Stand up baby.” I motion for him to stand as well, his finger slips out of my hole, with a confused expression plastered on his face but doesn’t question my intentions as he obligates standing on his wobbly feet I let him sit down to where I was before straddling his hips.

”Are you going to let me ride your cock? Make you mine?” I ask him using my sweetest tones before slowly kissing his lips making sure to map out his mouth once more before turning my attention to kiss the expanse of his neck.

”Yes. Fuck yes.” The way how the curse word slipped through his mind without him noticing is endearing, he can always surprise me with something doesn’t matter how much time I dedicate to learning his body and soul, he’ll always have layers to discover. These good days sometimes even weeks when his illness hides its ugly face into the background are so precious that I wish we could always be like this.

I situate my body so I can pull his sweats down I pleasantly discover that he doesn’t wear his underwear when his dick slaps against his stomach. I reach for one of the drawers where I know I placed the lube.

I squeeze some into my hand before wrapping my fingers around his fully hardened shaft smearing the lube over him Jimin whines when he feels the cold liquid hit his hot member moaning once I roll my wrist the way he seems to like so much. Have enough of the foreplay I position him in front of my entrance making eye contact with him before taking him in letting him have the chance of backing out.

Jimin’s thighs shake as I take him in fully he tries muffling his moans by biting down on my shoulder so our guests don’t find out what we are doing in my room. With a smirk on my face, I roll my hips getting the best responses as Jimin tries to hold back his cries tightening his hold on my waist to slow my thrusts down but I don’t listen to him as I start to grind down on him letting his member pull out almost all the way before sinking down enjoying how good he fills me up.

I slow down as a knock is heard at my door Jimin’s eyes widen in fear but I don’t let him move an inch as I silently take my seat with his cock buried between my folds he holds back a moan when I clench around him.

”Mom?” I call out to her, my voice a bit shaky but I was able to mask it away enough that it doesn’t sound suspicious.

”Are you alright? Can I come in?” I hear her worried voice, she probably heard Jimin’s louder cries and she thinks something’s wrong. At this moment I’m really glad that my mom is very dense.

”I’m feeling unwell so I’m going to sleep immediately but you go and have fun with the guests don’t worry.” I offer her my reply as I circle my waist can’t keep still as Jimin’s dick feels heavenly it shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does seeing how pathetically he tries to prevent my mother from hearing his moans but his innocent facade can’t fool me as I feel him twitch inside me as I talk to my mother while he’s balls deep in my cunt. I wonder if he wants us to get caught or that he would like me to fuck him in front of Natalie on our dining table so she can see she never had a chance with him.

”Fine but come and get me if you need anything.” She leaves with these last words without further protests and I thank her while bouncing on Jimin’s lap silencing his cries by kissing him hard.

”What mom would think if she saw you in this situation Jiminie? Fucking me while you pretend to be an angel in front of her. Kissing her cheek with the same lips that were buried between my legs moments prior.” I whisper next to the shell of his ear he lets out embarrassed whines but I can feel him enjoy how I fuck myself using him.

My thighs ache as I increase the pace feeling so close again I guide Jimin’s hand between our bodies to make him rub at my clit he does it messily but it’s enough stimulation as I cum again watching as Jimin’s eyes squeezed shut close to reach his own high.

#jimin smut #bts smut #jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #bts stepbrother au #bts filthy smut #sub jimin

510 notes · View notes

zukoszukhoes · 4 years

Text

Don’t Speak- Part 2

// Zuko x reader soulmate au

// part 1 here

// part 3 here

//warnings: none

You slipped your cuff off and your own words came to light. The words on yours and Zuko’s wrists began to turn golden from the inside, shining brighter and brighter until the words disappeared from your wrists in a blaze of light, confirming the worst.

You and Prince Zuko really were soulmates.

Except, after seeing what he was capable of, you knew you’d never love him.

“Lotty,” you started quietly, keeping your eyes trained on Zuko. “There’s a sack of gold coins hidden in the back of my dresser. Go get it and leave this place as quickly as you can.”

“But, (Y/N)-”

“Do it. Now.”

Without another word, Lotty scurried from the clearing, leaving you and the prince alone. For a minute, the two of you just stared at each other, Zuko’s gaze full of shock.

“You know,” you started. “It makes me wonder what kind of person I am if I have you as my soulmate.”

Zuko stumbled backwards, like the words were a literal blow to his chest. “I’m- I’m sorry! I didn’t know-”

You scoffed. “If you had known, would it have changed anything? Would you have let her go?”

Zuko stayed silent.

“That’s what I thought.” You sneered, turning away. “You’re just as cruel as the rest of your family.”

When you turned back around, Zuko was gone.

That night, dinner was... tense, to say the least.

“I apologize that dinner was so late, Prince Zuko. We haven’t been able to find our head maid.” Your mother said.

At the mention of Lotty, you glared at Zuko.

Zuko swallowed uncomfortably, shooting you a glance. “Yes, um, that is unfortunate.” It seemed Zuko would keep your secret- for now.

“If only it could have been avoided,” you said suddenly, glaring daggers at Zuko. Your parents raised their eyebrows in surprise, seeing that you were finally speaking to the prince, who looked flushed and extremely uncomfortable. Your father shot you a look and quickly changed the subject.

“I hope you’ve had a pleasant stay so far. I saw you were exploring the gardens earlier. I’m afraid I have no talent with gardening; I’m lucky to have such a gifted wife.” You father remarked, smiling at your mother.

“They are very beautiful.” Zuko said softly.

Your mother blushed with pride. “I’ve had lots of help. (Y/N) is a very proficient gardener as well. Perhaps they could continue gardening at the palace.”

You choked on your food in surprise. “Mother!” Your mother raised an eyebrow, as if, now that you and the prince were speaking, your engagement was practically guaranteed. She looked to Zuko, no doubt expecting some a look of agreement, but was met with his flushed face and uncomfortable silence.

Your father cleared his throat. “How about dessert?”

You stood up from the table suddenly. “I’m sorry, I think I’m still sick from yesterday. If you don’t mind, I’ll retire early to my room.” And before your parents could object, you scurried from the room as fast as you could.

“Please excuse (Y/N)... they can be very headstrong.” You heard your mother say weakly as you walked out. You stopped in the door, turning around briefly and catching Zuko’s molten gaze.

His eyes glittered with regret. “I know.” He said quietly.

~~~

Sitting in the quiet light of a flickering candle, a book laid flat before you, you tried to calm down. Thinking about Zuko and what he had done to Lotty still made you seethe with anger. Taking deep breaths, you thought of peaceful memories: taking walks on the beach with your friends, tending to the garden with your mother, going into town with Lotty-

You smacked your book shut with a bang. Fresh anger reignited in your chest at the thought of Lotty, knowing she was gone- at the hands of the prince, no less. Moving to the window, you took in a full breath of the clear night air, letting your feelings ebb away with each cycle of air that filled your lungs.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door.

A sigh escaped your lips. It was probably your mother there to ask you about Zuko- and that was the last thing you wanted to talk about. “Go away, mother. I’m not feeling well.” You called.

“It’s actually me. Can I come in?” Zuko’s hopeful voice answered.

You groaned and trudged over to the door, yanking it open with an unnecessary amount of force. Zuko stood on the other side. “What do you want?” You growled.

“I came to talk to you. I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier.”

You scoffed. “Sure you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me-“ you went to close the door, but Zuko pushed against it, staring down at you with yearning.

“Please,” he whispered, his face inches from yours. “At least let me explain.”

Your face burned at the feel of Zuko so near. He was so close you felt as if his warmth was hugging you, pulling you into him and hypnotizing you into never leaving. You looked away. Snap out of it! You yelled at yourself. Don’t forget what he’s done. Who he is.

But yet... his face seemed so genuine...

You stepped back from the door and crossed your arms. “You have five minutes.”

Zuko smiled briefly and nodded, stepping into the room. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “First off, I’m sorry that you saw me act the way I did earlier. What you saw wasn’t me. I mean, it was, but not the real me- anyways...” He took a deep breath, looking up to capture your gaze. For a moment, he stared into your eyes, like he could convey everything he was trying to say with a look. You glared and turned away, refusing to feel any sympathy for him.

“I think you know how the Fire Nation corrupts people,” Zuko started. “It takes good people and fills them with hatred towards the rest of the world. I’ve seen it firsthand, when I was banished. We’ve always been taught that it’s the Fire Nations’ job to share its success with the world, to help the nations less fortunate than itself. But the rest of the world doesn’t see us as saviors; they see us as killers.” Zuko glanced up briefly. “In the royal family, we were taught that to the extreme. After all, it would be my job one day to continue my ancestors’ legacy- to take over the world and finish the mission they started. When I was tasked with capturing the Avatar, I saw it as just one more accomplishment to add to my legacy as Fire Lord. I thought that it would make me honorable- in the eyes of my father, my family, my nation. I thought it would make me worthy to be Fire Lord.”

You felt your arms loosen slightly, a drop of pity filling your heart alongside anger.

“When I was accepted back to the Fire Nation, I thought I’d finally be happy. I had everything I wanted! My father was proud of me. I should have been happy. But I wasn’t. I was- and am- angrier than ever and I don’t know why!” His voice rose in pitch until he was yelling, fists clenched by his side. He looked up, catching your apprehensive expression, and shuddered with guilt. “I didn’t mean to do what I did today. I really didn’t. But being here- in the Fire Nation again- it’s turned me into a person I don’t recognize.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Zuko looked up at you, lips parted in surprise. You wrapped your arms around your torso, averting your gaze so he wouldn’t see the pity in your eyes. “I understand how you feel. Sometimes things get so twisted here that you don’t know what’s real anymore.”

Zuko nodded silently. You took a deep breath, hating yourself for not hating Zuko, and continued. “You know, I had a brother.”

Zuko’s eyes widened. Your eyes fluttered close, the familiar wave of sorrow washing over you at your brother’s memory. “Jin-Yan. He was five years older than me. Before he-“ you stopped, taking another breath to quell the tremor in your voice. “Before he died, I believed everything the Fire Nation taught us. I thought that we were the greatest nation in the world. But when my brother turned 18, he was drafted to go to war. We were all so proud.” You shook your head. “Six months after he left, he came home for the Winter Solstice celebration and told me everything. About the thousands of people dying because of the Fire Nation. How whole cities are being burned to the ground. I’d heard stories growing up, but I’d never believed them until he told me. He said that the war wasn’t bringing prosperity to the world like we were taught; it was bringing destruction.”

“What happened to him?” Zuko asked softly, a hint of fear in his voice.

Hatred hardened the lines of your face. “They asked him to kill an innocent child, just because she was an earth bender. He refused. They were going to force him to do it anyways, so he deserted. The general caught him in less than an hour. That very same night, Jin-Yan was executed for treason.” A single angry, hot tear trickled down your cheek.

Suddenly, Zuko was beside you, a warm hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” He said softly.

You ripped your shoulder out of his grasp and turned away. “Don’t act like you’re sorry when we both know you don’t mean it. Just this morning you were ready to take another member of my family to her execution. You’re no better than the general.”

“I know,” he whispered.

You whipped around to him, heart stammering. You don’t what you’d expected from him, but you certainly hadn’t expected him to agree with you.

“I meant it when I said I was sorry, (Y/N). What I did today was wrong. I can only promise you that I’m trying to be better, and ask for your forgiveness.” Zuko vowed, golden eyes boring into yours.

You turned away so you wouldn’t have to face the sincerity in his gaze. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut to block out the voices telling you to forgive him, telling you that he was genuine. But then you remembered Jin-Yan, his voice whispering in your mind not to trust anything or anyone in the Fire Nation, and your willingness to forgive disappeared.

“I can’t.” You whispered, turning to meet his gaze again.

Zuko simply nodded. “I understand.”

You meant it. You didn’t forgive him. But he was so close, his scent a delicious drug as it filled your nostrils, that your body leaned into him of its own accord. Zuko glanced down to your lips, breath hitching quietly, and placed a tentative hand on your jaw as he leaned in-

“(Y/N), darling, are you awake? I want to speak with you.” Your mother’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. Instantly Zuko and you sprang apart, clearing your throats uncomfortably and doing your best to hide your twin blushes.

“I-I’m awake. Can you come back later, please?” You called back to your mother, your voice weak.

“(Y/N), you can’t ignore me fore-“ your mother pushed open the door and stopped in her tracks when she saw Zuko. Her mouth dropped open. “Prince Zuko!”

Zuko’s face blushed to match his robes as he bowed deeply. “Mrs. (L/N). If you and (Y/N) need to talk, I was just about to leave-“

“There’s no need for that, I’ll just come back some other time-“

“Mother!” You hissed, giving her a look.

Your mother smiled sheepishly. “I’ll leave you two alone. Goodnight, (Y/N). Prince Zuko.” She curtsied to Zuko and exited quietly.

You groaned and collapsed into the closest chair, hands shielding your face from having to meet Zuko’s gaze. To your surprise, however, Zuko started to chuckle.

“What?!” You cried, looking up from your hands. Zuko was smiling down at you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Seeing his grin, you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Your family. They’re nice.”

You buried your face in your hands again. “They’re embarrassing. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s kind of... nice, I guess, to see a normal family.”

You looked up once more. “What do you mean?”

Zuko glanced at you then looked away, his gaiety disappearing. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

Crossing your arms, you rose and gave Zuko a pointed look. “It’s not nothing. Tell me the truth.”

Zuko glanced at you again, his cheeks reddening even deeper. “My mother is dead. Or at least, I think she is. And my father...” he trailed off. He didn’t need to explain for you to understand. The Firelord was a cruel and ruthless ruler; you couldn’t imagine having him as a father.

“I’m sorry.” You said, this time you putting your hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Except Zuko didn’t push you away.

“It’s getting late.” He finally said after a moment of silence.

You nodded and pulled away, your hand strangely cold after being in contact with his warm skin. “Yeah. I should probably go to sleep.”

“Probably. “He moved to the door to leave, but before he could go, you caught him by the arm.

“Zuko-“ you started. He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean what I said. About you being cruel.”

Surprise pushed Zuko’s eyebrows upwards, but his shock quickly melted into warmth. “Thank you.”

Your hand trailed off of his arm. “Goodnight, Zuko.” You whispered. He smiled faintly, eyes glittering, and turned down the hall. You watched his figure recede into the blackness of night, shivering as the last glimpse of his amber eyes disappeared into the dark.

When he was finally gone, you crawled into your bed to sleep, but you knew you would be awake all night. Your heart was thumping wildly and you were jittery, like you’d been electrified. A sense of dread settled deep inside of you. Every moment you were with Zuko, your hatred sifted away like grains of sand on a desert dune. Your heart kept betraying you; beating too fast and making you do stupid things like almost kiss him. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but like him.

You glared at the wall, pushing your feelings deep down into your stomach. Even if he was your soulmate, he was still destined to be Firelord- which meant that one day, he would continue the era of killing and destruction his ancestors had brought down on the globe. His apology was sincere, but it was no guarantee that he was the person he claimed he was trying to be. You’d simply have to try harder not to like him; because, soulmates or not, you could never stand by someone who would only bring evil to the world.

~~~

“Get up.” A voice snapped you out of your dreams. “Get up!” The voice yanked your covers off of you.

“What- mother!” You cried incredulously, launching upwards with the sudden cold. “I’m in my night-wear!”

“Oh, hush. Now, get dressed, and quickly.”

“Why?” You frowned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Because,” your mother said, throwing you a ceremonial robe. “The Fire Lord has requested your presence at the palace.”

taglist:

@the-resident-demon @undiadeestos @svgakookie @bucky-blogs @394pitterpatterpotter394 @sifucuteness @riespage @lovelylahey

1K notes · View notes

tsuraiwrites · 3 years

Note

"Shouldn't you be with him/her" for Fenders for DADWC? Please and thank you!

thank you so much for the prompt! this is definitely a piece that needs to be edited sober, but I hope you enjoy what I have here nonetheless. for @dadrunkwriting

Fic: Better to Ask Forgiveness

Darktown is as filthy and miserable as ever when Fenris steps off the lift, only barely missing a puddle eddying with putrid water. He adjusts the hood of his cloak, but even underground, there’s no escaping the rain. It sluices down the walls from pipes and holes above, the sewers for once fulfilling their intended purpose as polluted water forms shallow, fast-moving rivers on the ground. The smell is almost enough to cover the stench of chokedamp and rot.

Fenris moves gingerly, his long familiarity guiding him through the dark passages even with unsure footing. Only once does he slip, his foot plunging into an unpleasantly warm stream of sewage before Fenris can reel back. He curses, trying to shake the worst of the clinging damp away before it can sink into his leggings, but it’s of little use. His mood fouls further but he diligently continues on, not about to let the inconvenience of this whole matter stop him from reaching his destination.

No one bothers him as he approaches the clinic, either well-used to the sight of him or, more likely, wary of the large sword he carries slung over his back. Thus, his trip through the dank warrens of the city is quiet, giving him more than enough time to think.

Or more time to brood, as Varric would no doubt point out should he ever hear of this incident. Bad enough the dwarf was witness to Fenris’ shameful loss of control after killing Hadriana today. Bad enough Fenris put his foot in his mouth hard enough to choke on it not once, but twice. Bad enough that he’d already gone, head hanging, to Hawke’s door to apologize and ask for advice-

Fenris turns the final corner before his destination.

The lantern is out, and that of all things is what makes Fenris hesitate, his steps slowing to a stop as he nears the closed and barred door. If the lantern is out, that must mean the mage inside is asleep or working on his manifesto. The latter he does not care about interrupting, but if Anders is finally getting some sleep for once…

No, Fenris is just making excuses now.

Honestly he had not expected Anders to follow him out of that slaver den onto the coast, but in hindsight he should have; Anders’ footsteps ground in the sand louder than any decent warrior’s would. Fenris had been in no mood to listen to anything a mage had to say at the time, much less accept any platitudes he would surely offer, not after Hadriana tried to drip poison in his ear. So when Anders had put a hand on his shoulder, probably meaning to comfort or to question...

“Get your filthy hands off of me, abomination! Leave me be!”

His hands clench, gauntlets creaking in protest as he wrenches himself out of the recollection, still staring at the half-rotten wood of the door.

“Tell him you’re sorry, Fenris,” Hawke had advised him, as if words between them were ever that easy, when even months into their involvement a number of their conversations still end in sniping, though they’ve been much less vicious about it.

Until now.

Kaffas, but he’s stalling again. Before he can wander in any more mental circles he raises his fist to bang on the door. The wood shudders under his fist, but thankfully holds up under the assault.

“The clinic is closed!” a muffled voice calls from inside, confirming the mage is still awake.

“Then it is good I am not in need of healing,” Fenris says.

Silence descends but for the sound of water dripping, before his keen hearing picks up the rustle of footsteps approaching the door. There is the thump of the bar being lifted, then the healer throws the door open with a deep scowl on his face.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with him?” Anders practically sneers.

Fenris blinks, his irritation giving way to confusion for a moment.

“What are you talking about?”

“You went to Hawke’s house, I saw you with my own eyes. I figured you had your company for the night. Non-mage company.”

Saw him enter Hawke’s mansion? That meant Anders had been all the way in Hightown… to see Fenris? He takes in the mage’s damp hair for a split second before the last part of Anders’ statement sinks in.

“My company- fasta vass, mage, I did not seek Hawke to sleep with him! I went to apologize.”

Anders’ mouth falls open with shock for a long moment, his cheeks flushing with an all-too-familiar anger.

“You went to apologize to Hawke for being an asshole earlier and not to me?”

“Perhaps you can look beyond your own nose for once and realize that I am standing here, speaking to you now!” Fenris snaps, then clenches his teeth as a wave of exhaustion follows. They will get nowhere in this if he flies off the handle at Anders’ every pointed remark. He tries to shove the bubbling anger down, lock it away. It doesn’t work well but his words do, for once, get Anders to close his mouth – and a flicker of blue cracks across the mage’s cheek for a split second before it’s gone. Fenris clenches his teeth but does not remark on the spirit’s presence, no matter how he longs to point out the loss of control it implies.

The spirit is not why he is here.

“May I come in?”

That, finally, seems to prompt the mage to realize they still stand half in the entryway, their discussion readily audible to any passerby.

“Fine,” Anders says, the wrinkle between his brows deepening. He moves out of the doorway and Fenris resists shoving his way in, waiting until the man is well clear to follow.

The clinic echoes with dripping water, though in the weak candlelight Fenris can see the buckets set out to catch the worst of the leaks. The room is thankfully otherwise deserted.

Anders picks his way back to his small, walled-off private space and Fenris watches his back until he reaches a makeshift writing desk. Curls of parchment covered with spidery handwriting cover the surface, but Fenris only has a moment to take them in before Anders turns, pinning him with a scrutinizing look. It finally prompts him to speak.

“I am sorry, for the words I spoke both in the caves, and after. It was wrong of me.”

Anders stands stiff for a moment.

“That’s all you have to say?” he asks.

“I will not try to placate you with flowery words, if that’s what you want,” Fenris grinds out.

“You could promise not to do it again, for a start!” Anders replies.

“Like you, I often do not think before I speak!” he snaps, then closes his eyes and reminds himself he can’t pinch his brow the way he would like to while wearing the gauntlets. “I can’t promise I will not lose my temper, as you well know.”

“I’m not asking you to not get angry, you’re more than entitled to feel anger after everything you’ve been through. I just-” He shakes his head, but before Fenris so much as opens his mouth to reply, he continues. “I thought you’d grown tired of my filthy, abominable hands.” Anders holds out those hands with palms up, spreading staff-calloused fingers wide. His mouth twists up like he’s trying to make a joke, but the words fall flat. “Tired of being with a mage. After the way you acted… You’ve been disgusted by me the whole time, haven’t you?”

“No!” Fenris denies immediately, before his brain can catch up with his mouth. Anders jerks as if surprised by his vehemence, dropping his hands. “That’s not the reason I pushed you away. I... needed to be alone for my own sake, which is exactly why I left without our company in the first place.”

“Then it’s my fault that I followed you?”

“Must you be so willfully obtuse? That’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying? Spell it out for me, Fenris, because if I have to listen to one more person tell me about the evils of magic I’m going to scream, I swear to the Maker.”

Fenris wants to laugh. As far as threats go, screaming is the least of what a mage as powerful as Anders could do in response to anyone who challenges him. After a long debate with himself he steps forward, reaching out, half-surprised Anders even lets him take his hand. He is careful not to let the sharp edges of his taloned gauntlets dig into the mage’s skin.

“I’m not disgusted by you. I am conflicted by everything I have experienced at mages’ hands, but you have yet to hurt me with magic.” He takes a deep breath, “I… care for you, and value what we have together. But I need to be alone sometimes to collect myself. After what that bitch Hadriana said-” he cuts himself off before his temper can flare again, looking up to meet Anders’ gaze. “I will not abandon you in a fight, but if I otherwise leave, you must let me go. I will return.” Return to you, pushes itself across his tongue, but he bites it back.

That, he’s not ready to speak aloud.

“...Agreed,” Anders says after a long moment, his whole expression weighed down with expectation. “But I need something from you, too.”

Fenris doesn’t tense – can already guess what the man wants. He waits.

“Unless I actually break out in boils and spine twisting, don’t call me that again,” he says, tone level.

“Agreed.”

“Then I forgive you,” Anders says, easy as that. The mage tugs Fenris closer by the hand, and where Fenris expects to be pulled into a kiss, he’s instead swept into a fierce hug. Tentatively, he wraps his arms around Anders’ torso, trying not to let a faceful of unkempt, damp copper-blond hair get in his mouth. Anders’ grip isn’t quite crushing, but it comes close, and after a long moment Fenris feels himself relaxing against the warmth of the man’s body.

For now, it’s enough

#fic #dragon age #anders/fenris #fenders #da drunk writing circle

60 notes · View notes

ancientwastedlores · 3 years

Text

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none.

WORD COUNT: 1,932

____________________________________________________________________

Undone by “Darling”

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it.

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order.

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan. ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon. ‘I’m smarter’ you say. ‘I went to MIT’ ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’.

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh.

‘How far along are you?’ you ask. ‘Still running diagnostics’. ‘Still!?’ ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’ ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’.

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap.

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’. ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work.

Loki’s POV:

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people.

Take the Avengers Tower, for example.

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality.

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps.

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game.

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes.

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says. ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’.

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’ ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’.

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away.

‘We could play?’ I ask her. ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’ ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’.

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’ ‘Problem?’ ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’.

She says nothing.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would.

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’.

And she carries on, unbothered.

‘Y/n!’ ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked.

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’. ‘Sure, darling’.

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this.

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that.

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’ ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says. ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich.

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy.

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended.

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’. ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says. ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes.

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required.

And so she called me.

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard.

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’ ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses. ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’.

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles.

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance.

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows.

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy.

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her.

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall.

She spins the glaive and laughs.

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’.

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres.

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled.

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’.

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones.

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’. ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’ ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds?

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’.

Silence.

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’.

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning.

No problem. Cunning is my specialty.

‘Ready now?’ she asks. ‘Mhm’.

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock.

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin.

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen.

The illusion disappears into green light.

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’ I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’.

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will.

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

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’. ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’ ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’.

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable.

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks.

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’.

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n. ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’.

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter.

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’.

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’.

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’ ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand.

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed.

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’ ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again.

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3

MASTERLIST HERE

ASK BOX OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS. Find GUIDELINES HERE.

#loki x you #loki pov #loki x reader #loki marvel #Marvel Avengers #avengers tower #avengers fluff #tony stark #loki fanfic #loki fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston birthday #fic prompts

91 notes · View notes

buckyskorpion · 4 years

Text

11 hours - part five

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: alright things escalated VERY QUICKLY but shit had to go down sometime. i hope you enjoy! and sorry for the delay, i really been goin thru it recently. this part is 7k to make up for it lmao i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | my ko-fi

masterlist

It’s a big day. You had held Bucky’s hand as you stood in the doorway to his apartment, playing with his rings so you didn’t have to meet his eyes. You were nervous, not because you didn’t trust Bucky but because with every secret spilled you felt like a layer of your skin was being peeled away. But you’d held his hand and told him to pick you up tonight from your office. You handed him your business card, a physical embodiment of trust you hadn’t given to anyone else. It wasn’t your apartment address, sure, but it was something and Bucky held the card with the biggest, boyish grin on his face that melted your heart.

The real reason you’re so nervous is because if whoever followed you from Bucky’s apartment is following Bucky, then they’ll follow him right to your office door. You’d had a long talk to yourself in the bathroom mirror the other night, however, and decided you weren’t going to let a hypothetical stalker ruin yet another relationship for you. Not that stalkers are common in your life, but using any excuse to distance yourself and cut people out is most definitely your regular MO. Not this time.

That being said, stalkers aren’t common in your life so you are, understandably, fixated by it. You are sure it has something to do with Bucky because you don’t believe in coincidences and the guy literally followed you from Bucky’s apartment. The big question is, was the stalker after Bucky or were they after you? Since you have next to nothing to go on, you aren’t exactly on your way to answering that one yet. But you’ll get there, eventually, and you’ve got some ideas.

In the meantime, you wait for Bucky and attempt to tidy your organised mess. He’s meant to show up at seven on his bike, but seven is going on eight and he’s yet to show. You try not to picture the worst or convince yourself you’re being stood up, even though that’s what it feels like. The one time you give out personal details and he doesn’t show. That would be your luck. You kick a filing drawer closed a bit too harshly, the metal clanging loud in your deafeningly silent office. Whatever. It’s not like anyone is left in the building to judge you because Bucky is over an hour late and every other office in the place is long empty.

You water your desperately dry indoor plants, even the one on top of your bookshelf - a testament to how hard you’re trying to distract yourself from the imminent heartbreak. You stand on tiptoes on your swivel chair to reach the crispy fern, something your dad would yell at you for if he could see you, but he can’t so you just pray the wheels don’t slip out from under you. It’s a very precarious precision for you to be in when someone bangs your office door open and stumbles inside, that’s for sure. You nearly break your entire body falling from the chair, but catch yourself on the bookcase before any real damage can be done.

The invader slams the door shut behind them, making you flinch once again as you spin around to face your would-be attacker. Only it's not someone breaking and entering - it’s Bucky, panting heavily and bleeding from his temple while he turns slowly on his heel and assesses every corner of your tiny office for threats.

“Bucky?” you call out, hesitant to approach and startle him incase it’s not your office that he’s seeing. His dog tags hang out the neck of his t-shirt when they’re usually always carefully tucked under the fabric, and you notice now he’s not just bleeding from his head but somewhere under that shirt as well. He looks over at your voice and it takes a second for him to focus properly on you, shoulders visibly slumping, closing the space in three quick strides.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, pulling you bodily into a crushing hug. You wrap your arms around his waist, carefully holding him in case he’s got even more injuries you can’t see, but he squeezes you so tight you find it hard to breathe. He has one arm around your shoulders, that hand tangled in your hair and he presses your head into his shoulder. You feel him nose into the hair at the crown of your head, breathe in deep, let it out in shudders.

“You’re hurt,” you say into his t-shirt, and he shakes his head while still pressing his face into your scalp.

“M’fine, s’just blood,” he mumbles, barely coherent, so you let it go for the moment. You let him hold you and you hug him back, splaying your palms flat against his back and pressing him impossibly closer to you.

Eventually, you peel yourself from him in order to give him a once over. He smiles down at you like he’s amused, but you hardly find the situation funny when Bucky’s blood is literally all over you, now. You take his hand and make him sit on your swivel chair, spinning uselessly in the middle of the room from where it slid out from under you and rolled away. There’s a first aid kit in a box near the window, because you can never be too careful, and you take to soaking gauze in alcohol solution instead of speaking. You don’t trust what would come out of your mouth right now, anyway.

Luckily, Bucky fills the silence for you. He bites his lip as he looks over at you, taking in the tense set of your shoulders and jerky movements as you dig around for bandages. Then he says, “I got caught up, I really am sorry.”

You nod, but you still don’t speak. Instead you grab your supplies and move over to Bucky, avoiding his eyes as you assess the one wound you can see. Bucky has a thin cut from the corner of his eye to his hairline, shallow but bleeding profusely due to the thin skin there. You suck in a deep breath and start dabbing the soaked gauze on the wound, outside to inside, watching as the white turns coppery red with every swipe. Your stomach twists at the sight, and to your horror, you find you could almost cry.

“Doll,” Bucky says, eyebrows creasing up as if he’s just as upset as you feel. He hooks one big hand around your thigh, tugging until you let him manhandle you onto his lap. “I mean it, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“I don’t care that you were late,” you snap, clenching your jaw until you can get your flash of frustration under control. You drop your hand from his face, curling up further onto Bucky’s lap despite yourself as his arms come round to hug you to his chest. His bloodstained, most likely injured chest. You take a deep breath and ask, “What happened?”

“You wanna know?” Bucky asks. When you finally meet his eyes he doesn’t seem to be shutting down, shutting you out like you expect when it comes to talking about Bucky’s biker lifestyle. He just looks sad, and you let yourself soften just a bit to run your fingers down his jaw.

Bucky’s eyes flutter closed when you touch him, and you say, “I already told you - I just wanna know. No secrets.”

“No secrets,” Bucky affirms, smiling as he opens his eyes again. The corners are tight, though, as he starts to explain. “One of the things we do - the gang, y’know - is run protection details. Me and Sam were on it, supposed to be a simple job, but we got shitty intel and ended up having to fight our way out of a crappy spot. We got out, finished the job, but it definitely didn’t go to plan. ”

“Protection for what?” you ask. This is the most open Bucky has ever been when talking about his gang, so you’re not going to pass up this opportunity for a bit more information.

“For who,” Bucky corrects, smiling at you like he knows what you’re doing. He starts stroking up and down your shoulder blades as he talks, soothing the both of you it seems. “Rich businessmen, low-level politicians, mob affiliates - anyone who’s got a target on their back and need to get from point A to point B. They’re easy jobs for us ex-army guys and they pay well.”

“Better pay than fixing cars, I bet,” you say. Your attempt at levity works and Bucky grins. The way it makes his face turn young and open is so at odds with the trickle of blood down his cheek.

“Gotta be able to pay for your drinks somehow,” he says, and you slap his shoulder. He mock-winces and says, “Hey! I’m bleeding, ya gotta be nice to me.”

“Don’t gotta do shit,” you mumble, reminding you to press the gauze you’re still holding back on the wound on his temple to stem some of the bleeding. He hisses for real this time, the sting of the alcohol probably burning a bit, especially so close to his eye. You press a kiss to his cheek and in apology and Bucky hums, tightening his grip around your body to hold you close again.

“M’sorry I ruined our night,” he says, “I wish I could promise it won’t happen again, but I can’t.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, and he meets your eyes, slightly confused. You smile and say, “Not when you’re hurt. I know what I signed up for, I just want you to be ok.”

“What if, one day, I’m not ok?” Bucky asks, serious now, and you take your time before you answer him. His cut is clean of dried blood, and it’s stopped oozing any more. You doubt it’ll get infected so you should bandage it up but you can’t make yourself move from Bucky’s lap. Not just yet.

“I’ll fix you up,” you say. “That’s what we’re doing, right? Taking care of each other.”

Bucky blinks, once, as if allowing your words to download in his brain like a data file. Then he kisses you. He slides a hand up to cradle your head and presses soft, slow kisses to your lips like he’s got all the time in the world. He came storming in like a hurricane but now you’re in the eye, calm and quiet settling over you both as you cup his jaw and kiss into him all the tenderness you're too afraid to say. You mend his bleeding head and adrenaline-addled heart while he soothes your fear. Taking care of each other, and it feels nice to let someone else do that for once.

You know what Bucky is leaving out. The I hurt people admission, the fact he might have killed someone tonight, that the blood on his shirt isn’t just his. You really thought you’d care more - about the not knowing, about the truth of it, about everything. But he’s breathing and alive underneath you, trailing kisses and stubble burn from your mouth to your cheek to your temple, and all of those superfluous details become white noise. You’re surprised to find the simple fact that Bucky is alright is enough to supersede all the gaps you would usually itch to fill.

Bucky spins you both, tucking your legs up closer so you don’t overbalance as he looks around your office in a dizzying circle. A spike of nerves makes you feel sick for a second but Bucky smiles as he looks around, like he’s pleased with this part of your life he’s been able to see, and it makes you feel less afraid.

“This is where the magic happens, huh?” he asks, and you laugh at his teasing. “It’s very normal.”

“What did you expect? Like ‘Sherlock Holmes’ or something?” you ask. Bucky shrugs, mouth twitching like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Maybe,” he says, then squints at you like he’s considering something. “So, no violin?”

“No violin, and no Mrs Hudson. I make my own tea,” you say, grinning up at Bucky even though he’s being stupid.

“Yeah, right,” Bucky snorts, “Pour your own wine, you mean.”

“Are you calling me a drunk?” you gasp, reeling back from Bucky and almost sending yourself off his lap and onto the floor. Bucky grips you tighter, laughing at the offence written all over your face, and then extracts an arm to point meaningfully at the half empty bottle of red by the side of your desk.

“The evidence speaks for itself,” he says. You fold your arms in a huff, if only to have him kiss the top of your head in a silent apology.

“You stick to the gang stuff, I’ll stick to the investigating,” you huff, and Bucky kisses you again until you wipe the frown from your face.

“Alright, smart girl,” he says. He stands, holding you up like it’s nothing and you can’t deny how hot that is, even if he is being condescending to you right now. He sets you down on your feet and smooths out your jacket, the warmth of his hands seeping through the leather as they pass over your shoulders and down your arms. He links his fingers into one of your hands, smiling down at you, and says, “Can we rain check dinner? I think I need a shower.”

Bucky stands unnaturally close to you as you lock up your office and head out, scanning the street while you lock the back door and set the alarm system for the building. He takes your hand wordlessly and leads you to his bike, parked haphazardly on the sidewalk and just begging for a ticket. He hands you a helmet but is looking over your shoulder, not at you, and both of those things are worrying - you’ve never known Bucky to wear a helmet, let alone offer you one. You didn’t know he owned one. You feel fidgety, your skin crawling like you’re being watched, and Bucky must feel it too because he’s a bit rough in manhandling you onto the bike as quickly as possible.

“Bucky,” you say, and he twists around to give you a clinical once over - much like you’d done to him when he’d come to you bloody and breathless. You feel sick to your stomach, guilt and fear twisting in your gut, as you ask, “Do you think someone followed you here?”

Bucky’s face is impassive, but you’d like to think you know him well enough to read the tick by the corner of his eyes as a silent, muttered, shit. He licks his lips and says, “I can’t know the answer to that for sure.”

“But there’s a chance,” you say, and your heart is hammering so loud you barely hear your own voice. If someone finds your office then they find you, and the carefully constructed bubble of anonymity you’ve created is shattered in the space of a second. But you knew that, that’s what Bucky asked you on his couch - will you stay? Knowing Bucky is the antithesis of your comfort zone, will you stay anyway?

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Bucky says definitively. You scan his eyes for trace of a lie but there is none. Bucky’s jaw is set, and he reaches up to grip your chin and hold your gaze on his, making sure you hear him. “Just like you said - we take care of each other. I’ll always take care of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, one you hadn’t known you’d been holding, and Bucky kisses the trill of fear away. You feel like you’ve dived off a cliff face, Bucky holding your hand all the way down the precipice of trust you’d promised yourself you’d never cross. But Bucky promises he’ll take care of you and god, it’s stupid but you want him to. You want his to be the arms you land in at the end of this free-fall. Even if, given who Bucky is, that’s the most dangerous place to be.

“Speaking of no secrets,” you say, more of mumble into his mouth than anything. Bucky pulls away, adorably puppy-like look of confusion on his face, and your stomach twists with guilt. “Remember the night of the party? At Sam’s bar?”

Bucky nods. He’s twisted uncomfortably on the seat of his bike and the helmet you’ve yet to put on is digging in o your stomach where you’re holding it. This isn’t the best place to be having this conversation but Bucky’s promise has made you brave, and if you don’t go against your own word now you never will. Not once have you ever spilled details of a case before you’d cracked it. This isn’t a case, you have to remind yourself. This is your life.

“That morning, when I left,” you say, omitting the fact it’s the first time you ever used his front door and will most certainly be the last, “someone followed me from your building. I shook them off, but they were waiting for me to leave and I don’t know if they were casing your apartment or if they were there for me, or what. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, I just-“

“You just what?” Bucky doesn’t sound angry. Worse, he sounds cold. Shut down, clinical, and the way his face has pinched off makes your heart break.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you,” you say, looking down at your lap to avoid the way he’s looking at you like a stranger. Saying it out loud makes it sound so much worse, but it’s the truth and Bucky deserves that at least. “To be honest, I’m still not sure. But I want to. If I’m going to trust anyone, I want it to be you.”

It’s several moments before you’re brave enough to meet Bucky’s eyes again. He is coming back to you slowly, the shutters pulling up from his eyes as confusion seeps out. He scans your face and says, “Usually I would tell you that’s a really stupid idea, but I think you already know that.”

“Stupid ideas are kind of my thing,” you say, and that makes Bucky smile. Relief is bone deep, hits so hard you could slump from the bike in a pile of goo. He’s not mad. In fact, he leans forward in what must be a truly uncomfortable twist to press his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, breathes in deep. You follow suit, so ridiculously relieved you still get to do this while simultaneously trying to control the adrenaline rush from handing over what feels like you’re entire life to someone else.

All your life it feels like it’s always been you versus the world. Your dad raised you that way, to rely on no one but yourself so you can never be let down, not even him. It feels wrong on a cellular level to trust Bucky like you are so blindly doing. Every instinct screams at you to run, to figure this out on your own, that Bucky would normally be one of your main suspects in a regular case. But here you are, showing Bucky all your cards, hoping against hope that you won’t live to regret it.

“No more secrets,” Bucky says, and you nod. You feel his eyelashes tangle with yours as you move, pressed so close like this, and you open your eyes to stare at the veiny lids covering his. “Next time someone follows you, you tell me.”

“Yes sir,” you say, grinning at the warning pinch he gives to your hip.

“Let’s go to the shop,” Bucky says, pulling away from you and turning back to gun his bike to life. “The guys can help us figure this stalker shit out.”

“The guys?” you ask, and your chest does something painfully restrictive at the thought of letting more people in. “As in, everyone? Like, your gang?”

Bucky laughs, like the way you say ‘gang’ is so goddamn amusing, and throws you one last look over his shoulder. You tug the helmet on as he revs the bike, suddenly regretting every other time you’ve gotten on this thing without one, as Bucky says, “Yeah, doll, my gang. That’s kinda the whole point - we help each other out.”

You hadn’t really thought of it like that before. Truthfully, your mind had been filled with shady drug deals and bloody fights, turf wars and tattoos and angry men on bikes. Bucky’s friends and the nights you’ve spent with them seem like a different world, the joy and love entirely removed from the illegal life Bucky leads outside of your reach, but you have to remind yourself - they’re one and the same. Your Bucky cannot be removed from the biker you’ve been kept seperate from.

Clinging to Bucky’s waist, you say, “Sounds very after school special for a gang, tough guy.”

You can practically see Bucky grinning just by looking at the back of his head as takes off, the streets of Brooklyn peeling away as heads for White Wolf Mechanics. Your anxiety and fear sheds off as well, floating away in strips down the tarmac like an outer layer of skin. You feel vulnerable, all new and exposed as you hold Bucky close so you don’t fall. That’s what makes it feel bearable - Bucky’s back against your cheek, the hand he places over yours against his stomach when you pull up at a red light. His promise, echoing under the rumble of the bike beneath you. I’ll always take care of you.

~~~

The shop looks closed from the outside, but you can hear a low bass-line from the street and people laughing somewhere inside. Bucky brings you round the back, the roller doors out front closed this time, and into the back rooms you’d yet to see since that first visit a few weeks ago. To your left you see what must be Bucky’s office, but the room he tugs you to looks more like a bachelor pad living room than a mechanics break room.

Sam and Steve lay sprawled on leather couches, beers open on the coffee table made of old crates stacked together. The Killers pumps through a very, very nice sound system which Natasha is quietly singing along to where she lays on top of the pool table, legs kicking off the edge to the beat. Her beer rests on her stomach, rising and falling with every breath, and she doesn’t even raise her head as she waves at the two of you entering. Sam lifts the icepack from his eye to look at you, grinning wide, and kicks Steve in the shin to get his attention.

“Barnes is back,” he says, rolling his eyes as Steve blearily blinks awake from what was clearly an unplanned nap. Steve focuses on you and Bucky, eyebrows drawn down in confusion, and Sam adds, “and he’s brought his girl.”

“Shouldn’t you be at dinner or something?” Steve asks, then seems to remember himself and smiles all big and perfect at you. “It’s great to see you again, by the way.”

“Quit brown-nosing, it’s embarrassing,” Sam says, and throws his icepack at Steve’s head. He swats it away, squawking at the wetness it leaves behind on his hand and cheek, which makes Sam grin.

“I need a beer for this,” Bucky mutters so only you can hear, which makes you smile. You lead the way to the minibar in the corner, right by the bookshelf full of video games and the cardboard cut-out of Guy Fieri (you don’t want to ask). Bucky follows, grabbing your hand and tugging you back into his chest as you walk - even without the watchful eyes of the other gang affiliates which usually follow you at his parties, Bucky seems hell bent on making sure everyone knows who you’re here with. Even his closest friends.

You can’t say you entirely mind.

“So, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Natasha asks. She’s sat up now, twisting on the pool table to face you both as Bucky grabs you some beers. Sam and Steve still continue to argue about nonsense on the couches and are ignored by the three of you for the moment. However, they stop bickering as soon as Bucky speaks again.

“Someone’s been watching my building,” he says. The silence is thick, and you feel almost guilty for ruining their fun night with your stalker woes. Bucky hands you a beer and looks at you pointedly, eyebrows raised. You take a sip before you follow his not-so-subtle direction to start talking.

“I was followed home the morning after Sam’s party at the bar,” you say. You have the full attention of Bucky’s closest friends, and you can’t help but feel a little intimidated. You take a deep breath and decide to look at the situation like you were debriefing a client on a case - remove yourself from the equation. “There was a man smoking against the building next to Bucky’s. He followed me about four blocks before I lost him. He was over six foot, caucasian, brown hair and stubble.”

“Sounds like every white guy,” Sam says. “You could be describing Bucky, for all we know.”

“Yes,” you say, frowning. “If I was putting a tail on someone, I would make them very nondescript. Makes sense, right?”

“And you’re sure he was following you?” Natasha asks. You glance at her, but she doesn’t look like she’s condescending you or anything. Surprisingly, she looks like she believes you far more than the other two men in the room. Maybe your trial by fire proved to her you know what you’re talking about, so you nod.

“Definitely. Either he knew I was there and was waiting for me to leave, or he was watching Bucky’s apartment and would have followed anyone who came out of it. Without more information I can’t be sure if he was there for me or Bucky.”

“You’ve never seem him before?” Steve asks. You shake your head, and he says, “Could you describe him a bit more detailed? I might be able to draw him.”

“Sure,” you shrug. “Or, we can just wait until he shows up at Bucky’s again and follow him.”

Bucky does not like that idea at all. He practically growls, grabbing your elbow and turning you to face him as he glares at you. Roughly, he says, “Are you fucking insane?”

“What?” Mildly annoyed, you tug your arm from Bucky’s grip and say, “If this was a case, that’s what I would do.”

“This isn’t a case. This guy is going to be a hell of a lot more dangerous than some rich businessman cheating on his wife,” Bucky says, voice raised to an almost shout in one of the quickest escalations you’ve ever seen.

A switch flips in your brain, and you see red.

“Thank you for the condescending analysis, Bucky,” you snap. You ignore Sam’s muttered ‘oh shit!’ for your own health and sanity. “But you have no idea the kind of people I’ve dealt with in my life. I can manage a fairly mediocre stalker.”

“A fairly mediocre stalker who works for someone who won’t hesitate to use your hamstrings as handcuffs,” Bucky hisses. He steps towards you, chest brushing yours as he breaths deep and ragged, and oh- there’s the Bucky you’d been missing. The guy who’s still wearing clothes stained with blood, most of it not his, angry in an incandescent kind of way which reminds you he could hurt you in many more ways than just a broken heart. He leans down to say into your face, “This isn’t something you fuck around with, alright? There’s a reason why I’ve kept this world from you.”

“I thought we said no secrets?” you say, raising your eyebrows. You will yourself to hold your ground, even if you are shaking like a leaf and your words come out soft in the face of his anger. Like you’d poked a pin in his chest, Bucky deflates. He backs off of you, face crumbling from anger to guilt as quickly as he built himself up there.

“I won’t let you get hurt because of me,” he says, shaking his head. The switch in your brain flips back, all indignation and pride fading away. He’s still trying to take care of you, just like he promised. Already it’s abundantly clear you’re not going to make that easy for him, and you wonder how long it will take until he gets sick of trying.

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me,” you say, gesturing between you. “I let you into my world, now it’s your turn. I know it’s dangerous - I could have left, remember? But I’m here. So let me be here.”

“If someone touches you-“

“I’ll get over it,” you say. Bucky stares at you like you’re crazy, and maybe you are, but it’s true. “You said you were going to take care of me - how’re you gonna do that from all the way over there?”

You don’t mean the other side of the room, the valley of the pool table and the metaphorical arms-length which which he’s keeping between you. There’s only so much Bucky can hide from you before you either dive right in or walk away. This is the turning point.

“Fine,” he says. He looks physically pained as he scrubs a hand over his cropped hair, but at least he’s not angry anymore. “I still think thats a fucking stupid idea.”

“Like I said,” you say, offering him a smile he shakily returns, “stupid ideas are kind of my thing.”

“Uh, can I say something?” Sam asks, breaking the illusion that it was only the two of you in the room for that particular argument. You both turn to look at him, and he almost backs down with the weight of both your gaze. He carries on, however, saying, “I’m glad you guys have had this breakthrough in your relationship, but that doesn’t really help us in figuring out who this guy is. Or who he works for. Or why he followed you. Or how he knows where Bucky lives in the first place.”

“We could go around and ask,” Steve says, shrugging at Natasha’s eyeroll. “What? Baseball bats really jog people’s memories.”

“Why don’t we ask the private investigator for some expert advice,” Natasha says, giving you a look that seems to say men, right? You’re still trying to get your head around the image of Steve threatening someone with a baseball bat when you’ve seen him with his own puke on his jumper singing Sweet Caroline into a toilet bowl.

“Well,” you begin, darting Bucky a look but he seems to be listening and not getting ready to yell at you again, “since apparently following the guy is off the table for now, I would start with me and Bucky. Enemies, bad blood, someone with an axe to grind. Pull at some threads and see what happens.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Sam says, “Bucky’s got more enemies than friends.”

“So do we all, punk,” Bucky grumbles, glaring at Sam. “We’re in a gang.”

“This ain’t about me.” Sam holds his hands up in mock innocence, grinning big like he gets unrivalled joy from making Bucky’s face do the twitchy, dark thing it’s doing right now. The impact is somewhat lessened by the swollen, black eye Sam’s sporting from the mission gone wrong today, you assume, but it doesn’t curb his enthusiasm.

“I can put together a list of the most recent run-in’s you’ve had by tomorrow,” Natasha says to Bucky, ignoring the bickering with practiced ease. “Until then, we should put some protection on your building.”

“You guys have bodyguards?” you ask before your brain can tell you that’s a dumb fucking question. All three of them laugh, Bucky hooking an arm around your shoulder to ruffle your hair as he tugs you into his side. Point taken, you think as you pout under Bucky’s arm.

“I’ll stay in the spare room,” Steve says, swinging himself off the couch to his full, ginormous height. That image of him with the baseball bat starts to take a bit more shape in your mind, and you don’t doubt for a second he could offer some extra protection where the stalker is concerned. To you, he asks, “You don’t mind if I third wheel?”

“It’s not my apartment,” you say, attempting to hide your blush under the weight of Bucky’s arm. You are unsuccessful, if Sam’s smirk is anything to go by.

“We’ll survive one night, punk,” Bucky says, giving you a squeeze. “Or just buy some earplugs.”

“Gross!” Sam cries, flailing an arm around. “Too much information!”

You have a feeling akin to whiplash at how well these people are taking a stalker and potential threat on their lives. Joking around, Steve fake-moaning just to make Sam scream, Natasha laughing until tears form in her eyes at the antics of two grown men chasing each other around the couches like school children. Glancing up at Bucky and the warm look he’s giving them all, you suppose it must be lot less scary to face something like that with friends. Family, you think, as Sam crash-tackles Steve into the couch and smothers his face with a pillow.

“You’ll be alright?” Natasha’s soft voice manages to scare you, jolting under Bucky’s hold as you turn from watching Steve and Sam to find her right by Bucky’s other side. She’s looking up at him, lips pressed into a firm line, and you remember the last time you were here - James is the only family I have. Maybe some are taking this development a bit easier than others.

“Always am,” Bucky says, using his free arm to punch her lightly on the shoulder. She gets him back, much harder, and you feel Bucky wince away from her and into your side. “Serious, Natashenka. I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” she says. Smirking, she adds, “I’ll kill you if you aren’t.”

You look back to Steve and Sam before they can notice you eavesdropping, a hot, honey-thick feeling melting through your skin. You want to know what that feels like in a way which burns; to have people who have your back like that, and your dad doesn’t count because he literally has to. You understood Bucky’s gang even less than you originally thought - he’s not just a biker, a criminal, a hit man or an ex-army vet turned enforcer, whatever the case may be. He’s a guy doing what he has to do to protect the people he loves, because he’s surrounded by them. You’ve never had to protect anyone but yourself.

You tuck yourself closer into Bucky’s side, letting the warmth and smell of him consume you. That’s gonna change, you think. This feeling in your chest is telling you that change is already happening.

~~~

Steve does not have to get ear plugs to survive the night, and you make both him and Bucky coffee before you head off. Shower, new clothes, work - all that normal people stuff you have to do. Steve, golden in the morning sun with the brightest smile on his face, and Bucky’s moody scowl at the early hour and dark rings under his eyes, wave you goodbye. You kiss Bucky’s pout before you go, letting him grab your ass for a second before you slip away.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he says, and Steve snorts like there’s some joke you’re missing.

“I’ll go out the laundry window,” you say, as if this is a new development and not your usual routine. “Nobody’s gonna follow me, promise.”

“Hmph,” is all Bucky says and then you’re really gone, racing down the stairs and out the window like you always do.

Sorry Bucky, you silently think towards his apartment as instead of making to cut through the gym parking lot, you wrap back around his building and scan the street from behind the bins. Sure enough, opposite Bucky’s building with a baseball cap on and another cigarette, stands the same dude who followed you the first time. You really weren’t lying - stupid ideas are kind of your thing.

You make sure you’re hidden by a group of pedestrians as you slip out the side alley of Bucky’s apartment building and walk away from your stalker. He doesn’t notice, and you manage to walk a block and cross the road without him any the wiser. Your roles have switched as you hang out at the news-agency a few doors down from where he’s waiting, pretending to flick through a magazine. It’s easy to take a few picture of him over the top of the page with your phone, grainy but useable for when you show Bucky later.

You can deal with Bucky being angry at you, because you know how to do your job and this is the most efficient way to get intel. It’s always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Eventually, you watch your stalker watch Bucky and Steve leave his building. It’s 9AM and they head to their respective bikes, revving off down the street in the general direction of Steve’s tattoo shop. Your man hunches his shoulders and pulls out his phone, taps into it for a bit, before he walks off in the opposite direction to Bucky and Steve. Not following them, then. Your stomach twists as you fall into pace a few people behind him. Just following you.

He gets on the subway, which makes it very difficult for you to remain unnoticed but you manage to sit at the internal doors in the next carriage and watch him through those. He gets on his phone again, talking to someone with evident frustration if his clenched jaw and balled fist is anything to go by. He gets off in Manhattan, walks a few blocks, before ducking into a darkly lit bar called the Lerna. You decide it’s probably best not to follow him there, but you snap a few photos on your phone of the bar before doubling back out to Brooklyn.

You call Bucky as you go, a bit jittery at the incoming argument you know you’ve created, but you can’t help but feel it will be worth it. Now you have something to actually go off - a face, a name, some concrete facts. Much better than stabbing around in the dark. A few rings go by before Bucky picks up, saying, “Miss me already?”

“Get over yourself, tough guy,” you say, but you’re smiling. Maybe you do miss him already, just a bit. You were so focused on getting your information you didn’t get to fully savour Bucky this morning, all tanned muscles and tattoos, all yours. You force yourself to ruin the moment by saying, “I’ve got some information for you.”

“Me too,” he says, which surprises you. “Nat’s gotten together some potential candidates for your stalker. Have you got time to come to Steve’s tattoo place?”

“Sure,” you say, beginning to pick at your nails as the nerves set in.

There’s a beat of silence before Bucky must realise what you’d said before, and he doesn’t sound nearly as light and playful anymore “You said you had information? On what?”

“I’ll just show you when I get there,” you rush out, closing your eyes at the way Bucky sucks in a breath like he already knows what you’ve done. “Don’t be mad.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” he says, as if through gritted teeth. “I’m fucking livid. Please tell me you didn’t follow that guy this morning.”

“Ok, I won’t tell you,” you say. “See you in twenty.”

“You’re dead meat,” he says before you hang up.

It could’ve gone worse, you muse as you round the corner to the subway station. Sure, Bucky threatened you with lethal violence and sounded even angrier than he’d gotten at the shop yesterday, but you can still imagine him smiling at his phone as you hung up the same way you’re smiling at yours now.

You text him the photos with a quick, Don’t say I never do anything for you xx

A minute after the photos deliver, Bucky is calling you again. You frown down at his caller ID, confused - you were on your way, why is he calling you back already? But before you answer that question, someone grabs your arm and tugs you away from the subway steps and into an alley instead. His grip is bruising, unbreakable, even as you scream and kick before he shoves a gun into your neck and you fall deathly silent.

“Scream and you’re dead,” the man says, hot on your ear. You can’t shudder away, his vice grip too tight and the cold steel on your jugular paralysing. You twist a bit to look behind you despite yourself, your stomach bottoming out at the familiar face which grins back at you. Baseball cap, brown hair, stubble - just like any other white guy. He sneers at you and says, “Not so clever now, huh?”

All you can hear, as your stalker marches you down the alley and into a waiting SUV with a gun to your back, is Bucky’s voice yelling this isn’t something you fuck around with. You’d let him say ‘I told you’ so a thousand times if it meant you got out of this alive. Hopefully, the phone tucked into your back pocket will be enough to save you. You hope Bucky is listening, the call you just managed to answer still catching the grunted conversation your kidnappers are having. You’ve never needed someone before, but god, do you hope Bucky’s got you now.

Part 6

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic #biker!bucky #biker au #avengers fic #marvel fic #reader insert #pov fic #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #sam wilson #11 hours #bucky barnes x reader fic #biker!bucky fic

691 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip: Pt 37 - Rough

“You want me to lie down on my back and spread my legs and let you fuck me until you cum in me like a good little girl, huh?” she continues. There is a wildness, an unconstrained craziness in her eyes.

You want to say something, want to snap back and tell her that you were more than willing and plenty able to do more than just that; but her hand pumping up and down your stiff cock, and the wild look in those eyes, has you incapable of coming up with the right words. Your cock begins to leak pre-cum, and she spreads it over your weeping slit and sensitive head, eliciting a soft moan from your lips that you do your best to stifle.

Seulgi sees this - sees that she has the upper hand - and the devious smile on her lips widens.

Seulgi grabs you by the cock and pulls you towards the bed - something that would have been painful were it not so fucking hot; the promise of sex with such a wild partner was an effective painkiller, it seemed.

Placing both hands flat against your chest, she pushes you down onto the old, small bed. She quickly undoes the button and zipper of her denim shorts, and strips it off her hips. Her short crop top soon follows it to the bedroom floor, and suddenly Kang Seulgi is naked in front of you, her slim, toned body tensed and ready to pounce.

“Too bad I’m not a good little girl,” she hisses, before climbing onto the bed, straddling your head with her thighs, and sitting on your face.

---

“So this is it, huh?”

“This is it,” Kang Seulgi repeats as she takes the first few steps into the apartment, reaching out to the wall to flick the lights on. Most of the furniture in the small, nondescript unit was covered with white sheets, although here and there an odd appliance or decoration was left uncovered to gather a layer of dust. The sheets and dusty atmosphere meant it was unlikely anyone had been there in awhile.

“I’d expected SM staff to be able to afford better housing,” you admit. The apartment was modest at best, being on a middle floor in a lower-middle class neighborhood of Seoul. It was far from being an unlivable place, but it was still a ways removed from the hyper modern, massive apartment buildings that dominated most of Seoul’s hipper, newer neighborhoods.

Momo and her team had picked you up from the JYP offices about an hour before; the other girls were doing some scouting and recon of the premises ahead of Seulgi’s meeting with Irene, which was scheduled for the next day. You’d volunteered to scout out Red Velvet’s old apartment with Seulgi, where the actual meeting was going to happen.

“This was all we could afford when we started out,” Seulgi replies, “when we were just paper pushers at SM. Before Red Velvet was even a thing.”

Seulgi reaches out to the refrigerator, which still had polaroids, takeout menus, and other miscellaneous junk attached onto its front door with magnets and scotch tape. Her eyes, normally cold and aloof, are far away, lost in thought and memories of days gone by. She plays idly with the edges of a series of polaroids - and though you were too far to see the subject of the photos, you knew it had to be the members of Red Velvet in their younger, more carefree days.

“When we started living here we decided as a team that we would each take turns cooking. We didn’t have a lot of money and we figured cooking our own food would save us a few won here and there,” she says with the hint of a smile on her lips, “but it turned out none of us could cook. Joy almost burnt this place down a couple of times. We ended up just taking turns ordering delivery.”

Her fingertips trace the corner of a well-worn delivery menu held to the door with a magnet. She touches the magnet briefly, as though she were reliving a moment that might have happened years ago, when she’d grab the menu off the fridge and ask the girls what they wanted to eat. But reality soon sets in for the suddenly sombre girl, and with heavy steps she leaves the kitchen.

She flicks on another set of lights, revealing the relatively small living room. An old, small flatscreen TV sat on a simple wooden stand against one wall, with a cheap fabric couch opposite it covered in white sheets.

“Only two of us could fit on the couch at once, so the other two had to sit on the floor. We took turns,” she explained, as if reading your mind. There must have been a lot of sharing going on - the apartment might have been cramped for two occupants, let alone four young women.

“Only one tiny little bathroom, too,” she continued. “Man, the fights that we had over who was taking too long in there…”

You are happy to let Seulgi reminisce about better days for a moment. This was the first time you’d spent any length of time alone with her, and you didn’t mind learning more about Red Velvet and how they began.

“Irene would shout at us if we were taking too long,” she continues, her tone wistful, “sometimes she would bang on the bathroom door so loud we’d get complaints from the neighbors.”

You are hesitant to broach the topic of Irene, given the noticeable thawing of Seulgi’s usually icy exterior since you’d arrived at the apartment. You were thankful it was Seulgi who brought her up.

“So the bitchiness started early,” you state.

Seulgi smirks. “At the time, yeah, we thought she was a bit of a bitch. But we couldn’t deny that she was driven, and that she wanted to go places. It was her that had the idea of forming Red Velvet - of working together as a team to make something of ourselves at SM. She was a bitch, but she could be a real leader, too. I suppose her bitchiness is also what made her so successful.”

“So how exactly did you four meet?”

“The four of us started at Red Velvet at the same time - we were recruited right out of university. We met at the SM orientation, and when we learned that we would be working in the same division we decided, hey, we may as well live together.”

Seulgi steps over to a bookcase filled with framed photos, old books, and other keepsakes collected by young people in the prime of their youth. Her hands reach out to graze its simple wooden frame, her eyes drifting from one item to another on its shelves and reliving a memory with each one. She doesn’t touch any of the photos or other things on the shelf, as if she were afraid of what would happen if she did.

“We started off just pushing paper. But one day Irene was promoted to be the executive assistant of some middle management type dude at SM. He was a bit of a perv - always hitting on her and shit, touching her like she was his girlfriend. Anyway, one day he was assigned to go to this convention in Europe and scope out what the competition was doing, and then report back. Irene went with him. Guy was drunk as fuck the whole time, treating it as a company paid vacation.”

Seulgi’s gaze finally settles on a framed picture, and with hands that appeared almost nervous, she reaches out and picks it up off the shelf with a delicacy that you didn’t know she was capable of. Her slim fingers play gently along its frame, as though she were handling some precious, fragile artifact.

“Irene ended doing all the work. And what’s more, she ended up getting some pretty juicy info on a competitor; info we ended up using to… convince them to sell us their tech.”

“So the blackmailing started early, too,” you say under your breath. Seulgi smirks.

“We prefer the term ‘corporate espionage,’” she says with a sly smile on her lips. “Irene was promoted for her work. The dude was demoted to the dungeons of SM where he fucking belonged. Irene took us with her, and soon we were climbing the ladder at SM.”

“Surely you were paid enough to buy nicer digs.”

“Yes,” Seulgi admits, “but we always kept this place. It was like a hideout for us, almost. We got up to some pretty shady stuff in our line of work. But we’d always come back to this place to relax, hang out, and just be girls again. No one knew about this place but us. It felt safe. It kept us grounded. It kept us together.”

“So what happened, then?” you ask, satisfied that now was the time to bring up the YG incident, “what happened on that day, Seulgi?”

Even without asking, the young woman knows what day you mean. She puts the picture back on the shelf and lets out a sigh; you experience a pang of regret as she does so, knowing that you were probably bringing up some bad memories. Seulgi takes a few deep breaths to compose herself.

When she begins to speak she’s still turned away from you, moving from the bookshelf to stare out the window of the living room, towards the skyline of downtown Seoul in the distance.

“YG was our biggest competitor back in the day, as I’m sure you know. Wendy and Yeri were assigned a few operations to try and get dirt on them. But they never had any luck. Soon enough SM brass decided to give the assignment to Irene. Irene, of course - she didn’t waste any time. Before a month was out she had already established a relationship with YG’s CEO. More than that - she had him wrapped around her finger.”

“Damn,” you say, impressed.

“Anyway, her mission was to get the dirt on YG’s R&D division - they went under the codename Blackpink. She used her relationship with the CEO to dig up everything she could. But the more she found out about Blackpink, the more passionate she became about bringing YG down.”

“What did she find?”

“She wouldn’t tell us,” Seulgi says with a soft shake of her head, “she kept everything to herself at her own insistence. We usually shared everything we knew with each other, but this was different. She said it was because she didn’t want us to be in danger in case YG retaliated. She wanted to give us plausible deniability, I guess. Yeri thinks that by not telling us anything, she was trying to protect us. But I don’t believe that.”

“What do you think it was?” you ask, sitting down on the covered couch.

“I’m not entirely sure. I just know she must have had a reason for not telling us what she found. Either way, one day she came to us and proposed we infiltrate YG HQ. Apparently there was something there that we couldn’t retrieve via hacking. It had to be done the old school way, as I’m sure you’re familiar with,” Seulgi says with a smile, turning her head slightly in your direction.

“A little too familiar,” you answer, knowing she was referring to the near disaster of Nayeon’s infiltration of SM.

“So we went and got pretty deep into YG HQ. We expected that we’d be doing some hacking into a secure mainframe or server and retrieving some confidential company data. Instead what we did was break four girls out of a goddamn dungeon.”

“What?”

“It turns out the whole thing was a rescue mission. The Blackpink girls were the target. No one knew this except Irene, of course, so you can imagine that when she told us we had to get these four girls to safety, we kind of freaked out. Wendy - she was Irene’s second, back in the day - she almost wanted to walk out on the whole thing and take the other two of us with her. But Irene convinced us that we had to get out with the girls - so we did. She was our leader. We trusted she was doing the right thing.”

“Except you didn’t all get out,” you say, realizing even as you said the words that you could have been more considerate with your choice of words.

“No, we didn’t,” Seulgi says, her voice dropping slightly. The girl takes a few deep breaths to compose herself, her hands bracing her weight against the windowsill. She had always seemed so tough and confident, but to see her vulnerability now made you feel bad for even bringing up the subject. Her very posture had changed; she was usually so proud and haughty, and now she seemed small and defenseless.

“You saw the tapes. You know what happened. YG captured Yeri and I on the way out. Irene took the girls and ran. Yeri and I… YG fucked us up.”

“Seulgi…” you say, not quite knowing how to best comfort her.

“Whatever. That doesn’t matter now. A few months later Yeri and I escaped that hellhole. And now all I want to know is why I had to go through that. I want to know why Irene left us there to die. And I’m going to ask her that tomorrow.”

A few seconds pass in silence as you digest Seulgi’s story. You’d known that Irene had left her and Yeri behind during the YG incident, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Learning the history of Red Velvet right from the source had given you some much needed context.

“I’m sorry, Seulgi. It must have been terrible.”

Seulgi lets out a dark chuckle, as though she’d just heard a joke.

“Terrible is a vast understatement,” she says, “it was the worst few months of my life. But what they did to us physically - it didn’t matter. I healed. It was the betrayal that hurt the most. The relationship we’d built here, in this very room - to have it thrown away like that; that’s what really hurt me.”

Seconds pass in silence.

“It’s one thing to have your boss betray you,” Seulgi says with a wavering voice, “it’s another thing to have someone you’re in love with do the same.”

You are surprised somewhat at Seulgi’s confession. You’d known she’d had some sort of physical relationship with Yeri, and that their shared experience at YG had likely made them close, but you’d had no idea she’d had any sort of feelings towards Irene.

“What, you’re surprised?” Seulgi asks, a mocking tone in her voice and a sly smile on her lips as she finally turns around to face you. Her soft, sad eyes belay the cold, detached persona she was trying to return to. “Are you really surprised though, considering what Yeri and I did in front of you at the coffee shop last week?”

“No, that doesn’t surprise me. I just had no idea you and Irene-”

“Whatever, it’s in the past,” Seulgi snaps, “It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters now is bringing her down. Who I fuck takes a backseat to that.”

“I suppose,” you say with a nod.

“Anyway, the bedroom’s that way. Come on then,” she says, stepping away from the windowsill to take you by the wrist and drag you towards a closed door.

“Uh, what?” you stammer as you are dragged from your seat.

“All this talk of the past has me all sad and shit, and I need a pick me up. Besides, you owe me one from the coffee shop. Oh, and you should know - this is going to be rough. I hope you’re not a pussy.”

---

Seulgi was right - it was rough.

From the moment she dragged you into the bedroom it was a bit like being caught up in a storm; one that pushed you around, one that hit you, one that caused you occasional pain. But instead of giving into her anger you found yourself wanting to fight back - wanting to show here you weren’t going to be pushed around. This was a wild animal you wanted to tame, a storm you wanted to weather.

As you cross the doorframe of the bedroom Seulgi grabs you by the collar of your shirt and quite literally shoves you up against the bedroom wall, rattling the walls and causing a few of the items on the nearby cabinet to fall over. Before you have a chance to react she is on you like a cat, quickly crushing your lips with her own before her tongue quickly invades your mouth. She tastes like mint - sweet, but with an underlying sharpness.

As you make out her hands find your collar again and she tears it open - sending buttons flying to the floor with small clinks. She tears her lips from yours momentarily as she forcefully undresses you. There is a hunger in her eyes as she takes in your newly exposed chest, like a predator salivating at the prospect of delicious prey.

Her lips return to yours in a torrid kiss; her hands quickly strip the torn shirt from your torso, and you are happy to help her remove it from your arms. You aren’t one to let her just get away with something like that, though; you want to fight back, want to show her that this wasn’t just a one way street - and so you grasp the light pink jacket she is wearing and pull it down her shoulders, leaving her in a short crop top and denim shorts..

As soon as Seulgi divests herself of the jacket she slaps you - across the cheek. You’d been slapped before, of course, even a couple of times during sex - but never that hard. It stung. She wasn’t holding back.

“Every piece of clothing you take off me gets a fucking slap,” she hisses. There is a wildness in her eyes that both scared you and intrigued you.

“Then I guess I owe you a slap for my fucking shirt,” you snap.

“Then do it! Fucking slap me. I want you to. I want it to hurt.”

“...I’m not gonna fucking slap you, Seulgi.”

“Because you’re a fucking pussy? I fucking knew it. I fucking knew you were a-”

She is silenced mid sentence by your open palm; even before you realized what you were doing, you’d hit her across the face. You are momentarily frozen by your own actions - you’d never hit a girl’s face before - but the crazy glint in Seulgi’s eyes, and the wild smile on those lips, meant that your slap not only didn’t piss her off - it turned her on.

Her hands reach for your jeans, fingers working quickly, almost frenzied in her desire to undress you. As soon as she undoes your belt she pulls them down, hooking her thumbs in your boxers and dragging them down along with your pants, leaving you naked. She takes a moment to admire your newly stiff cock as it springs free from its cotton prison.

“I see now why you have all those fuck toys in your office,” Seulgi says, licking her lips as though she were about to dive into a delicious looking meal, “and why Momo is always so fucking wet around you.”

“Maybe you should find out first hand,” you snap back.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Seulgi hisses, reaching down and grasping your stiff shaft. The skin of her fingers and palm are soft and warm, but her movements are rough and frenzied as she begins to stroke you up and down - you let a soft sigh escape your lips at the first spikes of pleasure, although you do your best to keep from doing any more than that. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Seulgi sees this - sees that she has the upper hand - and the devious smile on her lips widens.

“Too bad I’m not a good little girl,” she hisses, before climbing onto the bed, straddling your head with her thighs, and sitting on your face.

It must have been only a few minutes since she’d pulled you into the bedroom, and already she was almost too much to handle. With the other girls there was at least some preamble, a healthy amount of foreplay, or both; with Seulgi there was none of that. A quick, torrid kiss, a stripping of clothing, and now your face was between her legs.

Your determination to fight back returns, having been lent strength by the fact that she no longer literally had your cock in her hands. And so you quickly dive into Seulgi’s slick, juicy pussy, darting out your tongue and giving her a slow, hard lick from the bottom of her opening to the top, delighting in the taste of her wet flesh. Seulgi quivers at this first lick, although she quickly settles down - evidently she was fighting the same battle you were, neither of you willing to show the other that they had the upper hand.

Her right hand reaches down to your scalp, her fingers digging into your skull.

“Stop fucking around and eat my pussy,” she orders, her tone sharp, although you notice, to your satisfaction, that her eyes have softened due to the pleasure of that first, quick taste.

You smile to yourself as you dive back in, your tongue darting out and giving her another broad lick, this time swirling your tip around the top of her opening, searching for and quickly finding the stiff little bud that is at the centre of her pleasure. Seulgi quivers slightly at this first contact between your tongue and her clit.

You are determined to not give her what she wanted - and it was clear what she wanted was a quick orgasm. So instead of returning to her aching clit you dive deep into her opening, pressing your face against her hot heat, penetrating her as much as you could with your tongue. You drink in Seulgi’s slick juices as they flow freely into your mouth, delighting in her bittersweet taste as you eat the writhing young girl riding your face. The moans that leave Seulgi’s pursed lips become a little louder with each dive into her depths, and the quivering of her soft thighs around your face become a little stronger as the young woman slowly, gradually loses control.

For a few delicious seconds you tongue fuck her, thrusting your tongue in and out of her opening, swirling your tip around with each entry and exit, savoring the taste of her body like some delicious meal. Her fingers dig deeper into your scalp as she continues to grind her crotch against your face, the pain in your skull and the delicious taste of her pussy mixing into a heady cocktail that quickly intoxicates you.

“Fucking… fucking make me cum.. Oh! Make me cum already,” she hisses.

You are unable to answer her with words, your mouth filled with her pussy as it was, and so you answer with action. You bring your hands up, cupping and squeezing her toned, round ass from behind, pressing her crotch closer and deeper against your face. Giving her pussy one more lick and driving your tongue as deep inside her as it could go one last time, you finally move upwards to her needy clit.

Seulgi’s reaction is instant, having been driven to the edge by the tongue fucking you were giving her. When you capture her bud between your lips and swirl the tip of your tongue around it she cums almost immediately, her body going rigid for a split second before becoming a pile of jelly, the pleasure taking the young woman by surprise as her body succumbs. Her mouth is frozen in an open “o” for a few seconds as the first wave of her orgasm crashes against her, but soon she lets a long, drawn out moan escape her lips as she rides it out, enjoying every crest of pleasure that hits her.

She is gyrating her hips as she cums, grinding her wet, drenched, hot crotch against your face for a few beautiful seconds. It’s almost difficult to breathe, your mouth or your nose or both covered in her wet, hot flesh. You are clutching her ass in an attempt to hold her down, doing your best to lap up the plentiful juices leaving her slick opening, drinking up Seulgi like she were a fountain and you hadn’t drunk in days.

When Seulgi finally comes down from her high and releases your head from between her wet thighs, you are almost upset when her pussy leaves your face. You lick your lips, gathering her juices from the mess she’d made on your mouth and chin.

When you lock eyes again her face is wild - flushed with her orgasm, but still undiminished in that intimidating craziness that had taken her over.

She slides her body down, dipping her head and kissing you roughly, tasting herself on your tongue as your mouths lock in frenzied battle once more. To Seulgi, kissing was not a show or display of affection - it was a battle, a display of dominance.

“Not fucking bad,” she admits when she finally breaks the kiss, “now let’s see how you fuck.”

You were surprised at her lack of foreplay, lack of build up before she forced you to eat her out - but you were still expecting some sort of lead up to actual sex. But you should have known better by now, should have known that Seulgi wasn’t that type of girl.

In the space of a couple of seconds, Seulgi moves her body down until she is straddling your waist, and after reaching down to point your aching tip at her slick, dripping pussy, she takes you inside her and begins to ride you.

No build up, no slow gradual rise in pace or tempo - soon she is riding you hard, as though she were atop some bucking wild horse in some sort of race to a finish line only she could see. Her pussy is tight and wet and slick and hot and every possible adjective you could possibly use to describe the pleasurable feeling of her body - and it took you all at once, the sensations hitting you all at the same time, like a tsunami hitting the unprepared coastline of your brain.

It is all you could do to hold on to her bucking hips as she throws herself again and again into your cock, taking you in and out of her body at a pace that held no regard for your pleasure or even your comfort - all she wanted was to get off, and you were the tool she was going to use to get to her destination.

“Mmmm…. Argh! Fuck! Fuck, yes… Mmm... !!”

Even the sounds she made were different; aside from the odd pleasurable moan or hissed profanity, she sounded like she were searching for something, or working away at a project. The other girls sat back and let themselves come across the pleasure they were searching for; for Seulgi it was as though she were actively searching for it, looking for it amidst the sensations and pleasures emanating from between your bodies.

It took you longer than you cared to admit, but eventually you are able to at least get used to the torrid pace Seulgi has set as she rides you roughly on the creaking, protesting bed. She clutches the headboard above you, and as she does so it finally gives you a good look at her slim, svelte form, all tight muscle and lean limbs, her abs tight and sculpted, her small breasts tipped with delicious looking nipples stiff with pleasure.

Above it all, though, was that face of hers - surely capable of much beauty and grace, but now twisted in wild abandon, the craziness of her need and lust twisting those perfect features into a mask that was equal parts intoxicating and intimidating. Hey eyes, even half-lidded in pleasure, are still bright and wild, fixed on you even as the rest of her body bounces up and down.

Rather mercifully, it is her that ends up approaching orgasm first; lucky for you, because you’d have hated to see what could happen if she were disappointed by sex. The gradual tightening and pulsating of her already tight, slick tunnel tells you she was quickly reaching her peak.

Seulgi ups her pace, impaling herself again and again on your cock as though she were nearing the finish line to a race and wanted to finish strong. The determined look on her face begins to crack, as the pleasure of your stiff cock pumping in and out of her finally overwhelms her senses.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna fucking… fucking cum… fuck!”

She cums like you expected her to, like she did minutes before on your tongue - like a violent storm breaking upon a shore. Her body goes rigid, her fingernails dig into the wooden headboard, and her thighs clench around your waist as the pleasure overtakes her senses. Her pussy pulsates and quivers around your cock as she buries it as deep inside her as it could go. It is all you could do to hold on to her tight, shaking body as she rides out her pleasure for long, beautiful seconds.

When she comes down from her peak she is still slowly grinding herself against your crotch, your cock fully embedded inside her body, as though she is chasing the last vestiges of pleasure before she comes down to earth. Breathing heavily, skin flushed, she finally gives you her appraisal of your performance.

Her appraisal is a slap across your face. When you recover enough to look back at her, your cheek stinging with sharp pain, the wild look in her eyes both scares you and turns you on.

“You think I have to thank you for making me cum, when all you did was lie there? The only credit you get is for not cumming in five seconds like a fucking virgin.”

You are a little stunned by Seulgi, and more than a little unsure about how to react. You’d never been with a woman so wild, so crazy in bed before - only Chaeyoung came close, and even then it was more playful than angry. Seulgi was a storm, a tornado that came in, tore down your house, and didn’t care what you thought of it.

You want to reach up and choke her. You want to turn her around and pull on her hair hard as you drill her tight little body from behind. This part of you wants to fight her - wants to show her you were just as capable of dominating her as she was of you - but another, darker part of you wants to let her have her way. Because deep down, it kind of turned you on.

“I suppose you can cum too, then, I guess,” Seulgi says, as nonchalantly as she could, given the circumstances - as though she weren’t naked, fully impaled on a man’s cock.

“Where do you want to cum, you little bitch?” she asks, with a look that you would have thought was threatening if it weren’t so fucking hot.

“I want-”

Another slap, this time to your other cheek. This one stung more than the other. The gradual increase of pain in her slaps would have concerned you if they weren’t so fucking hot at the same time. You should have known better. You’d think you’d have learned.

“I decide where you cum,” she states, a little edge in her tone. She says the words matter-of-factly, as though she were to brook no complaint or argument, would accept no alternative. A storm, after all, cared little for the complaints of those in its path.

She slides off your cock - and you lament the loss of her tight wet heat wrapped around your cock as it slips out of her, shiny and glistening with her juices. Before you know it Seulgi is curled up into a ball between your legs, and soon she is taking you in and out of her mouth.

Again - no build up. No preamble, no teasing or foreplay. Only the replacement of one hot, wet orifice with another. Only the wet, hot cavern of Seulgi’s mouth, those lips wrapped tightly around your shaft, her tongue swirling around your sensitive head each time she reached the apex. You should have been ready. You should have known by now. But again, the tsunami that was Kang Seulgi’s body finds a coastline unprepared.

She is rough, lacking in the patience and technique of someone like Sana or Seolhyun; but Seulgi more than makes up for it with sheer determination, as though she were using anger and hate to fuel her work between your legs. And you were in no position to complain, not when her hot little mouth was already bringing you close to cumming after only a few seconds of work.

She must have felt you nearing your peak - because you were certainly in no position to tell her so, given the near paralysis you felt as she worked fiercely on your cock. Just moments before you finally cum Seulgi lets your cock pop out of her mouth.

Your orgasm overwhelms your senses, but you force your eyes open to watch as thick, glistening cum erupts from your tip to land on Seulgi’s face, on her cheeks and nose, painting her soft features with white semen. You continue to cum more than you think you were going to, as though your body were responding to Seulgi’s abuse by painting her face with as much thick, hot white seed as it could. The look of utter lust on Seulgi’s needy features is breathtaking - mouth open and tongue out, she looked as though each rope of thick cum that landed on her face brought her to a new level of perverse pleasure.

After letting the first few streams of cum land onto her wanton face Seulgi slips your spasming cock back inside her mouth, and the feel of her tongue on your sensitive shaft, mid-orgasm, is almost too much to handle. Your hands grip the sides of her skull in a grip that is almost too tight for the girl; but she bears it, accepting the last few streams of cum into her needy mouth to splash against the back of her throat.

Your hands keep her there - you had involuntarily buried your cock into her mouth with a thrust of your hips and the grip on her head, it seemed. Not that Seulgi seemed to mind, if the swirling of her tongue around the sensitive underside of your pulsating cock was any indication.

An indeterminate amount of time later, when you finally release her head from your grasp, Seulgi lets your now half-softened cock slip out between her pink lips - along with a thick stream of fresh semen. She is almost embarrassed by it, and she quickly darts out her tongue to collect it all, as though it were some expensive drink that she didn’t want to waste a drop of. You watch as her throat works, gulping the thick ropes of cum down into her body.

You are barely cognizant enough to watch as she sets to work cleaning your cock, using her hand to keep it straight as she licks your combined juices from your tired, weary shaft and balls.

All the while she does so with your warm cum still dripping down her face, a wicked smile on her lips, and those crazy eyes locked on yours.

---

It’s half an hour later when Momo and Yeri arrive in the apartment, thankfully enough time for you and the former member of Red Velvet to get yourselves dressed up again and at least somewhat presentable, even if you had to deal with a shirt that had its buttons torn off. The sight of your torn shirt was an obvious giveaway to Yeri and Momo; Yeri reacts with a sly smile, as though she’d expected it to happen, although the dark look of barely hidden disappointment in Momo’s eyes stings you a little.

“Our work downstairs is done,” Momo states, seeking to change the subject as the four of you stand in the living room, “We set up cameras at all the entrances and in the parking lot. Seulgi will be wearing a camera and a wire to capture her meeting with Irene here in this room.”

“And I’ll be in the bedroom with a recording device of our own,” you state. You knew you had to have your own copy of the recording; not only to ensure redundancy in case of equipment failure, but also as a backup plan in case Irene tried something unexpected. “Jihyo and Nayeon will be with me, ready to arrest Irene once the time is right and we’re sure she won’t try anything.”

“Fair enough,” Momo admits, “Now if you two are done with your… work, we can leave.” She gives you another sharp look, then turns and leaves the apartment. Yeri follows, but only after giving the apartment one last quick glance; unlike Seulgi, she seemed to have no desire to relive days gone by.

“Seulgi,” you say, stopping the girl as she makes to follow Momo and Yeri out.

“I need to know you won’t do anything stupid tomorrow,” you continue, as straightforwardly as you could.

“Stupid? Like what?” the girl asks, crossing her arms and facing you.

“Like kidnapping Irene. Or worse. Jihyo and Nayeon will be here to arrest her. All you need to do is get her inside the apartment. That’s all. I know you want to get back at her for what she did to you, but she’ll be prosecuted for all her crimes, I promise you. We’re going to do this the right way. We’re not going to hurt her.”

Seulgi smirks, as though she were offended by your insinuation.

“What makes you think I want to do that?”

“She betrayed you and Yeri. Left you behind to be captured by YG. You said you wanted to ask her why. That’s fine - but I need to know that you won’t do anything stupid, especially if her answer isn’t what you want to hear.”

“I just want to ask her why she left us there. One way or another, I’m going to get my answer.”

Seulgi turns away and begins to walk out of the apartment.

“Remember what I told you last week - don’t get in my way,” she states, each word cold as ice, as she steps out of the apartment to leave you alone with your thoughts.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #red velvet seulgi #kang seulgi #male reader #Smut #pov smut #red velvet

232 notes · View notes

justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Rumour Has It | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: You are dating Tom Hiddleston but no one on set knows and you hope to keep it that way. When Tom’s big love scene comes up, your jealousy bubbles up and threatens to ruin the secret bliss you have created.

Warnings: jealousy, implied smut

“Someone will see us, Thomas.” you muttered as he pushed you against the door to his hotel room, his lips pressed against you.

“Let them see. I’m not ashamed of our relationship.” Tom pressed his hips into you. His hands raked down the sides of your body. “Unlike some people.”

You pushed Tom off of you and opened the door, slamming the door once you crossed the threshold.

You sighed. “It’s not shame and you know that. The rumour mill on set is bad enough under normal circumstances. I would rather not play out this relationship under the scrutiny of the cast and crew, thank you very much.” You slipped your shoes off and Tom did the same.

He sat on the edge of the bed to continue undressing. “You read too much into these things.” he smirked. “Everyone is too busy doing their job to pay attention.”

He beckoned you over as he tugged off his jeans. You slipped your panties off from under your dress and straddled his hips.

You cupped his face. “You are oblivious sometimes, aren’t you?” You kissed him, slipping your tongue into his mouth, hungry for more.

“I’m not oblivious to your effect on me.” Tom nipped at your neck.

You smirked as you wiggled in his lap. “And what effect is that?”

“Let me show you.” Tom pulled you tight against him.

You rode into the studio early that morning with Tom rather than waiting for your call time later in the day. Tom’s hand inched up your thigh in the back of the car.

“The driver will see.” you hissed, removing his hand, only for Tom to place it back on your knee immediately, squeezing.

“Frank is focused on the road.” Tom leaned over to nip behind your ear.

You shoved him back into his seat. “No!” you protested louder than you meant to.

“Everything alright back there, ma’am?” Frank called out, slowing down.

“Fine, Frank.” Tom responded. “She banged her knee against the console.”

You glared at Tom. “I’m about to bang something.” you whispered.

Tom leaned in close. “Save the dirty talk for later.” he teased.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to your phone for the rest of the ride. Once you arrived on set, Tom headed out to hair and makeup while you beelined for craft services. You skipped breakfast that morning for more “vigorous” activities.

“You’re here awfully early today.” a voice boomed behind you and you jumped, dropping your cup of tea.

You spun on your heels to punch Michael Sheen in the arm.

“Stop doing that! I dropped my tea.” You snatched a danish, reaching across Michael.

“If you’re so jumpy, perhaps more caffeine is not the answer.” Michael took a large bite of a cookie. “I would suggest decaf. And you still haven’t answer my question, why are you here?”

You took a long draw of coffee to avoid answer the question. Michael stared you down, tapping his foot in frustration.

“Can I help you?” you asked from behind your coffee mug and turned away from Michael to find a quiet place on set to watch Tom work.

“For heaven’s sake woman, it’s a simple question. It’s not like I’m accusing of having an illicit affair on set.” Michael blurted out.

You snorted coffee up your nose and started coughing, grateful you turned your back. Michael rushed to your side, pounded on your back.

“Breathe, darling. Breathe. So you have heard the rumours too?”

“I beg your pardon? What rumours?”

Michael grabbed you by the elbow and guided you behind a trailer. “There’s a bit of buzz of an on-set romance between our darling Thomas and someone.” he whispered conspiratorially.

You did your best to hide your shock. You did a poor job, but Michael took it as genuine surprise rather than embarrassment.

“Any idea who?” you choked out.

Michael glanced over his shoulder as though he was getting ready to spill State secrets, rather than flimsy gossip. “No idea. Which is why I would suggest keeping your eyes and ears open.”

A gaffer walked by and Michael leaned against the trailer looking like a cat who just ate the cream. He pointed his fingers at his eyes and then you as he strolled away.

“Eyes and ears open.” he hissed before ducking behind the trailer.

“Shit!” you muttered and stomped off to find Tom.

You never found Tom, chasing him throughout the production. By the time you caught up, he was prepping for a scene with the leading lady, Emma.

“What scene is this?” you asked a production assistant walking by. They shoved a script into your hand. You flipped to the tabbed page and read through the line.

“Fuck…”

“Precisely, my dear.” Michael sidled up to you again. “Do you think Mr. Hiddleston over there has a clause in his contracts, he must have a love scene in his films?”

You cleared your throat. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I know I would have a clause like that if I had an ass like that.” He sipped his tea.

“Michael!” You punched the man for the second time that day. Hardly a record for you.

“I’m just commenting. You can’t tell that is not a magnificent ass.” He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to the other side of the set before you could answer. “Let’s get a better view.”

Your stomach dropped as you saw Tom and Emma standing around in bathrobes. The director came to speak to the both of them and they nodded before slipping under the covers of the bed and handed their robes off. Tom whispered into Emma’s ear and she giggled. You seethed on the inside. Final light checks and the director strolled back to the camera.

“Action!”

Tom rolled on top of Emma and inhaled her before a moment before kissing her with a fervor. You overheard the smacking and dug your nails into the heels of your hands. Tom’s hips rolled underneath the covers and Emma moaned in response.

“I guess we know who the other half of the rumour is.” Michael hummed in your ear before sipping his tea.

You stormed off set leaving Michael in a daze. You ended up in Tom’s trailer, seething. You spied a picture of the two of you on a cork board by Tom’s bed. It was the two of you smiling out at a local pub. The entire cast and crew went out that night. And you and Tom stayed back after everyone else left. You sang off key karaoke and when Tom walked you back to your hotel room; he kissed you goodnight. The next morning you prepared yourself for him to shrugged it off as a drunken mistake when Tom showed up with coffee and croissants, but he asked you to dinner instead.

As tears fell onto your cheeks, the door opened to the trailer. Tom stepped in, back in his bathrobe. You wiped the tears from your face and put on a forced smile.

“Darling? Are you all right?” He grabbed your hands. “Michael said you stormed off set. You’re not sick are you?” His brow pinched in worry.

“Just a little sick to my stomach.” you snapped back.

“I’ll have someone bring you a ginger ale and some crac…” His voice trailed off as he caught your expression. “Oh. Are you mad about Emma?” He hooked his thumb towards the door.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why would be mad at my boyfriend basically having sex with a gorgeous and talented actress?” You spat out the words like a foul taste in your mouth.

Tom smiled. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.” His joke fell flat as you stared blankly back at him.

“Michael says there’s a rumour you are dating someone on set.”

“Well that’s more than a rumour and you know that.” He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned your head to avoid his kiss. “Are you jealous of Emma?” Tom smirked.

“No.” you lied.

“You are!” Tom’s eyes widened. “You’re jealous of Emma. It’s acting, darling. You should know that better than anyone, love scenes are part of this job. But it means nothing.”

Your lip trembled, and you sniffled. “It seems so real in the moment. The moans and the…” You broke down sobbing.

Tom hugged you tight against his chest. “Shhh, darling. You are the one I want to be with. And the rest is just bullshit and mirrors.” He cupped your face. “I love you.”

Tom leaned down and for a split second his mouth opened to inhale you before pressing his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and yanked you both down to the bed. Tom settled between your legs, hips pressed against you.

“That’s the first time you have said that.” you panted when the two of you broke contact.

“It is. But I meant every word. I love you. Do you feel the same?” Tom’s eyes glistened as he searched your face for a sign.

“I do.” Your fingers ran along his cheekbones. “I love you too.”

Tom smiled before kissing you again. His tongue slipping into your mouth and you did the same. Your hands ran along his back and tugged at the tie on the bathrobe.

“Thomas, have you seen—” Michael stopped in his tracks at the sight of you and Tom entangled on his bed. “I see that you have. This explains so much.” Michael rocked back on his heels.

Tom turned to stare at Michael. “Not a word.”

Michael gestured, zipping his lips. “Not a peep.”

You sat up. “I mean it, Sheen. If I get wind of a single rumour. I’m coming for you.”

Michael nodded. “I am the soul of discretion.” He thumbed at the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

Once the door latched shut, you and Tom glanced and each other before bursting into laughter.

He pecked your lips before kissing your nose and then forehead. “I need to get back on set. Are we good?”

You nodded. “Yes. I need to get to hair and makeup myself.”

“You are beautiful without it.” Tom smiled back.

“Thank you. And I need to put the fear of God into Mr. Sheen.”

Tom lifted himself off of you, tightening his robe. “An excellent plan. That man is the worst gossip.”

You giggled and kissed Tom one more time. “Meet me here after work?” You teased his chest through the top of the robe.

Tom tugged at the bottom of your shirt. “Do you have any plans?” His lips twitched at the corners into a smile.

“Bring your script. You definitely need more rehearsal time for that love scene.”

“I’m willing to put in the hours if you are.” he teased.

“Well, it’s for the film.”

“Ever the professional.” Tom smirked before kissing you as you walked out the door to hunt down Michael.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine

66 notes · View notes

dragonsfictavern · 4 years

Text

Helping Hands

Five x Unrelated Female

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.8K

𝗮/𝗻: So with the new season of TUA having come out today, I thought it would be the perfect time to post a little oneshot I thought of. This would be a little before Five got himself stuck in the future. Background information is the reader was born on the same day as the academy kids and she has her own powers. But her family didn’t give her up for adoption. She was raised in an abusive home and often went to the academy for solace. She was in the academy and went on their missions. She just wasn’t adopted by Reginald. Reginald often called her Number 8 or The Extra. Reader is closest to Five, Klaus, and Vanya.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: Experiencing, signs, and talking about child abuse.

My stomach aches with every step I take. My hand laid flat against it, as if that would ease the pain. There was a gash across my hairline, my lip was split and blood dried across my chin and throat. It hurt to breathe too deeply and every step I took made me believe as though his hands were personally gripping my ribs and squeezing tightly. The last of my injuries consisted of a throb in my ankle.

I turned the corner, staying along the side of the walk as to not get knocked by the busying New Yorkers. I grip at their gate and limp along, with the gates help, until I reach the Hargreeves main gate. I open it and step up the stairs.

“Ah, dammit,” I grit out. The pain in my ribs increases with each step. My stomach churns and I fear I may vomit. I stumble up and lean against the side of the wall.

I lift up my fist to knock as loudly as I was physically able. I wait… and wait. No one answers. I bang my fist on the door again.

“Will someone answer that door?!” I hear the voice of Reginald Hargreeves snap from inside the home. I knock again; with a little less power than before. My breath quickened and I fought off a groan. “Will someone get the damn door?! Grace! Pogo! Anybody!” He shouted once again.

There was silence. Or at least I couldn’t hear anything. I waited patiently. I knew not to bug Mr. Hargreeves too much. If he couldn’t help, I would just go to the free clinic. Maybe they would be able to help. I wasn’t sure if they were able to help me without an adult present though… I was only thirteen. But I couldn’t go back there.

My mind was so overwhelmed with thoughts of what alternatives I could possibly go to that I didn’t hear Mr. Hargreeves himself open the door. I jump, finally noticing that he was standing there, looking at me with his beady eyes.

“Number 8!” He exclaimed, seeming as surprised as he was able. “What are you doing here? There is no mission, today,” he states. I exhale sharply, looking down at my shoes.

“I-I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know where else to go,” I say timidly. I don’t dare look back up at him. I feared too greatly that he was going to send me away. He doesn’t say anything, nor do I. The tension in the air was thick and yet I wasn’t sure what to make of it. So I finally look up.

Mr. Hargreeves eyes were already looking at my face. He looked with an understanding eye as he took in my injuries. This was not the first time I had shown up at the door on non-mission days in this type of condition. I also suspected that this wouldn’t be the last. His gaze moved all the way down to my swelling ankle. When he finished assessing the damage, he clicked his tongue and nodded.

“Well then, we better get you inside and get those checked on,” he stated. He stepped back and opened the door wider for me. I peered into the foyer and saw a glimpse of Vanya peeking her head from the living room. “Come now, we haven’t got all day,” he snaps. I exhale, looking down at my ankle. I wasn’t sure I could walk on it for much longer.

“Uh, sir?” I look from my ankle to him and down again. He realizes the issue and thinks for a moment, his lips pursed.

“Number Five!” Mr. Hargreeves shouts.

In an instant, a circle of blue appears out of thin air and Five steps out of it. His eyes instantly connect to mine. I smile brightly, instinctively standing up straighter and forgetting the ankle. I wince and stumble back again the wall around the door. Five’s eyes widen. He shoots from out of the house and is carefully guiding my left arm around his shoulder. I hop, finding my footing and finding myself very close to him. I pray my cheeks don’t flush.

“It happened again?” Five asked, jaw clenched tightly as he looked in my eyes— purposely avoiding the cuts and bruises.

“Yes,” I admit softly. I looked back into his eyes and I was entranced. We were dangerously close, so close I could see every speck of gold in his green eyes.

I had probably been in… like, with Five ever since I knew what liking a boy meant. Once I got over the fact that they too had cooties, the fact that cooties were not a thing, and the fact that I found boys— specifically Five, very attractive. I hadn’t admitted them and I didn’t plan on it. We were young and had all the time in the world. What’s the rush?

“Come on, come on! We cannot keep this door open. Come in, the two of you. Five, help her down to the infirmary,” Mr. Hargreeves demands, turning around and walking deeper into the house. Five doesn’t move. He keeps staring at me.

“I hate this keeps happening,” he grits out. I push myself closer to him and squeeze my arm in an awkwardly done hug.

“Me too..” i trail off. Five sighs deeply. “Now help me out, here. I’m feelin’ kinda rough,” I tease. What was meant to be a joke, turned out to be a mistake. Five shakes his head, jaw locked. But he starts to move. He slides an arm around my waist and helps me through the threshold.

When we step in, I look up, surprised, to see Mr. Hargreeves had actually waited. He had seen the encounter. That got my cheeks to flush. I duck my head as we start following him through the house. As we pass the living room, I once again catch Vanya peeking out at me with worry in her eyes.

“Number 7! Go back to your lessons. This is a private matter!” Mr. Hargreeves ordered. Vanya frowned, looking away from me and walking back to her lessons. Five and I glance at each other with a look of regret.

We hated how Vanya was treated just because she didn’t have any powers. I open my mouth to argue and ask her to help when Five squeezes my hip. My jaw snaps shut as I inhale sharply. I tense in his hold before I look over to him.

“Let it go,” he whispers in my ear. That was not helping me right now. I turn my head to him, causing our faces to be painstakingly close. Also not helping.

“But Five…”

“Not a fight fit for today,” he says lowly, finally acknowledging the cuts and bruises on my face. I nod and let it go. For now.

We both continue to follow Mr. Hargreeves when suddenly Klaus comes dancing in, a Walkman in his hands and headphones over his ears. I giggle when Mr. Hargreeves stops abruptly. Five sighs and rearranges his hold on me, pulling me right against his side in the process.

“Number Four!” Mr.Hargreeves snaps. Klaus’ back was facing towards us and his hips were shaking wildly. I giggle again, using my free hand to cover my mouth before it caught Mr. Hargreeves attention. “NUMBER. FOUR!” Mr. Hargreeves yelled. Klaus jumped about a foot in the air before he spun on his heel, ready to give the excuse of a lifetime when he saw Five helping me stand.

“Now what happened here?” He asked inquisitively. He stepped over to the other side of me, eyeing my injuries. “So this has happened once again, my friend?” He asks, moving his left arm to steady his right one as he thrummed his fingers against his cheek.

“Yes, it has. And we’re trying to get her some help. So if you don’t mind moving,” Five says slowly as if that’s the only way to get Klaus to understand something. It usually is.

“Why, yes, dear brother! I would just love to go with you guys to… you know, help out. Check out some things. Make sure our little number 8 is alright,” he gushes, patting my cheek a bit as to not hurt me even further.

“Number Four, you will not be a burden to me right now,” Mr. Hargreeves scolds. Klaus’ smile instantly drops as he meets the eye of his father.

“I would like to help in any way I can,” Klaus states.

“You can’t help!” Mr. Hargreeves shouts, heading down towards the stairs to the left.

“Then I’ll be there for moral support,” Klaus shouts back. Mr. Hargreeves stops and looks at him. Klaus makes a cross over his heart before resting his hand on top of it. “I’ll be as silent as the dead…”

Mr. Hargreeves narrows his eyes before letting out a grunt and heading down the stairs. Five starts moving us as well and this time Klaus follows. He bends down to my height.

“Unluckily and luckily enough, the dead aren’t so silent for me,” he said with a cheeky grin and a sly wink. He bounds ahead and practically skips down the stairs. I see Five shake his head and I couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“What’s so funny?” Five asks, looking between me and the stairs to help me down.

“You. Klaus. Your family,” I admit. Five scoffs.

“Yeah. My family-“

“Is wonderful.” I interrupt. He stops us, about midway down the flight of stairs. He looks up at me and we seem to have an understanding.

“Maybe they don’t want to make me gauge my eyes out… sometimes,” He admits in a voice so quiet I strain to hear him. I smile and continue down the steps.

The infirmary was in the lowest level of the house. The walls were stone and dark grey. Gourneys were lined up against the wall. Eight of them to be specific. Cabinets, cupboards, and tables decorated the walls. Supplies for any medical emergency. Probably better than any free clinic.

Mr. Hargreeves picks me up and places me carefully on top of a gourney. Klaus sits on the one across from me and Five sticks right by my side.

Grace walks in almost immediately after we settle in and I see pogo waiting in the back. Grace walks up to me and smiles brightly.

“Hello, dear. What happened?” She asks. I look down at my hands and begin to fiddle with them.

“I got hurt…”

“Oh no! How terrible. Well, dear, how did you get-“

“Get the antiseptic, Grace! Now!” Mr. Hargreeves stops her from asking the dreaded question. Grace’s eyes widen before she looks over at Mr. Hargreeves and nods. She makes her way to the supplies. “And we’ll need two wraps and some bandaids. Hurry along now!” He adds. Grace was quick to make haste and bring him all supplies he needed.

It was surprising but Klaus managed to stay decently quiet. The occasional question, whether of what his father was doing, or how I was, he asked. He often repeated questions. Mr. Hargreeves attempted to ignore him but it was becoming difficult. What added to his patience wearing thin was the swinging of Klaus’ legs that hung over the gourney. It created a loud squeaking sound. Five on the other hand stood perfectly still. Stiff, actually. His jaw was locked and his fists were clenched. He looked carefully at what Mr. Hargreeves was doing.

Mr. Hargreeves paid careful attention. He applied antiseptic on my cuts and placed bandaids over them. He had the boys turn around as he had to lift up my shirt to check my ribs. Five had respectably turned around without argue while Klaus had made some quip about how it wouldn’t bother him. His father yelled and although Klaus relented, a wickedly amused smirk danced across his face just as he danced earlier.

Mr. Hargeeeves assured me nothing was broken. Just a few very badly bruised ribs. He left my ankle for last and like my ribs, it wasn’t broken. But sprained. He wrapped both my torso and my ankle. When he had finished, he cleared his throat and stepped back. Klaus immediately jumped off of the gourney.

“So… is she all good doc?” Klaus asked, peering up at him.

“That’s Mr. Hargreeves to you,” he corrected. Klaus frowned before turning to me. “As for you, Number 8. I want you to head to the living room and ice that ankle for awhile.” He holds out his hand out and Grace places an ice pack in it. He holds it out for me to take.

“Thanks for the advice, pop, but I got her from here. I’ll take her off your hands,” Five says with a cheerey smile that was clearly forced. Five quickly takes the ice pack and grabs my hand. He creates a portal and walks through it, dragging me with him. As we move through, I can faintly hear Klaus shout a ‘wait for me.’

I was surrounded by darkness with only Fives hand to guide me. But it only lasted a moment before I was bouncing up and down, having landed already sitting down in Fives bed. I look at the sudden scenery change in shock before my eyes flicker over to Five as he carefully places the ice pack on my ankle before he begins to pace his room. I sigh.

“Five…” I trail off softly. Five stops abruptly, pointing a finger at me.

“He shouldn’t even be near you, let alone hurting you like that!” Five seethes. My shoulders sag as I realize Five had been holding that in since he saw me standing outside of the academy.

“I know,” I say just as softly. He needed to vent this out. I would too if that’s how I dealt with things.

He went back to his pacing before he would randomly stop and kick something before continuing again. I would jump every time. Five began muttering under his breath, saying something I couldn’t even comprehend before he stopped and started kicking his dresser.

“Five! Five stop it!” I shout, not being able to get up and actually stop him. He didn’t listen to me anyway, but rather kicked harder. The wood was starting to chip away. “Five, please! Stop this!”

Five whirled around to face me. “Why haven’t you ever stopped him?! You have powers for gods sakes and you won’t even use them to protect yourself?!!” Five shouts out desperately. I flinch back. His gaze immediately softens and leaves only the remnants of sadness and eagerness. He walks forward and kneels beside the bed next to me. “Why don’t you save yourself?” he whispers. Tears begin to whell up in my eyes.

“Because he’ll only hit harder if I do,” I whimper, tears freely flowing down my face. Five freezes for a moment before sprinting into action. He gets up and sits parallel to my legs on the bed. He takes me into his arms and hugs me as I cry.

“Then I’ll protect you… Sometimes we need others strength in order to gain our own. I’ll—I’ll be your strength,” Five says slowly, making sure his words came out right. Thought the tears continued to fall, I laughed through them.

“When did you become so wise?” I ask him. He shrugs in our embrace.

“I guess I’m just an old soul..”

He keeps me in his arms for a few minutes and I treasure them. Comfort from the boy I liked. Only when we both felt comforted enough to let go, did we slip away from each other. I leant back against the headboard and stared at him. He stared back, a lazy smile on his face. I softly grab his hand and squeeze.

“Promise me you won’t leave. I don’t know how I would handle life without… your sarcasm, of course,” I finish, trying not to make the laugh leaving me sound too awkward. I wanted of say so much more than I did. But I had time. I had time to say all I needed too. I just wasn’t brave enough now. A look flickered over his features before he squeezed my hand firmly.

“I promise.” He nods.

Suddenly the door slams open and Klaus crashes down onto the floor. Five and I instantly look down at Klaus who seemed fine enough just laying on Fives floor.

“What the hell guys..? Why didn’t you take me with you?!” Klaus groans dramatically. Five ignores him and instead looks back to me.

“Only sometimes,” Five says, squinting his eyes and angling his head for a moment. I laugh, shaking my head.

Five moves to sit next to me, looking down at his brother as he nonchalantly grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers. Nothing could stop me from smiling, especially as we both looked down at Klaus who hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor.

“Come on. Get up,” Five says.

“No.” Klaus pouts. “I’ve been banished to the floor and the floor is where I will stay.” Klaus sighs.

“Klaus? We would really like to un-banish you from the floor,” I say. Klaus peaks an eye open and up at us.

“Really?” He asks. We both nod. “Ok!” He scrambles up off the floor and jumps on the bed.

279 notes · View notes

valhallanrose · 3 years

Text

Canary in a Coal Mine

When Senga Canonach takes the mantle of Baroness, eleven-year-old Catriona receives the first true explanation of what it means to be the oldest of her cousins.

Some notes: Catriona/Astoria uses both she and they pronouns (she throughout this particular fic), while Avery Maollosa is strictly they/them. Both are nonbinary.

Edrine (she/they/he), who is only mentioned in this fic, is genderqueer (referred to with they/them pronouns here) and will make a full appearance in the next fic.

4.3k. I am unsure how to best label this, but for now, Cautionary CW for feelings and imagery of entrapment as a result of particularly controlling parental behavior.

Fic Title: Canary in a Coal Mine by The Crane Wives

One thousand, two hundred and twelve.

It was the number of individual pieces in the stained glass window above the stairwell, the one depicting their ancestor, Cliamon - their blade raised high overhead in a moment of triumph in they and their compatriots claiming of the territory that would become home to the Canonach family and all the relatives in between. Cliamon had been a force to be reckoned with, and for all the reading they’d done in their lessons, Catriona adored the stories of such a massive figure they could find such a connection to.

Catriona also thought Cliamon would laugh at the prospect of one of their descendants waiting like a loyal puppy at the top of the stairs for someone to fetch her.

Ever since Astor’s death, their mother had grown fearful, the leash tightening so much that Catriona felt she could have choked. Even though his death had been somewhat anticipated, it had left a shadow on Senga Canonach, and left Catriona to deal with the fallout.

Which was why she was left alone, at the top of the stairs, waiting for someone to pass by that could escort her down. It was her mother’s rule that she were not to walk up or down the stairs alone, so that someone might catch her if she slipped, and it was her mother’s rule that she could never leave the estate without an approved escort. The group of approved escorts was extraordinarily small, even though the majority of the family had volunteered, which left Catriona within the boundaries of Castle Kintyre and the gardens beyond the doors.

She was pulled out of her reverie with the familiar sound of what she knew was a silver-tipped cane on tile, and beamed down at her grandmother as she approached the bottom of the stairs.

“There you are, granny! Mother said you were coming home for the ceremony, but I was getting worried! When did you get here?"

“Oh, only last night, dear, and I got in late. You were already asleep, or I’d have said hello.” Myrna smiled as she made her way up the steps, surmounting the last and leaning in to press a kiss to Catriona’s brow. “There was some unexpected flooding on the roads through Ardaleith, but they were kind enough to let me stay a few nights at Ironhearth. I actually came with Baronet Avery and the Lady Rima. Little Edrine isn’t feeling well, so they’re home with their governess, but they wanted me to say hello to you. So...hello from Edrine.”

“Oh, I’ll have to ask them to say hi for me, too. Maybe I can write Edie a letter. I’ve always liked them.” Catriona giggled as Myrna straightened her collar, laying it neatly against the soft navy wool of her sweater.

“Well, they seem to like you, too. I think they’d love a letter. You can even borrow my signet ring for the seal.” Myrna reached down to carefully smooth out the hem of her sweater, then smiled, one hand drifting up to cradle Catriona’s cheek in her palm. “Don’t you look dashing? Did you have any trouble with the kilt?”

“A little, but I think I got it. I poked myself with the pin a few times, though. Does it look okay?”

Her grandmother indicated loosely with a finger, and when they turned obediently in a circle, they were met with a broad smile and a nod from the woman in question.

“Perfect. Now all you need…” Myrna tutted softly as she dug in her dress pocket, withdrawing a hair comb and offering it to the child. “I’d love to see that pretty face of yours. May I?”

Eagerly, Catriona turned, tracing her fingertips over the comb’s arch - made up of two hands cradling a crowned heart - and, when Myrna was finished twisting her hair up and off the back of her neck, passed it back to her so she could slide the prongs neatly into her hair.

“There we are. Fit to rub elbows with some nobility, I think.” Myrna offered her hand to the child, which she eagerly took, the other hand resting on the heavy wooden bannister out of habit. “Shall we be off, then? We might be the subject of a search party if your mother doesn’t see us in our seats.”

* * * * *

The late spring breeze gently ruffled a few loose strands of hair framing Catriona’s face, turning their face toward the carefully trimmed hedges and the beds of colorful blooms in the butterfly garden. Bluebells and thistle, honeysuckle and heather, lavender and primrose, all only a small fragment of the sprays that covered this portion of the estate.

Sitting through any sort of formal ceremony was painful for a child her age, but what stuck out to her the most was when her mother - in her crisp, emerald suit with the Canonach tartan pinned at her shoulder - lowered herself to one knee, and then the other in the garden gazebo. It made her Aunt Malvina nearly tower over Senga, even though Aunt Malvina was already tall, and made Catriona’s mother seem so small when Malvina raised the diadem before them all and laid it upon Senga’s brow.

After the ceremony, when the guests followed in Senga’s shadow with raucous cheers and excited chatter toward the banquet hall, Catriona found herself drawn to the gazebo as the garden became comparatively empty. At the center of it was a flat stone, one that they knew had been torn from the earth at Mistwatch, with two indentations right beside one another in the exact place her mother had knelt.

Catriona lowered herself to the ground and smoothed a hand over the stone, her fingers dipping into the imprints and smoothing over the echo of dozens of knees before her mother’s had fallen there.

In the same spot as Barons and Baronesses and Baronets many times over, her mother had knelt upon the stone, a fragment of Rosinmoor, and accepted the crown from Malvina as if it had been made for her head.

And in a way, it had, forged in the fires of Ardaleith and delivered by Clan Maollosa upon their arrival the night prior. No two leaders wore the an identical crown, rather, Malvina had given up her own and allowed it to be reforged as an acknowledgement of the new reign to begin. Cliamon had worn no crown - the tradition began with their son, Donacha Carleigh - but their claymore had been passed down through generations, and it had laid in their mother’s hands as she swore to lead Kintyre with the honor and grace of all who had come before her.

She couldn’t help but wonder how many more would come after her mother.

Footsteps drew them out of their daze and made them look up - very far up, they realized, until they smiled with recognition and waved at the person in question.

“Hello, Baronet Maollosa. Am I in your way?”

They chuckled, smoothing a few stray hairs out of their face and lowering themself to sit on the steps of the gazebo.

“No, you’re alright. And Avery is just fine, remember?” They gently nudged her with their elbow, then extended their hand, cupcake carefully balanced on the small porcelain plate. “Saved you a cupcake. Your grandmother said you might be out here, and they were going fast. You like salted caramel, don’t you?”

Catriona blinked once, twice, hesitantly looking between Avery’s gentle smile and the swirl of frosting adorning the cupcake itself. It looked so unassuming, but...when was the last time she’d eaten something without her mother telling her to wait until someone else could taste her food?

“Granny said it’s okay?” She said after a moment, and Avery nodded, dragging the tip of their pointer finger over their chest twice.

“Cross my heart. I’d swear on my mother’s grave, but my mother is still alive, so that doesn’t hold very much weight in regard to a promise.”

Catriona couldn’t help but giggle, gingerly accepting the cupcake and starting to peel away the paper wrapping on the outside. “Thank you, Baronet - Avery. Thank you, Avery.”

They scooted forward slightly so they could set their feet on the steps and the plate in their lap, humming softly as they peeled away the paper and swept a finger through the frosting. Beside them, Avery leaned back on their hands, sighing softly as they looked up at the rare cloudless sky.

“Edrine was all torn up about not coming today.” They mused, and Catriona nodded, making sure to swallow her bite before answering.

“Granny said they weren’t feeling well, so it’s okay. I don’t mind waiting to see them. Maybe they can visit when they feel better? Granny said next time, she’ll show us how we can set up a fort in the library, so long as we put the books back where they belong if we take them.”

“I think Edrine would like that very much.” Avery ruffled Catriona’s hair lightly, a smile playing at their lips when she huffed and tried to smooth her bangs back out.

There were a few long beats of pause as Avery watched Catriona, the way she carefully picked at her hair and adjusted it so it looked presentable again.

They’d always liked her - she was quiet, certainly, but she wasn’t shy. Avery had realized long ago that she chose simply not to speak if she had nothing to say, and if she did, sometimes what came out of her mouth made them bite their hand so hard it left marks for trying not to laugh.

Really, she’d won Avery over when eight year old Catriona called them a ‘lily-livered arse’ at the dinner table for taking the last sticky toffee pudding. It had made them laugh so hard their chest hurt, and in an attempt to form a truce with the child, offered to split it with her instead.

It had been a fair offering, it seemed, as they’d never been called such a thing again.

“You know, I’ve never thanked you before.” They mused, dropping back onto their elbows before lowering themself to lay on the floor of the gazebo. “Edrine doesn’t have any siblings, and their cousins are all quite younger than them, so making a friend their age means the world to them. They look up to you - bloody better than the Griogal boy, don’t tell anyone I said that - and I am happy that they won’t have to walk this path alone.”

Catriona paused, tilting her head as she used the back of her hand to wipe the frosting away from her mouth. “What do you mean?”

Avery raised a brow, fingers lacing together to rest over their abdomen where they lay. “In regard to the Barony. You and Edrine are in a unique position, being so close in age and both with clear claims to your respective titles. It can be hard to live that life, there’s no doubt about that, but thankfully your mother and I are young enough to give you both plenty of time to find your way before that.”

Catriona stopped mid bite of the treat they had been given, their stomach suddenly heavy and the taste soured in their mouth.

Her mother had said something like that, once, a hand placed on either of her cheeks and her rings - one a heavy opal from Catriona’s stepfather, the other the Canonach family signet - cold against her skin.

You’re in a special place, sweet Catriona. One day Kintyre will be at your feet, but you cannot forget the difficulty you will face when it happens. I only hope I can give you enough time to find the way you need to go.

She swallowed slowly, then set the cupcake aside, half finished and suddenly not as appetizing.

“What are you talking about?”

There were a few beats of pause before Avery sat up straight, a concerned look clear on their face as they turned to look her in the eye.

“Catriona...honey, has your mother not told you?” They asked gently, and slowly, she shook her head. Avery sighed heavily, raking a hand through their hair before letting their elbows fall to rest on their knees. Catriona shifted, resting her hands on one of Avery’s arms and giving them a pleading look that made them suck in a breath through their teeth.

“I don’t know, kiddo, I don’t want to upset Senga if she wants to have that talk -”

“I deserve to know.” The child said firmly, even as their eyes began to prickle with tears, even as their lower lip noticeably began to quiver. “It’s my life, too. It’s not fair to keep things from me.”

A part of her knew any child in Rosinmoor would have been delighted to have a life at any of the seven estates, and Catriona wasn’t oblivious to the privilege she had been given. But even if it were gilded in gold, a cage was still a cage, and Castle Kintyre had become hers. She envied her cousins, free to go where they want and do what they please, envied the stories of Rosafearn and longed to explore on her own, but it hadn’t been a part of the hand she had been dealt.

But maybe...maybe if they knew what frightened their mother so much, they could try and ease her worries, and get a little more freedom in turn.

At her desperate yet hopeful expression, Avery let out a frustrated sigh, propping their chin in their hands.

“Your mother should have absolutely told you by now, but that’s a grievance I’ll take up with her. You’re eleven, you’re long since capable of at least understanding.” They grumbled, clearly irate, then straightened, tone softening as they addressed her again. “Catty, what do you know about the line of succession?”

“I know everyone’s names. There were a lot of people before Auntie Malvina.”

“Everyone?”

Catriona nodded eagerly. “Yes, from the family tree book in the library. There’s Cliamon, of course, and then Donacha Carleigh, Muiri Lùtair, Juliet Lùtair, and then -”

“Okay, everyone, I believe you.” Avery held up a hand, an amused look on their face. “Stars, my uncle would have loved you. I couldn’t remember what I had for breakfast when I was your age, let alone the whole family tree. But what I meant was if you know how each leader is chosen?”

She had to pause at that, brows furrowing, trying to recall back to that book - they knew it well, the carefully bound leather and the tattered navy ribbon tucked between the pages - but couldn’t remember anything like that from what they’d read. It was always simply passed from family member to family member, but minimal explanation as to why.

“I don’t know.” She said eventually, and that sinking feeling grew somewhat heavier. “I thought it was because she just got married, I guess. I know when Aunt Malvina became Baroness, she had just gotten married to Aunt Lorraine, and mother just got married to James, but now that I think about it, I don’t remember if that was the same for great grandma Sorcha…”

Avery nodded slowly, setting a reassuring hand on Catriona’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “It makes sense. Don’t stress, Catty, it’s a reasonable conclusion. Would you like me to explain how it works?”

When Catriona nodded, they continued, eyes fixed on a vibrantly colored butterfly bush just beyond where their feet rested.

“I’m the oldest of three, so the Barony was going to pass to me no matter how many siblings I had. But my uncle, the last Baron, was older than my father, so he was the heir. And before him it was my grandmother, the Baroness, who was the oldest, and then her aunt, and so on and so forth. But the one thing they had in common was that they were each the oldest of their generation of the family, and thus, the crown passed to them.”

Catriona felt as if they could have been sick.

“Because they were the oldest.” She echoed, oblivious to Avery’s nod, as the realization dawned on them.

She was the oldest of all their cousins. Sachairi was the same age - eleven - but was a few months younger, born in November to Catriona’s September. That distinction was made clear to Catriona at a young age by their mother, but they never understood why, nor did they particularly care for that exact reason.

Their chest squeezed, and it felt as if they couldn’t breathe, thinking back to all the changes they had witnessed since her mother had been announced as the next Baroness. She had a handful of ladies in waiting, like Malvina, and advisors and guards and never being alone and never leaving the palace without an escort just in case, because it was ‘better to be safe than sorry”.

Catriona hated that phrase. It was the reminder she received every time she complained about any of her mother’s rules, because mother only wanted her to be as safe as possible, and she would rather be overprotective than risk something happen to her because she wasn’t safe enough.

But knowing this, now? They felt as if they had no chance of leaving the cage at all. When she was old enough to choose to leave, she’d have to stay, because being the oldest meant you were supposed to be the Baronet.

“But I know everyone’s name. Malvina wasn’t the oldest, Uncle Ualan was. And Aunt Grace and Cameron are both older than mother, so maybe our family is different? Maybe it doesn’t have to be the oldest, maybe I don’t - I don’t -” Catriona’s chest heaved, and she let out something between a wail and a whimper, making Avery jump as she began to cry. “I don’t want this, Avery, I don’t…”

Quickly, Avery scooped them up, pulling them into a tight embrace and gently rubbing her back to try and soothe her as she sobbed into the starched white collar of their shirt.

“Okay, okay...Catty, breathe, honey, I need you to breathe for me. Deep breath in, deep breath out, okay?” Look at me.”

Slowly, Catriona looked up, and Avery dug a kerchief from their pocket, offering it to her when she dragged the back of her hand across her cheek.

“You like your words, right? I have one I want you to remember. Can you do that for me?”

When she nodded, Avery gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Abdicate. It means to renounce, or give something up. I want you to remember that word, because you have a long time before you need to make the choice, but I want you to know that you have the choice - but abdicate is the word we use for saying we don’t want the title. It means you give it up to the next person, and they get to decide what to do. Your uncle Ualan probably abdicated - you’d have to check, but if he's older, it’s what makes sense - and I know your Aunt Grace and Cameron did. And I’m sorry that I had to be the one to tell you this, but you’re right, it is your life, and you deserved to know. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I hope that knowing all the options means you can make the right decision later, when the time comes, because you deserve that much. Okay?”

She sniffled quietly, rolling her lip between her teeth, the simple white kerchief twisting between her hands as Avery leaned back to get a better look at her face.

“Do you want to go find your mother?”

“No.” Catriona murmured, their grip almost white knuckled on the kerchief in question. “I don’t want to ruin her day. She’ll get upset.”

The ‘with me’ was unspoken, but Avery seemed to notice, brow creasing as their gaze fell to her tight hands and gently laid a hand over hers to try and ease the tension there.

“What about your grandmother? I saw Myrna just before I came out, she was speaking with the Lord Consort Griogal, so she shouldn’t be hard to find given he’s wearing something of a peacock blue today -”

“I don’t want to go inside.” Catriona blurted out. “I...I’m sorry, Baronet, I shouldn’t ask you to -”

“Avery.” They squeezed her hand again, this time a little more firmly - not harshly, or painfully, but enough to make her look them in the eye as they gave her a comforting smile. “You’re not asking the Baronet to do anything. You’re asking your friend’s parent for help, and that’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do. Would you like me to ask your grandmother to come outside?”

The child nodded, and Avery stood up, ruffling her hair gently before they stepped down onto the path again.

“Stay here, sweetheart, it’ll be easier for her to find you that way. Shouldn’t be long.”

As Avery began the trek back to the great hall, they couldn’t help but glance back, watching Catriona slump against the rails along the gazebo steps and picking up the pace to cross the stones a little quicker.

* * * * *

Once Myrna had slipped from the great hall, Avery couldn’t help but drift toward the broad windows overlooking the garden, following the small shape of the older woman until she came within sight of the gazebo and Catriona’s even smaller form leapt up and raced to meet her halfway. Myrna scooped her up and carried her further into the garden - and Avery found themself staring at the point where they disappeared, away from the gazebo and away from the castle to somewhere unknown. They were only broken from their reverie when arms wrapped around their waist, and had it not been such a familiar

“Hello, darling.” Rima murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of their shoulder and lacing her fingers together over Avery’s abdomen. “You were gone for a while. Did you get lost in the gardens?”

“No, I was talking to Senga’s bairn. She wants Edrine to visit when they feel better.”

“Well, hopefully it’s soon.” Rima hummed softly, pressing her cheek to Avery’s back and giving them a squeeze as the music in the hall shifted to a new melody. “We should probably stop in Rosafearn before we travel home. They’ve got the candies Edie likes in one of the shops down there, it might cheer them up about missing the party.”

When Avery didn’t reply, Rima frowned, slipping around their side and tucking herself under her partner’s arm to get a better look at their face.

“What’s wrong, Ave? You have that...face.”

Avery chuckled, turning their head to kiss Rima’s temple. “What face? You like my face.”

“I do like your face, but this is the ‘I’m having a crisis and maybe my dear wife can help’ face, and I am the dear wife.” She smiled cheekily as she pinched their side, glancing out the window briefly to see if she could find what they were fixated on and coming up with nothing. “Spill, spouse.”

After a few beats of pause, Avery sighed, leaning their cheek against Rima’s forehead and closing their eyes. “How much do you know about Senga?”

“Not much, she’s a little more than simply closed off. New Baroness, obviously. If you want to know about her, you might have better luck with Myrna or her husband. Or maybe Malvina, if you’re wondering about politics.”

“Mm. I thought so. Perhaps we should invite Myrna to stay with us again. I have questions, but...I’m not sure I should ask Senga, or I might make something worse.”

Rima pulled back slightly, brows furrowing and earrings tinkling as she tilted her head in curiosity. The wordless question made her spouse nod, glancing around to make sure they had no eavesdroppers before they continued.

“Earlier, when I was talking to Catty...I mentioned that Edrine looks up to them because they’re in the same position. And she had absolutely no idea what I meant, but essentially I explained that I meant because they were both heirs, and she just...completely panicked. I think if I’d gone much further than I did she’d have a full panic attack right there in the garden.”

“She had no idea? We started talking to Edrine about it when they were eight for just that reason, so they weren’t blindsided by it.”

“Not a clue. And the way she reacted when I asked if she wanted her mother, it just…” Avery blew out a frustrated sigh. “Something doesn’t feel right, Rima, and I know it’s not my business, but -”

“If it were Edrine, you’d want someone to look out for them, too. I know.” Rising up on her toes, Rima kissed Avery’s cheek. “Myrna already asked to travel back through Ardaleith with us. Let’s get through the night, and tomorrow, we’ll figure out the next step.”

“Alright…alright.” Avery was quiet for a few moments before they spoke again, warm smile on their face. “What would I do without you?”

“Suffer, more than likely.” Rima lifted a hand as if to inspect her nails, her wedding bands flashing in the low light. “Or at the very least be bored out of your mind at formal functions. Admit it, I’m the life of the party no matter where I go.”

With a laugh, Avery pulled Rima into a tight embrace, ignoring her playful protests and peppering the top of her head with kisses before they set their chin on her head. Their gaze eventually drifted out the window again to the spot where Myrna and Catriona had disappeared, thinking of that white-knuckled grip she had had on the kerchief.

But she’d be okay. She had Myrna, now, and Avery couldn’t think of anyone the child would want more for comfort considering how close they were.

Avery just hoped Catriona would be okay long enough for them to do something.

#astoria fenharrow #today on i write fic and i want to beat up senga

12 notes · View notes

your-1up-girl · 3 years

Text

Once Upon A Dream (Hera x Ventus)

Uhhh....okay so this wasn't supposed to post until the 31st but I must have gotten the queue wrong soooooo. Have an early gift.! I dedicate this fic to the very lovely and absolutely gorgeous @sammilimyy! Why do you ask? Because it’s her birthday (I'm early sorry)!!! I was so inspired by your royal/fantasy AU with Hera and Ven that I just had to write a fanfic for it. Now this is basically inspired by a certain movie from a certain company that shall not be named out of fear they will take this down, but if you know the song then you know the movie. I hope you like it Sam (and I hope that I got it on time for your b-day) have a happy and wonderful birthday!

Word Count: 4339

Pairing: Hera (OC)/Ventus (Kingdom Heart)

Warnings: Nothing but pure fluff! I hope you have a good Dentist Sammi, cuz this thing is gonna give you cavities!!!

It was happening again. This dream she found herself in was coming to her with much more frequency now. Always in this dream, Hera would find herself wandering through a forest where the birds graced her ears with beautiful melodies and the way the light filtered through the trees was practically angelic. In this dream, she would always wear a tea-length dress so it would not drag against the soft grass and dirty the pristine fabric. Said dress was adorn in mute yellow skirt and bodice with pale pink trimming and a bow in the back. It flowed with grace as Hera continued barefoot down the unmade path. A path she has taken several times before.

At this point she would reach a clearing where the trees created a canopy of sorts and the brush and wildflowers bloomed and grew with no outside interference. Standing in the middle of this clearing was a figure. It always looked like the spirit of a young boy. Someone who Hera would guess was about her age but taller than her. He had spiky hair and clothes that looked different from that of what she had seen in the nearby villages of the kingdom. As he turned to face her, she could see the phantom of a smile on his face but never his actual features. Soft music would fill the air as they approached each other and they began to dance. The soft whips of his fingers held her waist as they twilered and glided across the grass. They could never speak to each other but they could laugh. And Hera thought his laugh was better than any orchestra in the world.

Despite never speaking to this boy and only sharing these dances, Hera had fallen for this mysterious stranger. It was a dream, but in her heart, it all felt completely real. This boy was out there. At this point, after they had their dance, the music would end and Hera would wake up to the knocks of her Lady in Waiting telling her to start the day; but this time was different. For just a brief moment, when Hera looked up and faced the spirit, she could see him. It was still in a ghost like form but his features were there and she took it all into memory. The bangs across his forehead, the goofy yet loving smile he wore, and most importantly the shadowy blue eyes that looked back at her. He had never appeared tangible to her once during these late night rendezvous but after seeing him in this apparariton form, Hera knew. She was completely in love.

Hera woke with a start in her bed. The sudden movement had scared her Meow Wow Polly and her friend Naminé who was drawing the curtains to let light enter the room.

“Your Grace, you’re awake.” The Lady in Waiting spoke once the initial shock faded. “I knocked on the door to wake you, but you didn’t respond. Then, when I came in, you had the most peaceful smile on your face that I didn’t want to wake you just yet.”

Hera held her heart as Naminé spoke, remembering the dream once more. “Did you have another dream about him?” Naminé sat on the bed next to the princess as Polly let out a small whine and cuddled back into her owner.

“Yes, I did. We danced like we always do. But this time,” Hera paused as her smile became more giddy, “This time I saw him, Naminé.”

Naminé wore a similar smile at this development, “Really! That’s wonderful Princess. What did he look like?” Hera adjusted herself on the bed so Naminé could begin taking her hair out of the braids she wore to bed.

“Well, he still looked like a ghost of sorts but his facial features were there and not just a blank face. He had the most beautiful blue eyes, Naminé.” A love-struck sigh left Hera’s lips, “It was like looking into the night sky itself.”

“You are absolutely smitten with this boy. Do you think he’s real?”

“Why else would he appear to me in this dream? And remember, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him.” Hera got out of bed and walked out onto the balcony. She leaned on the stone railing and gazed out into the horizon; her nightdress flowing in the early morning breeze. A sigh of doubt escaped her, “Naminé?”

Her Lady approached, “Yes Princess?”

“Answer me honestly, please. Do you think that boy is out there? Am I foolish to think that he could exist?”

Naminé’s eyes softened at her friend's sudden realization that this could all just be a dream. She held Hera close and spoke, “I think that in a world where magic exists and mythical creatures are a prominent part of our lives, having recurring dreams about a mysterious boy is calm by comparison.” This made Hera laugh, “I think he’s out there my Princess. If this truly is love that you feel, then you will both find your way to one another.”

After that, the day continued on as normal. Naminé helped Hera get dressed for the morning. Hera went to her lessons with Eraqus, the king. His lessons involved looking after the kingdom when she eventually came to rule. She had Keyblade training with Young Master Riku, Naminé would always remain close by during these lessons as the Lady in Waiting was very smitten with the Keyblade Master. And on this particular day, she ended her training with Master Aqua. The sworn protector of the Princess, Aqua specialized in magic and was well versed in wielding a Keyblade. She would teach Hera about combining magic into her basic attacks. However, Aqua took notice that Hera was not as focused as usual.

“Is there something bothering you Hera?”

“Huh? No Master Aqua, what makes you say that?” Their keyblades dissipated into the air signalling that they were done for the evening.

“It’s just that you haven’t been as focused as you should be during your lessons. And it’s not just with me, the King has noticed you’ve been more aloof with your teachings. Merlin has taken notice as well and so has Riku.” Hera hung her head in shame, should she tell Aqua about the dreams and the young boy? No, surely she would think the Princess crazy for looking into something like dreams. And falling in love with an apparition whom you don’t even know the name of would get her a lecture from the King. Hera couldn’t come up with a response quick enough but Aqua took the silence as something different. “You seem so worn out. Maybe you haven’t been getting enough sleep?”

At that, Hera’s head shot up, “Yes! Yes Master Aqua, that’s exactly it!” The sudden change in demeanor startled the blue haired Master from her train of thought. “I’m just so tired as of late Master Aqua. I think it would be best if I went off to bed now even. I had my dinner sometime before training so I’m not hungry.” Aqua blinked a few times. Hera seemed...excited to go to bed? It was an odd development in her attitude for sure but it seemed to be an improvement to what it was before so Aqua let it slide for now.

“Of course Your Grace, I’ll send for Naminé to meet you in your chambers to assist you for the night. Sweet dreams Princess Hera.” It was hard for the young girl to contain her excitement and Aqua could have sworn she heard a whispered, They will be as Hera passed.

Naminé carefully brushed Hera’s hair in the large bed of the royal chambers. Both girls wore their nightgowns and were discussing the events of the day. Polly sat comfortably in Hera’s lap, listening just as intently as if she were to join the conversation at any moment.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were paying extra attention to Master Riku’s lessons today.” Hera jested with her best friend; a smirk proudly displayed on her face.

“At least one of us was.”

“Hey! Naminé!” The Princess turned to push the blonde girl as they both laughed in the empty, fire lit room. “He likes you, you know.”

“Oh please, I’m just a maid, he wouldn't like me.”

Hera thought about this for a moment as Naminé worked an intricate updo into the Princess's hair for the night. She could tell her friend was discouraged by this separation of class so she tried to lighten the mood, “If he rejects you, I’ll have him beheaded.” Naminé nearly choked on her own saliva and snorted out a laugh. Having accomplished her mission in making her friend laugh, Hera joined as well.

“As kind as that is, please Hera, don’t kill anyone on my behalf.” Naminé was grateful for the joke and Hera enjoyed the lack of formalities with her best friend. The conversation continued in this matter but before Naminé got up for the night, Hera asked her a question.

“You want me to draw you a picture?”

“Yes, please, if it’s not too much to ask?” Naminé, not wanting to refuse her friend or the Princess, took a piece of parchment from the desk, some graphite, and a flat board to give her some stability and joined Hera back on the bed.

“Alright Hera, what is your request?”

“I want you to draw the boy from my dreams.” Big, pleading blue eyes met confused blue ones as Naminé took in what Hera asked.

“I-Your Grace-Hera, you know that I don’t know what he looks like, yes?”

“Oh, I know. That’s why, you’re going to sit next to me and I’m going to watch you draw as I describe him to you.” Hera grabbed the pillow next to her and made room for her friend and tapped the spot. A small smile adorned the Lady’s face as she made herself comfortable and ready for the long night ahead of her.

~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in the outskirts of the Kingdom, some yards away from the borders, a young farm boy sat upon the roof of his home looking at the horizon as the sky changed from warm tones to cool blues and the stars greeted him for the night. He came to look out into the sky when he needed to clear his head. And after having a busy day of training, fram work, and running errands, Ventus was in need of a small break. Not to mention that this moment alone gave him some time to think about the spirit girl he saw in his dreams. At first, Ventus just blew it off. Strange dreams happen all the time, take ‘em with a grain of salt. But then, she kept coming back, the same girl, in the same forest, with the same dress, and the same beautiful smile. God that smile. It was barely noticeable with the form that she took in his dreams but Ven was in love with it nonetheless.

He chuckled to himself. There I go again, Terra would have a fit if he could hear me. Falling in love with a forest spirit just because she danced with you in a recurring dream was ridiculous. Right? Ventus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, groaning when he had to pick more sticks out from when he fell herding the animals earlier. That girl made sleeping more exciting yet also somewhat frightening. Why did he see her all the time? Was she some sort of nymph? Was she even real? Would she love him back? And, why did he feel such disappointment if the answer was no? He didn’t even know this girl, and yet? Ventus put his hand over where his heart would be and gripped that part of his shirt. This girl had his heart and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Ven? Ventus? Where are you?” Terra stepped out of the house to call for the young boy. It made Ven laugh just a bit. No matter how many times Ventus escaped to this spot, Terra never thought to check there. “Come on Ven, you’ll never get to be a royal guard if you don’t get a good night’s sleep!”

“And you will never be a detective if you don’t think to check in the obvious spots for the suspect.” Terra turned to see that Ventus was in fact, on the roof. They both shared a laugh and Ven made his way down. “If you keep yelling then you’ll wake the Tama Sheep and the Electricorn.” They both made it back inside the house and Ventus sat with a warm tea Terra had made. The young blond sat and stared at the tea with a look that was both focused and unfocused all at once.

“Hey Terra, do you believe in love at first sight?”

The brunette sat across from the boy and pondered the question, “I think it’s possible. I think that if someone really is the one then you’ll just know.”

“Hmm.”

“You thinking about your dreams again?”

“Yeah. It’s always with the same girl. She comes to that forest, doesn’t say a single thing to me, just laughs, and we dance. They’re getting more frequent and-” Ventus paused a small smile creeping onto his face.

“And?” With raised eyebrows, Terra waited for a response.

“And...I saw her face.” Ven couldn’t hide the smile or blush at this point and Terra’s eyes widened, not expecting that to be his response. “It was all ghosty and weird like the rest of her but I could see her eyes and the way they had so much life to them. I saw her and I just fell for her, Terra. Even more than I already am in love with her.”

“Does she look like anyone you know? Maybe it’s someone from the marketplace?”

“No, her clothes look different from that of the marketplace or even from the nearby towns. I could be wrong but they kinda look like a type of nobility.”

“Wow, look at you; dreaming about a Duchess.” It never crossed either of their minds as they drank the tea that the mysterious girl could have been a princess. Terra listened more to Ven’s recounting of dreams as it got a bit later. An hour had passed and the tea was all gone and both boys sat at the table trying to figure out what to do about the spirit girl.

“I think you should go talk to a woman who goes by Fairy Godmother. No one knows her real name but she is really good at figuring out people’s dreams. She lives on the far side of Traverse Town near the kingdom borders.” Ven listened closely. “If anyone can help you out, it’s her.” It was discussed that Ventus would take one of the Yoggy Rams and travel there tomorrow morning.

By early morning light, Ventus did just that. It was a long ride but not too tedious. Around mid-afternoon Ventus arrived at Traverse Town and began asking for this Fairy Godmother. Some people lead him to the back of the town where, in the middle of a water well, there was a house that was similar to that of a doll’s but less childish. Ventus carefully walked over the rocks with his Yoggy Ram to the front door and gave it a pensive knock. He waited no more than a minute when a kind looking older woman answered the door. She smiled at him like she was his grandson and enveloped him into a hug.

“Oh hello young man, it’s good to see you. Please, please, come in. Let your Ram drink from the water around my house. I don’t mind. I just prepared some warm milk if you would like some.” Fairy Godmother brought him into the quaint living room and he lifted the milk to his lips taking a sip. It tasted faintly of vanilla and hazelnut; it made Ventus smile. “So,” Fairy Godmother sat across from him in her own plush chair, “How can I help you dear.”

“My friend told me that you could help me with my dreams?”

She lightly laughed and placed her tea cup down, “Yes, he is correct; dreams tend to be my specialty. Tell me everything my dear.” Ventus did just that. From the smiles, to the laughs, and all the joy he felt in between. When he finished, he sat anxiously for the answer. “Hmm, this sounds like a very special girl.”

“She is Fairy Godmother.”

“But you have never seen her before?”

He hung his head, “No I haven’t Fairy Godmother.”

“And yet you’re in love with her.” There was no malice in this question and she asked knowing exactly what his answer would be.

Ventus sighed, the milk long finished as he searched for his answer, “I-Fairy Godmother, I know it sounds crazy to love someone you have never met but, my heart tells me that she is someone who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t have much to give. I am a stable boy who is training for a guard position and doesn't have much control of his Keyblade yet and I can be kinda naive but I love her. More than anything.”

The Fairy Godmother smiled at his answer; it had exceeded her expectations. “That’s even better than what I had expected you to say.” She stood up and went to a bookshelf and handed him a map. A map of the kingdom more specifically. “You see this area?” She pointed to an unnamed forest that was about halfway to the castle and his ranch. “There is no name on the map but people call it The Somnium Forest. It’s a magical forest where people go when they need help in their lives. They say that it feels like time stops when you enter and no one leaves the forest unsatisfied. The inside of the forest, they say, never looks the same for one person.” She held Ventus’ hands in hers, “Tomorrow young man, I want you to go to the Somnium and walk around for a bit. I’m sure it will help you with your dreams.”

Ventus wasn’t sure how a forest would help, but he was willing to try. He gave the Fairy Godmother one last hug and left with his Yoggy Ram.

Returning to the castle once more. Hera walked around the grounds with more disdain than usual. Why? She didn’t dream about the boy. His picture was carefully placed in her tea-length dress pocket (courtesy of a very late drawing session with Naminé) but having the paper wasn’t the same as seeing him in her dreams. It had only been a day and yet it was enough to put her in an upsetting mood. It was to the point that she didn’t want to hang around the castle anymore. That was how she found her way to the library asking Merlin for his map of the kingdom.

“Any place you want to go, in particular Young Hera?” He asked with his usual chipper tone.

“No, just want to explore, get out for a bit.” Hera held her head in her left hand as her right hand grazed over the different locations of the map, pointer finger out. She could go to the castle town? No, that was far too close to home. She could go to the outskirts and explore the hills that acted as the land border on the west side? No, if she was gone for too long Aqua would have a fit. Her eyes noticed a forest and that peaked her interest. “Merlin, what’s this place?”

He adjusted his glasses, “Ah! You mean The Somnium Forest? It’s a place where dreams come true as they say.” He takes a sip of his tea, “People go in there and not one person leaves upset. Forest is magical.”

“A magical forest?” Hera could use some more magic in her life. And even if it wasn’t, having the comfort of a forest setting could give her some semblance of her dream. “Thank you for your help Merlin, could I trouble you to watch Polly while I’m gone?”

“Oh it would be no trouble at all Princess! I love the little thing after all. Come along Polly, let’s see what potions I can make to help Aerith in the garden.” The Meow Wow and the Wizard walked in tandem as Hera packed the map and made her way to the stables. As much as she wanted to leave with no one’s notice, the brunette unfortunately ran into Aqua.

“Oh Princess Hera, why are you heading to the stables?”

“I just wanted to take my Pegaslick and explore for a bit. I’m not sure when I will be back so can you tell Naminé that she has the rest of the day off? Maybe tell her to have some sweets with Master Riku.”

“Princess, by yourself? Are you sure you don’t want me to join you? I could quickly-”

“No, Master Aqua, I’m fine.” Hera didn’t feel good about brushing her Master and protector off but she needed to go to this forest. It was calling her the same way her dreams did.

She got to the stables and had the royal stable boy Prompto helped ready her Pegaslick. “The reins are all good, Your Grace, enjoy your ride.”

Hera took off after a quick thank you and without a second thought. It was difficult to ride while holding the map but after an hour, Somnium Forest greeted her. She got off the Pegaslick and decided to walk the remainder, her companion close to her side.

Upon entering, the Princess did feel different. There was a strong happiness that washed over her. The fresh smell filled her nose and the grass seemed so soft that she took off her riding boots, hanging them on the saddle and continued barefoot. Eventually, Hera found herself walking deeper into the trees but she couldn’t find it in herself to worry about getting lost. A part of her knew that she wasn’t. In fact, the way the trees and flowers created a path. And the light through the trees. Her dress flowing in the soft breeze and the birds. It all made her stop to pinch herself.

“This has to be a dream.” A whisper that she barely heard left her lips but the muzzle of her Pegaslick acted as a reasurace that this was all real. With a new found fervor, Hera kept going.

On the other hand, Ventus was having the same feeling of déjà vu; only he bounded into the forest with reckless abandon. All these trees, flowers, and rocks he rode past were familiar to him. And as he approached a clearing, he knew this was the moment of truth.

They stared at each other on either side of the clearing. Both shook with excitement but neither moved out of fear of breaking this perfect scene. Ventus had to get off his Yoggy Ram but his eyes never once left hers. Carefully, they approached and once they met in the middle?

“You-are you-?” Hera couldn’t speak. So overwhelmed with joy that he stood before her as a flesh and blood person and not just some apparition. Rather she took out her drawing from the dress pocket and held it up. “It is you.”

Ventus held her face and she leaned into his touch. He wiped a tear that fell from her eye and nodded his head. “The boy from the dreams? Yes, that’s me.” Hera dropped the picture and hugged him. Her arms around his middle and his holding her head into his chest.

“I thought you weren’t real. I thought the universe was playing a horrible trick on me.”

“I promise I’m real. My name is Ventus, and I have wanted this moment ever since that first dream we had.” The dropped drawing was retrieved and put back into her pocket.

“Ventus,” What a beautiful name, “I am Hera. Your voice is so wonderful! I’m so glad to finally hear it!”

“The Princess? I’m so stupid for not recognizing you sooner. I must say Hera,” Ven brushed her hair behind her ears, “The dreams don’t do you justice. I didn’t think there could be a blue more clear than the sky, yet your eyes puts it to shame.” Hera blushed and smiled, wiping some tears from her cheeks. “There is just one thing missing to make our dream a reality.” Hera tilted her head. What more could they want? “There may not be music but, may I have this dance?”

He was right, no music played in this forest, but Hera happily accepted his hand as they moved across the grass. The laughter sounded even better than any of the nights they shared.

Off behind the trees, Aqua watched with the purest expression. Against her better judgement, she followed the young Princess to see if she was alright. Once she saw Hera with this young boy she knew everything was fine.

“So, you followed her I’m assuming?” Aqua looked and saw Terra approach as he went to the spot next to her.

“Yes, and I take it that he is yours?”

“Yeah, less ‘mine’. I’m more of his friend slash guardian.” They watched the kids dance and laugh and converse in the clearing. Terra broke their silence again, “Ventus, he’s training to be a royal guard.”

“Is he now?” Aqua smiled as she knew where this conversation was headed.

“Yes, I’m just a stable boy like him but I did undergo some training as well. I teach him everything and he is a very fast learner. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries but, perhaps the Princess could use another personal guard?”

Aqua laughed and didn't take her eyes off of the lovely couple as, "Yes, I'm sure Her Majesty would love that."

#I hope I did your baby justice Sammi #I feel like the ending was kinda a let down but I hope you like it Sam!#I took what you said about Ven being inspired by Link and kinda added to that.#The only Link I know is from Twilight Princess so that is my inspiration. :)#but this was so much fun to write #as you can tell #I love fantasy/royal aus #and I am Hera's aunt so I thought this was fitting #Plus i wanted to do something nice for your birthday since you drew something for me #I'm just glad I wrote it on time #Hera x Ventus #kingdom hearts #ocs #original character #not my oc #my writing #OUaD #enjoy

11 notes · View notes

redmaneroster · 3 years

Text

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [2] [3] [4-5] [6] [7] [8-9] [x]

PART 10 – Domestication

Yang blinks awake. She wonders why her pillow is so dense until she realizes that she's patting down Jaune's chest. Her hand is dangerously close to his waistband.

She wants to move but can't. Below her, her hands run through the threads of someone's dark red hair. Ruby wriggles at the touch. She'd come back a week earlier. In time for the dance but she'll be gone again when it's over.

It's like her baby sister is slipping out of her hands. She wants to scream and shout. To demand that Ozpin give her back… but he wasn't the one who could make that decision for her. Her dad had made it clear, Ruby is the only one who gets to choose, and she chose Ozpin.

She dreads to think on what Ruby's actually chosen. What she'd picked over everything else. Her friends, her family, her team, maybe even her dreams of being a huntress.

Yang bites her lip. Ruby isn't a huntress-in-training anymore either. She's licensed and fully-fledged. Has jobs and is on record as the youngest to join an academy and the youngest to graduate.

Peeling back her bangs, Yang spots the scar running along her forehead. It's deep and an ugly pinkish-red. Jaune asked where she got it. She'd gotten too close to a behemoth and got clipped trying to dodge its tusk. She'd killed it, somehow. She wouldn't tell how, just that she did. If she really tried, Yang could probably extract the story from her; global secrecy or no. But she can't. Won't.

Suddenly respecting her privacy feels like a vice on her lungs.

Ruby grabs Yang's hand suddenly. She's still and her breathing is rapidly pouring out of her, but then Ruby tugs the arm into her chest and nuzzles into it.

It's like they're eight and ten again, when Yang would spend the day working herself to exhaustion to make sure Ruby had a fulfilling day, only to collapse in her arms. Then and only then did Yang permit her little ten-year-old self to breathe, rest easy, then finally sleep. She recollects it like a blur of sweat and aches she was entirely too young to have, but now that they've passed, Yang can hardly remember what any of those pains felt like.

How differently could things have gone if she'd had a father and mother to tend to them instead. Maybe not long enough to mind Ruby themselves, but at least long enough to rub her hair and tell her she did good at the end of the day.

Calloused hands run through her hair. She looks up to see Jaune spying her out of one eye.

"You're getting that scary, thoughtful look on you again." Not quite the loving encouragement she'd expected, but close enough. "I'd warn against developing some early wrinkles but I can't help but feel they'd look good on you too."

She laughs. "You can't be serious. Were you checking out my mom?"

"Pfft! Sure. Let's go with that." She rolls her eyes. He ruffles her hair. "But in all seriousness, you can't blame a guy for admiring that kind of craftsmanship." His thumb runs slowly down her cheek. "They chiseled you out good. You have all their best parts."

She blushes but pushes the feeling down. "God, Jaune, were you checking out my dad too?" she teases but her eyes widen at his brief pause. "Oh my god."

He waves it off. "It's nothing like that. Despite looking like he could bench-press a truck, your dad still manages to look the least threatening when he's got some alcohol in him. I had thought that the day I'd meet my girlfriend's dad, I'd be most worried about being hated. Instead, I ended up worrying I'd just disappoint him. Like making him sad was worse than getting him angry."

"Yeah, Dad's got a wounded puppy look on him. I think it's why Zwei listens to him all the time. Like he even makes the dog feel responsible for keeping him happy."

"He's a dangerous man."

"I hope the title is hereditary."

"Ha! What was that you said on our first date? You could total a car, or something? I think that qualifies as dangerous."

"Hm… Is that a turn on or does that make you afraid? Both, maybe?"

"I think I'd qualify as crazy if it was both. Do you qualify as crazy if you're still into me after that?"

"We could be crazy together." Her fingers run circles over his abs. "I could live with that…"

Ruby curls up and covers her ears. "Gross, gross, gross, gross, gross!"

Yang ruffles her hair. "Good morning to you, too,"

"Sleep well?" Jaune asks.

"Too well…" Ruby grumbles. "I don't think I could go back to pillows ever again. Maybe I'll sleep on Zwei or something… No, that doesn't feel right…"

Yang pulls her head up, inching enough along Jaune's chest to rest her head up against his chin. "I think it's the company. Missed your big sister that much, huh?"

Ruby's nose scrunches. "Yeah, I do." She crawls into them and snuggles in. She takes Jaune's hand and tugs on Yang's till they're hugging her now. "I'll miss you all so much when I'm gone…"

The way she words that digs a pit in Yang's chest. She squeezes her a little tighter. Her chest feels hollow for a little longer.

Ruby pulls out and Yang lets her go, but she jerks back a bit cause Jaune hasn't let go. "Sorry…" Jaune says. He looks like he wants to hold on.

"Don't be." The softness of her hands press warmly over his, and her smile shares its qualities. "I'd miss me too." She means it like a joke but it stops showing on her eyes and a frown worms its way into her cheeks. "I have to go get ready."

She glances over to the rest of the bed. Only Blake is there, her back turned to them. "Pyrrha's probably waiting for me downstairs. I'll see you two tonight, alright?" When she's pulling fresh clothes out of her travel bag, she calls out, "If Blake gets up, tell her we'll see her on the bullheads and grab a bite in Vale if she's late!"

JNPR's bathroom door shuts behind her. The door feels tiny from where they are, on the opposite side of a giant bed in the RWBY dorm room. Its distance echoes with the thrum of the muffled shower.

Jaune pulls Yang up and against him. "Sorry about this. I know you were looking forward to going with me."

"You shouldn't have to feel sorry for giving my sister a good time," she says. He can tell that she means it. "She's going to miss you too, and this might be her last chance to feel like a normal girl for a change. Besides, it's only sophomore year. We'll still have plenty of school dances to go to."

"I guess… Save me a dance?"

"I think I'll need a little more than one."

The distant pattering of the shower is notable when it stops in the quiet of the twin rooms. Jaune eyes Blake and realizes that her bow is on. "Didn't Blake stop wearing that?"

Yang shifts over his stomach and realizes how broad her outline is. "I don't think that's her."

They share a look before poking her in the head.

Ren groans and swats his hand away. He wiggles out and takes off the wig he's wearing, scratching his head.

They snort. "That's a good look for you," they say, realize they've said it at the same time, and high-five.

He groans again. "That's never not going to be weird."

"Not as weird as you in a wig," Jaune says.

Yang notices he's in Blake's pajama top too, sagging off his shoulder since it's so much smaller. "…Or in her nighties."

"It's called a jinbei." Ren shakes his head. "Before you ask, I lost a bet."

Jaune shrugs. "We figured. Not like we expected you to wear that for fun or anything."

He pulls on the delicate fabric. "Aside from the wig, it's very comfortable."

"Oh, I'll bet."

Ren rubs his eyes. "Jaune…"

He throws his hands up. "I'm kidding! … Not really. You want one in your size?"

"…Yes." He blushes which is weird cause Ren doesn't blush. But he does and it's adorable. They snap a picture. He can only summon the energy to scowl for a breath's length. "I should get going too."

"Why are you up so late anyhow?"

He blushes and he doesn't bother answering. They don't need one anyway.

-0-

The echoed bass of this year's dance bounces off the walls of the hallway just outside of reception.

Yang hasn't been on a dance floor in months and now the sounds feel alien. She used to attribute clubbing as a part of her, even as a freshman who could pass for eighteen. Breaking it down, it's clear that she only went out there to have fun. And she's been having a lot of fun elsewhere this year.

"I don't really wanna go in there," Oscar says beside her as they make their way to reception. They're both wearing green, to match hues with her eyes and to contrast his. "I'm starting to get dizzy on just the sounds of it."

"You get used to it," she says. "It's mostly just sensory overload. Just let it sink in and you'll hardly even register the music. It's meant to be white noise anyway so no one has to talk in silence."

"So it's, what, a social tool? Like a distraction?"

"Most of partying is. For all the awkward folks, it means they can hide behind something else while they get their wings. For the rest of us, the ones who've got it down, it lets us keep going. Longer than the night sometimes."

"I never thought of it that way."

She pats him on the shoulder. Even in flats, she's so much taller than him. "Try not internalize it too hard. It's easier when you're letting a conversation happen instead of trying to force any advice you hear into it."

"And if I end up in awkward silence with someone?"

"Then maybe you aren't talking to the right people. Take Ruby for instance." She points ahead of them, at Jaune and Ruby dressed in red together. They're talking and laughing. "You ever have a conversation just stop when you talk to her?"

"Yeah."

"Then she isn't the right people." She catches Ruby's glare but she goes back to Jaune pretty quickly.

"Uh… Oh! You're joking!" Oscar exclaims.

"Whoa! Hey! Don't take me seriously all the time. Half of me is comedy."

"It's often bad!" Jaune calls back.

"Shut up!" Yang giggles. "I have the worst boyfriend," she whispers loudly. Jaune pretends to be wounded by it.

"So…" Oscar rolls his hands. "I'm getting mixed signals here. Is it okay to have awkward silence?"

"Yeah! I mean… I guess had a bad example. It's okay if a conversation stops, but not when it drops."

He squints. "I feel like you're deliberately confusing me."

"I'm just not the most articulate person. Not like I learned to be social on a quotable handbook or anything. So when you talk to someone on something you're interested in, like, say, coffee –"

"-Or milk."

"Or milk. Yeah, let's got with that. Say you like skim milk – you monster –" he laughs cause he does, "then you know you've found someone you can talk to if they don't try to derail the conversation once they find out."

"Cause I brought up skim milk?"

"Cause they're still interested in talking even after you mention it. Someone you can talk to might agree and keep at it, or disagree but wants to hear your side of why you like it so much. Someone you can't talk to will try to change the topic after finding out what you like or not about something."

"I thought it was all about finding things in common."

"I think it's just as interesting if you don't. I hate Seven Rapids cause they're all noise and not even music to me, but that's precisely why Jaune loves them. Jaune and his sister used to be afraid of thunder, so when a storm hit their hometown, it was the only band they could listen to on the same pair of earphones without having to block out the other ear with something."

"That doesn't sound like he particularly likes it either."

"But it's a story I wouldn't have heard otherwise if I switched gears! Now we know each other a little better."

The bass thumps in their ears after they sign on in the registry and come through the doors. Blake is already dancing with Penny, Sun and Pyrrha are expectedly missing, and Nora is a having a subdued moment with Ren by the punch bowl.

"Ruby?" They're instantly stopped by Cardin Winchester of all things. His date, Velvet, trails behind him and crashes into Ruby first.

"You're back!" Velvet cheers. "For how long?"

"Not very," she says sheepishly.

"That big a deal, huh?" Cardin guesses. He continues before she can get uncomfortable. "We missed you at Leadership. Jaune cried."

Jaune rolls his eyes and lets it be… For an entire second. He punches Cardin in the arm and they laugh.

"I missed you guys too. Even the class. Ugh! Can you believe I miss waking up early for class?"

"I miss that feeling too," Velvet agrees. "When you're Juniors and Seniors, you lose half your classes and you're not even expected to attend most of your sessions. We're usually out on the field taking low threat missions. Even a noisy classroom is quieter than the woods."

Ruby rubs the back of her head. "I kind of know what that's like now, actually."

Jaune and Yang trade looks. Oscar tries not to look them in the eyes.

"We should get going," Cardin says, reading the room. "We'll catch up later." Velvet takes him by the arm and waves off.

Ruby, like Oscar, doesn't look them in the eyes either.

"It's okay!" Yang says soothingly, her a voice a titter with a laugh. "We won't pry. Just happy you're here."

"C'mon," Jaune says, taking Ruby's hand, "let's see how well Oscar taught you how to dance."

Ruby slaps a hand to her lips, trying feebly to hide her blush. "The punch bowl first, please. If it's spiked, I can pretend to be good at anything."

"Not a chance," Jaune teases. He kisses Yang on the cheek before leaving her with Oscar.

"He really is the worst," Oscar says, sarcasm bleeding off his cheek. "He's so sickeningly sweet. Wanna trade dates? I'd take him."

Yang slaps him on the back. "Ha! That's the spirit. I can see you're getting more comfortable."

Oscar shrugs. "I think you're just easy to talk to. We should go, too. I'm starving."

-0-

Ruby might have been right about the punch. Nora is loud and all over the place, but Oscar remembers a few stories about her and asks, "Is this how she normally is?"

Ren laughs, it's quiet and patient. He sounds older than he looks. "I don't think she qualifies for normal."

Nora crashes into a few people he doesn't recognize but they laugh and stand her up. They're all friends here. Or maybe Nora just has that effect on people.

"Here." Ren is standing in front of him with a plate of sushi, a black dip of some sort, and what looks like green clay. "Try one of these."

"You ever have these in Mistral?" Yang asks.

"Only the cities. Funny how my first time with it will be in Vale of all places."

Ren demonstrates with chopsticks, expertly grabbing the rolled sushi, dipping, then grabbing a dab of the clay before inserting it into his mouth. "Now you try."

Oscar takes a fork, stabs the sushi, dips it, end curves the fork's teeth into the clay-like thing, and shoves it in his mouth. He can only register Ren's panic when it's already too late.

"You took too much wasabi," he breathes.

Yang is already grabbing a cup from the punch bowl. Oscar's mouth explodes in heat. Then the rest of the night is a blur.

-0-

Ruby was right. Someone did spike the punch.

By now it's too late and they devolve into a flurry of laughter and dancing. No one seems to care that there's suddenly alcohol present, but a cursory glance reveals that the staff isn't even present. Coco does mention seeing Ozpin and Glynda alone in the plaza, and much of the staff was huddling in the dark trying to eavesdrop on them. Seems mischief is ageless.

Jaune and Yang don't dance. Ruby is too important for them to let the night be about them, so they dance with her instead. She's at least thankful that Jaune chose to lead her in a slow dance. She doesn't think she can keep up with him otherwise. Yang, on the other hand, is an expert on matching her pace. She's her big sister after all.

Oscar doesn't get to dance with her either but he's fine with that. What he isn't fine with is being completely hammered by one watered-down drink. Yang thinks its funny how similar he is to Jaune but the similarities end there. He gets swung around by Nora on the dance floor and the alcohol doesn't help.

Remembering this night mostly comes out as a thousand flashes. Their scrolls roll the whole night, and the photos flood the memory banks like they'll struggle to remember this night when it's over. Which doesn't happen because the alcohol doesn't make them drunk. Unlike Oscar, all the alcohol just serves as an excuse for everyone else to let loose.

Joan shows up in a dress and everyone has flashbacks of first year. Ruby jokes loudly about Jaune filling the dress out real well this time and most people momentarily forget that Jaune has a twin sister.

Somewhere down the line, they pour out of the dance and sing off-key in the garden, count stars in the courtyard, and then they're out on the roof where half their class has turned up for a grill off.

Jaune and Nora get so into it that they're scared out of themselves when Cardin shows up in an apron and a grill of his own. Yang remarks that Weiss would have loved the smell.

Oscar kisses Penny and Ruby doesn't know what to do with that. Yang lets her figure it out cause she's growing up and she can ask her whenever she's ready.

Nora's corsage gets caught in the wind somehow and Ruby jumps into action. She weaves through the crowd in a stream of red and rose petals. She's over the railing and she shows no fear as she leaps off the edge and curls over the shattered moon with the pink flower in her hands. Her smile is stunning, her confidence brimming off her cheeks.

Jaune and Yang hold hands at the sight. She's a burst of beauty that steals hearts.

There's a cheer when she effortlessly blurs back and falls into the crowd. She doesn't think what she does is anything special, but it is. She is. And everyone knows it.

And just when their spirits are highest, it rains.

Ruby doesn't leave the roof when it does. Her friends stay with her, Jaune and Yang especially. The look in her eyes tells them that she's barely holding something back.

They stand with her, letting the chipped pieces of them fall apart together so Ruby doesn't feel like she's alone. She tells them she's afraid. They tell her they are too. But fear doesn't get to take residence, it doesn't get to loiter and sink into the upholstery. They'll kick and scream until it's gone cause they never go down without a fight.

It sounds like they're all struggling blindly, but Yang tells her that defiance is only the first step. And that also makes it the most important.

In a moment of solidarity, Ruby screams at the top of her lungs as the rain hides her tears and her friends drown out her pain with defiant roars of their own.

And in the next she's on a bullhead, barely out of her dress, and she disappears in a sea of stars.

-0-

It's the weekend again, and Yang convinces Jaune to come to the apartment for the day. Walking back into it feels like a lifetime has passed him by. There's a layer of dust on everything and he resists the urge to wipe it all down. He can't spend the one day they're here this month cleaning. Maybe next month when he's got the lien to cover his half of the rent.

No, that's an excuse. He could just as easily ask for an advance on his allowance or pick up an extra mission to cover the gap. He wanted to push them both to stay in the dorm, but when Yang pushes passed him with a box full of last night's freshly developed photos, he can see the forced curl of her cheek that's just a little too wide.

Ruby's been again for a week. She might not come back. Yang needs a breather to reconcile with that.

She plops the box down on the coffee table as Jaune sorts out their dinner across the room in the kitchenette.

"Anything good?" he asks.

She waves a photo in the air. "You in a dress!"

"Ha, well… Wait, no, I didn't do that this year! That's Joan!"

"Pfft! Not when I post it and tag you. I expect continued confusion from the campus."

"Yang…"

"C'mon, it's funny!"

He tosses an orange in a basket and reminds himself to eat it later. It's not gonna stay ripe if they leave it behind. In his head, it suddenly sounds like a shitty metaphor. "You're allowed to be sad about Ruby leaving, y'know?"

She chuckles and whips back to him. "So are you."

He doesn't know how to answer that. He spent a lot of that night dreading her leaving but he hadn't expected her to up and go before midnight even hit. It's still jarring, unreal even. Like he could walk back onto campus and bump into her, cause that night was a blur and he might have just dreamt it ending the way it did.

A hip bumps into his, and he drops the pork chops back onto the counter. Yang doesn't look sorry but she hides her face in his chest and he lets her hold onto him.

"It feels like I'm still halfway down a landslide. With my parents and uncle are off to god-knows-where, and Weiss and Neptune fighting for the soul of her company, it felt inevitable that Ruby would just… follow after. And it's a little scary, y'know? I don't know when all of this stops. I don't know if I'm gonna keep losing people." She doesn't cry, but her chest feels tight. "It's like I'm either waiting to see who's next or if I'm gonna crash when I hit the bottom…"

She'd been putting up a strong front, but her bravado feels like it's slipping, and she already feels like it's going to break her. Finding JNPR had stemmed the tide. She even thought she might stop slipping altogether but then Ruby comes and just goes into the night…

Jaune's pulls out his scroll and she can hear him clicking. She only then realizes that his other hand is squeezing carefully on her waist.

"What are you doing?"

"Finding people."

"What? Who?"

He brings the scroll close to his face. There's a call and it goes through almost immediately. It's a voice she doesn't recognize but she can guess who it is. She's already familiar with the stories about her.

"Hey, runt!" comes a woman's voice. "Caught me at a good time. Coral's burning the eggs again and she could use a few pointers from her big brother." Yang can practically feel her wink.

"It's nice to see you too, Sable. You're the eldest in the house now, don't you know how to cook it?"

There's a snort on the other end of the line. "Please. Wouldn't know my way around the kitchen unless I crashed a car into it. And even then I'd only familiarize myself with the quickest exit."

Jaune groans. "You can't keep getting take-out and engorging everything your pit crew gets you. One of these days you're gonna regret never learning from mom. At least Coral's trying."

"Well, Coral doesn't have a job."

"Hey, I totally have a job!" a muffled voice shouts.

"And besides, the track keeps me busy."

Yang mumbles into Jaune's chest. "That sounds like an excuse to me…"

Jaune laughs.

"Jaune… who was that?"

"She's the reason why I called you in the first place." He's already propping his scroll up against a bundle of uneven loaf.

"Ooh! Do we finally get to meet this elusive girlfriend of yours?"

Yang sucks in a breath. It feels like she's stepped into a different space altogether and she's nervous now for very different reasons.

"Girls, this is Yang."

"Hi there." Yang hopes she doesn't sound awkward.

On the screen is a set of huddled blondes all crashing to get a view through the screen. In the middle is the cheeky one she guesses is Sable. Unlike her sisters, her hair is red fading into blonde tied in a braid over her shoulder. "Hey yourself. I'm Sable. I heard you're good with bikes. We should talk. Grease monkey to grease monkey."

Another blonde in a bob cut and glasses pushes into her cheek. "God… hi. You're so pretty. Are you sure you're a huntress? Jaune, please don't let this be a prank." She seems all over the place.

"That's Coral," Jaune supplies. "Don't mind her. She'll make proper sentences when she starts calming down."

A dark-skinned girl with dirty blonde hair is pushed into view. Yang remembers Jaune mentioning having an adopted sister with dirty blonde hair. The dark hues accent her and it's all the more stunning when some of the white strands she has makes it clear that all that hair natural. "Ahem, I'm Dahlia," she says with the tiniest smile. She looks fourteen but she doesn't sound it.

She tilts her head to the side revealing another fourteen-year-old hiding behind her. "And this is Liona."

"Uhm!" Liona nearly screams, "H-hi!"

"Is she alright?" Yang asks.

Sable waves it off. "Oh, it's nothing really. She's just -"

"See?!" Liona points at the screen, looking at the other girls. "It's another blonde! The curse is real!" And she's gone.

Dahlia sighs and gets up. "I'll go after her. It was nice meeting you, Yang."

"She's polite."

Sable shrugs. "Grew up in a strict house. We're still trying to shake it out of her but enough about that, why don't you tell us how you got all that hair to behave? Mine spazzes out if I don't tie it down and there's only so many ways to tie long hair before I have to cut it down."

Yang starts going on about products she uses and Jaune slowly starts slipping away. There's an excitement brimming off her cheeks, a confidence to bury any embarrassment she might have had. It's like she's not even here anymore. She's in Clove with his sisters.

He feels a tightness on his wrist. Yang gives him a dangerous look. "Oh, no way, buster. You're staying here so I don't collapse in on myself." She tugs him in and wraps an arm around his.

They're shocked when another voice comes in. "We'll aren't you two cute," says Helia, Jaune's mom as she peeks over Sable's shoulder.

The afternoon is a blur of conversation. Bikes and Cars are both similar and different enough that Yang and Sable get along quick with always something interesting to add.

Coral has a distinct fascination with Yang's hair and has non-stop questions. It's got loose strands and is the furthest thing from perfectly straight but Yang makes it work somehow and Coral has an intense need to know how. Jaune just calls it Xiao Long magic.

Liona and Dahlia, despite being respectively excitable and largely subdued, ask Jaune and Yang both about being huntsmen. Yang catches the way Dahlia's eyes go a little wide at the excitement and terror of their stories, and Jaune never fails to point out every time Liona chews her lip like she can't decide if being a huntress is for her. He lets her sort it out until she's ready to talk about it.

The only sister Yang hasn't met yet is Cori, the second eldest, and that's cause she's in Atlas. Jaune notes that she's keeping an eye on Weiss and Neptune for them. They stop the conversation when Sable tells her that they're really allowed to talk about it.

Helia – she still insists on Aunt Hess but Yang's still getting the hang of it – reminds them that they promised to have dinner with her and her husband.

And when it's all over and they wave their goodbyes, Yang's eyes are as bright as she remembers. "I wanna meet them," she says when they're on the couch.

"This summer then. I was planning on coming home. Sable might have to run a summer circuit for her sponsors but she'll still catch us. And Cori will be there for a week. We can even get Saph to come join us."

"Yes. That. Please?"

He pulls his scroll off the coffee table. "Alright, alright. Calm down. It's happening. Let me just drop Cori a line so we can figure out when it's best."

She hugs him. "Thank you," she whispers.

"For what? I only called up my sister."

"For this. Them. All of it. I really needed to get out of my own headspace."

"Back to Remnant?"

"Not quite. It still hurts. Just a little. I can't shake the feeling."

He gently pushes her away, grabs her waist, and thumbs her cheek. "Maybe a classic distraction will suffice."

She giggles. Her cheeks are warming up. "I missed this. Just you and me."

They press their lips together. She pulls him down with her against the armrest of the couch.

While he's holding her steady by the waist, her own hands can't seem to settle anywhere. One minute she's clutching the back of his head grabbing a fistful of hair, the next she's tugging on his shirt and stretching the fabric. Now she's on his neck, pulling him in.

He loves the way she tastes. Practically devours her lips until he coaxes her into his biting his.

He gasps and that hungry look in her eyes tells him that wants him to sing for her. His eyes are dangerous in response, pulling away only to bury his face in her neck. She shuts her eyes and expects him to bite, to mark her like they do every time, but he's suckling and her skin feels like it's getting more sensitive.

"Ah…!" She bites her lip. She wants him to keep going but she also wants him to do more. Her fingers curl into the back of his neck. Arching her back to the sensations bursting from his ministrations, she hisses before whispering, "bite me."

She can feel the way hot breath pouring out of his nostrils as she says that. You're a dangerous woman, he'd all but said. And with the look he gives her in the periphery, she can't help but feel him saying it with his eyes. He bites down and her back arcs again. Its soft and he's suckling at the same time. She wonders how that would feel on other parts of her body.

When she's curling into him, she gasps as her limbs act without her consent. Her arms wrap around his shoulders and her legs bend and clasp around his waist. She's already off the sofa and hanging off of him entirely.

"Yang…" he breathes. They pull back enough for her to see the manic look in his eyes. There's nothing coy about it. It's just hunger. Need. And after everything they've been through, she knows she wants it too.

He's looking down at her as he settles his breathing and lays her back on the couch. She doesn't let go, only now his weight is on her. As meek as she looks, he has to tell himself that she can take it, but the innuendo sparks dangerous images in his mind. It doesn't help that she's a hot, sweating mess.

She feels him pull a tent in his pants. It's nothing new. She'd even teased him about it now, but it's not out of place here.

Daring herself to look at it, she spies it in the space between their legs. It feels taboo to even bear witness, but in her half-hearted attempt to look away, she instead finds the tear in his shirt just at the collar. She doesn't know if she caused it, somewhere in all the tugging and moaning, it must have happened. In the afternoon sun, it's a clear sight line from his chest to his stomach. Sweat trails down there too and it drives her wild to follow it down.

His hand settles experimentally on her belly.

She looks up at him. His askance stare and bated breath do not need words. She nods.

It trails carefully downwards, delicate even at the shallow scratch of his nails. It feels like he's uncoiling tension bundled in her abs, and every line is a full, happy sigh sung from her lips.

He can't stop staring at his hand as it seems to go on forever over the valley of her stomach. A hand is on his cheek. He meets her eyes and she seems to dare him not to look away from her. Her other hand wraps around his wrist and guides it till snags at the hem of her shorts.

His breathing betrays him. It's practically telegraphing the tremors dancing in his chest. He doesn't want to scare her. The way she jumped back the first time they got this close still sends the wrong kind of shiver down his arm like he might burn her if he tried.

But she isn't afraid. Her eyes are half lidded, her breath staccatos but its even. Her hand tugs at his wrist again.

He undoes the button.

She gasps.

His finger traces the zipper.

She bites her lip.

A hint of panic settles in cause he needs to see what he's doing but he can't look away from her. She has no trouble staring at him herself. It's like she's in a trance and all she's interested in watching is him. So he swallows his fears and kisses her again. Her lips are welcoming but her tongue is a tidal wave that swallows him whole.

It emboldens him. Lets his fingers push passed the zipper and straight over the thin bit of cloth behind it. The fabric is like his own. Nothing special. Plain and normal, and makes him laugh against her lips and she laughs with him.

Her hand pulls his wrist over her crotch. His fingers graze the unshaven hairs down there. Then she lets go of his hand and trusts that he'll figure out the rest.

He does.

His hand is so much larger than her own. That's what she first thinks when his digits span over her southern hairs and inch its way down. He has to pull his chest away from hers to get an angle that doesn't twist his wrist, but she doesn't stop moaning into his mouth.

A heated line draws sidewards from his hands, like her legs are tugging closed along the path his hand into her mound. She welcomes it. There's no alarm bells in her head. She wants to bring him there and trap him

She's okay with this.

And when his fingers smooth over her entrance and finds exactly where to make first contact, her heart's already ramming into the walls of her chest. She wants it. A bite of his lip. Bodies press firmly together. She's already trapped him down there.

She wants it. She wants it. She wants it!

Yang pulls away. He's shocked out of her nethers. His fingers are still wet.

"Yang… I'm – I'm sorry, I –"

She closes into him and shoves his damp hand into his mouth. "How do I taste?" she asks, voice hot on his neck. Inside, she's screaming because it would have been sexier to taste it herself. Then again, she isn't sure she wants that.

"Like you," he breathes against the back of her neck.

She laughs. "What's a girl supposed to take away from that?"

"Because like everything else about you, it makes me want more."

The hammering in her chest has evened out. "I want this. You. All of it."

"Then what happened?"

"Nothing. I'm not scared. I don't even know why I was in the first place anymore."

"Is that what happened? Did it bother you? Not knowing why?"

She doesn't need to answer. Instead she pulls away, kisses his lips, and tells him, "The Aries."

"My car?"

"Yes. Could you go and get the installment cleared and… maybe grab us dinner? Please?" She doesn't want to have to say that she needs a bit more time to figure this out, but he's already kissed her and is at the door.

"Later?" he asks.

She nods, a giddiness worming its way into her cheeks. "Later. I'll be ready when you come home."

He loves that look on her. He'd kiss her again if he didn't have to go.

-0-

Blake gets a call from Yang. She has to pull away from Ren and Nora on the beanbag. She's barely dressed as it is (Nora's slovenly habits are starting to rub off on her) and she isn't sure she's ready to answer any questions Yang might have about what's going on between them.

"Yang?"

"Blake! Uh… did you just get out of bed?"

She glances at her roommates. Nora's waggling her brows and Ren has that tiny smile of his that is somehow far more embarrassing. "Something like that. What about you? Do I even need to ask about the fresh hickey?"

Yang is silent for a moment. "I almost had sex with Jaune."

Her eyes widen hysterically. "Almost? What happened?"

"I needed to sort some things out." Her eyes narrow. "Look, we're gonna meet again in an hour or two, but before then, I need to bounce the last few months with my best friend."

Blakes gives her a good-natured sigh. "Fine," she says with a smile she can't stop, "give me the whole story."

"It all started on the day I was born."

"Yang!"

"I'm… I'm only half joking."

-0-

It's sundown when he gets home. He half expects scented candles, ambient music, thick makeup, and lingerie. But there's none of that. She isn't even in the living room.

"Yang?" he calls out.

His scroll pings.

"Take a shower in the guest room and come meet me in your room, please?" It reads. He takes off his jacket and pulls off his shirt when his scroll pings again. "If you love me, you'll come in only towel. So please love me."

He sprints into the shower.

Minutes later he's mostly dry and standing in his own living room, staring at his bedroom door like it'll fall on him if he even dares to come in to see his probably barely dressed girlfriend.

He knocks.

A moment of silence, but it is quiet enough to hear her take a healthy breath before she gives him a nervous "I'm ready!"

He expects a mountain of nerves. Maybe even another try at the lingerie with a bit of snide confidence beneath a toothy grin. But when he opens the door, he finds a gentle smile sitting up in an igloo of blankets. There's no put-upon anything here. She's not trying to be enticing, or trying to get a rise out of him,

He can only call that look honest.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

The question shocks her into laughter. Cause he's fresh out of the shower and she's been cozy in these sheets for the better part of an hour now. "No, no, I'm plenty warm."

"Could be warmer," he says. He doesn't intend to flirt but it's already out of his mouth and she's matching the nervous, embarrassed smile on his cheeks.

"Maybe. Why don't you come here and find out?"

With the towel wrapped firmly around his waist, he locks the door behind him and crawls onto the bed. He doesn't get any closer though.

Now that he's up close, he can see the silhouette of her bare legs just between the sheets. One of her hands comes out to pull both sides of the sheet together while the other comes to reach for him.

He takes her hand, bare knees touching.

"Hey," he says. And it's goofy, and so like him that it blossoms something in her chest.

"Hey, yourself." She calms her own nerves again and he loves the way the shape of her straightens like she's conquered something again.

He's staring and he knows it but the moonlight is sinking in through the gaps in the blinds and he swears her hair can put gold to shame.

"I've figured out why I was so afraid before," she says.

"Of getting intimate?"

"Yeah…" Her hands are sweating. Her gaze is locked to their hands. "I've already shown you so much of me. I've carved out my deepest fears and fed them to you like I was trying to stuff you full. Cause I didn't like having them in me. Like mom, and us, and Vytal, and now my team… When I'm with you, I already feel exposed. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay with showing you all these sides of me but…"

She looks up at him, and their eyes meet. "I still have secrets." She says it like an apology. "But I'm not about to share my every thought but I find myself speaking my mind around you all the time anyway. I've been open but it's like I can't hide anything from you." She inches closer and her hand on the blankets tightens. "And this? Us? It's like I'm showing you all that's left. I'm no prude. I don't mind showing you a little skin."

He laughs. She doesn't wear much to bed. Not that he does either. "You never really seemed concerned about it, yeah."

"Yeah, but… doing this means I'm giving you something I can't take back or keep for myself. What I'll say or do when we do it will be new secrets and they'll be yours and… I was afraid of that."

Was, she said. He focuses on that.

His fingers run over her knuckles. She fixates on the way his hands are trying to hold her without getting any closer.

"What changed?" he asks.

"You… you showed me that you were just as scared." She remembers the way he was breathing only hours ago, staring down at her like he was scared of hurting her if he kept giving in to what she was offering. "It was like a hundred little things. Adrian, Terra, wanting to ruin your hair like an idiot for me…"

He scratches the back of his head. "I thought I was keeping a brave face on that one."

"Please. I love you but there's no way you were going to be comfortable looking an idiot again no matter how much you say it wasn't going to bother you." She sighs. "It's funny how that made me love you more."

Her smile falls away. "When I was younger, I was used to affection. It was like I had a mom and two dads. They'd dote on me and sing my praises like I could be nothing but spectacular. I couldn't go a day without being smothered by someone's love… Then… Then I lose Summer and dad shuts down. Qrow would try to be there for us and did everything he could while he was around but he always had to go to work. And I kept thinking if I was feeling like this, how did Ruby feel? How much did she feel that she was missing out on? So, I smother her with enough love to make up for everyone else, but every time I did, I was reminded of how much I missing for myself."

"And then we happened and it's not all the making out, or the cuddling, or the hickeys. I was afraid I'd have to give up this apartment cause I was overstaying my welcome, but then you smile at me and… Jaune, do you remember what you said to me that day?"

He's been flush this entire time. "I, uh, no, I don't."

"You told me it was already decided. Like I belonged here and that I never needed to work for it even if I tried my hardest to prove that I did. I didn't need to earn a place here. We were friends and you thought that was already enough."

He squeezes her hand. "It goes both ways, y'know?"

She squeezes back. "Tell me."

"I hated this apartment. When I first got it I thought I'd just bought myself a hole I could hide in while I drown myself." He eyes the walls, and even in the dark he knows where he'd had to plaster over cracks he'd punched into. "And it wasn't like I had anywhere else to go so I couldn't leave. I thought I'd maybe show up at the clubs and find someone else to warm my sheets, but even when I got propositioned, I couldn't dare to drag anyone else into what I'd put myself through."

"Then you showed up and I forgot what those nights even really felt like. It was just you, tearing every sordid, manic page out of my book and putting yourself there instead. It isn't just Terra you replaced it was… everything else. No more cold nights, broken sinks, or empty bottles. Even when things are quiet in the morning, it was nice to remember someone else was there that I had to wake up. It was nice knowing I had to cook for two. It was nice knowing that whenever I had to go out and do something tiring, or frustrating, or stupid… there was always someone waiting for me at home."

He lets go of her and makes for the vanity. A drawer is tugged open. Yang recognizes it as the one Jaune uses to hide the previous tenant's wedding ring box, but that isn't he pulls out of it. It's his flask. He sets there in full view of her. "I haven't needed it in months."

There's warmth against her skin. Even back then he said that she couldn't fill the gap of every torment but there it is. Definitive proof that she has. And it isn't just that she's done it, or even that she's done it for months, but also that she hasn't noticed. That the part of him with doubts has quietly slipped away.

And it's the same for her.

When he's back on the bed, she slinks her hands away into the blanket, clutching its two halves.

She's surprised at how easy it is to pull them apart and show him all of her. That doesn't mean it gets any easier with the way he stares at her. Yang has to resist covering up again.

His eyes trace the length of her arms down to her toned, steady legs. Back up to her abs and the swell of her breasts, to the soft coiling of her shoulder blades into her neck. This woman is built like a brick house and he loves every inch of her.

She'd already been staring at most of him before the towel on his waist slips away. The broad stroke of his arms, the wound tightness of his chest, his abs are pulled taut but his navel looks soft and boyish between the strong ridges. His legs are thin but muscled. She never knew she could appreciate the curve of a calf before but his legs help make him tall and it looks like she can dine on its width.

He crawls towards her and she welcomes his look of uncertainty as if it was her own. She falls back onto the sheets, prepared for him. One hand on her belly, the other pressed firmly over her beating chest. He doesn't move in to kiss her. He's stopped and staring somewhere on her breast. She almost cracks a joke about it but his hand comes up suddenly and runs along her skin.

"What happened here?" he asks.

There's the shadow of a scar beneath her left breast. She's surprised he can even see it in the low light. "Accident. I crashed my bike one night when driving home back to Beacon. It was… it wasn't a very good night. Assholes just drove on by and didn't bother checking in. Everyone sees an armed huntress and they think I can everything handle my own. Never mind that I was bleeding and calling out for help."

His eyes narrow. "People in this city suck."

"C'mon, they're not all bad. That boatman's pretty nice."

"Tackle."

"What?"

He snorts. "Yang, that's his name. Tackle. You're telling me we spent two weekends with him and you don't even know his name? You remember the old guy who sells dust? You meet him every month. His name's Shop and he's Tackle's brother."

She's laughing. Mostly from embarrassment. Mostly. "And how do you know this?"

"I talked to him?"

She shakes her head. "Y'know what, nevermind. I'm lying back here naked and you've got me thinking about old men and their equally old brothers."

"But hey, not so nervous anymore, right?"

He's right. It's so much easier to just talk to him. "Yeah. Much better tha-a-anks~! Jaune!"

His head's below her breast, kissing along her scar. He's doing it so softly that it tickles. "J-Jaune! Ha ha! What are you doing?"

"Kissing it better," he says matter-of-factly.

"Quit it! Ha ha! It tickles!"

He pulls his lips off her and leans over her, resting his forehead to hers. "No more bad memories. I'll rip out everything from before and give you something new everyday."

She nudges her nose to his. "Everyday?" she asks softly.

He shrugs but he means it. "I'm exaggerating but I'll try."

She runs a hand down his cheek. "Why do you always gotta do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just… be real with me? Some guys just stop at the sweeping romantic gesture."

"I think I'm incapable of being anything else with you at this point."

"Scary," she teases. "Jaune Arc, ever exposed. How will I ever contain myself?"

"Shut up."

She shakes her head meaningfully, something beautiful dancing behind her eyes. He tells himself it's love. "I can't. Words are all I have when I can't do anything with my hands."

He kisses her knuckle, its strength softening at his touch. "And why don't you?"

He's flush against her. Her knees curl around his waist. "Because I won't be able stop myself if you let me."

"Don't stop," he whispers. "Show me everything."

Her hand braces against the back of his neck.

He sucks on her lower lip. Then he does the same to the other.

She moans and it's raw and animalistic, but it's a symphony in his ear.

-0-

Yang plops onto the sofa next to him. "If this takes any longer, I'm going to tear my hair out."

Jaune takes a sip of his apple juice and eyes her passed the glass. She's been stressing out all afternoon. "I don't think you've failed enough tests to warrant a failing grade. Didn't you pass the exams?"

"I'm not worried about failing." A pause. She doesn't look at him when she admits, "I need to get a B."

His brow creases. "You only need to not fail to be a huntress."

"Yeah, but they don't let you be a teacher or a coach without at least B."

"You wanna be a teacher?"

She scratches her head. "No? Yes. Maybe. Look, I wanna have my options open."

He sits closer. She can feel his warmth on her hip. "Is this cause of what Qrow said yesterday?"

"Mom, actually. We were talking about how she wishes she was home and worrying about cracking an egg right instead of trying to crack open a conspiracy."

She doesn't need to tell him more. "Yang, our kids will still love you if you're not home all the time."

"But I'd like to be home all the time. I hate the idea of being gone for months and… ugh, look at me. Losing my mind on imaginary children."

"You're thinking ahead. It's what a leader does. I like to think it's what a Xiao Long does too."

Yang rubs her arm. "Yeah… leader." With both Weiss and Ruby officially off the campus roster, Yang had been voted as the new leader. It's strange having to trade teammates with JNPR every once in a while to get teams of three, but they're always all together now anyway. Still, the title hangs over her head and she's trying her best.

"You'll get used to it. Leadership isn't a hard class and you'll only officially start taking it next year."

"But sitting in it makes me think a lot. I didn't think a class with no grades could be so stressful… I mean, maintaining team psychology? I didn't think Ruby had to consider our wellbeing all the time, and now that I do, I feel like we all take our leaders for granted."

He puts a hand on her shoulder. "See, this is why we don't talk about Leadership outside of class. You gotta detox. What would you like?"

She tosses her scroll onto the coffee table. "These grades. I get this out of my system, and I can start worrying about everything else."

He claps his hands and gets up. "Okay, bubble bath, massage oil, scented candles, and cake it is."

She gives him a wiry smile. "Thank you…"

"What kind of cake?" he asks when he's sifting through the cupboards in the kitchen. "I can whip up the chiffon and icing real quick if that's what you're after."

She picks her scroll back up and thumbs through her messages. She goes through a backlog from Ruby. She met up with Weiss a few days back and the photo of them together (and Oscar getting along with Whitley in back) always manages to curl a smile into her. Among the images sent, she finds another with Weiss alone in her room. Neptune's not allowed to get close just yet but she's wearing the aquamarine necklace her got her for the proposal.

"I'm thinking Red Velvet," she calls out to him. "Maybe you can experiment again? I'd love to help you try."

"Nah, not this time. I couldn't get the red velvet to mix right even with Ren's help. I'll need to pick a lesson with mom when we get to Clove so I can get it down."

She gets an image from Blake. She's having afternoon tea with her parents. Ren and Nora are with her. Ren seems right at home with Kali, and Nora seems to have gotten Ghira to laugh. Somewhere in the background, Sun's teasing Ilia about someone on her scroll. She's turned a shade of pink, which does nothing to hide her blush. Looks like Sun managed to find her a girlfriend after all.

"We can do a different cake then," she tells Jaune.

"It's okay, I'll just order again." He already has his scroll up. "But we're getting three little boxes. I'm not letting you engorge the whole thing again."

She snorts. "You can't stop me from snacking."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yang, one of these days I'm gonna have to buy a padlock for the fridge."

"Like a padlock would stop me."

His hand slaps the counter. "Okay, no bubble bath, and no massage then."

"Fine. Little cakes. But you know I can just order more, right? It's a joint account after all." It was her mother's idea to help them balance finances between them. It managed to get Helia Arc to talk to Raven. They get along. Yang doesn't know what do with that.

"Please don't do anything crazy with the account. It's the last installment for the car."

"Which I'm helping you pay for. I deserve a treat."

Jaune stops what he's doing and just stares at her. She's not normally this difficult. Or difficult at all, for that matter. "Yang, are you messing with me?"

She peeks back gives him a sheepish grin from behind the couch. "Yes? C'mon, you know I love you. You like eating them with me anyway. You need to get your head out of the rain too." Because their new tub is big enough for two, the massage is always the kind with a happy ending, and she's pretty sure the scented candles are just a silent joke between them at this point.

He comes around to sit next to her again. "I'm not the one worrying about her grades."

"And I'm not the one stressing about his car," she counters. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

Leaning back into the cushions, he loses any desire to argue. "I took good care of it…"

"I know you did, so it's not your fault. Just you wait. The mechanic will be back with a message for you any minute now to tell you it was a nothing issue and they can fix it in an afternoon."

She's on her inbox with Jaune now. They hardly send messages anymore since they're together all the time so instead they send each other the pictures they take so they always both have copies. They had a mission at the ruins of Glenn, a dinner date by the docks, drew on Ren's face while he slept, spent an afternoon hanging photos off strings on the ceiling, visited Cardin in the hospital (he's got a cool scar along his arm and neck now), took a hike in the woods, and there's a dozen more photos of them cozying up in the apartment. These have just been in the last month, too. With summer coming, they'll have enough photos to hide entire ceiling at the dorm.

Jaune leans over. "Why am I Hummingbird in your contacts? I thought I was Vomit Boy."

She snickers. "Well, you know how Blake's books have all those fancy words for sex? Like the word vagina is somehow too crass for 'erotica'."

He squints. "I already don't like where this is going."

"So we got to talking and she mentions how, in her latest book, the vagina substitute is flower, and what comes out is nectar."

Jaune buries his head in his hands. "Oh my god, Yang…"

"And with the amount of time you spend down there…"

"Yang!"

"Did you know that hummingbirds can consume up to eight times their weight in nectar? Those are rookie numbers. They should probably take notes from you."

He grabs her face and presses his forehead to hers, manic eyes meeting hers. "I love you, but if you have an off switch, you have to tell me."

She looks down and up at him again. She points to her lips. "They're right here, lover boy."

He pulls back and looks between her lips and the coy look in her eyes. "I… no." He huffs and crosses his arms. "Not doing it."

This throws her for a loop. "What? Why?"

He glances back at her. She wants it just as much. Now he's the one being coy. "Cause this is funny."

"Fine. Why don't I send Blake a few of these little facts. She's started writing and I'm sure she could use some our juicy details."

"Yang, no."

She's already typing down on her scroll. Jaune crashes into her and they fall back onto the arm rest. For a moment they struggle as Jaune tries to reach for her scroll until Yang decides to slip the device into the back of her sweater. If he goes for it, he'll reach have to reach in closer and their faces are already close enough as it is.

"And it's gone!" she cheers. "I mean, feel free to try for it again but there's enemy territory down here."

He thumbs over her cheeks. "Fine. You win." He says with a chortle. "I swear, Yang, you're impossible."

"And yet you have me anyway."

Their lips press together warmly, making them meld together into a host of mewls and hushed laughter.

Their scrolls ping. They go completely ignored.

-END-

And that’s it! I hope you liked it! There’s a sequel coming down the pipeline but for now I have a major Dragonslayer story to work on elsewhere on my ff.net and ao3 accounts. Maybe I’ll post a link here to it when it comes out.

That said, thank you to everyone who gave this story their love. I would not have made it this far without your support. Thank you. :’)

#jaune x yang #yang x jaune #yang xiao long #Jaune Arc #rwby dragonslayer

27 notes · View notes

jo-the-schmo · 3 years

Text

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch. 1

A/N: Alright so... I started writing this fic over a year ago, and was posting it as I wrote it. I fell out of it for a few reasons but I’ve missed it. So I decided to start writing it again. The original versions of the first 5 chapters already exist on my blog but I want to repost them and do some editing. This way I can make the series more polished. I also want to try and do a once a week maybe schedule to give me some time in between writing chapters and so I can take some feedback into consideration.I hope some of the people who originally wanted to keep up with my series see this and I want to apologize for falling back on this. I feel really bad about it. I’ll try harder to commit to this. Thank you so much for being interested in my work. If anyone would like to be tagged just let me know, I don’t wanna assume the people who did before want to now.

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous and seemingly impossible position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Word count: 5,988

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes.

“Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner.

“This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in the 21st century, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!”

“Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat.

“Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate.

“We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled.

“Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped.

“Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI CAN get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!”

“6.” Austin corrected.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.”

“She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view.

“Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?”

“Yes’ir.”

“I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad.

“You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.”

“Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads.

The doors were kicked in.

“EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing.

“Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person.

“Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?”

“I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack.

“I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils.

“Staying alert, Dove?”

“Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines.

“Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others.

“I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be.

“Take the shot!”

“Fuck you!”

“Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected.

“Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation.

“Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her.

“Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you.

“At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care.

“And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute.

“Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice.

“Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!”

“There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.”

“And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed.

“We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in.

“They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit.

“Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!”

“In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.”

“We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two.

“Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath.

“Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood.

The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands.

But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling.

And falling.

The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared.

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside.

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!”

The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here?

“Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone.

You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight.

“You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground.

“Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson.

“Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“

“I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood.

You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance.

“Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt.

“Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster.

“Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat.

“You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage.

“James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option.

“Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.

“I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty-

“HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up.

“Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed.

“Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you.

“Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you.

“That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was.

“Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?”

“Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either.

“I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?”

“Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name.

“Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it.

“Where are you from, son?”

“California.” That was a safe enough answer.

“James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy.

“I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’”

“I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion.

You handed the gun back to Dutch.

“Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk.

“I think I like kid!”

“Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside.

“Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him.

“Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.” You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe.

There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you lept through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table.

“What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in.

“We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language.

“Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan.

“Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!”

“Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening.

“Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact.

“They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind.

“Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman.

“Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets.

“Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering.

“Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky.

“Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward.

“Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment.

“Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?”

“We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What?

“What?”

“Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking?

“It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry.

“Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.”

Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled. Everything was black.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #Dutch Van Der Linde #time travel au #red dead redemption 2 #Javier Escuella #Charles Smith #John Marston #sadie adler #mary-beth gaskill #hosea matthews #abigail marston #lenny summers #too many tags

58 notes · View notes