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winter-literature · 1 year

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Le Chat Et Le Serpent - Chapter 30

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamier" moments.

Chapter Summary:

We see Luka’s perspective from the moment after Adrien brushes him off after their gruesome finding. He gets a visit from an old friend.

Trigger warning: Mention of Suicide and Loss**

I know that this story started with a suicide, but the following chapter will handle it differently. I would like to note that suicide and suicidal ideation is a key theme through this story.

Right now, I just wanted to take a moment to say if you’re feeling trapped, please reach out to your local distress centre. Depression affects way too many people.

The second piece I would like to say, I am extremely sorry if you have ever lost someone to suicide. You need to know that it was not, and it never could be your fault. - I have joked that this story is a product of my own effed up brain child. But the jovial words are clearly built within reality. So dealing with my own darkness can include dealing with past traumas. These moments, the moments that built the skeleton of my story, are not there to make light of the situation. They are meant to be an artist approach to the pain we can’t ever effectively put into words. - Thank you to everyone who has been reading my story thus far. I wish you all the best of health and happiness.

Chapter 30: How to Save A Life

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life

-The Fray

Unable to intervene, Luka stayed limp in his forlorn position, the sporadic lights illuminating his dejected demeanour. By means of comfort, the medic, who had intervened in his and Adrien’s conversation, rested his hand upon Luka’s shoulder. The motion slightly lifted open Luka’s stiff jean jacket.

“Listen, you did all you could. Even if he doesn’t appreciate it, you may have saved his life.” He spoke in an expertised calm voice.

However, his performance didn’t fool Luka. The crescendoing drums reflected the stress blaring under the medic’s skin. Hoping to appease the medic, he gave a tight lipped nod; his chin nearly brushed the stain around his collar.

“Shit kid, are you okay?” He burst open the jacket to reveal Luka’s newly toned shirt. It had begun to dry, effectively adhering itself to Luka’s chest.

All too cognisant of the looming cameras, Luka forced his jacket closed. “None of it’s mine.”

Baffled, the medic blankly nodded. “Um… do you want to get checked just in case? I'm sure a psych eval could do you good too.” Only one of the boys bled, but both were certainly scathed from the situation.

“No.” Luka followed Adrien’s suit. “I just have to get home.”

“We can give you a ride!” The medic offered, pointing backwards towards the ambulance.

“It’s not a long walk, I’ll be fine.” Luka started treading forward, the ground a burning cold against his foot.

“You don’t have to punish yourself for his decision. I meant what I said, you did the right thing. I’ve never seen that much blood from a nosebleed.” The medic desperately wanted to help in some way.

Luka meekly smiled as he pushed forward. He paced the vehicles as they drove through the front gates.

“Sir! Can you tell us what happened?”

“What is your relationship with Adrien Agreste?”

“Why didn’t he take the ambulance?”

“Whose body was found?”

“Is there going to be a murder investigation?”

Luka had no idea how Adrien could handle the vultures with such a high chin. He waded through the repetitive questions, mildly regretting turning down a ride home.

After he finally broke the sight of the zealous reporters, he motioned for Sass to free himself from the confines of Luka’s jacket.

“Are you okay?” Sass had been close enough to feel Luka’s anxious breathing and erratic heartbeat. Once freed, he could see the degree of dejection that encompassed Luka’s face.

Clicking his jaw, Luka silently held back tears. After a few beats, he turned to Sass. “Just need to get home. Sass, scales slither.”

Juleka jolted at the sound of the bedroom door opening, nearly pushing Rose off the single bed.

“What are you doing back?” She rubbed her eyes as Luka removed his single shoe.

“Adrien and I are over.” Luka huffed as he stomped towards the bathroom, slamming it behind him.

Rose gave a soft pat to Juleka, telling her to follow. Juleka’s toes barely touched the ground by the time Rose resumed her soft snoring.

Sass was trying to reason with Luka as he stripped off his stained shirt. “Just get some rest, you two can talk about it in the morning.”

Luka tensed as the red garment squashed onto the floor.

“Jesus.” Juleka stood before her twin brother, who was coated in blood. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Luka pushed away her hands. “I’m fine. It’s not mine.” he growled, tired of having to repeat himself.

“Did you? Is Adrien? What happened?” Juleka couldn’t find the right question.

“I called an ambulance for his unholy nosebleeds, and now he fucking hates me.” Luka briefly summarised the events of the night.

There was no good reason for her twin to have this much blood on him. Even worse, to have someone mad at him for reacting to it. “You should have just let him bleed out, less stress for you.” Juleka scoffed.

“You know I can’t do that… and now… he hates me Jules.” His throat stung as it swole at the gravity of his own words.

Juleka wanted to slam on Adrien’s door and give him hell. Luka had never presented as so incredibly unravelled, even when she had visited him in the psych ward years before. Adrien had brought him past the point of insanity. Without any ammo besides Agreste death threats, she wrapped her arms around Luka’s waist.

Luka’s body convulsed within Juleka’s hold, his tears no longer having a reason to hide. “Why does he hate me?” He wilted into Juleka’s hold as his sobs threatened to drown him.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Jules.” Rose cringed at her girlfriend's mischievous smile.

“It’s fine, he always wears bottoms when you’re here.” She responded as she twirled Luka’s sheets around her wrist.

“I thought you said he was really upset last night!” Rose whispered in a panic as Juleka started winding up.

“Exactly.” She responded flatly as she whipped the blanket out, forcing the slumbering Luka to tumble towards the ground.

Luka groaned from his new place on the floor. He tried to pull back the blanket to resume his sleeping, even if it was on the floor.

“Rise and shine, beautiful.” Juleka smirked as she pulled the last of the blanket, flipping Luka to his stomach on the ground.

“Whyyy?” Luka whined as he smushed his face against the floor.

“You have a visitor! And your mom made breakfast!” Rose tried to take the sting from Juleka’s harsh wake up routine.

Luka’s hair was erratic and his face scrunched as he looked towards the couple. “Rose, I want you to know that my following actions have nothing to do with you.” Before Rose could ask, Luka tossed the middle finger in Juleka’s direction as he continued pressing his head against the floor.

“Hmpf.” Juleka turned her back to the situation.

Rose stood confused as Juleka walked towards the bathroom. As soon as Luka heard the faucet he leapt to his feet, screaming. “Don’t you dare!”

“Too late, it’s already on.” Juleka mumbled as she filled up her cup.

“Rose, I’m sorry about this.” Luka apologised as he jumped on Juleka’s bed holding Rose in front of him.

Rose giggled as the man almost twice her size cowered behind her.

Juleka’s eyes glimmered as she softly stepped out of the bathroom with her weapon in hand. You can’t hide behind Rose.

“No! I’m up! I’m waving the white flag!” Luka attempted to shrink behind Rose.

Juleka was undeterred by Luka’s surrender, maintaining her threat of oncoming attack.

“Don’t you dare!” Rose warned as Juleka stepped forward.

“You chose to get in the middle.” Juleka snickered as she approached.

Before Juleka had a chance to fire, Anarka flew the door open. “Come on ye matey’s, a girl be waiting for ye.” Anarka played the mediator as she took the glass of water from Juleka.

“Thank you, Mom!” Luka shouted from behind Rose.

Anarka chuckled at the situation before reiterating that they needed to get their arses upstairs.

As Anarka’s steps receeded, Luka popped over Rose’s shoulder. “Who’s here?”

“I dunno, maybe your new girlfriend?” Juleka mocked. Luka reciprocated by sticking out his tongue.

Luka rose to his feet, distracted by the identity of the visitor. The rapid rhythm of Rose’s dainty feet fleeing signalled that something was awry. He spun to find Juleka had stolen the glass by his own bedside, dousing him.

“Criss colis de tabarnack! Vraiment, Jules?” Luka jetted towards her, but her squeal powered her high speed escape.

He roared after her, absent minded to the fact that he was wearing nothing but boxers as he ran to the brunch on deck.

“Nice panties.” Alix jested as the sun shone over Luka.

Raising his forearm to block out the sun, he confirmed the familiar tone of the voice. She was pushing against the floor, balancing on the back two legs of the chair.

“Never seen a guy in his underwear, hey? We tend to call them boxers.” Luka weakly defended the comment on his appearance.

“Luka!” Anarka scolded the boy. “Put some clothes on!”

Juleka chortled at her triumph as Luka sped back downstairs.

“Eh! Enough outta ye! I know what cha did!” Anarka redirected her tone towards Juleka, who promptly worked to suppress her laughter.

“Glad to see things don’t change.” Alix beamed towards Juleka. “I thought models were supposed to carry them with elegance at all times.”

Juleka was currently in the process of shoving an oversized bite of toast in her mouth.

“I don’t think Jules got that message.” Rose snickered before taking a sip of orange juice.

Luka skipped steps as he bounded back to the crew on deck. He nearly shook the boat with how aggressively he dropped his butt beside Alix. Stretching his arm out, he gave her an amicable side hug. “It’s been a while! What have you been up to?”

“Travelling.” She raised her eyebrows with a grin, knowing that only the holders at the table truly understood her definition of the word.

“Are you here to stay?” Luka asked as he piled food onto his plate.

“Jesus you got big.” Alix scoffed at the amount of food he put on his plate.

“What? You didn’t get a good enough look when you checked me out in my ‘panties’?” He joked as he shoved a piece of toast in his mouth.

Rose and Alix shared a covert laugh at the twins’ identical approach to food.

“Not my type.” She coolly avoided the retort battle that they were bound to enter.

Luka gulped down his chunk of toast. “Are you here to stay? Or to at least tell us about some of the awesome stuff you saw?”

“You know how these travels go… can’t say much. All work, no play.” She thrived on the impatient energy that circled the table. “I’m here because we need to talk.”

Juleka shot towards Luka. She was about to ask him what idiotic thing he had done, in their practised Quebec slang, but the conversation was quick to move forward.

“Oh,” he mumbled, assuming she was there to discuss the identity reveal.

“Eat up. You’ll need your energy before I kick your ass.” She pointed towards his food.

“What did I do wrong?” Luka asked, exasperated that blame was constantly aimed towards him.

“Well, you go too slow, you’re handling’s shit, and you’re not as good as me.” She counted her insults along her fingers, hoping that Luka would not look too far past her facade.

Luka was too distracted to listen closely to the tone of her words. Instead, he was thrilled by the idea of going head to head, or bike to blades, just like old times.

“You’re going down.” Luka shook his fork at her before taking another mouthful of eggs.

The purpose for the meeting was all but forgotten as Alix and Luka slipped into their old ways. For hours they practised tricks and raced around the track. Alix had the advantage on the short laps since she could gain initial speed faster than Luka. If they had a longer track Luka knew he would always win, yet he never asked for one.

As the sky turned mandarin, they leaned against the picnic table, eagerly gulping at their water bottles.

“Thanks for this Alix, I really needed it.” He pushed the sight of Adrien’s harrowing eyes from his memory.

“Of course!” She gave him a small arm bump. “I can’t imagine spending every moment of your day with a sad cat to be great for your mood.”

“It was nice being there. But, it’s painful not knowing how to help.” Luka picked at the edges of his water bottle. He felt an incredible sting of guilt at the reality of his words.

“Unfortunately, only he can do that. All you can do is be there and hope he makes the right decisions.” Alix stated with confidence. She was always a relief to be around, she was the only holder that never felt the need to hide behind a mask in her everyday life.

Luka nodded, it was Adrien’s choice. But for an intelligent man he made a lot of dumb decisions, and the wrong one could cost him his life.

“Alright, shoot your question.” Alix pushed her chin onto her fist waiting for the inquiry she knew Luka was burning to ask. Last time she didn’t give him a chance to ask and it had met the same fate as before intervention, only delayed.

“If you already know, why don’t you just tell me?” Luka attempted to skirt his responsibility.

“If only, if only the woodpecker sang.”

Sighing, Luka finally released the question that he didn’t want to hear the answer to. “Ladybug wants me to help her in an identity reveal with Chat. I know that I’ve helped them tell each other their identities before and Sass had to fix things. And even worse, Ladybug used to be terrified about a ‘Chat Blanc’? But now she just seems fine with the idea. I just need to know, will helping them result in tragedy?”

“Sharing their identity can always be risky, but both of those consequences were caused by Gabriel. With Chat Blanc, Gabriel pushed him so hard. But he’s strong, you know?” Alix looked towards Luka for confirmation. She wanted him to focus on that one instead of digging into the second; it would be too easy to misinterpret.

“Yeah,” Luka exhaled, his enervation from the night before still clouding his head. It was true that Adrien had been through more than most people could handle; he was constantly put to the test and managed to pass with flying colours. Hell, Gabriel was waging war within his house and Adrien still defended Paris while spouting puns. It was without a doubt that Adrien was the strongest person he’d ever met.

“He fought the control, hard. But the powers were too great. By resisting the control, his negative emotions soared, creating a mega cataclysm that straight-up took out the moon.” Alix spread her hands as she pointed towards the sky.

“Holy shit - do you think his powers could evolve to that on their own?” Luka couldn’t fathom that magnitude of an attack.

“God, I hope not! Not even Plagg has fucked with the moon. Yet.” It was never safe to assume that Plagg would behave.

“Do you think I should help Ladybug figure out Chat’s identity?” He didn’t want to play with vague words or possibilities anymore. He wanted a firm direction.

“Luka, we always got along because you saw things other people didn’t. You understand in a depth that most people can’t begin to imagine. I didn’t come here to answer that question. You already know.” It was Alix’s blunt honesty that Luka had admired.

“I need to ask him, himself.” Luka sucked his teeth.

“Bingo. If he says yes and it gets too fucked up, you know I’ll pop you right out.” Alix poked him in the chest.

They shared a soft chuckle before Alix accepted the fact that it was her turn to face the terms that brought her. “Now, for the reason I’m here.”

“I don’t know what else to ask, nothi-” Alix shook her head as a manner to silently cut him off.

“No, it’s not that.” She intertwined her hands together to give herself support.

She was silent as she held back tears, trying to remember the best things to say. Luka shifted closer, drawn by her morose melody.

Luka held himself so confidently, always willing to give a shoulder to cry on. She’d lived the morning three times, each time more surreal than the last. Luka’s infectious laugh, him and Juleka’s teasing.

She was exploring the world when she decided to check back on home. She hadn’t come back soon enough. She had to return to a time with less music.

Luka’s death had ruined her.

She never got to say goodbye.

She had barely spoken to him in months.

She burdened herself with guilt. Afterall, she was one of the people who left him.

Hours, probably days, were spent rewatching the time they had spent together. He was a strong man, but held too much weight upon his shoulders. Every direction he turned, things fell apart. Stuck in an endless cycle of abandonment, heartbreak, and failure he couldn’t cope anymore.

Alix despised that she wasn’t there for Luka. But she hated that she didn’t help Juleka either.

Juleka was alone when she violated her terms with Agreste Industries. She was supposed to be boarding a plane to model abroad when Luka’s therapist called. The doctor was concerned about Luka’s safety and Juleka was his emergency contact.

When his phone didn’t ring, Juleka thwarted her plans to head a search. She tried to track his phone, but it had been completely disconnected. Luka’s phone was in his pocket as he plunged into the water.

For months, the world was devoid of music. Alix desperately wanted to turn back time, but she was all too familiar with the regulations that bound her. Pulling him off the bridge was not an option. At least, not until things began to fall apart.

A broken timeline was never a positive thing. It was always a panicked race to fix what had been wronged. This time, it was a gift, a chance to set things right. Not only for the timeline, but for herself. Luka’s death was the shift that led to disaster.

The first time she went back, she tackled him at the bridge. She felt hopeful once her and Juleka dropped him off to get intensive psychiatric care. But, he was too smart for his own good. He never made it to the end of his 72 hour hold.

She kept going back, having countless conversations, trying to find the right questions to ask, the right time. Everything led back to the day after him and Adrien split. He could have gotten through that, but it impaired his ability to deal with everything else. Today’s meeting was the only way to ensure that Luka would be there to sign the contracts.

“Things are, they’re going to get bad, Luka.” Alix shut her eyes as she tried to grasp the correct words. “We all love you.” Her tears fell before she could stop them.

“I’m so sorry.” Luka apologised without fully comprehending what for. Alix eagerly accepted his embrace as she sobbed.

“It- it -,” she took a moment to breathe deeply and centre herself. Sniffling, she pushed through. “Adrien loves you too.”

He furrowed his brows, confused at how such an admission required a time reversal. It felt like a ploy more than it felt like honesty, but Luka knew Alix was not one to lie.

“Things are going to… they’re going to get hard. But you can’t give up. They need you. We need you. There is going to be a mission that only you can complete.” She clenched her teeth at the reason why it was uniquely him that needed to survive. Before Master Fu found his Agreste unicorn, Luka was the only other person he seriously considered for the Miraculous of the Cat.

“Okay… Can you tell me anything else?” It was difficult to accept a simple ‘life will suck, be happy’. He kept his arms around her until she was ready to break the hold.

“Follow your heart. I know there are a hundred things internally and externally that work to dictate your thinking. Don’t do what you think is right on paper, do what that stupid thing in your chest is telling you to do.” She despised knowing that she was throwing him into the flame, but it was far better than the alternative.

Luka ran his hand along his face. Whatever catastrophe exists in the future, it was obviously related to Adrien. “Do we finally get a chance, does it really happen?”

“I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you, is that it’s the only way we keep the timeline moving forward…Wanna do another lap?” She was eager for a distraction.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” Luka strapped his helmet back on, sharing the same sentiment as her. He didn’t want to think about how Alix seemed to be speaking in paradoxes. She told him to follow his heart and pointed towards Adrien. But his heart told him to run.

“Ready to see you lose again!” She tightened her blades as they prepared for another race.

Author's Notes:

Criss colis de tabarnack - I have been saying this slurs for years without saying ‘de’ - I can’t help but wonder if my natively Quebec friends never corrected me, or if it just worked anyway, because the slurs are ridiculous anyway haha. I put this in because, even though I primarily speak English, I’ll revert to French in random moments of stress. And I enjoyed the fact that it could highlight some of the sailing the Couffaine family has done. Also, for reasons unbeknownst to myself, ‘vraiment’ is one of my favourite French words. “VRAIMENT?” Sounds way better than “SERIOUSLY?”

I always loved the concept of Alix and Luka hanging out in the background. They just both seemed so genuine. I feel like, if they were in real life, they would either be best friends or hate each other.

There are comments of them ragging on each other (specifically Luka in his underwear) but I feel like it’s prudent to mention - I strongly believe that Alix is asexual and aromantic. It’s one of the reasons the nomad life is so appropriate for her. There was absolutely no intent of romantic inclination in their conversation.

I wasn’t originally going to focus the title theme on the morose topic, but considering the conversation in the beginning notes, the Fray seemed like a perfect choice. The struggle to deal with not knowing how to save someone from themselves was heartbreakingly apt. Also, it’s just generally a beautiful song. How to Save a Life by The Fray

Adrien’s chapter is up next!

Let me know what you thought about this chapter! Or even use this chapter as an excuse to talk about your feelings! I appreciate you all for reading <3

Disclaimer * The characters and original plot were written and created by Thomas Astruc. This writing is merely an interpretation in a sad gay type of way.

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inadaydream99 · 3 years

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The One Where You Can’t Be Kept Apart

A/N - Thank you 🥕anon for sending in this request and another brilliant idea! I really hope you enjoy what I have come up with ☺️ Also, I was unsure with how to end it, so it took me a little longer to write than usual 😂

Disclaimer: This is inspired by the Friends episode ‘The One With the Memorial Service’ and is in no way my own original idea. I have also used some direct quotes from the episode for the purpose of keeping some fidelity towards the plot.

You huff, folding your arms across your chest as Soobin begins to interrogate you. He’s only been at yours for a few minutes and you’re already tired of him. You get that he’s trying to look out for you and do as you asked of him; which he’s taking incredibly seriously. But is it really necessary for him to pay you a visit sporadically, just to see if he can catch you out?

It’s like he doesn’t trust you. Not that you blame him really, I mean you’ve just broken up with the love of your life, Yeonjun, and asked Soobin to make sure you don’t have any contact with him because you don’t trust yourself to keep away. But just because you have very little self control when it comes to Yeonjun, doesn’t mean that you need to be watched so often.

It’s been about two weeks since you and Yeonjun broke up after being happily together for just over a year. The reason being that you both realised you wanted different things for your future. Things that, even after much debate, neither of you were willing to compromise on.

It had always been your dream to fall in love with your soulmate and get married. Ever since you were little you’d indulge in your fantasy and act out these magical weddings with your friends. You, of course, always played the bride.

Now, Yeonjun has never been opposed to the idea of marriage. He just doesn’t see the point in having this big, expensive wedding. In his opinion it’s a waste of time and money. He would just be happy to elope.

And that’s the main issue that broke you up. You’d been so distraught over the idea of not having the wedding of your dreams, and Yeonjun stubborn in his views, that you’d come to the agreement that if you can’t agree on this then you’re not meant for each other.

From the second he received the news from you crying down the phone, Soobin had barely left your side. He’s been the most amazing friend to you and done everything he can to help you through this break up. And that’s exactly why you feel guilty for finding him annoying right now.

“I know you’re hiding something (Y/N).” Soobin mumbles, more so to himself than to you, but you hear him clearly none the less. “Who’s shoes are these?” He suddenly quizzes you, holding up a pair of dirty black trainers. Ok, so they aren’t the most fashionable shoes ever, but they are comfy and you have lost any motivation to put effort into your appearance right now. All you can seem to focus on is your heartbreak.

“They’re mine.” You deadpan, your sensitivity making it difficult to not be offended. And Soobin really should have known better because if he’d taken a second longer to look at the shoes he’d realise that they are too small to belong to Yeonjun.

“Oh, sorry.” He utters softly, placing the shoes neatly by the front door once again. You watch as he snoops his way around your apartment, in and out of rooms unsatisfied with his lack of finding anything.

That is, until a knock on your front door sounds. You casually make a stand from the sofa where you had previously been slouched, still sulking over Soobin’s insult over your shoes.

“Wait! I’ll get it.” Soobin calls out to you, hurrying past you. He practically pushes you away from the door; not that he intends to, he’s just oblivious to his actions in the moment.

“It’s just the takeout I ordered.” You sigh, throwing your hands up defensively.

Soobin shoots you a frown before turning the handle and swinging the door open.

“Oh my, what are the chances!” You pretend to be shocked, hands flying up to cover your mouth upon the disappointed look Soobin sends you when the door reveals Yeonjun. “7 billion people in the world and they send Yeonjun to deliver my food!” You continue, hoping that you sound believable enough. Though it’s unlikely with the way your best friend has been doubting you from the very second you asked him to help you keep away from Yeonjun.

Soobin simply rolls his eyes at your terrible acting, turning expectantly to look at Yeonjun for an explanation to his presence.

“I’m sorry, but when (Y/N) called I just couldn’t keep away.” His head hangs low, ashamed of his weakness for you… and for getting caught.

“How’d you even call him?” Soobin gawks at you, seriously confused as to how you found a way to contact Yeonjun without having access to a phone. Yes, Soobin had confiscated it first chance he got. But you have to admit that the time away from your phone has been quite nice.

“FaceTime on IPad.” You mumble sulkily, reluctantly admitting how you’d managed to go behind Soobin’s back. You’d hidden it from him so your parents could at least contact you if they needed… or so you’d convinced yourself.

“iPad, of course! I should have known.” Soobin shakes his head, scolding himself for not having realised sooner.

“Soobin, if (Y/N) and I want to see each other, then we should be allow-”

“This doesn’t concern you Yeonjun.” Soobin interjects Yeonjun’s justification. It’s not that he wants to be rude to Yeonjun, or that he doesn’t like him, it’s just that if he allows this then he’s failed at being a good, supportive friend to you.

“Oh really, maybe I was confused considering the mention of my name.” Yeonjun sasses back. “What I was saying was, why can’t we be friends?” Yeonjun, determined to finish what he wants to say, continues. You notice he doesn’t look at Soobin as he speaks, only you. And the pleading look he sends your way makes you melt.

“I guess there’s no harm in that.” You shrug, trying to not show your true emotions as you observe the wide smile that spreads out across Yeonjun’s face. You really had missed his smile so much.

“Well ok then. If you’re just hanging out as friends then I can join, cause I’m your friend and Yeonjun’s friend too.” Soobin announces and you stifle your laughter when you notice Yeonjun grimace at being called Soobin’s friend.

“I guess.” Yeonjun mumbles reluctantly as he is finally able to enter your apartment properly.

The three of you sit on the sofa, Soobin forcing himself in the small space between you. It’s awkward. No one knowing what to say first to break the silence.

“So how have you been?” Yeonjun is the first to speak, leaning around Soobin to see you.

“I’ve been good, thanks.” Soobin answers as you open your mouth to speak.

“And you?” Yeonjun chuckles now beginning to find Soobin amusing. His gaze is focused intently onto you, eager to finally talk properly with you after so long apart.

“I’ve been better.” You force a small smile.

When you’d initially contacted Yeonjun and invited him over, you’d been so desperate that you hadn’t given it any thought as to how you might feel when he’s actually here. It’s a lot more difficult to see him than you expected, and you know it’s just your overwhelming emotions talking, but you’re still in love with him.

Despite wanting nothing but to cave in and get back with Yeonjun, you remain strong and fight the urge. You don’t want the same things as each other. And the more you remind yourself of that, the more you are able to convince yourself that breaking up was the right thing for the both of you.

“I’ve missed you.” Yeonjun admits. You stare into his longing gaze, your heart racing as you see the sincerity pouring out of him.

“I’ve missed you too.” You whisper, not trusting your voice. You can feel your eyes well up as the words tumble from your lips without thought. Although, it’s true, you really have missed him with all your heart.

“You know, on my way over here I saw a pigeon throw up and then a rat ate it.” Soobin quickly jumps in and changes the moment as soon as he senses the mood getting too serious.

“I still think about you everyday. I mean it’s kinda hard not to when everything reminds me of you.” Yeonjun chooses to ignore Soobin’s obvious attempt at stopping your conversation.

You aren’t sure how to respond to him, so overwhelmed that you feel like the room is spinning.

“Ok, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” Soobin stands from the sofa. “But I’ll be quick so don’t try anything.” He warns, waving his pointed finger between the both of you before he leaves.

“Look, I’m not going to ask to get back together because I know we want different things.” Yeonjun takes the opportunity to finally say what he’s wanted to say the whole time. “But just to be with you one more night…”

“I want that too, but isn’t that gonna make it too hard?” You try to reason.

“It can’t be any harder than the last few weeks…” And yet, Yeonjun’s words seem to make more sense than you’d like.

“If I’d known the last time I saw you would be the last time, I would have stopped to memorise your face, the way you moved. Everything about you. If I had know the last time I kissed you would be the last time, I never would have stopped.” You’re left speechless by Yeonjun’s confession. Seemingly frozen in shock, your mind blank of all thoughts.

“Kiss him, you fool!” Soobin jolts you out of your daze as he rushes back in to the room.

“Huh?” You scrunch your brows in confusion at your friend. He’s done a complete 180 flip after hearing Yeonjun’s speech.

“Didn’t you hear him? If you don’t kiss him, I will.” You stare at him in shock. This has got to be some sort of test, right?

Except Soobin’s expression is completely serious. You cast several quick glances between Soobin and Yeonjun, observing how the latter sends you an almost pleading look, probably silently begging you to not let Soobin kiss him.

Soobin must be serious about telling you to kiss Yeonjun, because he’s willingly encouraging you. And that’s what finally makes you give in, instantly closing the space between you and Yeonjun, your lips moulding perfectly together in a passionate kiss.

You both pull apart breathless, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes.

“I knew you’d be here!” You jolt apart when the door swings open and slams against the wall.

“Who is this?” Soobin questions, confusion clouding his features.

“It’s my friend Beomgyu.” Yeonjun sighs. “I asked him to keep me away from you.” Yeonjun directs the last part towards you.

You simply giggle at him, half still elated from your kiss, the other in amusement.

“Hey, I’m doing that for (Y/N).” Soobin beams.

“Well you’re not doing a very good job. What’s with all the kissing!” Beomgyu sasses back.

You cast your gaze back to Yeonjun when Soobin and Beomgyu begin bickering back and forth, too invested in their arguing to pay attention to either of you.

“Want to get out of here?” You whisper to him, wide grin on your face when he nods and grabs your hand; both of you sneaking out without being noticed and quickly rushing away to make up for lost time.

“Hey, where’d they go?” Soobin suddenly notices you’re missing.

“Ugh, we blew it.” Beomgyu grumpily mutters, defeatedly throwing his hands in the air.

“I blame myself.” Soobin shakes his head in disappointment.

“I blame you too.” Soobin sends Beomgyu a glare in response.

#🥕 anon #txt requests #txt fluff #txt angst #txt oneshots #txt drabbles #txt x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt yeonjun #txt choi yeonjun #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop x reader #kpop requests #kpop oneshots #kpop drabbles #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

Text

For The Girl Who Has Everything

Masterpost link for Reelin’ In The Years: Here

AO3 Link: Here

wc: 2.4k Summary: Claire is too mad to even look at Cas let alone talk to him. Dean knew he had to step up because two people with messed up childhoods and anger issues really need to spend more time together talking about their feelings.

When Chuck was defeated, a lot of people came to the bunker to celebrate. Those times were a big blur to Dean, his focus was on finding a way to save Cas, and it wasn’t until he saw Claire run down those steps that the world focused again. She smiled at him, a rare big grin, before her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him down for a hug with an intoxicating giggle.

‘She didn’t know,’ Dean thought as his arms hung loosely at his sides.

He hid his face in her curls, not knowing how to face another kid Cas left behind because of him. He was holding his breath when she pulled away to look at him. Her eyebrows were raised in a question that Dean didn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear.

She repeated it, “Dude, where’s Cas? Is the old man sleeping or something?”

‘Yes.’ Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat.

He didn’t look at the audience around them when he finally opened his mouth to say, “Claire, Ca—” He couldn’t say his name. He felt like it would tear the fragile wall that was keeping him on his feet if he did. “I’m sorry.”

Dean watched as her face twisted into confusion, understanding, and then settling into anger.

She was trying to fight the tears, but they fell as she yelled, “No! No, you were—Where were you? Why didn’t you protect him?”

“He protected me. He—he saved me.”

She looked at him with round eyes, shaking her head as if not wanting to believe it.

“Then it should’ve been you! You should’ve died! Not him!” Dean flinched at the words that have been echoing in his head since that night. “It’s not fair!”

Claire’s angry fist collided with his chest. He flinched at every hit but didn’t back away as her punches became sporadic but still filled with grief. Maybe even guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Dean knew those words did nothing to comfort, but he couldn’t help but say them. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”

She screamed in frustration until her punches weakened, and he was holding her. Then, finally, she fell against him, her face hidden in his chest as her grip tightened on his shirt.

She didn’t stay after that.

She walked back up the stairs with Jody and Kaia following behind her. Jack tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t even look at him. Dean couldn’t blame her.

It’s hard to look at the kid when he reminded them of the person they lost.

Of course, Dean never told Cas any of this.

Since coming back, Cas had been dealing with the silent treatment from the killer Barbie. She only replied with the thumbs-up emoji, and when Cas was too much, she responded with the middle finger emoji. A little warning advising Cas to back off.

She only visited him once, but that was when Cas was in the hospital. She freaked out, yelled at him for being stupid, and then passed out by his bed only to leave the next morning like nothing ever happened. Still, it made Cas feel a little better knowing she still cared, but she was dealing with it her way. Or, as Cas liked to say, she was dealing with feelings the Dean Winchester way. Of course, he’ll argue it wasn’t true, but he knows he won’t win that one.

Now he was sitting awkwardly in Jody’s living room watching Kaia and Patience play with Jack on the floor while Claire and Cas had a yelling match in the privacy of the backyard. Well, Claire was yelling while Cas was trying very hard to keep his tone even, which only made Claire angrier.

“I’m done talking to you!” Claire slid the glass door open and stormed through the living room.

“Then try listening to me!” Cas followed behind her, watching as she walked straight past the living room and towards the front door. “Claire. Claire, where are you going?”

She whipped around to glare daggers at Cas, eyes wide filled with tears, but she still looked at him with a pained grimace. “Did you even think of me? When you were out there being a damn hero. Did you-Did you think of me?” Her voice breaking on the last word made Dean flinch.

“Claire, of course-”

“No. No, of course, you didn’t. Cause if you did, then you wouldn’t have-” She bit her cheek as tears started to fall. She stood tall, presenting as strong, as her expression hardened. “You left me, Castiel. And now I-I don’t,” She looked around the room. It was quiet as everyone watched the interaction before her eyes landed on a little Jack in Kaia’s arms. She clicked her tongue before turning back to the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Claire.” Cas tried following her, but Dean quickly rushed up to stop him. “Dean. I may not have my strength, but I will-”

“Calm down, Rocky,” Dean had a hand on Cas’s shoulder to stop him. “I just wanted to stop you from making it worse.”

“I don’t think I can. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t.” He assures his boyfriend with a little smile, but Cas simply rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, you stay here. Talk to your son, and I’ll go talk to the other kid.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to say to her?”

“I don’t know, but like you said before. Two fuck up’s just understand each other.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just let me handle this. You trust me, right?”

Cas made a face at that, not answering quickly enough before he said, “Just bring her home.”

“Gee. Thanks for the confidence, babe.”

Dean ran after Claire, forcing his way to her passenger side as she started to back up on the driveway.

“Thanks for waiting, kid. Where we going?” Dean buckled up just in time for Claire to slam the breaks. Unfortunately, he hit his head on the front dash because the damn seat was scooted forward, his knees were practically pressed against his chest, which made sense knowing a tiny Kaia would usually occupy the seat. “Ow.”

“You aren’t going anywhere. Get out.”

Dean ignored her scary and oddly familiar glare as he pushed the seat back so his legs could fit. “Oh, come on. My treat.”

She didn’t have time to argue because Cas walked out of the front door—his trust in him really was lacking—and Claire decided that dealing with Dean was much easier than having to talk to Cas again. But, of course, he would take that as a compliment.

Claire drove with loud rocker girl music vibrating the windows and didn’t stop until she finally parked outside some ice cream shop.

“I want a shake.” She sniffled, and Dean did his best to ignore her red blotchy eyes for her sake.

“Sure, kid.”

They drank their shakes and shared some fries while sitting on top of Claire’s ugly little red. Well, she sat, and he leaned, but either way, silence remained.

He didn’t want to pressure her to talk—she would probably lie if he did—but still, he wanted to ease the tension between Cas and her, salvage a relationship he knew was important to both of them, but he didn’t know where to start.

Maybe he could start with his own guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat as he felt the smooth ice cream start to turn to gum down his throat. He looked down at his shake, lifting the straw up and down to hear the gloppy sound while trying to figure out what to say to her.

She hummed, “‘bout what?”

“Not telling you. About Cas. What happened to him.” He sighed and looked back at her. “Sorry. I should have called, but I wasn’t—I was a mess. I couldn’t be there for you. I couldn’t even be there for Jack. I should have-”

“It’s okay.” She waved her hand up to stop him. “I-I get it. I mean, it’s not, but whatever.”

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’re mad?”

She rolled her eyes, once again the gesture was familiar, before slamming the shake on the hood and sliding off the car. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking so small as she kicked a pebble on the floor.

“He replaced me.”

Her voice was quiet. Almost like she didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I know it’s stupid and-and I’m acting like a child, but…” She quickly sniffled again before running her hand through her hair nervously. Looking up to stare into the darkening sky, acting like everything was okay. “He’s not my Dad, but he’s the closest thing I have, and I just thought—I just thought that maybe he felt the same way.”

She shrugged, her lips pinching together as if trying to hold something back, before retaking control of her expression. A glare directed towards Dean replaced the lost child stare into the stars, but the lost child was still there.

“Kid…” Dean sighed, head scrambling for words.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me.”

Claire teased with a little smirk. She definitely learned this from Dean or Jody. “Whatever you say, old man.”

“Old—Claire.” She let out a breath of a laugh before rolling her eyes away from Dean. “I’m trying to be serious. Cas… he loves you. He-he loves you like you were his own.” She didn’t look at him, but he could see her face scrunch up, ready to argue. “He worries about you constantly, and Jack knows all about you because he won’t shut up about how awesome you are.”

“He says that? He says I’m awesome?”

“Well, awesome is my word, but you get the gist.” He turns to face her even though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “Cas may not be your Dad, but he loves you like a daughter. Sometimes—yeah, a lot of the time actually—he makes stupid decisions, but it’s cause he is trying his best. And he cares. That dumbass cares way too much about the damn world, but he’s also someone who would give up the whole world if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Stop making excuses for him!”

“Claire, you gotta believe me. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She finally turned to look at him. “But he did. He hurt me! He left me!”

“He left me too!” Dean raised his voice; it sounded broken to admit such a thing out loud. And to Claire of all people. He slumped down against the car again and looked at the ground to ignore her big blue eyes throwing sympathy glares his way. “He left me—more times than you know. And—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—but I…I was scared. Each goddamn time I’m scared that this may be it! That this time…this time he won’t come back to me.”

“But he did.” Her voice sounded so far away.

“Yeah. Had to work a little bit harder on my end, but I got him.” He reached over and patted her shoulder. “We got him back.”

Something in the way her eyes went cold and far away made his fight drain out. He didn’t know what else he could do or say, but he opened his arms just in time to have her fall against him. His face mushed into her curls while he hugged her tight into his chest.

“Were you mad at Cas?”

Dean thought about it for a second. “No. I mean, I was at first. That asshole got himself killed over and over again. Leaving me alone.”

“But you had Sam. Jack.”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled back and looked down at her. “Well, you had Jody. Kaia. Alex. Patience and even Donna. Made it any easier for you?”

“No.”

“No.” He chuckled while she hid her face from him, asking him to continue. “But I was mad at him. Real fucking pissed, actually. At him. At…at everyone. Sam and Jack didn’t even wanna be near me.” He tries to shake off those dark memories of screaming and feeling nothing but agonizing loneliness. “I just shut down and gave up on…a lot of things because he was gone. Couldn’t really see a point, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I get why you’re mad, Claire. Trust me, I do, but he’s back now.”

“And I’m just supposed to forgive him? Did you just forgive him?”

Dean shrugged, looking back down at her sad baby blues. Hoping she would understand and that she won’t tease him about it later on. “I didn’t want to waste any time being mad at him. I love him too much.”

“Gross.” She pushed him away this time, tucking her hair behind her ear before smiling at him. It reminded him of Jack’s little shy smile. “But I-I think you’re right. Maybe I’m done wasting time.”

They drove back with the music luckily a little lower but Dean just watched Claire drive with a growing smile on his face. He’s gonna have to admit that Cas was right, two messed up people can really relate and help each other out.

When they walked into the house, Dean took Jody from marching over to Claire to lecture her. “Just wait,” he whispered to her, and luckily she listened to him. They both held their breath as Claire walked over to Cas—who looked like he had been sitting in that seat freaking out since they left—and asked if they could try talking outside again. He blinked up at her a few times before nodding, following her to the backyard again.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief when the glass door closed behind them.

“Dean.” He looked up towards his kid, who reached for him from Kaia’s arms on the couch. Dean quickly walked over to pick him up, pressing a kiss to his head while trying not to let guilt eat at him. “Is Dad okay?”

“Don’t worry, bud.” Dean watched Jack’s eyes that showed how much he has experienced, how much he understood. “He’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

On the drive back, Cas had a smile plastered across his face. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened, considering Cas walked in, ready to introduce Jack to Claire. Then Cas spent the rest of the night watching his kids getting along, looking the happiest Dean had seen him in a really long time.

“So, what did you and Claire talk about?”

Cas hummed before looking up at Dean as if just remembering that he was there. “Oh. Um, she just made me promise her something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Same thing I promised you. Don’t get dead anymore.”

“Oh. Good. Keep that promise.”

“I’ll do my best.” Cas looked back at Jack before he leaned over and pressed a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I have a lot to live for now. A family.”

A family. Yeah.

Dean took a peek at Jack with the mirror and then watched as Cas changed his phone background pic to one of Claire spinning Jack around in the living room.

They were a real family.

#shhhh we are gonna pretend it hasn't been months since i updated lol #4 months geez okay well have this #wormstachewrites #dadstiel #destiel #claire #baby!jack #dean #cas #jack #destiel fanfic

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kireijae · 3 years

Text

fearless — n.jm x reader

summary: you start a new job at your favourite local bookstore in seoul, however no one cared to inform you of the very pretty delivery guy who comes once a week.

genre: twist (ig?) on a bookstore!au, nonidol!au, fluff, angst, some crack too

warnings: swearing, detailed descriptions of food and eating, edited but not very well, i cried while writing it (if i forgot any or you want me to add specific ones, send an ask or message me!)

words: 6k

a.n: i worked so hard on this oh my goodness it was like giving birth dkfjdsfnsd. but really i love this one a lot so i hope you all enjoy it because i did my best to do the story i had in my head justice. also! let me know what you thought of it!

m.list

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The streets were quiet as you walked to the bookstore. Your bag was heavy in your hand and the sun danced around you, creating a blinding sort of glow on the pavement beneath your feet. You passed modern coffee shops and tall skyscrapers alike, buildings becoming more and more modern the longer you walked. All right angles, smooth surfaces and tinted windows glinting in the morning sun. It was only your second day on the job, but the route was already familiar to you, after having visited the bookstore quite often over the few years you’d been living in the city.

The tingling sounds of the old bell above the door fell around you like snowflakes as you stepped inside. It was quite literally like stepping into another realm. The floor was paved with stone tiles, little shoots of green peaking up between them here and there. The glass walls were lined with creepers and bookshelves alike and the glass roof allowed for the rays of sunlight to poke through the trees’ branches above.

Your eyes were pulled to Jisoo after her voice called to you from behind the cash register. “Good morning!” she said, eyes bright and her voice chipper.

She gave you a short list of things to do before opening the store while she did some admin in the back room. You rearranged bookshelves, tidied the seating area in the centre of the room, fluffing up the old embroidered cushions and wiping the coffee stain off the old wooden table. Once you heard the old clock near the counter sing its tune to signal the hour, you walked over to the door to flip the sign that hung there.

The day went by slowly, with barely any customers walking through the doors. You were half asleep at the register when you heard the bell at the door ring and you sat up from your crunched up position on the old stool. You blinked a few times in an attempt to wake yourself up completely, but your eyes widened when they focused on the person at the door.

You nearly thought it was a scene out of a drama. He walked in, and you swore you saw a curl of wind rush past him and fuss with his hair. Everything around him went out of focus — all your attention honed in on him. He had a white t-shirt on with a loose, light blue button up draped over his shoulders. His hair had to have been dyed, with the depth of the black that coated the strands, but it was still glimmering nonetheless.

You were paying attention to everything he did as he walked towards you, so luckily for you, you caught his words even through your haze.

“Hey, are you new here?” you finally noticed that he held a big cardboard box in his arms, fingers curled around the front, with the bottom of it resting on his forearms.

You opened your mouth to answer, but before any sort of sound could pour out, Jisoo came out from the back room. You were grateful for the interruption, seeing as you weren’t sure you could function correctly just then.

“This is only her second day, Jaemin,” she said, throwing him a knowing glance from the corner of her eye and taking the box from him, “don’t scare her off.”

“Now how would I ever scare someone off?” he leaned on the end of the counter, eyes following Jisoo’s form into the back room again.

The arm that wasn’t leaning on the dark wooden counter was hanging limply from his shoulder, his whole body conveying defeat from the forward curve of his spine to the slack of his jaw.

“You nearly knocked over an entire shelf of books on your first delivery here,” yelled Jisoo, still from the back room.

“I was nervous!” he straightened his posture, his hand now flat in front of you and his arm outstretched, “Anyways I better get going.”

He looked at you as he said it and you noticed the way the glint in his eyes seemed to dance and swirl around until he completely focused on you.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” you forced an arm out along with your words.

He took your hand gently and squeezed it, “I’m Jaemin. I don’t think I’ve ever shaken someone’s hand before. At least not someone my age.”

His tone seemed sincere, not teasing or judgemental — purely observational. He threw you a smile before walking out the door again. His light blue shirt billowing behind him when he opened the door.

“Don’t mind him,” Jisoo said, walking out into the store again with a pile of books in her hands, “he’s insanely annoying, but honestly it’s either him or the old guy who smells like mould. That smell hangs around even after he’s gone.”

Jaemin came back a few days later, no box in his arms this time and a black hoodie on his frame. He usually came once every week with a box in hand and his bright smile stretched out on his face. Some days he was there and gone within the blink of an eye and other days he hovered around the store, gabbering about anything and everything. Sometimes he came into the shop empty handed: no box full of books to deliver. Jisoo seemed surprised the first time it happened, pulling a face akin to one a girl looking at her brother who just barged into her room unannounced would wear. She said nothing of it, however, so neither did you.

One night at 9pm when you were left alone to close the store, he came rushing down the road in his company van and stumbled out onto the concrete. His hair was already messed up before the wind hit it, most likely from his running his hands through it as he so often did.

‘How does it still look so soft?’

“Please tell me I’m not too late?” he said when he was close enough to not have to yell over the wind.

“Hm?” you widened your eyes and leaned your head forward, trying to get yourself to pay attention to his words instead of the glow of his skin under the streetlights.

“If I have to take another delivery back because I missed it Mr. Yoo might kill me,” he said, his eyes held a plea in them.

“Oh,” you turned back, fiddling for the key in your bag, “Sure let me just open up again.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said, setting the box down on the counter after refusing to let you carry it into the store.

“I opened a door Jaemin,” you said, scoffing at him from the door, “it’s nothing. Plus, it’s worth it if it means your boss won’t kill you— What are you doing?”

“I’m helping,” he was faced away from you, hands working at (aggressively) opening the package.

You huffed and set your bag down next to you before walking over to him. You peered over his shoulder, catching a whiff of his cologne. It smelled fresh but sweet. He’d already taken half the books out and piled them on the counter and one or two had fallen down onto the lower half that formed the desk at which you’d fallen asleep at least five times that week.

“You actually just look like you’re making a mess, Jaem,” you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and looked up at him through your eyelashes.

He tried his best not to let the shy smile slither onto his face, “Then tell me where to put them.”

He turned around, obviously underestimating your proximity. You were only about five centimeters away from him — at most. He could count your eyelashes if he wanted to, and goodness knows he was tempted to. Anything to be able to look at you for a little longer.

Your heart beat sporadically in your chest, his energy making your system go haywire. You reached behind him to grab one of the books and pulled it towards your chest.

“You don’t have to help. I can do it myself,” you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, you hoped it looked like you were standing your ground and not like you were stuck in your place from the shock of being so close to him.

“I want to,” you swore his eyes glitched — or yours did — because you saw him steal a glance at your lips.

You turned around swiftly before you could think about it anymore, “Alright, it’s organised by genre but these are all just restocks so you can take a few of these to the back.”

It took less time than you thought to pack everything away and enter the stock on the system, nearly half the time it usually took you by yourself. Jaemin was a lot more helpful than you thought he would, and he was a lot stronger than he looked, too.

“Do you want a ride home?” came his voice from behind you as he reached over you to put the last book on a shelf.

“Uh, I’ll be fine by myself,” you said, walking away from the shelf to get your bag again and sling it over your shoulder.

“I need to say thanks for taking the delivery, though,” his hands were back in the pockets of his black skinny jeans. His gaze floated over to you, the bottom lid of his eyes slightly swollen with sincerity.

“You already helped me put the books away, you’ve done more than enough—”

“But, I did make you stay late. And the city’s not safe at this hour.”

You sighed in defeat and readjusted your bag. You did hate walking at night and you’d been on your feet most of the day, so perhaps it wasn’t the worst idea to accept the lift home.

He grinned when you accepted and led you over to the van and you tried not to make a comment about getting into a van with a stranger.

You’d been driving for about ten minutes when you signalled for Jaemin to pull over in front of your apartment building. You reached for the door handle to let yourself out of the car once it came to a stop, but before you could, a hand caught your upper arm.

“Y/n…” he trailed off, eyes on the bend of your elbow.

You waited a moment, “Jaemin?”

And when he didn’t answer, you waved a hand in front of his face.

“Hmm? Oh,” he blinked out of his state and looked at you once again, “Uh, never mind.”

Your brows gathered like the ruffles on a dress but you gave him a moment before he let go of your arm, “You’ve been watching too many dramas, Jaemin. What were you going to say?”

He seemed taken aback at first, your directness not something he had anticipated. But then he smiled.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out sometime,” his shyness was almost gone now, your honesty pulling it away from him.

“And? Do you still want to?”

“Yes.”

Your calm façade faltered when he handed you his phone and told you to put your number in it. His fingers brushed yours and you nearly shivered from the contact. However, you managed to hide it during your swift turn away from him.

He texted you as soon as you got into your apartment. You sat in bed for hours, hands grasping your phone. You only needed to wait a few seconds at a time for his replies. Your body hurt from being pushed into the mattress in such an awkward position, but you barely noticed it. Until it reached 3am that is. You had to force yourself to stop replying after the third time you’d sent a “goodnight, i’m actually leaving this time” text. You lay there for a while before you drifted off, thoughts of Jaemin floating through your mind.

Waking up the next morning was one of the hardest things you’d done in a while. Your eyelids felt puffy — you could feel them around your eyeballs everytime you blinked — and your neck hurt from being held up to look at your phone all night. The only reason you wound up going into work was because of one of Jaemin’s texts from last night:

“I’ll come by the bookshop after work sometime this week and we can have that date.”

“I mean hang out*! Unless you’re okay with it being a date? Bc I’d like that.”

—

None of the drinks in the convenience store looked like the one you wanted, or even close to it. Green, orange and yellow bottles lined the refrigerated shelves and you had no interest in any of them. You’d been standing at the back of the store in front of the refrigerators for a few minutes too long and at this point it was probably getting strange for the cashier. If they were even looking, that is. You realised in your short time in the retail industry that the cashiers are never looking at the customers. Most of the time they were zoned out, or on their phones and not watching the customer’s every move, though it still felt like it. You faintly heard the door swing open, but your eyes remained glued to the drinks on the other side of the glass, and your thoughts most definitely not on your surroundings.

Jaemin hadn’t been to the store in three days and he hadn’t texted you since yesterday. As much as you hated to admit it, that boy had got into your head and so, too, had insecurity. Though your rational mind tried to explain the number of reasons he hadn’t been able to come, your irrational mind seemed to be winning in thinking that he was tired of you. It was absurd that you were having this crisis in the middle of the juice aisle of a 7 Eleven at 10pm and you knew it. You also knew he probably had a busy day at work, he’d even told you last week how busy Wednesdays were for some reason, in fact he’d complained for almost ten minutes while you sat staring at the fluffy ends of his hair. But what could you have done to drive him away? Maybe it was the staring…

“This is getting painful.”

And now you were hearing his voice everywhere. It really was time for you to go home. Take a nap. Maybe it was exhaustion talking. After all, you had stayed up late talking to him last night and you had to get up extra early because you were the one opening the shop.

“Just take the pineapple one.” No, that had to be Jaemin.

You whipped around then when the realisation hit you, however, you still stumbled back a bit when you saw it was his figure standing behind you in the aisle.

“What?” Your brain was still cloudy from all the thoughts swirling around it previously, though they’d completely disappeared now that Jaemin was within your line of sight.

“Take the pineapple soda,” he said again, a giant, perfect smile on his face.

“I don’t like pineapple,” you said, gears in your head finally working again, “I was looking for—”

“Please don’t say strawberry,” he hung his shoulders when he saw the sly grin that crept its way onto your face. “Why does everyone love strawberry so much? It tastes like medicine.”

He took you by the hand and pulled you towards the door, passing the very much unconscious cashier on the way out.

“Where are you taking me to?” Your hand was limp in his, you didn’t have the confidence quite yet to be able to grip his hand back.

“That place never has strawberry soda, I’m taking you somewhere that does,” he didn’t let go of your hand for a second.

You watched him as he walked slightly ahead of you, his hair bouncing as he walked. He was wearing a ring, though you couldn’t see exactly what it was in the streetlights’ glow. It was cold against your skin despite his own skin being warm as well.

You walked for a few minutes before Jaemin’s head suddenly perked up like a puppy who’d heard its name being called.

“Do you hear music?” he asked, whipping his head around in an attempt to find where the waves of music were coming from.

“It must be from the park down that way,” you pointed past Jaemin, to the road on your right.

Jaemin grinned and pulled you with him down the empty road. The park came into view and you saw what seemed to be the remains of a festival. People were littered around the centre of the park, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Some were gazing up at the sparkling lights tangled among the branches, and others were dancing to the music playing.

Jaemin’s grin widened and he turned to you with bright eyes and a pleading expression on his face.

“I thought we were getting soda,” you said, with a smile on your face that told him there was no way you could say ’no.’

“Just ten minutes?” Jaemin bit his bottom lip in excitement as soon as he finished his sentence, he already knew your answer.

“Fine.”

By the time you got the word out, he was already pulling you after him to the row of trees.

Once you were on the path, beautiful trees surrounding you, Jaemin slowed down and craned his neck to look up. He squeezed your hand in order to get you to look up at the trees as well. Clouds of pink petals collected around the branches, and the lights shone like stars among them. The music and faint sound of cars filled your ears and the smell of freshly cooked food floated through the air.

“I’ve never been to one of these festivals at night,” you said, turning your head to the side to look at him instead.

Your words tore his eyes away from the view above, “Really?”

You nodded your head simply and the two of you continued walking in comfortable silence. Every now and then, drops of water fell from the trees above you like rain from the clouds, most likely from the rain that had run through the city earlier in the day. The music floated around your head, it was a song you didn’t remember the name of but the beat was familiar and it caused you to nod your head to the tune. Jaemin sensed the nodding of your head and did his best to hide his smile by looking down at the paved ground below him.

His gaze was brought back to you, though, when he heard a light giggle. Jaemin’s eyes followed your line of sight and found that you were looking at two kids dancing to the music. They bounced about with no sense of the rhythm of the music, giant smiles on their faces. He felt as though he was in the ending shot of a drama, a freeze frame centred on the main character, the background out of focus and the edges of the screen twinkling. Jaemin wanted so desperately to ask you to dance. Right there. In the middle of the park. And he considered doing it, too.

Just then, your smile widened as the two children began twirling aimlessly and Jaemin couldn’t stop himself from speaking his next words, “Did you want to da-“

Luckily for him, the rain was able to stop him when it suddenly came pouring down. Both of you stood frozen for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, until you started pulling Jaemin back the way you came.

“How far is the store you wanted to go to?” you asked when Jaemin furrowed his brows at you.

“Oh, right,” he said, grabbing your hand tighter and walking in front of you, “It’s just around the corner.”

Eventually he stopped the two of you in front of a frozen yoghurt shop. It was devoid of people except for the cashier, who you could barely make out the silhouette of in the neon lights.

He pulled you in through the glass door and pointed over to the drinks glistening in the lights. The whole shop was cold, making you put your hands on your upper arms to preserve heat. You took one of the many strawberry flavoured sodas off the shelf, but you shivered at the even cooler temperature inside the refrigerator. You stood there for a few seconds, thinking before grabbing a pineapple soda from the bottom shelf and turning around to head towards the cashier.

Jaemin was already sat at one of the white tables, facing away from you. The black material of his jacket hugged him comfortably, his body nearly drowning in the fabric. It made you want to wrap your arms around him, whether it was simply to get warmth or if it was to get to hold Jaemin, you weren’t sure.

You yanked your eyes away from him and went over to the cashier, setting the two bottles down on the counter.

“You don’t have to pay,” he said from his place on a stool near the cash register. He didn’t even look up from the phone in his hands, “It’s on the house.”

You jerked your head away in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“Really, you don’t have to pay for it” Jaemin’s voice came up behind you, “that’s my cousin, he’s trying to get fired.”

You looked back and forth between the two for a second, only just seeing the resemblance.

“What? Why?” you ask, not sure who to direct the question to, but that problem was solved when the boy sitting behind the register put AirPods in his ears.

“My aunt will kill him if he quits another job,” Jaemin snickered, “He’s quit five in the last four months.”

You walked over to Jaemin as he spoke and you noticed two cups of frozen yoghurt on the table.

“That has to be a record,” you sat down and Jaemin pushed one of the cups over to you. There was a curl of lilac coloured frozen yoghurt peeking out the top of the cup.

He chuckled, “Yeah, his mom completely cussed him out. But I’ve met the manager of this place and I would want to quit too if I were him.”

It was silent for a few seconds as you dipped the plastic spoon into the swirl of frozen yoghurt and hummed.

“You just don’t like him, because he stocks strawberry flavoured soda,” you spoke around your growing smirk before opening the can and taking a sip from said soda.

“Hey, at least I’m not the one mixing soda with frozen yoghurt,” he said, pointing to the aforementioned drink with a stern look in his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, seeing through his judgemental facade, “You’ve never tried it have you?” His gaze melted into one of rather tense curiosity at your actions as you raised a spoonful of the frozen yoghurt to your mouth.

“No, doesn’t it feel weird?” he watched you with his confusion pulling on his brows.

“That’s the whole point,” you said, before following the spoon of yoghurt with a sip of soda again.

He quickly scooped some frozen yoghurt from the quickly diminishing supply into his mouth and then looked at you expectantly after swallowing, “So it’s like a chaser?”

You let out a giggle, “I mean kinda, yeah. Try it, but keep the soda in your mouth for a little.”

He reached out, took his soda into his right hand, and after opening it and giving it a curious look, he drank from it. His eyes widened at the pleasant sensation of fizzing and bubbling in his mouth and he pulled his lips together as if sucking from a straw. You laughed loudly at his animated reaction and tried to hold back the ‘I told you so’ that threatened to spill past your lips.

“Wow,” his mouth widened, his jaw comically lopsided, and held the can of soda out in front of him, looking at it as if it had just spoken to him. He then looked up at you, his expression turning back into confusion, “Why are you laughing?!”

“I’ve shown this to so many people, but they’ve never reacted like you just did,” you put a hand in front of your mouth as you continued to heave out giggles.

Jaemin’s features softened as he watched your eyes and nose crinkle from your laughter. A smile etched itself onto his own face at the sight and sound of you laughing at him. Your cheeks were jutting out to make room for your smile and he was sure your laugh was the best sound he’d ever heard. He was glad he could make you laugh so hard. Glad that he had any positive effect on you at all, really.

While the two of you continued talking, the sky outside emptied itself of rain until it had none left. The sound of rain clattering to the ground outside was replaced with only the occasional drip from the roof. However, neither you nor Jaemin would admit that you’d noticed it, instead opting to stay in the bubble your laughter and conversation had made around you. That was, until a set of keys was hurtled towards Jaemin, who very nearly caught them. They landed on the floor behind him and he twisted around to pick them up.

“What the hell?” said Jaemin, throwing his words at his cousin who had just woken up.

“When you’re done, lock up for me will you?” he said as he picked up a backpack from behind the counter, “But don’t stay too long, Jaemin, if you keep looking at them like that I’m pretty sure your eyes will turn heart shaped.”

Jaemin scoffed, watching his cousin disappear out the back entrance without another word, leaving only the lights above the refrigerators on.

“Alright let’s go,” he stood up and held his hand out for you to take and you couldn’t help the shy smile that pushed its way onto your face.

After locking up, the two of you began wandering the streets of Seoul, with no particular destination in mind. Jaemin kept your hand in his as you walked. The rain had stopped, but it had left blotches of water for you to dodge everywhere you went.

The boy next to you had become completely silent, the only sounds he made being occasional hums as you spoke. So eventually, you decided to let the sounds of the city enter the space between you instead of trying to fill it with your words.

You made your way to your apartment, Jaemin still by your side. When the two of you stopped in front of your building you had the urge to lean closer to him, to close your eyes and let your lips meld together in a kiss. You wanted to be as close to him as you could in that moment, but when he only gave you a rushed ‘goodnight’ and turned away, your hopes sunk down to the floor of your heart. As you watched him walk away, you felt coldness set in for the first time since you’d met him.

—

Three days after your date with Jaemin, an old man walked into the bookstore with a delivery box in his arms. You went around the counter to take the box from him and sign for the package, frowning all the while. The man left without saying a word, but when he turned around, you caught sight of what must have been a chewed piece of gum behind his ear. Your shoulders jostled in disgust as soon as he was out of sight.

A moment later, Jisoo appeared from the backroom. “Was that Jaemin?”

“No,” you said blankly before looking up from the box you’d just cut open, “but I have met the mold guy now, and you’re right. The smell does hang around after he’s gone.”

“Jaemin better be dying,” she said, going around the counter to start entering the stock on the computer, “or I'll kill him myself for staying home.”

“I don’t think he stayed home,” your shoulders slumped as you said it, “He probably changed his shifts.”

Jisoo hummed in confusion, signalling for you to elaborate. Her eyes were still on the screen but her face was aimed towards you.

“He hasn’t talked to me since we went on that date,” you huffed, placing your hands on your hips. Lifting books all the time still hadn’t become any easier since you‘d started this job. You had, however, learned to appreciate air conditioning after the one day it didn’t work and you were reminded why no one else had turned a greenhouse into a store of some kind.

That pulled Jisoo’s eyes away from the screen, “You went on a what? And he didn’t—? Okay, no, fill me in,” she leaned her forearms on the counter.

“Well, he asked me on a date that night that he made that late delivery, then didn’t specify a day or time and then found me in a convenience store and whisked me away on a really, really lovely date and then he didn’t call or text and now he’s most likely changed shifts because he hates me,” you took a sharp breath in at the end of your rambling.

“That doesn’t sound like something Jaemin would do,” she said, “I mean the last part, the late delivery and suddenly taking you on a date sounds just like him.” She paused for a moment, eyes cast down as she thought, “Have you tried texting him?”

“Of course I have.”

“And?”

“Delivered,” you deadpanned.

The bell on the door rang behind you and you rounded the counter to take over from Jisoo while she asked the customer if they needed any help. Before she left your side though, she sent you a sad, close-mouthed smile and squeezed your arm.

That night, as soon as you’d changed into comfortable clothing and sat on your sofa to watch reruns of an old show, you picked up your phone and wandered over to your chat with Jaemin absent mindedly. As you opened it, you felt a slight pinch in your heart. Maybe being left on delivered was better.

—

You held a bucket above the lamp in the centre of the room, the plop from the drops of water entering it being washed away under the sound of the rain outside the store. You were in the process of trying to place the pile of books you had in your hand onto the table without letting the drops of water get on the lamp, when you heard the sound of the bell ringing above the door.

It had been a while — maybe almost two weeks — since you’d last seen Jaemin; since you’d last talked to him. But now he pushed his way into the shop, bringing with him a whirlwind of the weather outside.

You looked over to his form in the doorway: a box littered with giant dark spots in his hands and his hair nearly dripping from the rain despite the hood of his sopping yellow raincoat framing his face.

When he caught sight of you, your arms holding books and buckets alike and struggling with both of them, he set the box down on the ground near a bookshelf and rushed over to take the pile of books from you. He set them on the old couch and helped you move the heavy lamp in order to put the bucket in its place to catch the water.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, keeping your eyes away from him.

“No problem,” he said, putting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

‘He has no business looking that pretty.’

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in a while…”

You scoffed immediately, “You haven’t answered my texts in a while either.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” you can’t tell if he’s avoiding your eyes because he’s ashamed, or because he’s lying.

“Well, at least you don’t have to apologise for not reading them, because you most certainly did that,” you nearly felt bad as the words sprang out of your mouth, nearly.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his voice was weak, so were his words.

On hearing the words drop from his lips, your anger rose like a wave at high tide.

“Oh really? Then what exactly did you mean to do, Jaemin? Because, taking someone out on a date — which, by the way, was the best date I’ve ever been on — and then leaving them outside their apartment with barely a ‘goodbye,’ and not calling or texting for a week doesn’t sound like you’re trying very hard not to hurt someone.” You took a breath, before muttering, “Not to mention the fact that you switched your shift just to avoid me.”

“Fuck, I know, okay? I’m so sorry,” he looked up at you then, eyes shining with sadness, the excited glow diminished to barely a flicker, “I know I was an asshole. It was the best night I’ve ever had and I was an idiot not to hold on to you and I’m incredibly sorry. If I could rewind and do it the right way I would.”

“Then why’d you do it, Jaem?” his shoulders slumped at the change in your voice, you were holding back tears and you’d grown so small in front of him. His arms nearly wound themselves around you of their own accord.

“Honestly?” he took a moment to collect his thoughts and arrange them into words, “I was scared. It sounds insanely cheesy and like it comes from a Taylor Swift song or something, but the way you made me feel was terrifying.”

“Great, thanks, you really know how to make someone feel better,” You rolled your eyes, a tear falling down your warm cheek in the process.

He didn’t have time to stop the airy laugh that escaped him, “I felt fearless. You made me feel like there was nothing in the world that could stop me, as long as I was with you.”

You wanted to hate him, wanted to yell that that was bullshit. You wanted to push him out the door and into the rain yourself. But, you couldn’t. You knew he was being sincere. You knew it, because that was exactly how you’d felt and it had scared you, too.

“So you ghosted me completely? Because that doesn’t sound so ‘fearless’ to me,” you tried to keep your resolve until you got the answer you needed.

“Like I said, I was an idiot. It was stupid of me to try to get rid of someone who made me feel like that. I just — I’ve fallen for you so hard and so fast that it scared me, because by the end of the night I knew I wasn’t going to stop falling any time soon, I still haven’t. And then what if I lost you? What if I did something wrong and made you hate me?” he sighed, reigning in his thoughts and emotions, “So, I ran before I could fall anymore. I tried to minimise the pain before it even started.”

“So then, why are you here now?”

“This past week has felt like the place you go to if you’re too shitty even for hell,” he took a small step towards you, “I’ve already fallen way too hard to turn back. And plus, Jisoo called me and told me you were genuinely really upset and well, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. So, even if it means possibly getting my heart shattered by you in the future, I’d gladly do anything to make you happy.”

“Jae—”

“Oh and Jisoo said she’d get me fired if I didn’t at least explain myself and I really need the money so— Ow!” He rubbed the spot on his bicep where you’d pinched him. He still held a smile on his face from his own joke.

He was probably the happiest you’d seen someone who’d just been pinched, and suddenly, you couldn’t hide your own smile.

“Will you forgive me then? Or at least let me make it up to you?”

“Depends on how you plan to make it up to me,” gathering yourself, you turned around to enter the back room Jisoo was always hiding in, Jaemin following you close behind.

“What about a date? I’m on my lunch break right now and I just saw this—”

You stopped in the doorway and interrupted him, “I still have to work for another four hours, text me when your shift is over.”

He nodded vigorously, “Yes, uh, okay perfect. I will! I’ll see you later tonight then?” He began backing out of the bookstore with a giant, goofy smile plastered on his face.

Just before he opened the door, you called his name, “Jaemin! Actually text me this time okay?”

“I swear I will!”

if you liked this, buy me a coffee!

taglist: @infnteen (if anyone wants to be added, send an ask or a message!)

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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years

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Goodbye Summer (Frankie Morales x gn!reader)

Summary: As autumn looms, you reminisce about the summer you spent with Frankie and his daughter, Tali.

Word Count: 1.2k+

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: couple of mentions of heavy petting, one or two allusions to sex bc i just had to (nothing explicit), food mention/eating (also can food be a love language? bc if so i think i just discovered one of mine💀), no use of pronouns, no beta reader, other than that just vibes📚🌤💐🍓🌊🏝☔️🎣🪱🐟🍆🫑🦦💜🧢

Author's Note: this is my first frankie fic! idk what this is, and i don't even really like summer (it's actually my least favorite season💀), but i got into a ✨mood✨ and figured i'd just spew some descriptive bull. i hope you enjoy! :)

gif by @trashcora

The hot, sluggish character of a late summer breeze cascades over your exposed back. You’re lying on your chest, parallel to Frankie; rare dry blades in the mushy grass poke you here and there from underneath your picnic blanket. You are both reading, turning pages that have been softened by the lingering humidity, finding solace in the slowness and quiet of the afternoon.

Summer is coming to an end. Preparations of its departure can be felt and seen all around: leaves have lost their electric green and have begun to turn chartreuse, vacationers have deserted their destinations in favor of their permanent homes, the sun falls below the skyline earlier in the day.

You had spent the summer with Frankie and his daughter, Natalia, Tali for short. You lay with him now next to one of the products of the season: a garden you had planted with his baby girl. The tiered petals of a zinnia catch your eye, the thick stem allowing little movement from the breeze, and you can’t help but reminisce about all of the activities that occupied your little family for the past few months.

Summer had begun with the creation of the garden, courtesy of Natalia. Her crayons had scribbled across a page and gave life to an amalgamation of flora. Being her young age, she couldn’t identify the specific kinds, her drawings a generic purple splat and misshapen pink circles. You and Frankie decided to take her picture as a blueprint and tried your best to find flowers that matched hers. Although she was the definition of disappointment when the garden was planted and it was nothing but lines of sown seeds, her happiness bloomed as the flowers did. Her favorites were the ageratums and begonias, near-perfect translations of her imagination.

You and Frankie had also partaken in your own kind of sowing seeds. Raspberries were in season and are his favorite fruit (you tease that’s because they’re soft, sweet and whiskery, like he is). You, him and Tali made a day of visiting a farm and picking them off of their bushes. Frankie would hold Natalia up, allowing her to pick the ones most kissed by the sun, and she would carefully plop them into the basket you held up to her.

After Tali had been put to bed, you got to work on making a raspberry tart, the kitchen utensils still a little too dangerous for her to handle. Frankie reminded you of one of the most important steps of cooking: testing your ingredients. He had pushed some berries into your mouth, his rebuttal to your scolding of him continuously popping them into his mouth, warning that you wouldn’t have enough to make the dessert. What began as an innocent swipe of his thumb across your chin to catch some dribbling juice quickly became a gardening session: you shared the microscopic seeds, your tongues dispersing them in each other’s mouths amongst the rows of your tastebuds. Garnet stains donned your lips for the remainder of the evening.

Painting each other with magenta splotches wasn’t the only way you had gotten dirty this summer. On beach trips, the ocean’s breath had found its way into your hair, tangling it with salt. Stray seaweed found on the shore and in the water clung to your skin, and after peeling it off it reminded you where it had been with a slimy outline. Grains of sand were ground into your knees and shins as you built grand sandcastles with Tali, with Frankie providing backstory of a make-believe kingdom while he sat back and admired. When washing the sand off in the ocean before embarking on the journey home, Frankie administered some playful pushes and shoves to you, which you returned right back to him. It wasn’t rare for the three of you to have been dunked in the water at least once by the time your seatbelts had been secured with wet hands and damp towels wrapped your bodies, growing colder the closer you got to home.

Given the overall sporadic nature of the season, water didn’t always behave at your discretion. Thankfully, most days that had been consumed by downpours and trapped you in the house were ones where Tali was visiting her mom, sparing her from uneventfulness. While you might not have been in the sun or running around trying to catch the little girl, you and Frankie found ways to work up a sweat. Lightning bolts illuminated the dark corridor of a hallway, revealing a trail of discarded clothes leading from the living room to your bedroom. Steady thunder drowned out knocks of the bedframe against the wall and mutual moans of passion.

When Tali was around, you thought it important to give her some alone time with her dad. One of her favorite things to do with Frankie was fishing. From your kitchen window, a semi-murky lake could be seen, a spot that the duo frequented for fishing. You would gaze past the gauzy curtains and watch Frankie bait their hooks, help Tali cast her line and then celebrate with her when, after reeling back in, a small minnow was attached to the end of the rod. The ripples of water that followed the fish after Frankie and Tali released them never failed to make her giggle.

The smell of fish didn’t hit you while you watched Frankie and Tali fishing from afar, but it infiltrated your senses at the Millers’ house when they held cookouts. The wafting smoke of the grilled fish and sweet peppers made your eyes tear, the thick aroma of Pope’s eggplant parmesan made your mouth water. You and Frankie ate separate dishes, but - like the raspberry incident - you ended up tasting every one of the items by way of Frankie’s tongue in your mouth.

The end of summer makes you feel melancholic, as it signifies the end of all of these memories. Sure, their details will be locked away in your mind and available for revisiting at any time you please, but sadness is inevitable as the little things fade away from reality.

Hours spent in the sun had dappled the peaks of Frankie’s skin with caramel freckles: the curve of his shoulders, the bridge of his nose, his temples.

You had grown accustomed to the unwavering heat and blinding light beating down from the sun daily. Lightweight fabrics and shorter hemlines comprised both of your closets.

Sourness of berries and the spice of seasoned vegetables stayed on your tongue, in your nose and down your throat. The exchanging of these flavors with Frankie was an even more delectable memory.

Reaching over and running your fingers up the column of Frankie’s throat reminds you of the things that will stay once summer passes.

While the spots gifted by the sun will fade, his moles will remain in the constellations that they always make, regardless of the time of year.

His facial hair may grow to be scruffy instead of stubbly, in an effort to trap some warmth during the upcoming colder months. But the soft skin that sprouts such hair will remain velvety and undeniably Frankie.

The unconditional and undying love your heart holds for Frankie and Natalia will remain strong and deep, as the days, months, years, lifetimes go by.

With all of this in mind, the end of summer doesn’t seem like so much of a gigantic loss, but rather a sentimental conclusion to a fun-filled period of time. Moving into autumn doesn’t seem so scary anymore, with your shared love for each other surely producing months that will be just as invigorating as summer was.

Frankie folds his book over the swell of his belly with a crinkle and turns to face you, those chocolatey eyes timeless. He signals that he’s ready to proceed to the fall with you and his baby girl, “What do you think Tali should be for Halloween?”

💘taglist: @pascalpanic

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie x gn!reader #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #soft frankie morales #pedro pascal characters #my love letter to summer #summer drabble #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x reader

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imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years

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Hey friends, I've got Some Anon Answers for you! Most of these are so late I'm so sorry lol

1. Awwwe, I'm honored that you're still here. Thank you so much for sharing your feelings with me. I know I say it a lot, but the fact so many people choose to go on the internet to be kind to strangers (anonymously, much less!) is one of my favorite displays of how wonderful people can be.

Thank you for sticking around and reading my stories. I hope I can provide entertainment for you as long as you need it, and I hope you are enjoying all of the new and wonderful things you find ❤️

2. Oh, gosh, you're very sweet! I'll try to answer all of these questions, but I have a tendency to ramble.

My favorite oneshot I've ever written would probably be a tie between Funny Thing Fate (SFW) and It's Too Cliche (NSFW). I love writing Autistic!Reader and the latter was based on multiple real-world events that happened to me. They both flowed so easily and were very cathartic.

Some hobbies are listed in my About Me! But they're pretty boring. I like to bake, cross stitch, play video games, and occasionally something weird like making jewelry or making my own plushes.

My favorite ships from Criminal Minds are pretty uneventful, and I don't feel that strongly about any of them. I really enjoy Temily, JJ/Will, and Ralvez. Beyond that, I feel pretty equally about the rest of them. I do not like Reidams, though, but mostly because I think Cat was written terribly. It had potential, but now it pisses me off. Hate Maxcer and Maeve/Spencer with a burning passion. Lila, Dr. Kimura, Austin, Loker, Tara (originally designed as a love interest for Spencer!) - all way better potential.

I'm not sure I really have any concrete writing goals. I mostly just do it for fun, but I would love to finish my original works I have planned and get them published.

My only general tips for new writers are to keep practicing, edit your own work no matter how cringey it feels, and get comfortable with constructive criticism if you want to improve. Oh, and have fun!

As for your adoration, it is always shocking but always appreciated. I hope this answered most of your questions! I love you, too, and I hope you have a wonderful day!

3. I certainly hope people will be more interested in Wes stories! I really do love him, but I know writing Spencer will give me more interaction. Since I'm relatively busy, I prefer doing whatever people want to see the most. If you have specific trends/characters you prefer, please let me know. I really do take it all into account, especially when rejecting requests.

4. Hey friend! Yeah, TB&TB is back! I'm also going to continue posting oneshots per usual, so if I take another extended break from TB&TB, you'll still have that content ☺️

5. [NSFW] Unfortunately, I'm not sure I could write a whole fic rec list on that trope because it's enormous and there are thousands of works with it. I can only really speak to my own work, which does have quite a bit of Jealous!Spencer, including, among others:

Femme Fatale: Unit Chief Reid is in over his head with the newest BAU member.

Jazz & Jealousy: On a visit from New Orleans, Ethan takes a liking to Spencer’s crush. Spencer is not thrilled by this.

I Like It Like That: Spencer is jealous after a rowdy party.

“Bro Code” Be Damned: Spencer decides that the Bro Code isn’t really a code to be taken seriously when Derek’s girlfriend is feeling neglected.

I also actually have one in my WIPs right now, based on "Piece of You" by Shawn Mendes.

6. [NSFW] You know, I'm not sure I do. The ones that come closest are probably:

Fuzzy Pants (Spencer receiving)

Post Coital Dysphoria (Reader receiving)

Handle With Care (Reader receiving)

It's also sporadically mentioned in Here to Misbehave. Truthfully, I don't write a lot of heavy aftercare because I either find it mind-numbingly dull, weirdly specific, or overdone.

Aftercare as a term is extremely diverse and will look different for everyone. You'd have to be a bit more specific for me to send you in the right direction, because typically what people mean when they say "aftercare" is the same scenario I've seen written hundreds of times over, which is someone giving someone ibuprofen and a Gatorade 😂 (which, funny enough, I have literally never experienced in real life).

7. [NSFW] [Dark Side] Wow! That's an old one alright. I barely remember writing it 😅 But I'm so glad that you enjoyed it, and I do love that line. Now that I am older and wiser (and have actually seen the arc), I find it even more interesting. Especially when you consider that the cast explained in a behind the scenes bit that Spencer learned in prison that he was bad at crime. So, the question remains if he would have become an unsub if he'd been a little bit better at it.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work and say such kind thing. I'm so appreciative for everyone who provides feedback about my writing. You are the reason I'm still here writing!

#answer #answered

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Text

Correspondence, Chapter 03

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary: An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Mentions of alcohol, a very long conversation happens where Hotch is a little buzzed. Big, BIG focus on their age difference, and unintentional misinformation. Spencer has no idea Hotch thinks he’s older, or at least not OLD older, and gets a little panicky/clams up -- and yes I realize Hotch could just background check him and find it out but he respects the man enough to not do that. The chapter is linear, it just encompasses a lot of time passing so hopefully that’s not too confusing. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 5025

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

Chapter 03

Early September 2010

And so, it begins.

The dynamic shift, the vast change in how Hotch and Dr. Reid had been corresponding for the past few months. Evolving from something so professional and academic to something… looser. More freeing. More room for error, of course, but the risk turns out to be more than worth it for what they gain.

The texts are sporadic, at first. Short interactions, here and there, all stemming from that first, longer conversation about Jack. Hotch follows up the very next day, after he gets to talk to his son in the morning over pancakes. Jessica hovering nearby the whole time. She had apologized for her harsh words, and commended him after the fact how he’d approached Jack on the subject and led the little boy into a conversation rather than a lecture like his teachers had done. Because, as Spencer had mentioned -- there was no need for one. Jack already had the situation handled.

[]6/4, 12:39[] You were right.

[]6/4, 12:39[] He invited the kid that was bullying him over for a playdate. Trying to win him over by killing him with kindness.

[]6/4, 12:43[] My kind of kid.

[]6/4, 12:44[] You’ve taught him well, Hotch.

And that was it. That was all it took to kick off what turns into a frequent occurrence. Slowly, as time passes, their quick texts turn to conversations that naturally revert to work. It’s where they spend most of their time, after all, and what they had bonded over in the first place. But unlike in their emails, it isn’t just about the cases or profiles or statistics required to crack them. It’s much more opinionated than that, erratic in it’s content and frequency. Commentary on Hotch’s team, ideas on the cases they work, case studies and research projects and sometimes even just office gossip that somehow always makes its way to Hotch’s attention despite everyone trying to keep it from doing so.

Or just Dr. Reid observing their antics. This is the beginning of the tonal shift, and Hotch can’t help but think… it just might be a welcome one.

[]6/12, 10:03[] Your tech analyst always sends me rainbow font emails.

[]6/12, 10:07[] Yes, she’s doing that with everyone on the team. It’s Pride month and she’s being supportive.

[]6/12, 10:11[] She considers me a part of the team? How sweet of her.

[]6/12, 10:12[] You are, and as far as the bureau goes you might as well be.

[]6/12, 10:13[] I doubt I could sneak you into payroll, though.

[]6/12, 10:21[] I bet Ms. Garcia could.

[]6/12, 10:28[] Don’t. Say. Anything.

[]6/12, 10:29[] But yes, she could.

It turns into a small reprieve, for Hotch, in the constant deluge of bureaucracy and violence that fills his work day. The single moment he allows a sliver of himself to appear through the cracks of his armor he has to wear to guard himself from it all. To be the stoic leader the team needs, the unmovable tree in the storm.

Only in his quick, typed under the table conversations he has with Spencer does he allow himself the slips of humor. Barely there traces of a smile. Finding the smallest spots of light in his dark days, in his work that can surround and consume to the point of suffocation. Hotch thrives in it, he always has -- while others have drowned. But he doesn’t mind finding this small self-indulgence. Making the decision for himself that he can joke and poke fun at his work and not feel guilty about it. That, for once, he can allow himself this.

Until one day, Spencer returns the favor -- and starts talking about his own work.

[]7/21, 16:17[] If I leave all of my Ph.D. applicants in a ditch in the desert, is that still murder?

[]7/21, 16:30[] Technically or hypothetically?

[]7/21, 16:34[] Different question, would you be my legal council if I snap and it happens anyway?

[]7/21, 16:37[] Of course.

[]7/21, 16:38[] But as your attorney, I have to advise you that we never had this conversation, and murder is wrong.

[]7/21, 16:40[] Hypothetically.

Spencer takes a little longer to open up, but when he does it is through this window into an academic world Hotch had never planned or thought he would ever be privy to. He begins to reveal pieces of it, bit by bit, until Hotch starts to form a picture in his mind of what shape this professor’s life really takes. Making deductions based on his speech patterns, what goes on throughout his day, his word choices, and profiling the man through text message without even meaning to.

He tries to put a stop to it as soon as he realizes this. Dr. Reid isn’t just a consultant anymore, he is his friend -- and Hotch will always do his utmost to not profile his friends. But it’s a little too late for some aspects that can’t help but stand out as time goes on. Such as the inkling that the other man probably isn’t senile with a cane and a stooped back, like Hotch had first thought. Certain parts of his day allude to someone who is a bit fresher to the academic scene -- instead of spending decades on a college campus.

But Hotch sets that aside, to be scrutinized at a later date, and instead turns his focus into enjoying what Spencer has to offer him. As his friend. The stories he shares freely, now that they’ve spent all this time breaking down the barriers. He regales Hotch with his own daily problems, grievances, as well as the little bright spots that he just wants to share with Hotch so that it can lighten up his own days. Which were much more bleak, and crowded with danger and horrid things.

Hotch lives for those messages.

[]7/28, 20:42[] So I have a godson.

[]7/28, 20:44[] He’s four, and he just came to visit last week with his mother. Have you and Jack ever done science experiments at home?

[]7/28, 20:46[] Because I have some that are definite crowd pleasers. Do them right, you can call them ‘physics magic’. I can send you the instructions, it’s well worth it.

[]7/28, 20:47[] I’m not sure how helpful I would be in a scientific area, but I’m always willing to try.

[]7/28, 20:49[] I’d require video evidence of it, then.

[]7/28, 20:50[] But they are so fun, I’d forgotten how much.

[]7/28, 20:51[] No children of your own?

[]7/28, 20:54[] Never found the right person, but I always spent so much time on my degrees that I hadn’t really thought about being a parent.

[]7/28, 20:55[] My Godson really brought it to light, though. I love having him here.

[]7/28, 20:56[] I bet he loves when you come around, or when they get to visit you, too.

[]7/28, 20:59[] I work in a science lab, with lasers and telescopes bigger than my first apartment. My approval rating is pretty high when it comes to my godson.

Although Hotch finds that he doesn’t always start these interactions, the ones that lead to topics outside of work, he also isn’t against them in the slightest. They begin to start messaging at all hours, because of this; first thing in the morning, during their lunch break, whenever something pops up -- what used to be jokes that would just be kept to themselves, turn to conversation starters. And that development shifts the dynamic even more.

[]8/11, 10:31[] Coffee shops always make me feel old, and like I’m a grad student all over again.

[]8/11, 10:38[] You don’t have a T.A. to run and get you coffee?

[]8/11, 10:41[] Of course you would send out for coffee.

[]8/11, 10:42[] Well my order is two steps, not sixteen.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Tyrant.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Pretentious.

They start to tease, banter, and poke fun at each other. Comradery, friendship, and the more it goes on the more it seems to spiral towards something else. Something new.

But it’s these small moments, messages, conversations that can last a minute or an hour, that make Hotch’s chest feel so much lighter as the weeks go by. Hints of a smile easing onto his face, smoothing out and softening the edges in a way they haven’t in a long time. Garnering some attention from the rest of the team, or whoever is in the vicinity that felt brave enough to mention it.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“No one,” Hotch would answer, schooling himself and pocketing his phone. “Just a consultant on a case.”

This is how it goes… for months.

They never speak on the phone. Never even hint at video calls. Never send pictures. (Although Spencer does make a mention once or twice about that promised video when Hotch finally gets around to attempting the ‘physics magic’ experiment he’d emailed him. Hotch secretly hopes that maybe, one day, Spencer will just get to show them in person. Instead of Hotch having to record it for anyone to witness.)

But they talk like clockwork. Play chess on the regular, allowing them to talk more fluently with a laptop to aid the flow of conversation. It starts with once a week, then twice a week, standing dates after hours that meld so seamlessly with their messages every workday. They keep it to the weekdays, at first, since Hotch is busy with Jack on the weekends. But that doesn’t last long. Suddenly, without warning -- it becomes every night as well. That shift is such an organic, natural progression, that it slips in without either of them making comment on it. A silent agreement, because mentioning it would mean admitting why they were pushing this in such a new direction.

They just… missed talking to each other. Two days was too long.

Now, it’s every day.

They text for hours; check in on each other at random throughout the day even when Hotch is on cases or Spencer is busy with his duties as the leading doctoral expert of Caltech. Times when they should be swamped, unavailable to anything other than their primary focus and work load, still littered with short messages. Before and after each flight, when Hotch gets back to his hotel at night, when Spencer has to lecture out of town and they just so happen to be passing each other during travel -- mere states away. So close, yet so far. It’s all the time, it’s constant, and it’s wonderful.

Spencer still helps with cases. Often, even more often than he ever helped the L.A. field office. But it’s not always through email, anymore. Sometimes it’s just easier for Hotch to shoot him a quick text. A detailed message in the middle of their everyday banter and dribble but no less out of place, knowing the good Doctor will answer him quickly. Time is of the essence when they are on a case, but they are always on retainer for each other. Waiting in the wings, ready to jump in with quick, snappy wit and bitten-back smiles, and Hotch feels so good. So light. Better than he has in years.

Happy.

Hotch is happy, finding a friend in Dr. Spencer Reid, even if sometimes that friendship seems to transcend layers he didn’t know were there. Developing into something else, something he hadn’t touched in a long, long time.

Months pass. Months. Like a blur. Like they’ve only just started this thing that’s anticipatory and comfortable and flexible in its medium and that is so easy -- everything Hotch needs in his life -- that he can barely imagine what his days and nights were like before this. Before Spencer.

But it’s months into this correspondence, this charged and bright thing, that he’s home late one night with a Scotch in one hand and a losing game of online chess long forgotten on his laptop screen. Lost in messaging Spencer, back to his phone instead of the chat feature of the chess game. Because texting is their comfort zone, now. He never thought it would be, had seen teenagers and adults attached to their phones like a lifeline and used to scoff about it, but he finally has begun to understand.

Because here he is -- not even looking up when he takes a drink -- lost in his conversation with Spencer. Making each other laugh, in a way he hasn’t in so long. Loud and high and afraid he might wake Jack down the hall so he stifles it with another sip of his Scotch.

[]9/8, 21:12[] If Jack wakes up, you know that’s it for us. He’ll never go back to sleep.

[]9/8, 21:13[] Then stop laughing so loud. I honestly can’t imagine you laughing enough to wake him.

[]9/8, 21:14[] Usually I don’t. I never laugh like this, but I used to.

[]9/8, 21:16[] Mr. FBI isn’t allowed to laugh, I thought. Didn’t they beat that out of you at the academy?

[]9/8, 21:19[] I was able to retain a smidgen of humor, it’s well hidden. You just seem to bring it out more than others.

[]9/8, 21:20[] I’m flattered.

[]9/8, 21:20[] You should be.

[]9/8, 21:21[] If my team saw me crack a smile I’d probably be forced to get a CAT scan.

[]9/8, 21:23[] Do you need one? I have an M.A. in Cognitive Sciences, I’ll be your second opinion.

[]9/8, 21:24[] Probably, but I’ll live.

[]9/8, 21:25[] Very stiff upper lip of you. They teach you that at the academy, too?

[]9/8, 21:26[] No, that would be Scotland Yard. I liaised there for a while.

[]9/8, 21:28[] Wow, you get around. Have you been anywhere else on your global exploration?

[]9/8, 21:31[] Hardly that, I just go where the bureau tells me. I’ve already been bounced all over the country before landing at the BAU. All you can do is keep the ‘stiff upper lip’ and adapt.

[]9/8, 21:31[] “Keep Calm & Carry On”?

[]9/8, 21:33[] Garcia gave me that on a mug last Christmas. I still don’t know what it’s from.

[]9/8, 21:34[] Your age is showing. Get with the times, old man.

[]9/8, 21:35[] You’re one to talk.

[]9/8, 21:35[] What?

Hotch bites back a smile, thinking about how for months he had been so sure Spencer was this elderly professor in his 60’s or 70’s that just happened to find their conversations interesting. That was… very apparently wrong, Hotch can see that now, but he hadn’t had any evidence to the contrary for the entire time they corresponded those first few months.

He could have done a background check on the professor at any time, is sure Garcia already has one saved in a file ready to send him at his first request, but it’s more fun this way. The not knowing, the learning about each other piece by careful piece. Even the smallest bits of information, such as age.

He bet Spencer would get a kick out of his first impression of the man, though.

[]9/8, 21:37[] Oh come on, you know.

[]9/8, 21:39[] No, I actually don’t. Congratulations, you’ve stumped the super genius.

[]9/8, 21:39[] But really, what do you mean?

[]9/8, 21:42[] I always just assumed you are at least ten years my senior, maybe even fifteen. How are you more with the times than I am?

[]9/8, 21:43[] I work at a University. I am surrounded by hormones and the dribble of youth.

There’s a slightly lengthy pause after that exchange, enough Hotch starts to pay closer attention through the buzz of liquor settled over his skin pleasantly.

[]9/8, 21:49[] How old do you think I am?

[]9/8, 21:50[] I don’t know, is it rude if I answer?

Hotch is not laughing to himself, he promises.

[]9/8, 21:52[] Why do you think I’m older?

[]9/8, 21:53[] This feels like a trap.

[]9/8, 21:53[] It’s not.

[]9/8, 21:56[] Well, honestly just from your academic achievements. Not everyone has that kind of time. And all your departments you run, you have to have a pretty level head and knack for maturity to keep that all in order. Especially doctorate students.

[]9/8, 21:58[] Thank you, I think.

[]9/8, 22:00[] I bet you’re the coolest old man on campus, though, don’t get me wrong.

Hotch does outright laugh after he sends that, manages to keep it a little bit quieter, and commends himself on having the upperhand in the conversation for once as he stares at his phone for a few minutes, awaiting an answer.

If he had to guess, Hotch supposes he’s held on to that stubborn image of Spencer being a stooped old professor out of habit. But the more the two have talked, after he'd gotten to know the man and his written verbal expressions and just the way his life runs day to day, it’s pretty easy to see that that is not correct. Spencer could be someone around Dave or Jason’s age, but more likely even younger than that -- closer to his own.

And that… is an intriguing thought that sparks something in his chest. He smothers it with another sip of Scotch and realizes that it has been a solid five minutes of silence. With Spencer not even typing out a response.

[]9/8, 22:06[] Was it something I said?

[]9/8, 22:07[] No, I’m just… contemplating my answer.

[]9/8, 22:07[] Answer to what?

Hotch hasn’t drank that much, but he doesn’t believe he asked a question at all. He scrolls back through their conversation and doesn’t see one. Spencer has asked a good handful, though, all about Hotch’s perception of his age.

Interesting.

[]9/8, 22:09[] Respond, not answer.

[]9/8, 22:10[] I’m all turned around now.

[]9/8, 22:12[] Flustered in your old age? Now I’m flattered.

This is almost like flirting. Skirts the edges of it, and Hotch feels more emboldened to try the more Spencer tap-dances around what is obviously Hotch’s incorrect assumption of his age. He had had no idea Hotch thought he was older, that is apparent, and it’s throwing the other man for a loop for some reason Hotch can’t ascertain.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not old.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not even older than you.

[]9/8, 22:16[] And how do you know that?

[]9/8, 22:17[] Just trust me on this.

[]9/8, 22:17[] Well, how old are you?

Another long, lengthy pause that Hotch waits for with baited breath. He knows that Spencer is there, that he’s staring at his phone and trying to decide the best way to answer without really answering anything. It’s only a matter of minutes, but that is a long time for them. When they are deep in a conversation like this.

Hotch isn’t laughing to himself anymore, but he’s more pleasantly confused than worried. He really has no idea what is making Spencer so hesitant.

[]9/8, 22:22[] Spencer?

[]9/8, 22:25[] I’m not going to tell you.

[]9/8, 22:26[] What, you want me to guess?

[]9/8, 22:28[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/8, 22:29[] That sounds like a challenge. How many guesses do I have?

[]9/8, 22:31[] None. Listen, I don’t want you to know. I shouldn’t have said anything.

[]9/8, 22:33[] I’m afraid it’s going to change your perception of me, and we’ll stop talking like this.

[]9/8, 22:34[] Just keep imagining me with wrinkles and a cane, I’m okay with that.

That drops the small smile right off his face.

Hotch is… surprised by this turn of events. What could be so shocking about this that Spencer thinks they would stop talking to each other? They’re corresponding every night. How could he possibly stop on a dime like that?

It doesn’t make any sense. And that’s not the alcohol talking.

[]9/8, 22:37[] I honestly don’t see how that would be possible.

[]9/8, 22:39[] I’m not going to stop talking to you just because you aren’t the senior professor I imagined running Caltech with an Iron Fist.

[]9/8, 22:40[] Now you’re projecting.

[]9/8, 22:40[] You saying I’m too strict?

[]9/8, 22:41[] Tyrant, I think was the term I chose.

[]9/8, 22:42[] Pretentious.

[]9/8, 22:44[] But Spencer, unless you are somehow underage with five Ph.D.’s, there’s no reason for us to stop talking.

[]9/8, 22:47[] You would not believe how many people treat me like I'm underage, to this day. So that doesn’t inspire confidence.

Hotch pauses with his glass halfway back to his lips, only a few sips left in the glass. Staring at his phone and struggling to make sense of what Spencer is saying. Hotch had been trying to joke and tease with him, but now the word ‘underage’ feels like a glaring beacon of a word on his screen.

He’s very suddenly more than a little nervous, even through the haze of alcohol. He is 45 years old, no matter what he keeps telling Spencer -- there is a limit to this being appropriate or not. What that limit is, he’d have to consider when he’s more sober, and it makes him feel like he should be reigning in the flirtatious notes that keep worming their way into the conversation.

But it’s not actually possible for him to be that young, and everything he’s learned about the man indicates he’s closer to his own age. Was he in his 30’s? Even that felt too young for what Hotch had (subconsciously) profiled -- no, it has to be something else.

No matter what, he didn’t want to keep getting Spencer worked up like this about it. His age hadn’t bothered Hotch before that night, so maybe if he drops it they can revert back to how they’d been spending their late evening hours before this turn in the conversation.

[]9/8, 22:50[] But I’m NOT underage.

[]9/8, 22:51[] If that needed to be said.

[]9/8, 22:53[] Can you buy alcohol by yourself?

[]9/8, 22:54[] Yes.

[]9/8, 22:54[] See this is what I was afraid of.

[]9/8, 22:55[] Relax, I was trying to tease you.

[]9/8, 22:57[] You don’t have to tell me, Spencer. I’ll just keep picturing Sean Connery, or John Steinbeck in the later years.

[]9/8, 22:59[] I see you have a type.

[]9/8, 23:00[] Well, who do you picture when you think of me?

[]9/8, 23:01[] Hugo Weaving, Matrix era. Or Richard Feynman.

[]9/8, 23:02[] Well now I feel typecasted. Who’s Feynman?

[]9/8, 23:02[] An American Theoretical Physicist from the 40’s-60’s.

[]9/8, 23:03[] Ouch. How old do you think *I* am?

[]9/8, 23:04[] I’m afraid to answer that.

[]9/8, 23:04[] O.u.c.h.

[]9/8, 23:06[] You’ve been borderline flirting with me, and you just said you thought I was in my 60’s! What was I supposed to think?

[]9/8, 23:07[] If you’re looking in that age bracket, I’m sure I can get you the Biology Department Head’s number.

[]9/8, 23:07[] He’s 72 with rheumatoid arthritis.

[]9/8, 23:08[] You are hysterical. So funny.

Hotch is smiling wide down at his phone again, feeling lighter and glad he got them back on track.

But…

He can’t help but think back to what he just tried to drop entirely. Blame the Scotch, or whatever drive to know that makes him dig down and root out information in cold cases in his spare time, Hotch doesn’t think he can let it go. Not when it was something Spencer hadn’t meant to be a secret in the first place. Not when, knowing that it has created misinformation between them unintentionally, results in Spencer shying away and hesitant to tell Hotch anything more about himself.

Not when he’d said ‘flirting’, because that had been what Hotch was doing, and he can’t even describe how disappointing it would be to quit while he was ahead. When the build up has been so gradual and easy and everything he’d been looking for and could never seem to find.

Now, this slight disruption is sticking in his mind, sharp like a thorn in his side. Always there, making itself known, and he wonders if he is lucid enough to try and draw the information out of Spencer via interview tactics -- or if the brilliant man would see right through any of his attempts.

Probably. Who was he kidding? Spencer had more degrees and college hours under his belt than Hotch could manage in a lifetime. Best to do this the old fashioned way, then.

[]9/8, 23:10[] 38.

[]9/8, 23:11[] Oh. Really? That’s kind of young to be Unit Chief, congratulations.

[]9/8, 23:11[] No, not me. You. I’m guessing 38.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Oh.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Incorrect.

[]9/8, 23:13[] I don’t even get a hint?

[]9/8, 23:13[] Nope.

[]9/8, 23:15[] We’re not playing a game. I’m not telling you.

[]9/8, 23:15[] So you won’t guess my age, either?

[]9/18, 23:17[] Chicken.

[]9/8, 23:17[] 45.

Hotch near throws his phone across the room. Almost makes a quip about how reading his file is cheating -- but he knows Spencer just made a stupidly accurate ‘educated guess’ because he knows fucking everything.

They really should just put him on the payroll. Hotch is being selfish keeping the man all to himself.

But God, is he enjoying it, too.

[]9/8, 23:19[] There’s no way you profiled that with that kind of accuracy.

[]9/8, 23:20[] How do you do that?

[]9/8, 23:21[] Black magic.

[]9/8, 23:22[] I’ll get it out of you one day, I swear.

[]9/8, 23:23[] And as a man of your word, I believe that you truly believe that.

[]9/8, 23:23[] Full of jokes tonight, aren’t you?

[]9/8, 23:25[] I live to amuse.

[]9/8, 23:25[] And make you smile.

[]9/8, 23:27[] You are one of the few that do.

With a careful pause, nothing left in his glass, a thought perched on the edges of his mind that is already watery with cognitive dissonance, Hotch starts typing before he’s even fully made the decision.

[]9/8, 23:30[] You really think my flirting is borderline? I was going for subtlety, but I must be rusty.

[]9/8, 23:32[] Actually, I just thought I was projecting.

[]9/8, 23:23[] You were married, I didn’t want to presume.

Oh.

The consideration is touching, and sobering even in the dimness of his home office, but it draws the softest of smiles back to Hotch’s face when he begins to type out his answer.

[]9/8, 23:35[] Thank you, for thinking of me first.

[]9/8, 23:37[] But Haley and I separated a long time before she died. We were actually divorced before she went into WICSEC. I miss her every day. But I did try to date for a while, before that.

[]9/8, 23:39[] No luck? I would have thought the FBI badge would at least garner some interest.

[]9/8, 23:40[] I’ve been told I’m intimidating.

[]9/8, 23:41[] I don’t think you are.

[]9/8, 23:42[] You will if you ever meet me. I’ve made underlings cry before without speaking a word.

[]9/8, 23:44[] The Hotchner stare. Have you coined that?

[]9/8, 23:45[] I should. It’s got a ring to it.

They banter and causally slip a few more… flirtatious comments in, and Hotch realizes it really isn’t that much different than before. That he had indeed been flirting with the man long before he knew his age. Which was odd, he didn’t typically go for older men and women. But now that he’s aware Spencer is younger than he thought, possibly even his own age (he swears he is, would put money on it if he could), somehow there’s more of a charge in their correspondence, a warmth and buzzing elation that has nothing to do with his Scotch. Especially now that it’s long gone.

It’s all Spencer, and how they compliment each other, and Hotch finds himself near giddy with that information.

He tries, towards the end of the night where it tips over into the early hours of the morning, to imagine an image of Spencer again -- and finds that he doesn’t even care to. He’s enamored with the man and his wit and the way he makes Hotch laugh without trying. How he looks, his age, it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not to Hotch.

But he is still curious why Spencer won’t reveal it. He can’t be that young.

[]9/9, 00:43[] You really won’t tell me?

[]9/9, 00:45[] Maybe one day. When I’m feeling brave.

[]9/9, 00:46[] Well, I’ll be there. Waiting.

[]9/9, 00:46[] 32.

[]9/9, 00:47[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/9, 00:48[] There’s only so many numbers.

[]9/9, 00:50[] Goodnight, Hotch.

[9/9, 00:51] Goodnight, Spencer.

(tbc...)

Tagged List: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

#I've read and rewritten this chapter so many times I'm starting to hate it #but it's super important so I hope it lives up to expectations #we get to all the good stuff after this #but the development here is something I've spent WEEKS trying to make realistic so #I hope you all enjoy it <3 #Chapter updates are Saturdays at 5pm EST #if you want in on the tag list just message me <3 #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting

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the-crows-typist · 4 years

Note

lemilia-san!! could i request a jamil x reader ficlet with the word “secure” please? thank you 🥺🥺

The Possibilities are Endless

“You're the strongest person I know.”

Quiet, calm, calculated, those were the words used to describe the vice dorm leader of the Scarabia dorm: Jamil Viper. He knew the exact time to act on a task, how to do it, and how to execute it perfectly. Some theorized that it was trained into him by being the ward of the Al-asim’s heir Kalim for many years but in reality, Jamil was just good at noticing things.

That’s why when the prefect of the Ramshackle dorm didn’t come in for a few days, he was one of the first people to notice it but he never made a move. It was too early, perhaps they just had the flu.

Three days later and Jamil noticed the familiar back of the prefect present from behind. They seemed healthy but...Something wasn’t right. He looked back to the board where Divus Crewel was writing important notes. “The heart of a magician often, if not always, affects the quality of magic.” He explained as he drew a caricature of a heart. “A heart struck with fear or anger can or may cause the quality of magic to be sporadic or out of control which, as a result, can cause a sudden increase of blot on your magical pen. A heart struck with sadness or pain often produces a bad quality and more energy is spent to try and stabilize it, be mindful that too much spent magic coupled with negative emotions can induce a state of overblot. That is why, my dear puppies, you must always maintain a levelled head.” His crop tapped his gloved hand and Jamil could feel the room become silent as the students heeded his warnings.

“Do not let your emotions overtake your magic. It will lead to consequences that are not easily reversed.”

The prefect was the last person out of the room that day with Crewel telling them to stay back and to explain their absences. Jamil stayed out of sight but within range to hear their conversation, he felt like his senior Rook but justified that his ‘spying’ was for the betterment of someone he had respect for.

“You’ve missed a week’s worth of school.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say for you falling behind by one week?” Crewel’s voice was void of his disappointment, Jamil observed, it was as if he was concerned for them. “One or two days, I understand but an entire week can throw you off. You and I both know that repeating a year is not easy.”

The prefect remained silent, their hands on their sides and their eyes never looking at the disappointed but concerned teacher. “Tell me what’s wrong. What happened?”

Jamil couldn’t see them stiffen under Crewel’s gaze, the bout of hesitance that washed over them the moment he asked. They couldn’t answer. “It’s personal, professor...It wouldn’t count as an excuse for my absences.” Fidgety, the prefect’s body hunched over and Divus had no other choice to but to send them away.

“I will be assigning you additional worksheets for you to answer so you can catch up. See to it that you have it finished by Friday.” There lied the voice of concern that a guardian would have for their child. Jamil leaned back against the wall as the prefect said their thanks and walked out of the room. Back hunched, eyes drooped, lips tight.

“Didn’t go so well, did it?” He asked, walking with them down the hall and to the cafeteria. “No.” Their voice was soft and quivering like a bird in a winter storm, begging for warmth in the onslaught of the frigid winds that howled through the white backdrop. Jamil noticed the sad gleam in their eyes.

It’s too early to act now.

“Come eat lunch with me.” He said with a smile gracing his lips. One that was disarming and oozing of kindness and understanding; a smile that someone could trust. “You look like you could use some company.”

Kalim was more than happy to accept a few new people to join him for lunch. The food he had smelled good and was cooked all by Jamil himself. “Jamil is a great cook, there’s no doubt about it.” A steamed bun was passed the prefect’s way. “Dig in, you can as much as you like.”

The prefect didn’t have much an appetite but ate the bun little by little; the seasoned meat coated their tongue and filled their senses. Jamil’s cooking was indeed good and slowly, they were starting to feel better.

Jamil caught the small smile on their lips and all he felt was relief.

“Jamil, can I ask you something?” The prefect suddenly asked, looking up from the worksheet they were working on. The two decided to spend their free time in the library and work on the sheets Crewel gave them, Jamil decided to tag along after Kalim said he’ll be taking extra hours to practice a song.

Jamil figured it was away to grant him alone time, Kalim has been doing that a lot recently.

“What is it?”

They put their pen down; it was a regular fountain pen with the absence of a jewel. Since they weren’t capable of magic, the school opted not to issue them one. The gold lining shined against the yellow light of the school’s library, bathing them in a comfortable atmosphere.

“I just want to know why you’re helping me,” They began.

“Does it matter who I choose to extend my help to?” He asked but soon regretted his tone when he saw the flash of fear pass the eyes of the prefect. Though hours have passed since their scolding, it still lay fresh on their mind.

“No, no, I don’t mean that I don’t appreciate it—“They backtracked, shaking their hands with a scared expression. “It’s just...We aren’t very close. The only time we ever talked was...Well, during that one winter break.”

He did not heed Crewel’s warning; he let his heart get the best of his magic and ended up hurting those he shouldn’t have hurt. He remembers the day his anger had gotten the best of him and he ended doing things that cost him the trust and love of others. He remembers the scared and scornful expressions of his dorm mates, Kalim’s promise to forgive him, and the prefect...Who visited any time they could just to check on him.

Somehow, no matter how short that visits were, it meant more to him than they realized.

Someone from the outside cared about him, not the vice dorm leader he made himself out to be.

“I respect you. It takes a lot of guts to survive four overblots.” Their eyes widened slightly. “You may not see it, prefect, but...You’re one of the strongest people in the school. Take it from me.”

“...You’re always so guarded with you words so to hear something so heartfelt,” A smile adorned their face, one close to tears and of immense gratitude. “It feels so comfortably weird.”

Jamil’s smile widened just a little bit, little by little he was gaining their trust and soon the worksheets were finished just before the portals could close. The two wished each other goodnight, Jamil hoped to see them the next day.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t see them the entire day after that. And just when he felt that he was getting somewhere with them; frustration bubbled within him and anger boiled, not anger at them but at himself. They cared about him but he couldn’t administer the same feeling back.

He was too secure with his feelings.

He waited too long.

He...

“Go to them, Jamil.”

Kalim’s smile opposed Jamil’s turmoil, the dorm leader patted his back. “I can handle myself without you. I’ll be alright. Go.” For all the years he’s been with Kalim, for all the times he was forced to look the other way to guarantee his enjoyment, it was only now that he noticed how vibrant his smile was.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“I can wait.”

Jamil ran from his post, looking for the person he cared for the most.

He was beginning to doubt if they were inside the school, he opened the gym door with a loud screech and took a step in. The usually well-lit and noisy building was now cool and silent. The ringing silence evoked a suspicious calm.

“Prefect?” He called out, walking further into the gym.

“Jamil..?” A door opened, the prefect’s head peaked out of the storage room. “There you are.” He ran towards them, a hand to their shoulder not long after. “I was so worried about you. Are you alright?”

“Why did you find me?”

His smile was warm and maybe a little offended at the question. “What kind of question is that? I care about you.”

The two camped inside the storage room, the prefect leaning against Jamil’s shoulder. “You’re not as secure as you once were...That smile said it all.” They commented, hands intertwined with his.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No...”

“...”

“It’s just...I just want to go home.” They began, eyes closed and snuggling closer to his shoulder. “I miss it.”

His arm went around their shoulder, squeezing comfortably. “You will.”

Jamil observed the prefect’s face for a moment and soon caught a smile of comfort amidst the tears that slipped out their secure mask. Little by little, their heart began to show and little by little, ink blots in their heart began to fizzle out in the arms of comfort.

#works from the typewriter #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil ficlets

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thelivebookproject · 3 years

Text

Talking Books With @bluebellraven!

[What is this and how can I participate?]

Important note: I haven’t changed or edited any of the answers. I’ve only formatted the book titles so they were clearer, but nothing else. Because I’m incapable of shutting up, my comments are between brackets and in italics, so you can distinguish them clearly.

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

[Image description: a square titled “Know the blogger”. Handle & pronouns: bluebellraven, she/her; country: Russia (currently living in the UK); three adjectives to describe her: curious, meticulous & funny /end]

1. What's a book you'd recommend to anyone visiting your country?

Russia is well-known for its classic literature, but in fact my very favourite Russian book - and the one I would recommend unfailingly - is a bit more modern than Tolstoy and co. It is Mikgail Bulgakov's Master and Margarita - such a deep exploration of my country's recent past, mixed with religious matters, but at the same time funny, quirky and irreverent. Although I would add that it has flavorful prose that isn't easily translated, so for anyone speaking the language absolutely worth reading in original, and probably requires some understanding of the Soviet history to not get confused by the narrative... I'll add another book (or rather trilogy) here that I love to the Moon and back for its interpretation of Russian culture, and that was written with a modern western reader in mind - Winternight Trilogy by Katherine Arden. This is a phantasmagorical retelling of historical events; all the kudos to the author for capturing the feel of our fairytales so perfectly.

[I’ve seen the Winternight Trilogy recommended enough times that I know at some point I’ll read it. I just can’t escape it. It’s my fate.]

2. Last book you've read that had such a beautiful prose it should be engraved somewhere?

I loved the language in Emily St John Mandel's Station Eleven. It just grabs you by the collar and drags you all the way through the book. Although being an account of a destructive pandemic, it might be a bit too relevant to read right now...

3. Do you do read-alongs?

I'm afraid not! Since I'm in academia, my workload can be sporadic, which makes planning for free time difficult; plus I tend to enjoy doing stuff at my own pace.

4. How do you decide which books go on your TBR? Are there any deciding factors?

I don't really have a streamlined process here. Often I see a recommendation online, or a plot outline that resonates with me, and check the book out on book-reviewing platforms (I don't really look at the rating, but rather at the downsides that people list most frequently and whether they are deal-breakers for me). One of the good sources of book recs for me is BookRiot - I love their bookish newsletters; some recs come from Tumblr or my friends, or drift in unexpectedly from the wider universe, triggered by non-book-related stuff.

5. Which is the fictional universe you'd NEVER want to live in?

This is probably an unpopular opinion, but I have never wanted to live in any fictional universe! As messed-up as it is, the real world is what we have, and although stories are absolutely fundamental to who we are as humans, I've always seen them as a sort of part of this reality. If I look at fictional universes in real-life detail, they tend to lose their appeal! Maybe one universe that does tempt me is the His Dark Materials worlds of Philip Pullman - how cool would it be to never be lonely?.. Pretty much all other fictional places are a Nope for me!

Free space!

I don't have much to say in the free space that readers don't already know... Fiction is such a unique thing, and I'm happy it exists in the world. Maybe just this: if you love to read but haven't tried writing your own stuff - give it a go! Making stories can be even more rewarding than reading them.

I feel very lucky to have a community of readers that is booklr - (see) (hear) read (?) you guys soon, and happy reading!

You can follow her at @bluebellraven.

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

Thank you so much! This was lovely.

Nex interview: Saturday, 10th of April

#talking books with #booklr #thelivebookproject #april 2021

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medea10 · 3 years

Text

My Review of Flowers of Evil

How did I get into this anime? Because Flowers of Evil is something no one says, “Oh I want to see that, this looks like a masterpiece”! Oh, I was well familiar with the rotoscope nightmare stories from this and hoped to God my randomizer wouldn’t curse me with watching Flowers of Evil. I was however intrigued to learn that there was a yandere in this anime that’s on Yuno Gasai AND Shion Sonozaki levels. But intrigue can only get me so far when you spend 13 episodes watching…

THIS!

No this is not an exaggeration. Everyone has this kind of cringe face throughout the entire anime series. Be afraid children.

So the story is about this guy named Takao Kasuga. He loves to read and he loves the class smarty-pants Nanako Saeki. He doesn’t just love her, he sees her as his muse and his Venus and all that bullshit. But this is an admiration from afar. Pretty sure Saeki doesn’t even know he exists! One day, Kasuga forgets his book in his classroom. And on the ground, he notices a gym bag that belongs to Saeki. Oh come on, he’s not gonna go down the perverted route and steal a girl’s gym…

So he steals Saeki’s gym uniform. And surprise, one person knew what happened. The class loner, Nakamura! She forces Kasuga to form a contract with her. It wasn’t written or anything, just verbal. However, that doesn’t stop Nakamura from forcing Kasuga to do whatever she wants. But does Nakamura really like Kasuga or is she just into torturing this shit-faced pervert?

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: You know, I’m too thrown off by the animation here that it has temporarily paralyzed me from catching voices or even giving a damn. I’m familiar with only two of the cast mates and the rest is literally my first time hearing it. Okay, I have one comment here. I often forget Mariya Ise could do some damn-ass scary characters like Nakamura. And when she does those murderous screams, forget about it! Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Kasuga is played by Shinichirou Ueda

*Saeki is played by Yoko Hikasa (known for Bea on Pokemon Journeys, Rias on High School DxD, Mio on K-ON!, Hina on Domestic Girlfriend, Kirigiri on Danganronpa, Frieda on Attack on Titan, and Diana on Little Witch Academia)

*Nakamura is played by Mariya Ise (known for Bonnie on Pokemon XY, Levy on Fairy Tail, Ray on The Promised Neverland, Stocking on Panty & Stocking, Mika on Durarara, Dorothy on Black Clover, and Yuuko on Yuri on Ice)

SHIPPING: Oh please, anime Gods, do not turn this into another School Days fiasco. I find myself praying for this a lot these days. But in this anime’s case, please do not go down that route!

So, it was clear from episode one that Kasuga had a crush on Saeki. But this got very perverted very fast when he stole her gym clothes and that lead to the contract with Nakamura. Now is Nakamura romantically invested in Kasuga or is she just a crazy bitch. Let’s chalk this up to a 50-50 split here.

It wasn’t until the fourth episode where Kasuga and Saeki actually spoke to each other. And one episode later, they go on a date and end up in a relationship. One has to wonder if Kasuga would have one day acted on his own and ask Saeki out. All of this happened because he was being forced by that psychopath Nakamura. She tortured this kid and forced him to do so many unethical things. Stripping him naked and putting Saeki’s uniform on him for one! Who does that? So would Kasuga have done these sporadic actions if Nakamura wasn’t in the picture? After he stole that uniform, anything is possible. Now here’s the crazy shit here, Saeki loves Kasuga and she doesn’t care that he stole her gym uniform and did fuck-knows-what with it. She’s mad that Kasuga hid it, but still loves him.

Girl, the fuck is wrong with you?! You must be some special kind of crazy!

By the end of this series, you do see a shift in Kasuga and who he wants to chase after. Saeki or Nakamura?! Let’s just say that during a running away scene, Kasuga was going to go home with Saeki until he saw Nakamura and he chases after her. That’s a pretty good sign that Kasuga has switched gears on who he likes. I won’t delve any further than that as the anime only gives us so much and the rest of this love turmoil between these three characters is covered only in the manga. Probably a sign I should read the manga!

LOOOOOONG NO DIALOGUE MOMENTS: Dude, I know you’re trying to set the mood for certain moments, but I think you can dial it back a bit. This complaint isn’t just what happened at the beginning of episode 9; it took forever to get the main gist of this story in the very first episode. I had no idea what the main premise of the story was until the last five minutes of the first episode when Kasuga stole Saeki’s gym uniform.

Now I’m not knocking serious moments where there is no dialogue between characters for a long period of time and we just watch the animation of them walking or doing something. Hell, Neon Genesis Evangelion had famous scenes like that. But the elevator scene didn’t last six fucking minutes. Neither did the scene where Shinji kills Kaowru. In episode 9, we watch Nakamura and Kasuga walking from the school to home and watch the whole walk after destroying the classroom. I guarantee you, you could leave this episode running, fix yourself a bowl of cereal and toast, eat it up, go to the bathroom to have a good yank, then finish it off with watching a Che Guevara documentary…and Nakamura and Kasuga would still be walking home! I’m exaggerating and I don’t care. I feel like being an asshole here.

OH DEAR GOD, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!: Very rarely will I ever look at an opening or ending theme song in literal fear. In fact, the last one to be so morbid was with Attack on Titan’s second season ending. I mean, the imagery alone should tell you that this is full of spoilers and possessed by the devil itself. Now that I think about it, that’s still undefeated. But Flowers of Evil’s ending theme is a close fucking second. Have you heard this thing? It sounds like Bjork singing in Japanese, synthesized, while a cat walks on a keyboard and having a seizure at the same time. Thank God there are no actual visuals for this other than the flower featured on Kasuga’s book. I don’t think we can handle anymore animation from this nightmare fuel.

ENDING: The writing is on the wall!

And the floor, the ceiling…that classroom is just a fucking mess!

Kasuga’s one bad deed led to another and another in a domino effect. And instead of a little devil on his shoulder, he has a classmate that’s a sociopath. Kasuga has guilt about hiding so much from Saeki in this relationship and he wants to tell her everything he did. Nakamura says, “Nah, you’re going to write it all over the classroom and let the whole world know what a piece of shit you are”. Let’s just say Nakamura and Kasuga went overboard and completely destroyed their classroom. Kasuga gets a bit of a lucky break as the other vandalism covered up his name on the chalkboard confession. But two people have caught onto Kasuga’s crime, Saeki and Kasuga’s mother.

Saeki put two and two together when she noticed the ink smearing on the ground resembled the flower art work on Kasuga’s book “Flowers of Evil” and her stolen gym uniform was placed right there. As for Kasuga’s mother, she put two and two together when she heard what happened to his classroom and noticed Kasuga’s behavior and dirty clothes from the night of the crime. Won’t be long before everyone knows what Kasuga did.

What now, shit-face?

Run away with Nakamura to the next town. Yeah, why the fuck not?! Saeki ends up tracking them down and tried to convince them to come back and for Kasuga to be truthful. Saeki wants Kasuga and I almost want to say the same, except hanging around this psycho-bitch for a while has caused him to try to stop Nakamura from leaving. Having Saeki see Kasuga go after Nakamura isn’t really a good look! At this point, it really feels like his love for Saeki was nothing more than lust.

Dude, isn’t there a rule about not messing with crazy…like, don’t stick your dick in crazy?! This dude has got one crazy bitch on psycho-yandere levels and the other that’s about to turn into Kotonoha from School Days in about five seconds. Well, no one left town today as the police were called to look for Saeki because her parents are overprotective types and they take the other kids in.

We get a small time-leap of one month after the night in the police station. Nakamura’s been ignoring Kasuga and Kasuga ends his relationship with Saeki. Dude, stop trying to stick your dick in crazy! Kasuga tries to speak to Nakamura again and it fails. So he visits her at home and meets Nakamura’s father and grandmother. Then, he sneaks into her room and reads her private journal that talks about Kasuga a lot. Dude, you are stepping in uncharted territory! Drop the journal and get the fuck out before Nakamura comes home. So Nakamura comes in her room and finds shit-face reading her journal.

*sighs*

First, I would like to acknowledge that Mariya Ise has one hell of a throat to scream as much as this crazy bitch does. Second, the fuck did I just say, ya dumbass?! Here we get another chase scene between Kasuga and Nakamura. What follows is…I can’t place my thoughts on this. Weird imagery, out of place dialogue, and possible scenes of future stuff to happen! A rape scene involving Saeki, a festival, a hideout, a knife, and fire! Thanks for the cryptic message guys, really appreciate it! Either the anime ran out of money or they’re fucking with the audience. Kasuga says he wants to form a contract with Nakamura and that’s the end!

Hmm, this anime came out in 2013 and it is now 2021. All the buildup and no word on a sequel! We all know that sequel ain’t ever coming. You have a better chance of a continuation to Haruhi Suzumiya than you do with this hunk of shit.

Okay, maybe ‘hunk of shit’ is too mean. This wasn’t a terrible anime. It was weird as fuck, the animation leaves a bad impression, but overall it wasn’t that bad. Now the manga to Flowers of Evil is a favorite to many. Probably because the characters don’t look like a cringey meme and there aren’t so many awkward pauses with no dialogue. Unless there’s a whole volume of Flowers of Evil out there where we just look at pictures of Nakamura and Kasuga walking home where they don’t say a fucking thing! I am not letting that go! Charlie Brown movies didn’t go to that level you guys did!

I was interested with each passing episode to see what Nakamura was going to do next and what she was capable of. I couldn’t make out if she was going to be homicidal or suicidal or just impact psychological warfare on her prey. It was the latter for this series, but I heard of some attempted seppuku going down in the manga. I’d like to think maybe one day a different studio would pick up this series, but I seriously doubt it with the rotten reception this adaptation received. It was said that the director to the anime saw this more as a live-action series than an anime and that’s why we have the rotoscope animation. It wasn’t until 2019 that we got a live-action adaptation to Flowers of Evil. Not sure how people felt about that adaptation, but even I have a feeling that it was much better than the anime. Hell, a Netflix adaptation probably would have turned out a better product. It would be nice for this to get a reboot, different studio, different director, and smash everything that has the word ‘rotoscope’ on it

Yeah, if you can get over watching the animation, give it a watch. Episode one drags, but it picks up the second Nakamura confronts Kasuga.

If you would like to watch Flowers of Evil, Crunchyroll and Hidive have all 13 episodes available for streaming.

Okay, now that I’m finished with that sociopathic nightmare let’s pick another Sentai Filmworks anime.

HELL NO! I am not reviewing, “My Teacher Accidentally Made Me Horny”. That’s what I’m calling it and you should all do the same. NEXT!

Okay…I have no idea what the hell this anime is, but it looks harmless enough.

#anime review #flowers of evil #aku no hana #takao kasuga #nanako saeki #sawa nakamura

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hatake-no-sharingan · 3 years

Text

A Well Loved Copy (PART 3: Darkness swallows us)

Kakashi x Reader

Story Summary: Your cozy life as a bookseller is disturbed when a box of the worst books you could ever imagine arrives at your store, and with them a certain silver haired ninja to whom you are definitely not attracted.

PART 1 PART 2

Chapter summary: Kakashi goes on a mission, but things don't go as planned. Injured, and with his chakra almost gone, he has a strange dream that might change something in him.

Relationship: Kakashi x Reader

Warnings: Mentions blood and injuries

A/N: Hi guys! I know I'd promised to update this story every week or two weeks, but I've had a few things on my hands lately. I might take longer to update, but rest assure, I will finish the story (I have everything plotted already :) <3 This chapter was a bit hard to write, but it's necessary for the development. I hope you enjoy it, and I'll try to update again as soon as I can. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts.

P.S. This chapter is parallel to Part 2, it's just from Kakashi's POV so you know what's going on while Y/N is waiting for him at the bookstore.

Special thanks to my amazing editor @seventh-line Thanks to her hard work, this thing is readable. <3 I hope you enjoy it.

IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST: CLICK HERE

Darkness swallows us

There was blood. So much blood. He was supposed to be used to it. He thought he was. Before him was a sea of red, adorned with a few colorful spots sporadically distributed across the landscape. Were those in his mind?

He certainly felt lightheaded, and perhaps a bit cold. There was a dull ache somewhere in his body, but he couldn’t pinpoint the spot.

As he tried to raise his left arm, a sharp pain in his shoulder let him know the blood belonged to him. Maybe he was even injured in other places he wasn’t yet aware of, the blood was far too much for a simple gash on his shoulder.

He tried to get past the pain, gaining more awareness of his body trying to sense the usual buzz of chakra. It was almost gone too, he felt it slipping just like his consciousness.

He didn’t panic, however. His encounters with death had been one too many, he could almost say they were part of the job. He and pain, were now old friends.

Instead, he shut his eyes gently and let his head roll back, crashing with the soft grass.

He stood in front of the bookstore, the one he’d visited a while ago, in the search of the new edition of Icha Icha. Sunlight struck his eye violently. It took a few moments to adjust to the brightness

He looked inside the store, looking for her amongst the piles of “New arrivals” “Hottest summer reads” and “All time favorites”. She was there, arranging another pile. A gentle frowning on her face, forehead creased in concentration. She was so careful with each copy, placing them in a beautiful pyramid shape, akin to the others. He couldn’t see the title of the books she was arranging, but they were surely ones she cared for, based on the way she delicately handled them.

He observed her quietly, enjoying her calm movements. It must have been hot inside, because her cheeks started flushing, despite that, Kakashi felt cold.

A sudden urge to go inside hit him. He reached for the door handle, but his hand slipped right through. He tried again, but it seemed as if he was made of nothing. Just thin air.

From the inside, she lifted her gaze towards him, with a look of recognition, and he felt a wave of relief.

He made a move to open the door, however his hand passed right through the handle once more.

Then her expression changed abruptly, as she stared beyond Kakashi, as though he wasn’t there. Her eyes widened, fear written all over her delicate features.

Heart pounding, Kakashi turned around to see what had scared her, but saw nothing, just the plain old buildings.

She made panicked gestures towards Kakashi from the inside, and mouthed some words he couldn’t hear. It seemed like something important. there was a desperation in every move she made.

Confused, he tried again, only to watch his fingers slip through the handle for a second time.

She urged him to come in, her hands waving rapidly in front of him.

Now he was getting desperate. His head felt odd, almost as if he had stopped breathing seconds ago, and was experiencing a lack of oxygen.

The bookseller’s face contorted with pain, and Kakashi saw that ribbons of darkness were wrapping around her body, consuming her.

He tried to call out, scream her name, but there was nothing there.

Seconds later, darkness had swallowed them both.

He awakened with a jolt.

His heart was beating so fast, like it was trying to escape his chest. He took a gulp of air and was satisfied to feel the way it filled his lungs. He studied his surroundings and it seemed he was alone, in the middle of a forest. His body felt drained, and his head still felt cloudy, so he closed his eyes again.

“Kakashi Sensei?” Said a familiar voice.

“Is he awake?” a deeper voice asked

“I don’t know, I thought I saw him move”

“I don’t think he’s awake”

“Kakashi Sensei, can you hear us?”

Kakashi nodded slightly, eyes still closed due to the sickness, though he know recognized the voices as Kurenai’s three students.

“Try not to move much, Sensei. I’ll go fetch Sakura, Hinata stay here with him. Make sure he’s okay.”

"Yes, of course"

Hinata sat next to him and kept quiet. Her silence was very much appreciated by the tired jonin.

He must’ve fallen asleep again, because when he regained consciousness, Sakura and the Godaime were staring down at him.

“Oh good. You’re awake. I’ve cleaned most of your serious wounds and given you medicine. All that you need to do now is rest so you can restore your chakra.”

The hospital’s cold atmosphere gave him a strange sense of serenity. He didn’t know how he got here, hopefully he hadn’t been too much of a burden on the team.

“Now that we know he’ll survive, tell me, Sakura. What went wrong?” Asked Tsunade as she finished wrapping one last bandage around Kakashi’s arm wound.

The mission was supposed to be simple. Locate and report. He’d done it so many times, and this time, he had a really good team with him. Team 8 and Sakura had come to help him find one of Orochimaru’s rumored hideouts. With their talents as trackers, they managed to find the location quickly, however, they weren’t expecting to be met with a dozen of Orochimaru’s experiments, led by none other than Kabuto.

The kids were good fighters, but the odds weren’t in their favor with the enemy doubling their own numbers. Kakashi’s instincts had kicked in, so he put himself between the young shinobi and Orochimaru’s men, if one could even call them human. Kakashi took them all out, though it had come at a great cost.

His chakra reserves were almost emptied, and his wounds had caused him to lose too much blood. That’s how he ended up here.

Kakashi was deemed unfit to fill out the mission report, due to his injuries, a silver lining in this mess. Sakura meticulously explained everything to the Godaime, turning in a beautifully written, and extremely detailed report, unlike the one he would’ve done.

His time in the hospital went by excruciatingly slow. He had a few visits, none very interesting since they all lasted at the most 5 minutes. Everyone was busier, and not even Gai had had the time to entertain him as usual. Kakashi had been desperate to get out of there.

The only thing that seemed to occupy his mind, was the image of the bookseller, as he flipped through the pages of his book. However, that too left him uneasy, as he recalled the images he had seen in his delirium. Whenever he pictured her, a deep fear gripped his heart, as he was reminded of the darkness he’d seen swallow her. Nightmare or not, he needed to get out and see her.

———-

Kakashi was discharged from the hospital two weeks later, just in time or he would’ve attempted an escape.

He now stood in front of the bookstore again. His hand shook as he grasped the handle, but immediate relief hit him when he made contact with the warm metal. He sighed, and pushed the door open, eager to see the face that had haunted his dreams.

"Hello, welcome to Red Leaf Bookshop. Can I help you with anything?" Called out a petite woman from behind the counter. His stomach sank when he realized, it wasn’t whom he’d been looking for.

Taglist: @incorrect-titans-quotes @iwanttobesomeone @galaxydefenderjulia@artlovingloser @sachi-sims @savemefromthispayne @maimori @alexanderlightwoodii @mazakiackerman @tshuuls @aubraella @kleklerosa @theunknownrandom

#naruto #naruto fic #naruto imagines #kakashi hatake #kakashi imagines #kakashi x y/n #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi fic #kakashi headcanons #kakashi #kakashi sensei #a well loved copy

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

Natasha x Romanoff : Escape

Summary: The Red Room haunts you, from the moment you stepped foot inside to long after you’ve left. Truth is, you don’t think there is any escaping it.

Warnings: 18+ Violence, Depression, Mentions of Death, Smut

!!Final Chapter!!

Chapter 16

******

Three broken bones.

They’d need to be reset and wrapped but due to your enhanced abilities they would heal quickly.

For now though they sit under an ice pack.

While you’re use to damage being done to your body in combat, the last circumstance you expected to be injured in was holding your wife’s hand.

Natasha had gripped your hand with not a single regard to the pained expression on your face and you’d paid very little attention to the damage she had done. Between her screams and the doctors calmed words you couldn’t care less.

Even after she had let it go and slumped in exhaustion you worked through the pain. With the sounds of your child crying, you hurry to the foot of the bed, picking up the scissors as instructed and cut the umbilical chord.

Now you watch as the doctor and nurses follow the basic procedure of weighing and cleaning your baby, and also attending to Natasha.

Part of you feels a little useless as you stand to the side but more than anything you’re happy and concerned, slightly nervous. You really just want to hear that your wife will recover properly and that your baby is in perfect health.

As you wait for the nurses to finish up, you run the cool damp rag over your wife’s forehead, wiping away the sweat that had built up. You place a gentle kiss on her head, brushing away almost dried tears and loose strands of hair.

“I’m so proud of you lyubov moya, I love you so much.” You whisper praise and honest words into her hair.

Natasha gives a sleepy smile to you,“ I love you too.” She sighs, eyes closing.

Her rest hasn’t even begun before the nurses are stepping over with your baby.

“Congratulations on your healthy baby girl.” The nurse speaks through the mask.

She eases your little girl into the open arms of your teary eyed wife. They both handle the baby with care and gentleness, treating her as if she’s porcelain. She’s more precious than that and you know it, which is what makes you even more nervous.

During the pregnancy you had done everything you could to care for the baby and Natasha. Making sure Natasha ate properly and was equally as active as she was relaxing. Staying awake a littler longer than Natasha to ensure she remained comfortable and in the proper position while asleep.

All of that still hadn’t prepared you for this moment. Nothing truly could have but that’s usually the case.

“Y/N,” swallowing, you focus on your wife as she sits up to hand your daughter to you.

That phrase repeats itself in your head as you accept her.

Your daughter. You make sure her head is rested properly on your arm.

Your daughter. You press her close to your chest to ensure she’s warm and safe.

Your daughter.

A soft, almost inaudible coo escapes her lips. She just barely wiggles in your arms. And then those little eyes open.

When those emerald orbs stare back at you it’s an other worldly feeling. The emotions that swirl through your chest explode and fill you from head to toe.

It was undeniable that Natasha’s green eyes could motivate you to move mountains. For the same green eyes that belonged to your daughter, you swore you would move the universe.

“She has your eyes.” You breathe.

Natasha chuckles softly, mesmerized by the sight of you.

The red head remembers every bit of your panic and nervousness the months prior to this.

Staying up for hours reading pregnancy and child care books. Scurrying through the house to child proof every inch of it. Waking up in the middle of the night just to run your fingers over her stomach and make sure she and the baby were okay.

Admittedly Natasha had felt a little guilty during her pregnancy. There wasn’t a moment that you weren’t by her side. You attended to her cravings and the sporadic changes in her body, whether she was in pain or she needed you to fuck her into oblivion, without a second thought.

With each symptom that came with each trimester you adjusted and did everything in your power to be there for Natasha and ultimately your child. And she didn’t miss the sleepiness that lingered in your eyes or the tired sighs you let out every so often.

It brought the woman to tears more often than she’d like to admit, most times resulting in you trying to comfort her, which just made her cry more. She genuinely felt as if she was asking too much of you.

But you reassured her, after she finally broke and told you how she was feeling, that you would do it all again in an instant(part of you thinking of the chance of you having to do it again should you both decide to have another child) because you love her and your baby.

Every little move and decision you had made, despite your worry and doubt in yourself, you’d done it all because you love her and your daughter, and it all lead to this moment.

Right now, with your daughter cradled to your chest and love radiating off of you, Natasha knows that you’re going to be the greatest mother.

In the passing hours you both easily lose yourselves in her presence. Even as the nurses come in and out of the room to check on you all, has you sign all the necessary papers, and guide Natasha with breastfeeding, you remain completely entranced by the tiny human.

So much so that you’d forgotten about your friends and family out in the waiting room. One look at the clock reveals that they had indeed been waiting for ten hours.

Before you do anything you check with Natasha. If she says she’s too tired you’ll tell them to go home until she’s ready. But the excitement of seeing her family meet her daughter keeps her awake.

Fingers wringing together in excitement and remaining waves of nervousness, you step out the room and walk down the hall.

No one notices you at first, giving you a moment to take in all the support you and Natasha have.

The large waiting room is nearly full of Avengers and friends alike. Right beside the door sits the Captain himself clutching an adorable brown teddy bear. The three chairs beside him are occupied by the Starks: Tony sips from a cup of coffee with his arm thrown over his daughter, who is holding a slightly used white bunny rabbit with her mother on her opposite side.

Along the wall opposite the door sits the Bartons. Clint’s leg bounces up and down, Laura’s hand placed on the still one. Their children sit beside each other on Laura’s side, an assortment of balloons and flowers with them.

Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Carol, and Peter sit in the center of the room, the first holding a gift basket as a bag sits beside Carol’s foot. Lastly, seated behind them across three chairs is Bruce. It’d been years since you’d seen him in normal human form but it doesn’t surprise you that he chose this particular occasion to down size.

Making yourself known, you step into view. You’d never seen the group of heroes move so quickly before. They gather around you, an array of questions flying from their lips that causes you to smile.

“Calm down guys please.” Despite them shutting up, you still see the way they physically can’t calm.“ I am pleased to announce the birth of our perfectly healthy baby girl, Annalise Romanoff-Y/L/N.”

The nurses are not happy with the cheer that bursts over the group and you’re quick to silence them.

From there you bring back a few people at a time. The first group of course being Clint, Steve, and Tony.

You enjoy seeing the big bad super solider get so nervous when Annalise is placed in his arms, you imagine that’s how you look if not more nervous when you hold her. And of course Clint and Tony handle her with the care of that of a father.

The next group is Pepper, Morgan, Laura, Wanda, and Carol. Pepper and Laura, while very much in love with Annalise already, spend more time than the others checking in with Natasha. Which is to be expected, they’re the only ones who truly understand how wracking this all has been for Natasha.

In groups of three, the last of your visitors come in. All of which want to hold your daughter. Except for Bucky, Morgan, and little Nathaniel. Truthfully you weren’t too sure about letting Peter hold her as he was more than a little nervous, you didn’t want the jumpy boy to drop your daughter so you sat him down before handing her over.

Like all things, visitation comes to an end. Natasha loses her last bits of strength to stay awake and after another feeding she and Annalise are asleep.

Of course you are tired, you’d woken up at three in the morning and have been alert and slightly on edge for ten hours. Still you stay awake, eyes spending equal amounts of time looking at your wife and daughter.

Standing guard in the hospital room probably wasn’t necessary and you definitely need the sleep but you’ve already vowed in yourself to give anything for your girls. And it starts right now.

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

“Heads up Mama!”

Looking up at the sound of your wife’s voice, you catch the sight of your little girl quickly coming your way. You set down your drink, stand up, and scoop her into your arms.

“What can I do for you little miss?” You ask, earning a toothy grin from her.

She buries her face in your neck seeing Natasha walk over, mumbling,“ want juice pop.”

Your wife rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, a smile instantly taking over her face.

“Have I missed something?” You look from your daughter to your wife.

The older redhead nods,“ yes in fact you have. She wanted a snack and I pulled out her carrots and she took off toward you hoping to get a juice pop.”

There’s no denying that Annalise has both you and Natasha wrapped around her little fingers, and at the young age of three she knows exactly who to go to to get what she wants.

You give Natasha a pout,“ awe, come on mommy, one little juice pop won’t hurt.”

Hearing that you’re on her side, Annalise sits up and looks at you, before pouting at Natasha as well,“ pease mommy. One little juice pop?”

“I’m a highly trained secret agent and you two think pouts is going to make me crack?” She looks from your e/c eyes to the green eyes of your daughter.

One glance at each other and you’re looking at her with pouts and puppy dog eyes.

“Fine!” Her hands go up in surrender,“ you can have juice pops.”

The two of you waste no time going to get the sugary snacks, Annalise making sure to bring back a strawberry one for your wife as Natasha deemed it her favorite.

It had taken years, for things to finally start to settle. Rebuilding the world takes time, and despite the progress there is still much to be done. But with the compound having been completely redone(with more safety precautions installed than there were to protect the state) the team decided it was time to relax.

With today being ultimately rare, as no one was off on a mission or working in general, Tony called for a picnic at the compound.

Gentle breezes pass through the large field, rustling the surrounding trees and wafting the nearby aromas: smoky scents of cooking meat from the grill, natural fruity tones from the table of healthy snacks and the contrasting sugary scents of the desert table.

Obvious sounds of happiness fill the air. Childish shrieks and squeals come from the bounce castle that the Barton children, Morgan, and Peter occupy. Boisterous laughter from the super soldiers, God, and soldier who stand around the drink coolers. A harmless altercation between Tony and Bruce being instigated by Clint, Happy and Rhodey, that is quickly broken up by their wives as they head over to join Wanda and Carol under the shade.

In this moment, watching all your friends spend the day together and seeing your daughter messily feed your wife a strawberry juice pop, you feel lighter than you ever have.

As a child you were taught that love is for children. Growing up you were trained and made to be a weapon. You’d done horrible things to people both good and bad. And for majority of your life you believed you were destined to do the bidding of the people who enslaved you, destined to live in the darkness you grew accustomed to.

Throughout that darkness there were shimmers of light, sprinkles of hope, and glimpses of a better future.

Natalia had illuminated the darkness that the Red Room subjected you to, little moments together showing you that love isn’t for children.

Natasha pulled you from the shadows HYDRA casted over you, proving that there’s more to you than the bad you’d done for them.

Misses Y/L/N-Romanoff opened the door to a future of happiness you thought to be unattainable.

Each alias belonging to and assisting in the creation that is the woman that single handedly changed your entire life. The woman that loves you unconditionally, that introduced you to the large group of people you call your friends, and gave you your daughter, a gift beyond your wildest dreams.

For the first time ever, with your family and friends surrounding you, you’d felt truly at peace. The demons of your past no longer loomed over you. You’d escaped the darkness they trapped you in. And nothing could mass the love and happiness it brings you.

******

Taglist: @thelastavenger-3000 @aaron-despair @messuhp@izalesbean @bvb-bk @username23345 @sighsam@confusinggemini612 @natasha-danvers @rileigh519@higherfurther-romanova @dynnealberto

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow x reader #black widow #marvel x reader #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu #reader insert #Escape

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years

Note

Hi! Could you please write hcs on yakuza Johnny, Gyro, Diego, and Giorno’s ‘weak spots’? Like things their S/O can do that would make them melt? Hopefully I’m not bugging you, haha

Hello anon~! Of course I can~! hehe I hope you enjoy these hcs~! And sweet pea, you’re not bugging me at all~! I’m just ecstatic that so many people enjoy this AU~! ;; <3

Now, since this one doesn’t have a specified reader type, I’ll go ahead and work with a Underling!Reader ~!

» » Admin Ko

ᴍᴇʟᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ; ɢʏʀᴏ ; ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ ; ɢɪᴏʀɴᴏ | [𝕁𝕁𝔹𝔸] Yakuza!AU | Head Canons

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴊᴏᴇꜱᴛᴀʀ

First and foremost, some background with this relationship. Johnny never anticipated to feel the way he does for another person, more or less an underling of all people. Though he has his distrust for all their underlings, he keeps a majority of those opinions to himself-- rather he tries to.

However, his world is thrown for a loop when he meets her. Despite being an underling, her absolute drive and motivation to accomplish her duties was something he couldn’t really keep his eyes off of. Eventually, they end up together. Johnny becoming a smidgen more interested in the work all the underlings do to help keep the business afloat.

He won’t lie when he’s playing favorites, he’ll be distinctively clear on that. Those who work hard and have strong loyalties to the Joestar family are the ones he has a... in a sense, kinder eye to.

With time, he ends up going on more missions with her; to observe or to mock no one would ever really know, but least to say the pair grew quite close in that aspect; and no matter how much coaxing he tried, he couldn’t get her to budge from the position she choose for herself.

Now then, our reader has had an ample amount of time to observe and understand the little ticks of Johnny, and even more so once they’re officially together. It’s easy to say that within Johnny’s faction, if he happens to have a large amount of pent up rage, she’s the first to be called to settle him down.

First it’s her soft voice luring him back into the world, and then it’s her soft touch against his palm, her fingers tracing simple yet meaningful words into his palm while she counts down. That’s one of the few things that she does to calm him down.

The other is during their more private moments, when it’s just the two of them. Being on his lap helps soothes his more humane thoughts of losing her, and the sweet and simple kisses are what truly melt him.

He absolutely will without a doubt become putty in her hands after 2-3 solid sweet kisses. Though the key to this is eye contact and reassuring smiles.

Though it is harder to bring him down to the ground once his emotions flip to his more...sporadic emotions, it’s the same nonetheless, except a much more blunt way of handling things. A strong yank down and a firm kiss is all it really takes to melt him back into her hands, and she’s learned to keep him in place until he melts.

ɢʏʀᴏ ᴢᴇᴘᴘᴇʟɪ

For Gyro, he isn’t opposed to the relationship. Rather he welcomes it with open arms! Their meeting is purely coincidental. During one of Gyro’s mock experiments with a live subject, she had waltzed in with a couple of heavy injuries.

Thankfully they weren’t fatal, but she was pretty certain the blood loss aided in getting her through the ordeal of having to stare at a screaming person whilst the mad doctor treated her wounds; and because of that he ticks her off in his mental box as someone of interest.

As time passes and her visits frequent, with each visit getting much more bizarre every time, the closer the pair become. He questions her, probes her, and dissects every word she utters for a better understanding as to why she acts and responds the way she does around him, and to say the least he becomes absolutely starstruck when he realizes that she doesn’t mind his grotesque work, and is actually interested in his research aspect.

Thus, they spend more time in his office reviewing over his old files as he understands the operating room isn’t for everyone, and that’s when he realizes that even the mad doctor himself has some weak and soft spots.

It starts off as a simple brush against his ear. The way her fingers delicately brush his hair out of his face and the affectionate eyes she held towards him.

The next is when he allows her to play and brush his hair. It’s almost comical how it comes about, but in the end he naturally becomes putty in her hands when he’s seated before her and her fingers begin to work their magic on his hair.

But if there is one thing that will always be considered as his most prized and valuable possession, it would be a small spherical orb. It’s unique shape and functions amusing him as she gifted him the little trinket; and let it be known that whoever touches it besides him or her, they would never see the light of day or another human being ever again.

ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ ʙʀᴀɴᴅᴏ

Cunning to a fault, Diego has no qualms intermingling with his underlings within his faction. Rather he relishes in the fact that he can blend in with their crowds with ease.

That’s exactly how he met her. A sort of routine clean-up and check-up that he planned in his mind as he evaluated each of his underlings. Who would fail and who would pass? It was a game he enjoyed in his past time, and the looks of horror he sees when they realize it’s him is what brings him the most joy. The moment when their minds are in a frazzled and weak state.

Yet with her he didn’t exactly see that. Yes, he had managed to surprise her with his sudden appearance, but unlike most it took a second longer for him to pry into her mind; unlike the rest of the underlings he had managed to check off. Thus, she ended up being promoted to a higher ranking underling.

Eventually, he finds himself frequently checking up on her. His reports stacking up as his observations become almost obsessive with her, and he’s absolutely shocked when she confronts him about it. It brings a coy smirk to his face knowing that he has such a valuable asset in his arsenal.

With time, he comes to terms with his emotions and realizes that he has fallen in love with his subordinate, and her with his strange yet endearing self.

The way Diego falls and melts is...in a sense peculiar. It’s rather comical in one sense, and very sad in another as his upbringing is shone more in the light. He adores affection, despite the front he puts up against it, he absolutely loves it.

The moments that melt him the most is when he’s curled up next to her watching a documentary on dinosaurs. His arms wrapped loosely around her waist and his head laying on her shoulder will always bring him at ease, and her gentle hands against his back always help in bringing him down from a stressful day.

As for any sudden weaknesses or melting points, it would be the nape of his neck. A quick kiss or teasing blow of air will have him struggling and stumbling over himself. Make no mistake, if she does this in a public area, he won’t hesitate to ravage her right then and there.

ɢɪᴏʀɴᴏ ɢɪᴏᴠᴀɴɴᴀ

Due to his upbringing, Giorno is a man of secrets and respect. Unlike the eldest Dio, he’s much more compassionate to his underlings like Jonathon and in a sense, Diego. He’s patient and loves to hear of what goes on in his subordinate’s minds.

Be it for the greater good or the worst he finds the information valuable and handy in any sort of situation that may arise in the future. He meets her on a whim, it’s during her rookie training and hazing when he faces her, and is quite impressed to say the least when she holds her own rather well against the veteran underlings.

He ends up frequently checking up on her, having her stop by to provide her reports in person as well as telling him of any troubles within the lower ranks of his faction. Though to his absolute surprise-- one of the few times he can be caught off guard-- she’s not someone who came for the Joestar family, but the new Passione gang.

To say the least he’s smitten right then and there. After all, Passione was his own work, his own undoing and rebuilding. None of his siblings had really stepped foot into helping him and it proved to be one of his greater accomplishments.

Eventually, he finds himself aching for her daily talks, and finds himself smiling every so often after she leaves. He’s told by Bruno, and he too can agree it’s an odd soft spot he’s grown.

Though once together, the little ticks and habits Giorno has is exploited fully by her. She doesn’t hesitate to put him in his place and will help in any way she can to calm him down if he’s enraged, but god help her if he ever is enraged.

The one thing that will absolutely melt Giorno’s facade is in the little moments in their shared room. If he’s laying on his stomach topless, she’ll paint beautiful pictures or words with watercolor. The intimate moment is something Giorno always looks forward to no matter the skill level of his significant other as the ministrations and her humming will always bring him into a new plane of existence.

A surprising way to bring him down or to exploit his weakness, is by tugging his hair down/up to eye level roughly it brings him pain, but also an awakening to what he’s been doing and how he should actually be handling a situation.

#jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #yakuza au #au #johnny joestar x reader #johnny joestar #gyro zeppeli x reader #gyro x reader #gyro zeppeli #diego brando x reader #diego brando #diego x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

If I Can’t Love Him Ch 4

AN: I do eventually wanna write out an entire BatB AU, it’s just that it’s kinda on the backburner compared to Nova and Pinky the Snowmouse right now. Decided to finish this story before working on anything else in BatB AU. Unlike the other chapters, this one’s not based off any scene in the 1991 movie.

AO3 Link

Ch 4: Hints of Kindness

Two days since the West Wing incident, and there was still no sign of the Beast. His servants all said not to worry, he was always reclusive until it was time to give orders, but Pinky still worried for the Beast’s arm. He didn’t seem like the type to take it easy.

“Hey, if the scratches get infected, that’s on him,” Rita reassured Pinky as she escorted him down the corridor for breakfast.

The servants were on a rotating schedule of helping him get around the castle to prevent another incident of wandering somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. Pinky appreciated the company, but part of him also wanted to sneak around too. If he was going to be here for the rest of his life, then he wanted to know every nook and cranny of the castle.

At least the nooks and crannies of the places he was allowed to go in.

But sneaking around would have to wait. At least until the world stopped spinning around. It was throwing him off-balance.

“So what do you want for breakfast?” Rita asked, her halo bobbing above her head as she glided along the floor. “Cream? Fish? Or the gray stuff again? That’s always a hit.”

The moment breakfast was mentioned, Pinky’s stomach flip-flopped and churned. “Quiet, tummy,” he scolded.

“You good? You’re pale,” Rita asked. “Not exactly a healthy shade of white.”

“I’m...narf...I’m okay!” Pinky tried to smile at her, but Rita’s eyes only narrowed. “Don’t worry about me!”

A shiver wracked his body. Was it just him, or was the castle draftier than usual?

“Nice try, mouse,” Rita crossed her paws over her angel robe. “But a little tip about castle living? If the boss can’t pull a fast one over Hello Nurse when he’s sick, neither can you. Try it, and the results ain’t gonna be pretty.”

He was fine though. Pinky was used to hiding any signs of sickness from Papa. He couldn’t worry his father like that when there were other things to worry about. All he had to do was cover his mouth so all the icky stuff wouldn’t get out and run over to Slappy’s tree for help.

He didn’t like lying. It made him feel awful inside. But he had to, just so he wouldn’t scare Papa.

"Sorry," Pinky whispered, his throat tight. "I'll go back to my...I mean, the room you all gave me. I don't wanna make anyone else sick. Poit."

"Eh, don't worry about it," Rita said. "Only the boss is affected by that sorta thing. Rest of us are immune. Now c'mon. I gotta tell Hello Nurse so we can get some chow into you."

o-o-o-o-o

Secrets never remained secrets in the castle for long. It took a grand total of thirty seconds before a crowd of servants gathered outside the bedroom door, from the littlest dinner fork to several heavy cabinets that clinked with dishes and silverware as they moved.

A tall coat rack lifted Pinky back into bed. And while Pinky didn’t mind climbing to reach the strange, huge mattress that was cozy when he was tired and not so cozy when he thought of Papa and home, he was too dizzy to climb up himself right now.

Though he wanted to snuggle into the blankets more than anything else, he couldn’t until the stethoscope finished checking his heart and lungs. He shivered as the cold bell pressed into his chest and back, but tried to breathe when he was asked to.

When it was finished, the stethoscope firmly knocked twice against the mahogany bedframe and wrapped itself around the coat rack’s thin wooden arm.

“So what’s the verdict?” Rita asked from the doorway.

“Well, his heart and lungs are strong. And nothing’s inflamed either,” Hello Nurse said. “Pinky, are you having trouble breathing?”

Pinky shook his head.

“Any chest pain?”

“Nope. Don’t worry, everyone! It’s just a fever. I’ll be fit as a fiddle soon!” Pinky said, trying to reassure them. “And I can clean some rooms or dust the staircases or anything else you want then!”

“Nope, that won’t do at all! You’re our guest and we insist you get some rest!” Yakko protested. The fire on his head burnt intensely, and the flammable servants hastily scooted away from him. “Ya know, that’s not a bad verse for Be a Pest now that I think about it. But still! Don’t even think about getting out of bed ‘til Hello Nurse okays it!”

“Only for a day or two,” Hello Nurse added. “And tell someone immediately if you have trouble breathing or the fever gets worse. You came back soaked to the bone, and I don’t want this developing into pneumonia.”

Okay, at least he wouldn’t be confined for too long. He wanted to move around and explore. What was the point of being imprisoned in a castle if he couldn’t explore?

“What about Pharfignewton?” Pinky asked. “She fell in the river too. And...she’s all I’ve got now.”

His mother’s cape was in shreds. He didn’t know how Papa was doing. Pharfignewton was the only member of the family he could see now. The blue dress was his only remaining possession from his life in the village.

“She’s okay!” Dot piped up. “The stablemaster is one of the best in the province! He’s got her covered in a pretty violet blanket.”

“She really likes apples!” Wakko exclaimed.

Pharfignewton adored apples, and while Pinky trusted the servants to take care of her, he also wanted to make sure she was alright in-person.

But that would have to wait for a few hours.

Sapped of energy, he yawned and curled underneath the blankets. Only his head poked out, and his vision blurred as his eyes drooped with exhaustion.

The crowd dissipated with promises to come back with food and medicine later, until only Yakko lingered in the doorway.

“Keep an eye on him, Marita,” Hello Nurse told the purple and white wardrobe, which had a hippo’s face carved into the top. She hummed her agreement. “Now come along, Yakko. Pinky needs his rest.”

“But-”

“I’m sure Dr. Scratchnsniff misses you. It’s been a busy past few days,” Hello Nurse suggested, and Yakko hopped away, his spirits restored as he hollered about all the news he wanted to deliver to the psychiatrist’s couch.

Soon they were gone. As Pinky’s eyes drooped shut, he thought he might’ve seen the end of a cape and a zigzagged tail dart behind a crouching gargoyle in the hallway. But the door swung closed before he could be sure.

o-o-o-o-o

Despite the fever, or maybe because of it, it was the best sleep he had in ages.

“Wakey, wakey, Rip Van Winkle!” Dot shouted. “Got your hot tea and soup here!”

Pinky rubbed his eyes, stretching his limbs and tail as he sat up against his large pillow. His forehead was hot to the touch, and his throat was a bit sore. He breathed in fine, warm steam from the tea and soup, and while he didn’t have much of an appetite right now, he’d at least try to eat what he could. He was sure it would taste wonderful anyway.

A tray slid onto his lap. A steaming bowl of chicken and vegetable broth, a flower patterned teacup full of warm liquid, and a spoon and napkin laid on top of it.

“It’s lovely. Thanks so much!” Pinky said, smiling at the Warners, who sat atop a rolling cart next to his bed.

“Make sure you gobble it all down like a turkey!” Wakko exclaimed, doing his best impression of a turkey call just as Pinky took his first sip of the broth, which included several small pieces of carrots.

Pinky couldn’t help but laugh, which was a huge mistake with food in his mouth. He sputtered and coughed, quickly pounding on his throat as he snatched up the teacup and took a huge gulp of tea to wash it down.

“Well, don’t make him choke on it!” Dot scolded.

“Careful, dearie,” Marita said as she shifted a lovely green dress to a hanger on her front. “My darling Flavio puts lots of love into his food. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

“I will,” Pinky promised. He ate more slowly, trying to savor every bite. Not that he really needed to chew. Everything just slid down his throat like melted butter.

“That didn’t go into your lungs, right?” Yakko asked, who’d been strangely silent during the visit.

“I don’t think so,” Pinky replied. “And no agonizing, excruciating, stabbing, or writhing pain?”

Pinky stretched his limbs, careful not to jostle the tray too much. “A bit sore, but I’ll be alright.”

“It’s only a fever, Yakko,” Dot muttered, rolling her eyes as Yakko’s flames burst sporadically. “He’s not suddenly gonna drop dead or anything.”

Wakko shuffled his wooden legs awkwardly as Yakko and Dot burst into an argument over their guest’s health, and Pinky found himself nursing a headache that developed at his temple.

“Children, I think our guest wants some peace while he eats,” Marita suggested, her front drawer opening to reveal a lavender letter that was sealed with a heart-shaped kiss mark. “In the meantime, would you do me a favor and deliver this letter to my sweetheart?”

“For true love!” Dot squealed in joy, forgetting that she didn’t have hands to grab it by as she strained to grab it from Marita’s handle. Wakko reached over and grabbed it for her, and Dot hopped to the other side of the cart in a huff, muttering that she could’ve gotten it for herself.

“Hi-ho rolling cart, away!” Yakko shouted, and the cart sped across the room and slammed into the slightly ajar door, and the Warners were nearly thrown off the cart from the impact.

“GAH!” there was a surprised shout from behind the door as it crashed against the wall.

That wasn’t a normal door crashing into the wall sound.

To Pinky’s surprise, the Beast stumbled into view from behind the door. He clutched one shoulder with his bandaged arm, an irritated growl building in his throat.

The Warners whistled innocently and gave the Beast extremely wide, guilty smiles before zooming away.

“Ooh, that sounded like it hurt,” Pinky said, and the Beast looked at him in annoyance. Then Pinky remembered that they hadn’t spoken to each other in a few days, and he didn’t really know where he stood with the Beast right now. “Did they catch you on the arm?”

The white-collared shirt was new though. It was a high quality piece of clothing, even though it was a simple design.

The Beast stood in the doorway, the bandages outlined against his sleeve on his injured arm while he held onto the doorframe with his uninjured arm. He also wore a wine-red cape and a pair of black trousers, and both clothing items were much less worn and ragged than when Pinky had first met him in that tower just a few nights ago.

“They didn’t,” the Beast grunted, staring at the floor like he’d seen a very interesting dust bunny. The silence was only broken by Marita’s blissful humming and the clink of Pinky’s spoon against his bowl.

The Beast wasn’t the best at conversations. It was either too much roaring or stony silence with no in-between with him.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Pinky asked.

The Beast huffed. “I was napping behind the door.”

“Strange place to nap,” Pinky said. “Wouldn’t you be better off in a cozy bed? Less back problems that way. And you wouldn’t be smashed in the shoulder by a door.”

“I’ll...keep that in mind,” the Beast replied, still not making eye contact with Pinky.

Though his responses were short and blunt, it seemed to be more out of awkwardness than anything. Still, Pinky wished the Beast would come up with a topic. It wasn’t exactly 20 Questions if the other party wasn’t asking anything.

Pinky chewed a piece of chicken, even though he didn’t need to. “Is Yakko okay? He seemed kinda scared cause I’m sick.”

“Oh, he can’t help it, dearie. An illness almost took-” Marita trailed off as a growl rose from the Beast’s throat. “-well, nobody wants to see your fever grow worse. Especially Yakko.”

Had the Beast been severely ill for a time and didn’t want to admit it? Pinky wanted to ask, but from the way the Beast’s claws dug into the doorframe, he decided that maybe it was better if he didn’t.

“Sorry if it’s a sore subject. I can ask something else if you want,” Pinky said.

The Beast’s large ears lowered, and his growl tapered off. And for the first time, shadowed pink eyes met Pinky’s.

“The fabric you used as a temporary bandage...was it important?” the Beast asked.

Pinky dropped his spoon into the bowl, surprised at a question that involved his mother’s cloak. No harm in being honest though.

“That cloak used to belong to my mother. It became mine after the accident,” Pinky admitted. The two fabric scraps from his cloak had been laundered, scrubbed of blood, and neatly tucked away in one of Marita’s drawers. He figured he could still use them somehow, but hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

The Beast looked distinctly uncomfortable, averting his eyes once more. “Sorry about your mother.”

Though awkward, it was a more sincere condolence than what some who’d attended her funeral had said.

“She wouldn’t have minded though. I think she’d be happy to know her cloak helped you,” Pinky said.

He didn’t have any doubts about that. He remembered his mother as a generous, lovely soul, even though he was a child when she passed away.

The Beast placed a hand over his bandaged arm. Then he turned to leave.

“When you’re healthy again, I’ll personally make sure that you know your way around the castle,” the Beast said. “But only to ascertain that you won’t barge into the West Wing again.”

It would be nice not to get lost. He always had trouble finding the kitchen so he could thank Chef Flavio for his meals.

“Alright,” Pinky agreed as he pushed his tray aside. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “And Beast?”

The Beast was a few steps away from Pinky’s door. He paused and looked back, stumbling over his feet like he wasn’t used to walking on two legs.

“Thanks for checking on me,” Pinky said. He snuggled into the blankets once again, ready to sleep off his meal. “I’m sure I’ll recover twice as fast cause I know everyone wants me to feel better.”

There was a long silence.

“You’re welcome,” the Beast finally said. Then he was gone.

And strangely, Pinky was looking forward to the promised tour.

Fun fact: Stethoscopes were invented in 1816, which isn’t in the French Revolution era of Beauty and the Beast, but this is Animaniacs and I am allowed to be anachronistic.

Before the curse took hold, Dot was severely ill for a time (same deal as Wakko’s Wish), and Brain doesn’t want this info getting out cause it could potentially reveal the curse to Pinky. Yakko is just spooked by any type of illness as a result, even a temporary mild fever.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #beauty and the beast au

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since0202 · 3 years

Text

A monster lives here

Summary: Grace Alo is exiled to Forks, Washington after being kicked out of high school right before senior year. The recent passing of her father mixed with moving into a shared bedroom with her cousin was enough to shake up any teenager's life. But upon her return, a inevitable meeting forces her to confront who she's destined to become to protect the home and people she loves.

Status: Ongoing

Ao3; Fanfiction.net

Chapter 1: Move

July

The summer before her senior year was when Principal Beeter officially signed off on Grace Alo's expulsion from Westmoore Highschool.

Probably for the best if she's being honest.

"Maybe I'll just get my GED and bounce off to the west coast and find something cool...there," Grace told her friend Margot between demolishing her second cherry slurpie.

"Right, because that totally works out for everyone," she mumbled back. "Imean, you didn't even do anything really. So what, one tiny trailer–"

"Can we not?" Grace interjected.

"Yeah, sorry." Margot cleared her throat and her eyes rolled up toward the sky.

"Mom's gonna kill me." Grace's eyes ran over the length of the highway. From below, she could just see the cars skirting the top of the overpass. She wished she was in one of those cars headed far from here.

Grace took one big deep breath and shook the nervous pain from her hands before grasping the handle and pushing open the front door.

Her mom was in the front hall, phone to her ear and back turned. This ought to be good. She could only make out the last bit of what she was saying:

"No, yeah, I really appreciate it. Thanks again, Charlie." Grace's mother hung up and held a hand to her eyes.

"Everything okay?"

She jumped and spun around to face her daughter, one hand still resting up on her forehead. At first, Grace thought she wasn't actually mad at her, but her body posture quickly tensed up, hackles raised, hands coming to rest firmly on her hips. Here it came.

"Grace, I have..no words," her anger was palpable. Grace had always been a little sensitive to those things, but this was new-her anger was rolling off of her in waves and making its way down the hall to crash over Grace.

"Mom, honestly, truly, I am so so sorry. I never thought-"

"No. You didn't. You never think." Harsh. Was she shaking or was that just a trick of the light?

"Mom, please. What can I do?" Grace was trembling now and a ringing sound was growing in her head. She could feel her fight or flight kicking in but had nowhere to run to. This was home.

She'd been in trouble before, but never like this. Sure, she'd never been kicked out of school before, but she was familiar with not having a plan. Not like this.

"Who was that on the phone?" she asked suddenly. Grace hadn't moved from her position from the door. The light backlit her mother's frame, the gold light washed over her, illuminating her auburn hair and pale skin. Her green eyes flashed up at me every so often with a look of determination and fatigue fazing through them. Her eyes were the only thing Grace inherited from her mother that she could place. her warm complexion, broad face, and silky black hair was reminiscent of her father. Every time her mom looked at her, she could see it and Grace would feel pain sweep through her all over again, even if it had lessened over time.

"That was your Uncle Charlie. You're moving to Forks." Her eyes were stern, but her lip quivered and she looked at Grace like it was the last time. They both knew it wasn't but her mom felt things harder than any person she'd known other than her dad. But, Grace could tell by the look on her face that she meant it.

"Wait, what?"

Charlie slammed the trunk shut as Grace settled into the front seat of his police cruiser. Sea-Tac was a bustling airport, but where she was headed was nowhere near this level of hopping. Even Oklahoma City blew Forks, Washington out of the water when it came to city centers.

Charlie settled into the driver seat and gave her a quick grin, which she tried to reciprocate quickly but it may have turned into a grimace. Grace turned her attention out the window as Charlie accelerated onto the road connecting to the highway.

"Bells is excited to see you." Charlie suddenly quipped. "And I got your registration at Forks High all squared away."

"Great, thanks." Grace kept her eyes on the deepening green protruding from the sidewalks, around bends, and over railings. They drove in uninterrupted silence for which she was thankful. Charlie was good that way-not too overbearing, didn't really hover, or force conversation. It was nice and she enjoyed the peace.

"Billy was asking about you." And just like that, the silence was gone. Grace cringed. "Billy Black. You remember him right?" A lump caught in her throat as she tried to keep her breathing even. Charlie waited a minute before continuing. "You know, he stopped by the house the day after I talked to your mom. Brought his son Jake with him, too. He's real excited that you're back in town."

Grace could feel him glance her way, mostly by the sound that his police blazer made as he looked over his extended right arm, but she didn't meet his gaze.

Billy Black.

She hadn't been back to the Quileute reservation in La Push in years. Even before dad died, Grace hadn't seen the familiar beach or sat in the quiet, dated homes, or sat around the communal fire at council meetings for awhile. But after her dad died, it became harder to go back. And once they moved to Oklahoma for his new job, her old life seemed to fade away. The reservation was always the same in her mind, like an old friend, waiting for her inevitable return. But it made her sad more than anything at this point. The comfort she once found there evaporated with her father's spirit. Going back now felt too hard.

Billy had called the house a bunch after we moved away. He was her dad's best friend. And then after her dad died, the cracks in his voice were too much to handle. So, she stopped picking up or taking the phone from her mom when he called and just let things dissipate-distance again, quiet.

The rain slicked roads sounded like a hushed whisper as we whizzed over the bridge and broke into the town of Forks. The small town was familiar too, but not home.

Charlie hadn't said much else on the drive in and once they pulled into the driveway of the Swan house, she breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the passenger door open, gulping in damp, warm air. The air was so much different here. It didn't feel like freedom, but possibility hung in the air more than in the dust of Oklahoma.

Grace hitched her backpack over her shoulder and trudged up the front steps—Charlie was close behind lugging her two heavy suitcases. She tried to reach for one but he shrugged her off with a chuckle and ushered her into the house.

When the door creaked open, Bella peeked her head around the corner in the kitchen, a warm smile breaking across her face.

"Grace!" she beamed and walked briskly across the small landing, lightly tripping over the threshold from the kitchen with a soft 'oh'. She wrapped her in a hug and Grace breathed a sigh of relief. This felt a little more like home. She smelled like soft lavender and some kind of sweet spice.

Bella and Grace grew close when she would visit the reservation and Charlie's during her two-week summers with him. When they weren't together, they wrote letters sporadically which evolved into weekly phone calls. Bella and Grace's mothers were still pretty close—they even road tripped through Oklahoma a few years ago and took them to the Phillbrooke Museum of Art. Grace hasn't laughed that much since then.

Grace had heard through her mom that Bella was moving to Forks so Renee could take off with Phil but Grace hadn't heard much aside from the occasional email here and there. Bella told her that she had met a guy and that things were "intense" but good. Grace had raised her eyebrows at that and vaguely remembered sending back something short in response. She did that a lot lately.

When they pulled back from the hug, Bella held onto the bottoms of Grace's elbows and smiled. Grace's thick plait had loosened on the flight and she felt scrubby.

"Come on, come upstairs." She clasped her hand in hers. Grace couldn't help but give a small smile as Bella tugged her up the narrow staircase and across the short hallway to her bedroom. Well, their shared bedroom now.

The size of the room wasn't bad. She had pushed her full bed up closer to the far window to make space and pushed her low dresser across from the foot of her bed. The small desk was shoved on the short wall directly to the right and Grace's bed sat under the large bay window that looked over the side yard and into the woods.

Her bed was covered in a soft, plush light green duvet with two fluffy pillows. her eyes rested on the black and white patterned blanket at the foot of the bed and her mouth drew into a hard line. Grace couldn't speak for a moment. "Is that…?"

"Yeah, Billy had Jake drop it off the last time he was here. A welcome home present, I guess. Hey, are you okay?" Bella pulled her hands from her back pockets and rested one on Grace's arm which prompted her to pull her face up and give a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, of course! This is great Bells, thanks." Charlie had been leaning against the doorframe, chaperoning her suitcases as Bella gave the tour.

She pulled open a little side closet that rested next to her bed. It held a small white chest of drawers that had little purple flowers painted on it.

"You can put your clothes in there." Bella gestured. Grace shot a look at Charlie.

"You painted those purple flowers yourself Charlie?" she teased. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Guilty." Bella and Grace laughed. She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers curling around the loose threads at the end of the blanket. Warmth rushed over her as she traced her fingers along the familiar pattern from her childhood.

This can work. She thought.

The next few days, Grace spent her time settling in, drawing, reading, and unpacking. Bella and Grace actually settled well into a routine together, sharing bathroom space, one showering while the other brushed their teeth, maximizing the bathroom space efficiently. Bella was a quiet sleeper, but Grace couldn't find it in her to sleep just yet, so she would stare up and above her head out the window trying to catch a side of the moon just waning out of sight.

Her third afternoon in Forks, Bella called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Come meet Edward!" she yelled. Grace skipped out of bed and shuffled down the steps, running a hand through her dark hair to try and tame it away from her face.

Bella had told her about Edward on her first night there. They'd stayed up too late, cross-legged on Bella's bed as she picked at pilling on her pajama pants and spoke in a hurried but elated voice about the Edward.

She had been right though, it sounded intense. While she winded her way through the last eight months, Grace couldn't help but feel bad that she hadn't been more engaged in her emails with her. Grace must have sounded pretty switched off to Bella. Faraway. She had picked up on none of this information about Edward in their email exchanges.

"He's really great. Unlike anyone I've ever met, honestly." she laughed a little at this and Grace tilted her head curiously.

"Oh yeah?" her eyes flitted onto her bed and back up toward Grace a couple times. She opened and closed her mouth as if to say something and landed on an exasperated sigh before smiling.

"Yeah, you're just going to have to meet him for yourself."

Color me interested, Bells. Grace thought.

When she landed on the bottom step, Grace looked to Bella who was standing next to a tall, pale, but generally handsome guy. Her brain hesitated over the word 'guy'. He seemed—felt—otherworldly somehow.

"Hey." she gave a tight lipped, but friendly smile. "I'm Grace, I've heard so much about you."

His eyes seemed incredibly kind and their golden hue was captivating but she still found herself tilting her head, as if she was trying to see around his eyes, golden orbs that wouldn't quite turn and reveal a hidden side. His eyes stayed focused on intently on Grace, undisturbed.

He dipped his head in response to her head tilt and smiled warmly (a hint of menace?) and held out a leather gloved hand.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Edward as Bella said. She's been very excited to have you here, so I've been really excited to meet you." Grace extended her hand to meet his.

As his hand closed around hers—light, but firm—Grace heard a low rumble, like thunder, building behind her left ear. The sound grew rapidly and felt like a building rush from a broken river coming up behind her to sweep her away. She was frozen in place thought and felt that rumble crowd into her head and start to vibrate violently.

From the top of her head, the rumble gained in speed and sound, pounding and pulling at her chest in a downward wave, crashing through her feet and rippling out around her. As the thunder left out of the bottom of her feet, the ripple manifested in a rolling wave under the floorboards, silent but moving away.

Grace audibly gasped but didn't pull her hand back, her eyes quickly scanning the floor for that outward ripple. The feeling had lasted less than 2 seconds.

"Did you see that?" her eyes shot up from the floor and landed on Edward. Grace thought she saw his lip curl ever so slightly. Bella looked unperturbed but her eyes widened in surprise.

"See what?" she looked around her. Grace took a beat and felt her heart settle as the aftershock of the ripple left her body, small vibrations smoothing into nothing.

"Nothing." she said shaking her head and letting her hand fall from Edwards. He looked nonplussed and raised his eyebrows comically at Bella.

"Well, Edward was gonna take me on a hike. Did you want to come?" Bella asked. Edward's face looked measured but somewhat surprised.

Something in Grace told her not to go.

"Nah, I'm going to check in with her mom and get some reading done." she replied, tucking some stray strands of hair behind her ear.

"Another bookworm. The likeness is growing." Edward said smoothly, a small smile peeling his mouth open and a glittering chuckle rolled out. Grace shrugged and wished them well and headed back upstairs to her room.

When she was safely behind the closed bedroom door, she let go of a full breath that caused her heart rate to spike. Her breathing became ragged and she felt an icy tingle snake slowly up her back. It felt like panic, but she wasn't sure why. Could it be what she felt when she shook Edward's hand? That was pretty weird, but it hadn't been followed by a sense of rising panic.

She put a hand over her chest and one on her stomach trying to take slow, smooth breaths like the counselor had told her. The one she'd seen when her dad died.

Focus on something still, calm your breath, calm your mind. In and out. In and out.

But every exhale came out as shuddering, then gasping breaths. Grace could feel her pulse quicken, beating against the skin of her wrist as if the blood was trying to burst through.

She collapsed onto her bed and her vision started to blur and go dark. It was over, this life, it had to be. This was it. But as the ceiling blurred in and out of focus, Grace wasn't upset or scared. As her vision faded, a warm coppery hand shimmered and reached out to her.

So she let go and reached back, relieved.

#twilight #twilight fanfic #jacob black #new mooon #bella swan #edward cullen #a monster lives here #chapter 1 #thepack #la push #fanfiction #smeyers #the pack

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