#could think of and i was internally like you missed a dozen i can think of. didn't say that obvs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

euaphoric · 7 months

Text

🕸️ KINKTOBER - DAY 1. 🕸️

Show You What Devotion Is . . .

[PAIRING] jungkook x f!reader

[GENRE] bf/gf, established relationship, pwp [WARNINGS] fluff, smut, small mentions of insecurities, body worship, devotion kink, face-sitting, biting, spit kink (sorta, kinda?)

summary: you don’t think you’re good enough for your boyfriend but he proves those thoughts wrong by showing just how much undying love he truly has for you.

wc -> 2.0k

A/N: first post of the month, 30 more to go woohoo~ so excited to do this and hopefully this’ll help me get a better idea of what i like/don’t like writing in the future. **fyi oc is told that she tastes like candy but obvi in the real world if ur hoo-ha tastes like candy that’s not normal .. o_O buttt this is fiction so just pretend they can sjdjfjsjjs.

kinktober m.list

this day simply couldn’t get any worse. you missed the bus back home just by a fraction of a minute, all because you wanted to speak with your professor at his office hours but now in hindsight, you wished you never did. it was practically a waste of time anyway, he wasn’t giving much worthy feedback on your presentation and the anxiety about your final grade grew rampant as the semester progressed. ‘fuck, guess’ll wait for the next one in 15’ you mumble to yourself, annoyed and exhausted from earlier’s events. one side of you just wants to call jungkook to come pick you up but your other subconscious is telling you that’s selfish— don’t make him drive all the way here when you can just wait a measly 15 more minutes.

sigh~

it won’t kill you to wait, it’s not like you were in a rush to see him right now. it was actually quite the opposite, you weren’t prepared to tell him how you completely bombed your presentation. well, you wouldn’t say completely but it definitely wasn’t up to your impossibly high standards. public speaking was the only class you struggled with the most, you could articulate your words precisely in writing but saying it out loud? that was a totally different story. you have to outgrow this “fear” over speaking in front of an audience if you want to practice law one day. no one’s going to take you seriously if you can’t even read a single paragraph without tripping over syllables. all you could do was replay those embarrassing moments and internally cringe, almost missing the bus again from being so deep in thought— what a nightmare.

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

“baaabyyyy!” the sweet sound of jungkook’s voice instantly made everything better, at least for now. his peachy soft lips went straight to your face almost immediately, smothering you with dozens of kisses while caging his beautiful, toned arms around your willowed frame. “you came home so late, was expectin’ you half an hour agooo.” he whines immaturely, holding you so tight he’s nearly squeezing you at this point. he must’ve really missed you. “i missed the bus… i wanted to talk with my professor about my presentation and thought i could make it but i guess not..” you pause, thinking if you should share what’s really crossing your mind, “…i was gonna call you to pick me up but didn’t think it was worth all that hassle.” now hearing yourself say that out loud makes it seem like he isn’t a reliable boyfriend, he very much is, it’s just the over-thinker in you. it’ll mark your 2 years of dating next week yet somehow you still felt like you were burdening him at times.

if the embodiment of ‘???’ was a person, that would be jungkook right about now; he couldn’t fathom you thinking such unlawful things. “hassle? what’re you talking about love, nothing is a hassle for me when it comes to you, absolutely nothing. next time you need me don’t hesitate to call babe,” he reassures sincerely. loosening his embrace momentarily to turn you around, he brings your chests together while his hands wrap your pretty waist, feeling his rapid heartbeat against yours. “i’m serious, you better call me next time.” the sternness of his voice alarming you that he’ll probably lecture you for this. he texts you hourly just to check in and make sure you’re okay, a simple drive to pick you up is the bare minimum to him. “well besides that.. how’d your presentation go?” jungkook’s doe-like eyes widen as he interrogates with questions. “i don’t wanna talk about it.” you silently mutter, already dreading what the final grades were going to be. “that bad, huh?” he proceeds with even more questions, “did you remember like we practiced last night?” you nod, lowering your head to stare at the floor, confidence dwindling by the second.

it truly hurts him to see you upset over something you’ve worked so passionately on, all just for it to feel ruined in the end. he hates that you’re not your usual bubbly and cute self, it makes him do everything he can to cheer you up. “it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it now, i get it. you probably did well though, i bet you messed up like one time and no one even noticed ‘cause you’re so pretty!” he teases, inked, slender digits trail up to find solace on your chin, lifting your head up to face each other again. “stop stressing over dumb little imperfections, it never ends well.” “oh, you’re one to talk!” you whine into his chest, unable to deal with his hypocrisy. not jungkook of all people giving you this speech when he is literally the #1 perfectionist king. “and i’m not even that pretty..” you quietly mumble, hoping he wouldn’t catch that. “wait, what did you just say?!” his voice raised an octave of confusion, you would think someone had just told him the most horrific story, but no, here he is on the verge of a mental breakdown over his girlfriend feeling insecure. “i said i’m not that—” “no no, i heard you the first time. my brain just isn’t registering the fact that you don’t think you’re anything less than a walking goddess of this earth.” he was flabbergasted to hear you talk with such low confidence, “sometimes, i feel like you can do so much better..” that’s what fully broke his heart as you spoke, it pained him to know you harbored all these feelings deep down inside.

the only answer in solving this dilemma is by being a better boyfriend to you, showering you with even more compliments than he already does daily, and most importantly, proving that he is 100% devoted to you and you only.

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

eyes half-lidded in lust, limbs spasming and going numb from the continuous stimulation, you can’t do much but moan out jungkook’s name on an endless loop. the first hour, jungkook took his heavenly time with your delicate, angelic body. everything about you is divine to him, he wants to appreciate every single inch of you, even the parts you despise. he dedicated his lips to kissing and pleasuring your whole body, leaving no surface of you untouched. he’d rave in between kisses about how beautiful you are, how lucky he is and how he’s willing to do anything to make you happy. if being love-drunk was a disease, he’d rather fall into a coma and never wake up than find the cure. he’s living his best life as he cherishes your innate beauty, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs as he reaches them, taking ample time to caress and praise your dreamy body. he’s always had a thing for your cute plush thighs, the way they’d bounce and jiggle when he plays with them makes him all giddy inside. he can never get enough of them or you, leaving numerous bite marks and coating them with his spit, “you’re a work of art princess, a masterpiece. don’t think any different.” jungkook murmured against you, voice laced with pure seduction and infatuation.

body buzzing in anticipation as he kept working his way up, leaving a chaste peck to your left and right hip bone, firmly gripping your thighs as he drags his lips to your center. the urge to make out with your cunt was insatiable for him, he needed his face buried between your legs, there was no place he’d rather be. “after this you’re gonna use my face as your throne and m’gonna give you the most mind blowing orgasm, capeesh?” jungkook props his head up for a second before kissing below your belly button. “c-capeeshh.” you hazily reply, mind still fuzzy from just his kisses and touch alone. you know you’re in for a wild ride whenever you sit on your boyfriend’s face, he always eats you like a starved man and makes sure you cum multiple times, he takes such pride in himself for having you be a twitching and moaning mess by the end of it all. his only goal and mission for the night was to make you feel so good that you reach your climax hard enough to see memories of your life flash before your eyes. as he made his way up to your waist, you melt into his warmth, craving him more and more as time goes on. you thought you felt your soul leave your body when he unsuspectingly attaches his mouth to your nipple, babbling nothing coherent as you rut your hips into nothing.

as much as jungkook wanted to keep the teasing going, he was so down bad to have you sit on his face in this moment, ready to show exactly how much love and obsession he has for you. “need you so bad babe.. need to taste you,” he sighs, shamelessly gawking over you as he maneuvers you on top. “you’re so fuckin’ sexy mama... would love to be in between these pretty thighs for the rest of my life.” you couldn’t help but blush at his dirty talk, feeling flustered as you slide off your damp polka dot panties, watching as he licks his lips, planning to devour you whole. jungkook was so excited, you’re always scared of hurting him whenever you sit on his face but he reassures you often that he’ll be fine, “you’re not gonna kill me babe, trust me. even if you did i think it’d be sick to put ‘died from too much pussy juice’ on my gravestone anyway.” he lightly jokes, never taking anything in the slightest bit serious. you position your lower half, hovering over his face as he stares directly at your wetness. the tent in his boxers only surged, he was so hopelessly attracted to you, he could cum just from giving you head.

“fuuuu- oh my god so good, so good! yess, keep going babyy..” your legs shake violently as you rock your hips back and forth, rendering a steady motion against your boyfriend’s soothing tongue. as you throw your head back in pleasure and delight, jungkook grips onto your thighs for dear life, using every bit of manpower he possessed in making sure you don’t move away. “mmmhh~” he’d hum into your sensitive, eliciting the harmonious moans he loves to hear every night. you clutch onto the floral sheets of the bed, hand full of jet-black hair in the other. “mmm.. taste so sweet for me..” he grunts against your dripping core, “like candy..” a few more sloppy licks then he’s back to aggressively sucking your clit. you were grinding his face with more speed and didn’t care as much about hurting him anymore, if he really was uncomfortable he’d speak up. jungkook would never do that though, you are his goddess and he wants this night to be all about pleasing you. “uhhh, t-think m’gonna cum..” you felt that familiar knot in your tummy, hips subconsciously rutting faster into his mouth as eyes roll to the back of your head. you couldn’t tell much of his condition below you but his stamina never slowed, eating you out with everlasting hunger as his grip refuses to unravel. “cum for me princess, please.” his encouraging words help reach your high, feeling a whole new state of nirvana as your chest heaves, “fuck, jungkook, i love you!” you cry out, clenching around his tongue as he licks every crevice of you clean. the room spun around as you catch your breath, having trouble regaining your balance for a split second.

you droop down onto your heavy panting boyfriend’s chest, lightly sticking to his dewy skin from all the built up sweat. “sooo, how’re you feeling now compared to earlier? did it work? are all your insecurities vanished and gone now?” he’s back to his normal self again, asking his little series of questions. you giggle, “i feel great koo, definitely helped me relax..” flashing a warm smile as he reaches out for you to cuddle, “i must’ve done some life-changing shit in my past lives to deserve someone as good as you.”

#kinktober 2023 #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x f reader #jungkook fic #bts fics #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabbles

2K notes · View notes

btsvt-bar · 1 month

Text

FEVER

pairing ꩜ journalist!mingyu x afab!reader x journalist!wonwoo

synopsis ꩜ a promotion at work, the new political reporter and a few bottles of wine. writing for a prestigious newspaper can be much more exciting than it seems. it all depends on who your co-workers are.

content/genre ꩜ frenemies with benefits, threesome, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread . comments are apreciated! lmk if you wanna be tagged on part 2 ♡

warnings under the cut!

part one | part two

warnings ꩜ smut, threesome, anal sex, oral (m. receiving), masturbation (f. and m. receiving), cum swallowing, double penetration, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex, sex in the workplace, voyeurism, tit sucking, jacuzzi sex, protected sex. lmk if i forgot something important.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

chapter one

The newsroom of the largest newspaper in the city of Chicago and the Great Lakes region was exactly what one could expect: true chaos. Phones ringing all the time, people talking loudly, papers scattered in the corners, journalists typing at full speed to deliver their articles in time… the place was a huge mess, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

You walk quickly among the dozens of tables scattered irregularly across the 6th floor of the building. Being the responsible for the entertainment and arts column, you needed to submit an unfinished article in less than two hours.

The click of your white scarpins were practically inaudible over the cacophony of the room. A little out of breath, you arrive at your table and drop your red bag on the dark wooden tabletop with an audible thump, drawing Kim Mingyu's attention.

The black-haired man looks away from the screen in front of him and starts analyzing your outfit. From the pants tight enough to outline your ass perfectly, the refined silk blouse showing just enough cleavage and the small crucifix that rested near your throat. Mingyu lets out a sigh, he hadn't been with you in bed for three hours and he already wanted to drag you back.

"Did you lose something here on my desk, Kim?" you question in a mocking tone when you notice him staring. Of course you wouldn't miss the opportunity to tease him.

"Not really" he responds by getting up and slowly approaching you. A roguish smile tugs at his mouth. "You, on the other hand, lost a pair of lace panties at my place."

"Mingyu!" you shriek and slap the man's strong chest.

"Relax, darling. No one listened." he informs with a wink. "Would you like a coffee? You look tired, didn't you sleep well?"

The worst part of spending the night with him was his inflated ego the next day.

"You are ridiculous."

In a completely childish act, you throw him a middle finger. Mingyu laughs and leaves to grab a coffee for the two of you.

If one asked any Chicago Tribune employee who y/n y/l/n and Kim Mingyu are, they would, undoubtedly, say "the biggest rivals who have ever worked here".

The two of you had been on the newspaper's journalistic team since the beginning of college. You started together as interns, and since then fought like cat and dog. You weren’t sure, but you thought your enmity started with an argument in the archives room. You just knew that "hating" Kim Mingyu in front of everyone was as natural as breathing.

What most people didn't know was that you don’t replicate Tom & Jerry's behavior when you are alone. Protected from curious eyes, you enjoyed your time in a much more pleasurable way.

Literally.

You hated the term "friends with benefits" to describe what you had with Mingyu. Yes, you were friends outside of work. And yes, you had sex occasionally. But you hated people's need to label things, so you preferred to think of Mingyu as just a friend. The "frenemies" dynamic worked well, both sides were comfortable with it.

And that was enough for now.

"I already added sugar. Two small spoons, right? "Mingyu declares as he approaches to hand over the mug filled with steaming coffee.

"Yes, thank you." you offer a grateful smile and take a small sip of the dark liquid.

You weren’t even surprised that he knew how you had your coffee, you’ve had many breakfasts together.

"Good morning!" Yunjin, your best friend, greets you with a beaming smile. "Have you seen Dino?" the youngest questions as she approaches you. "I need to get a file from his computer."

You look back at your friend's table and notice his backpack on the sideboard, but the man himself was nowhere to be found.

"Lipinski asked him to go to her office about twenty minutes ago." Mingyu responds without looking away from the computer screen. "I have no idea why."

You frown at the information.

"Weird." Yunjin comments when turning on her own computer.

"He’ll be back" you state with a shrug.

"Is he being fired?" Yunjin freaks out.

"He wasn't fired. "Mingyu laughs, amused by the situation.

"And how are you so sure?"

Mingyu points something behind you. You turn your head in sync with Yunjin, and see Dino walking towards the three of you. And he wasn't alone.

The man accompanying Dino wore a black suit, white t-shirt and a dark blue tie with white stripes. He was taller than Dino by a good few inches and, even in a suit, it was noticeable that he took care of his physique and probably went to the gym regularly. However, what left you and Yunjin flustered was his beauty.

"Guys, meet our new political journalist." Dino introduces the man.

"Jeon Wonwoo." says as he extends his hand to Yunjin, who was closer to him.

"Yunjin, fashion and lifestyle." the woman introduces herself by taking his hand.

Wonwoo addresses you with expectation in his eyes. His eyes, you notice, are striking and intense. The kind that seems to be able to read your soul with just one look.

"y/n, entertainment and arts."

Suddenly, you feel like the room is too hot.

Maybe it was because of the man in front of you, who was undeniably handsome and seemed too good to be true. Or maybe it was his baritone voice. You hadn't expected the deep, husky tone that came out of his full, heart-shaped lips.

You bite her lower lip to contain a sigh and shake his hand eagerly.

"Mingyu, sports." His face contorts a little, as if he’d already decided that he didn't like Wonwoo.

"Nice to meet you all" Wonwoo says with a friendly smile and adjusts his glasses over his elegant nose.

"Your table should arrive tomorrow." Dino says, drawing everyone’s attention. "You can use mine for today, I'm going to do some field work and I'll be out all day." the youngest explains as he gathers his belongings and puts them inside his backpack. "Now, I need to take you to HR. Let 's go".

Wonwoo agrees and leaves his backpack on the table. The two head to the elevator hall with Dino explaining more about how the newsroom works.

"I call dibs!" you exclaim as soon as you’re sure Wonwoo can’t hear you.

"Hey, not fair!" Yunjin whimpers.

"You already have Dino"

"And you already have Mingyu."

"Dibs… on what?" Mingyu raises his eyebrow when asking. He wasn't even sure if he even wanted to know what the two of you were talking about.

"To fuck him." Yunjin responds as if it was obvious, gesturing with her hand at the same time. "The new guy is pretty hot, if you ask me."

"Your bad taste scares me."

Mingyu's handsome features contort into a frown. He knew he had no right to be jealous of you, but he couldn't help it. It was difficult, even more so when it directly affected his ego. The thought that he might no longer be the only one to have your attention made him slightly irritated.

"Are you jealous?" you tease as you give the man a knowing look.

"He's dying of jealousy." Yunjin says in disbelief. "I never thought I would see Kim Mingyu like this."

"In your dreams, darlings." he says with a mocking tone and goes back to work. "I need to finish my article".

You exchange a glance with Yunjin and you two let out an amused laugh. You take a sip of your almost cold coffee and risk one last look in Mingyu's direction.

The man was frowning and pouting like a toddler being denied something for the first time.

"Don’t be like that. I promise you’ll always be my favorite." you smile flirtatiously.

Totally out of character, Mingyu offers a shy smile.

"You make it sound so sweet when you lie to me" he snorts and you laugh at the comment, finding the whole situation funny as hell.

Everyone returns to their tasks, but the slight irrational jealousy remains in Mingyu’s thoughts. He lets out an unhappy sigh, feeling extremely stupid.

The brunette takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to refocus on finishing the basketball game schedule he needed to deliver. For now, that’s all he could do.

chapter two

It was Wednesday and the Chicago Tribune newsroom was practically empty. You, Mingyu, Wonwoo and two other journalists were the only ones there.

You feel like you’re being watched and look around, finding Mingyu staring from his desk, his bottom lip casually caught between his teeth. You could practically hear his mind engines turning.

You were very angry at him the night before. Out of jealousy, Mingyu was a total dick to you and to Wonwoo at the company dinner. However, after you shouted at him for around 20 minutes and he fingered you in the backseat of his car, you calmed down a bit. You still pretended to be mad, but you weren’t one to really hold on to grudges.

"I need your help in the archives room. "Mingyu says, shaking you out of your own thoughts.

"Is it difficult for you to find a file on your own?" you tease, tilting your head mockingly.

Mingyu smirks.

"It would be easier if the person who organized it had a decent system, my dear." he teases, remembering why you supposedly hated each other. The man gets up and says: "Let's go, I don't have all day".

You roll your eyes at him, but stand up anyways. He leads the way, and the two of you leave an unaware Wonwoo behind.

Mingyu opens the heavy wooden door and lets you get in first. The lights flickered a few times before stabilizing. Several silver shelves filled with white folders were scattered around the place, as well as some wooden tables and chairs. In the right corner, they had a copy machine and other stationery items that could help journalists' research.

You walk a few inches to the first shelf and only then realize that Mingyu didn't say what he was looking for. "What do you want to find?"

"Archives about the 1958 World Cup."

"Hm... I don't know if we'll have much on the subject" you state as you walk towards the shelves at the end of one of the aisles. "This is the stupidest thing to find around here, why would you even… " you’re cut off when Mingyu turns you around to face him.

He presses you against the low sideboard against the back wall of the room. Your eyes widened, not understanding what was happening. Mingyu runs his large hand across your cheek. He wets his lips, staring at yours eagerly.

"Is it okay if I say ‘shut up and kiss me’?"

You roll your eyes, but grab the man by his tie and pull him in for a kiss. Mingyu lets out a sound of approval, satisfied with your attitude. He lifts you and places you on the sideboard, positioning himself between your legs.

Mingyu raises his hands to your ass and squeezes hard, bringing you even closer. You tangle a hand in his hair, while the other one lightly scratches his nape just the way you knew he liked. Your tongues caress each other with dexterity, having already done this hundreds of times.

The kiss wasn't at a desperate pace with a hint of anger, like it was the last time you hooked up. It seemed like Mingyu wanted to prove a point. He kissed you as if he wanted to mark you as his. And you loved it. The world seemed to disappear when you kissed like that. An earthquake could happen, none of you would notice.

The man separates your lips and starts distributing wet kisses across your jaw and neck. You let your head fall back, giving him more space to explore. Mingyu opens the buttons on the black blouse you wear and notices you weren’t wearing a bra. He lets out a grunt as he raises his strong hands calmly; touching you gently. Too gently. You start to get impatient, knowing you didn't have much time before someone else showed up.

Mingyu wraps his lips around your right nipple, making you let out a soft moan. He gives it a few seconds of attention before moving on to the other and repeating the same process of giving small licks and pulling away with a gentle brush of his teeth. He kisses up from your boobs to your neck, his hands stripping you out of your black skirt in the same rhythm.

"You can stop there." you pull the man by his dark locks when he tries to give you a hickey near your collarbone. You hated being marked in visible places.

"Sorry…" the look he gives you is warm and without the slightest trace of regret. His swollen lips pull back into a sly smile and you roll your eyes out of habit. With no more time to waste, the journalist opens the button on his own pants while you take care of removing your panties.

And that's when you see him. If Mingyu turned his face a little, he would see him too.

Precariously leaning on a file box, two hallways away, was Jeon Wonwoo. His eyes widen when he realizes that you discovered him there. You bite your lower lip and wink at him, making it clear that everything was fine.

Wonwoo lets out a breath, which he hadn't even realized he was holding until then. The man didn't intend to be there. He had gone to the files room after you, at Lipinski's request. He didn't expect to find his coworkers about to have sex.

And he didn't expect to want to stay there to watch.

Suddenly feeling bewildered, Wonwoo backs up until his back rests against the white cabinets that were adjacent to the bookshelf that hid him. He brings his right hand to his forehead and presses the space between his eyebrows with his fingertips.

The room was too hot, the black tie suffocated him, the tailored trousers felt like a prison. A little desperate, he runs his hand through his hair, removing it from his sweaty forehead. Your low moans pull him back to the reality of where he was and what was happening just a feet away from him. He straightens his body, ready to get out of there.

However, he can't leave without taking one last look.

Mingyu hid his face in your neck as he fucked you in a controlled tempo. You hugged him tightly, with your lower lip trapped between your teeth in an attempt to contain your moans.

As if they were magnets, your eyes soon meet Wonwoo's again. You smirk, amused to know he was still there.

With his hands shaking, the man lets out a tortured sigh and walks away, leaving the room as quickly and silently as possible.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

"I need to say something." you declare as you try to adjust the black blouse on your body. It was completely crumpled, but whatever.

"Go ahead” Mingyu turns to look at you.

You open and close your mouth several times, unsure of how to start the sentence. As someone whose job was the use of words, you were definitely failing to communicate.

"I didn't want to talk when we were... " you interrupted the sentence, implying what they were doing. "Wonwoo saw us."

Mingyu stops trying to straighten his messy hair and looks at you suspiciously, as if you had just told him that you knew which numbers would be drawn in the lottery.

"And that’s a problem because…?"

"Why aren't you nervous about this? "you question, finding the man’s reaction weird.

You tilt your head, analyzing the man in front of you. He was strangely calm for someone who had just heard that the new nemesis had seen naked the woman he had been jealous of a few days ago.

"What do you think he's going to do? Go out and tell everyone he saw us here?" he rolls his eyes and tucks the hem of his white blouse into his pants. "As if."

"Of course not, you moron. I thought you would freak out for another reason."

"And what reason could that be?" Mingyu asks, holding your chin with his long fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"Nevermind."

Mingyu shrugs, it was in his best interest to leave that subject aside. You try to adjust your black skirt, unzipping at the back to make the process easier.

"How much did he see?" Mingyu asks himself as he leans against the sideboard, waiting for you.

"I don't know when he arrived, but I saw him before you... oh, you know."

"Before I fucked you?" Mingyu laughs loudly and you slap his chest, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Who knows, maybe he learned a thing or two…"

"You are annoying, Kim Mingyu." you let an amused smile escape your lips.

You turn around in a silent request for help from the man, who zips up your skirt.

"And you love it, my dear" Mingyu kisses your neck as he carefully pulls the zipper up. "Now, move that beautiful ass of yours. We have deadlines." he gives you a playful slap on the butt before heading to the exit.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

read part two!

tags ꩜ i hope you liked it so far!

@asscoups17 @wonvsmile @porridgesblog @gaslysainz @thepoopdokyeomtouched @sunset-sana @coupsgfsstuff @stagefrjghts @wonuwonder

#I'm nervous pls dont hate it #mingyu smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen hard hours #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #my works

606 notes · View notes

oliviajdjarin · 1 year

Text

Joel Miller: Lies in the Dark

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Summary: Joel realizes two things 1). He's an absolute dick 2). You love him anyway.

Excerpt: "Y/N," he whispered, with enough southern drawl to make you realize how much you had missed that baritone. It warmed you, slithering up your spine so fast it made you dizzy. "How...how do I fix this?"

You looked up at him, at his dark eyes and tanned skin, and said, "return the favor."

It wasn't even five seconds before he had you over his shoulder, down to your living room, and tossed onto the couch. You bounced as you landed, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

Warnings: SMUTTT, oral fem!receiving, Joel eats, reader gets a bit insecure for a second, angst, fear of relationships, kissing, the l word, pretty much just fluffy smut.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: This is technically a part two to Talking Body, but if you would like to read this on its own, you absolutely can do so. Thank you for all the love and requests for a part two. It means a lot to me.

A/N 2: I was also inspired by this song by tove lo for this part, and talking body also by tove lo for the first part of this duology as well :)

p.s. I know absolutely nothing about guns, so if you don't actually have to cock (?) a shot gun, just ignore that detail haha.

Pedro Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Joel knew he should not have grinned when the bodies hit the iced-over hill, nor should he have widened that grin when the all-too-familiar sound of the crunch of an infected's skull under his boot echoed across the canyon.

But he needed this. He needed to ruin something, mutilate it, end it.

And yet, even with a dozen bodies in his wake as he road back home, he still could not get the look on your face out of his head, out of his dreams.

Thinking causing more damage would gut you out of him, he brought his horse back to the Jackson stables, gave her an apple and a back rub, and immediately headed home to his axe. He set up his wood accurately, and with one swing, he brought the axe down, cleaving the stump in two.

I've got you, just relax.

Not enough. He brought down his axe over another.

I want to touch you, Joel. More of you.

And another.

All of you.

And another.

I don't want anything from you.

He stripped off his jacket, and chopped another.

I know what you are, Joel. I know who you are.

His shirt went next, leaving him bare, not caring about the single-digit temperature. He chopped another, grunting as he did.

That's why I'm on my knees.

He practically shouted as he chopped another, his knees wobbling, his swing slightly off.

Hi handsome.

He missed his target with another shout, and let the axe slip out of his hands, thoroughly chucking it across the yard. He breathed heavily, his breaths coming out in grunts. He shut his eyes, unable to look down at his hands without feeling the skin on your face, or the softness of your hair between his fingers.

"Keep the whiskey," he whispered to himself, his voice dripping in anger. "Keep the fuckin' whiskey."

That's what he had said to you. The woman who had wiped his tears and stared his mistakes straight on, never once faulting. That's what he had said to you after you let him come down your throat, giving him what had to have been one of the best nights in his life.

"Keep the whiskey," he whispered again, and let his knees finally give out, kneeling in the snow in only his jeans.

What had he done?

~*~

Every night for a week, you waited for him as you always had, and every night, you had gotten your heart punctured by his knife.

He wasn't coming back, you knew it as you watched him leave your house with the taste of him still on your tongue, but you still waited. Beer on your coffee table, blankets on your couch, hope in your heart.

Nothing.

You sighed and took a sip of your beer, internally beating yourself to a pulp. You didn't use to be like this, a proponent of second chances, a forgiving soul. You would clutch onto the ways people hurt you and seer them into your scull, never forgetting the exact ways they made you sting.

But with Joel, things had been different, because he was the exact same way. A distrustful, angry, haunted man, who just wanted someone to talk to without the risk of them holding anything over his head. Without needing anything from him. And that's exactly what you needed too. You thought you just needed each other, not anything from each other, and that's why you were still waiting for him.

You thought he needed you, even if he didn't want you, and some fucked up piece of an unaddressed wound inside of you thought that was enough.

You thought he needed you.

You stood from your seat as you checked your watch, realizing how late it had gotten, and finished off your drink. You stretched as you stood, promising yourself that this was the last night of this pathetic moping. It had been seven days since you had heard even a scuff of his boots, and even if he did need you, he obviously didn't need you as much as you thought.

You deserve better than this, you told yourself, even if you didn't believe it.

You wiped your now watering eyes as you walked to your kitchen to throw out the empty bottle, your mind roaring with insults and abuses towards your very core, and let the bottle fall on top of the dozen others.

You thought he needed you.

You headed back to your living room to fold up your blankets, unable to touch the beer you had left for him, when a crunch of snow came through your window.

You barely noticed it, until another matched it, and another, and another. They were rushed, frantic, like the body attached to them was sprinting.

Your own body froze. If an infected had made it this far into Jackson, you were fucked. Everyone was fucked.

Your body went on autopilot, ignoring the tears now dripping down the center of your throat. You grabbed the shotgun by your front door and cocked it, preparing yourself.

If there was one now, more would be on the way.

The steps slowed down as they reached your door, and pants loud enough to breech through the wood hit your ears. Your stance stayed strong.

Until the two-one-one knock echoed, your throat lodged, and your hands began to shake.

"It's open," you said, cursing your crackling voice, but still aiming your gun.

If this was who you thought it was, maybe opening fire would hurt less.

The hinges of the doorframe squeaked; the wood creaked as the door slowly opened, and those same brown eyes you had been falling asleep to met your own.

Another tear dripped down your cheek, and as his eyes widened at the weapon in your hand, his hands went above his head.

But your gazes remained locked.

After a few beats of him catching his breath, you lowered your gun, letting your arms fall slack in defeat. His hands remained above his head as you let it fall to the floor.

His knife had officially ripped you open.

"Y/N," he finally whispered, his hands still above his head, your eyes still leaking.

"What?" you responded harshly.

He swallowed, lowered his arms, and sucked in a shaky breath before saying, "I'm such a dick."

A few beats of silence passed before you fully processed what he had said; the tone in which he said it, the glowing emotions in his eyes, his hands previously up in surrender, his panting breaths from his sprint over to you, and the disheveled look of him.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed.

Joel Miller was fucking scared.

"Yeah, Joel," you said as you laughed, more tears leaking from your eyes, "you are a dick."

He smiled, almost in disbelief, but still managed to smile big enough to show his teeth.

Maybe you were weak, maybe you were stupid, maybe you deserved for him to leave you again, because he hurt you. He hurt you for seven days straight, practically gutted you from the inside out and left your organs on a clothesline to dry...

... but you forgave him anyway. Right in that moment. Because he knew he was wrong, and he ran to you in the middle of the night to show that to you.

And above all, you forgave him because you were scared too.

You could tell he was catching on to your train of thought as he stepped in the door and shut it, locking it behind him. You swallowed as he turned to you, smelling a mix of frost and smoke emulating off of him, and he took one step closer to you.

"Y/N," he whispered, with enough southern drawl to make you realize how much you had missed that baritone. It warmed you, slithering up your spine so fast it made you dizzy. "How...how do I fix this?"

You looked up at him, at his dark eyes and tanned skin, and said, "return the favor."

It wasn't even five seconds before he had you over his shoulder, down to your living room, and tossed onto the couch. You bounced as you landed, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

He quickly laid down on his back, filing up the remainder of the couch, and sighed contently. He made himself comfortable before laying his head down flat on the cushions and patting his shoulders.

"Take a seat," he said cockily, and your mouth fell open.

"You're -" you began, suddenly unable to speak, "you're serious?"

"So fuckin' serious," he replied, "you don't think I just had dreams of you pleasin' me, do ya darlin'?"

Maybe you were the one dreaming.

Before you had the chance to wake up, you quickly stood and started unzipping your jeans, dispensing them to the floor. Your socks and underwear quickly followed. Joel admired you as you did so, resting his hands behind his head.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"It ain't even funny."

You pulled off your left sock, leaving you completely bare from the waist down, and walked to him. You threw your right leg over his waist and sat on his crotch, making him grown.

"No shoes on the furniture," you said, pushing his feet of the grey cushions, "watch your boots, Miller."

"You're right," he said breathlessly, obviously trying to hide how affected he was by the feeling of your warmth on his buldge, "now come 'ere."

You took in a shaky breath as you crawled up his body, the realization of what was about to happen slowly beginning to hit you. You made it halfway up when he halted you, holding your face in his hands.

"We can stop," he said, "now, ten minutes from now, never. You're in control, just let me know."

You nodded, his irises revealing only honestly, and you swallowed. "I'm ready."

He grinned and sat back, ready for you too.

You finished your climb and held onto both the armrest and the back of the couch, hovering over his mouth. His hot breaths on your pulsing core nearly made you whine and your thighs shake, but you remained firm.

"Joel, are you sure you want to -"

He didn't hesitate to pull you down, put your entire body weight on his mouth, and kiss and lick you like it was his final night alive.

It may as well have been yours with how quickly you began to unravel.

He kept his hands on your thighs as he gorged, keeping you so close to him you had no choice but to feel every taste bud on his tongue, puff of breath, and follicle of his scruff scrape upon you in the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

It was nirvana, Zion, Elysium, whatever fucking afterlife you wanted to believe in, all of it was between your thighs.

He started slow, kissing and licking, but soon found your hole, and kissed you there, then nudged your clit, and kissed you there, then around your thighs, squeezing your ass, and over and over and over again he would repeat the process.

You couldn't help the mewling noises coming from your mouth, and the sweat dripping down your back.

You were on fire.

Through the roaring in your head, you could make out that Joel eventually started saying words, maybe even sentences. You could only make out fragments.

"I'm - sorry - scared - you - fuck - taste - heaven - dreamed - scared - so scared -"

"I know Joel," you groaned, beginning to rock forward into his tongue, riding it. "I know you were, it's - shit - it's okay."

"No," he replied, and you tugged him back into your core by his hair, still rubbing down, caring his tongue into you. "Gonna - never gonna leave - leave again."

You smiled, sweat plastered across your upper lip, hair frizzing, eyes blown wide, "okay."

And he somehow ate you out harder.

It was becoming too much - his tongue around your hole, his nose against your clit, his fucking fingers squeezing down on your thighs, the noises of it all. You finally gathered enough strength to tilt your head down, only to be met with the sight that undid you.

Joel's face plastered with you - only you - and his eyes firmly locked on your face, while his tongue and mouth swirled around the most intimate part of you.

And it was with that last look that you couldn't help it - you came, hard, gripping onto his hair so tight it had to have hurt him.

But he took it anyway, and never slowed down.

You may have come again. You didn't know. All you knew was that he was relentless, a man starved, and through your whines and cries, you finally mustered up the words, "That's good. I'm done."

He could have gone longer, much longer, and maybe one night he would, but not tonight. He simply licked you clean and kissed your core goodbye, it was so sensitive you flinched and groaned one last time, and lifted you back down to sit on his waist.

You expected him to pull away, sit you on the couch, maybe offer to get you a drink, but he didn't.

His mouth wasn't done yet.

He set you down comfortably before attaching his still soaked mouth and facial hair to your pulse point, and your eyes shut immediately, tears of pleasure finally making their escape.

"Joel," you whined, "that - feels really good."

He hummed and sucked harder, likely leaving a hickey or two, but you only pulled him closer. He smelled of sweat and cinnamon, his warmth and his weight wrapped around you immersing you in nothing but comfort.

His mouth on your neck was bliss, but the feeling of him surrounding you was euphoria. He had comforted you with his words plenty of times, but having it from his body was almost impossible to bare. Something that had been uncontrollable and unpredictable in you finally settled, and you let it.

You wondered if it was your love for him.

After making his way to the other side of your neck, Joel began to move his fingers underneath your shirt. Not enough to meet anymore skin than just underneath your belly button, but enough to give you chills.

You knew what he wanted.

"Go ahead," you whispered, pulling his head away from your collarbone, "but only if I see you too."

With one look at him you could see that his mouth was red and swollen, his hair was frizzed, and his eyes were even darker than the last time you had seen him this way. You weren't even sure he understood what you said he looked so drunk off your body, but he nodded eventually. You ran your thumb across his cheek.

It's just me, the motion said, don't be afraid.

You didn't think it worked, but he removed his shirt anyway, and you removed your own.

You were met with a body of scars and moles, scabs and skin, and countless stories. You recalled them all from previous nights of talking- the scar across his chest from the first infected he killed, a scab forming on the right side of his torso from last week's new horse that bucked him off, and a bruise on his forearm. It was a dark shade of purple, meaning it was new.

You traced it, "what's this from?"

His eyes stayed glued to your torso. "I gotta - gotta bit carried away splittin' wood earlier."

You looked into his eyes and giggled, "Is that the yell I heard?"

He scoffed, still scanning your body with his eyes, "Probably."

You continued to laugh and brought your finger up his forearm to his bicep, rubbing your fingers over the pronounced muscle, and continued over his collarbone. You then brought your hand over the expanse of his chest, enjoying how your hand spread as wide as it could go was still no match for the expanse of it, before tracing down his stomach, finally able to feel the soft happy trail you had been drooling over in your sleep. His abdomen tightened as you felt all the way down, and all the way back up.

Your eyes were so soaked with him that you hadn't even noticed his hands beginning to run down your own body, suddenly making you sweat. His fingers went up your back and over your shoulders, his calloused palms against your soft skin sending shivers down your spine, before delicately running them over your breasts, treating them like they were prone to pop.

"You can touch me," you said sweetly, and he felt you up faster, thoroughly, and completely. He had to have touched every inch of you, and you let him.

After a few moments of memorizing his skin and internally recalling the stories each speck of it told, you looked back up at him, only to find a different look on his face. One of longing, yet present.

Like he wanted more from you, right now.

He brought his right hand behind your neck and his left up to your cheek to frame your face. Your eyes shut and your vocal cords hummed at the feeling of his hands, having done so much damage, sliding over the skin of your neck and face like that of a priceless jewel.

Your eyes fluttered back open to find his mouth inching closer to yours, enough for his breath to fan over your lips. His eyebrows were raised in question, waiting for you to pull away or stop him, but you only smiled, and pulled him the rest of the way into the kiss.

You remembered how you felt when he begged you with his eyes for this seven days ago, and now, with his lips meeting your own, you wondered why you ever had a shred of doubt in the first place, because if you thought Joel could give head well, it was nothing compared to the way he kissed.

He moved you with his mouth, painting and sketching upon you with his tongue like an artist with their brush. He didn't start slow, he moved with a fever, tilting your head back slightly to gain as much access as he could, maintaining his grip on your face the entire time. It was indescribable how much you were saying to each other through glides over tongues and bites on lips. The darkness surrounding you held no more lies, no more fear. Only this, only you.

You nipped at his lip a little harder after one particularly good stroke of his tongue inside your mouth, causing him to pull away from you and smile before bringing you back in for more, and you knew that image of him so rawfully joyful would never leave you.

You kissed and felt each other for some time, so long the street lights of Jackson had long since gone out, and with one last firm kiss to your lips, Joel pulled away, a trail of split connecting the two of you. It was symbolic, you thought, of how little your bodies wanted to separate. It was like your lips were holding on, not wanting it to end either.

You both smiled at the feeling.

He set his forehead against yours with a satisfied sigh and ran his palms up and down your back, causing you to hum once more. He pressed kisses around your lips and cheeks, ending on your hairline.

You'd have to ask him about his symptoms of oral fixation later.

He pressed his forehead against your own once more and breathed deeply, basking in the silence. You basked in it as well, closing your eyes. You were tempted to let yourself fall into slumber in his arms when his gruff voice suddenly filled the air.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"I think I love you."

Your eyes immediately opened, connecting with his, and you noticed the tears beginning to dribble down into his beard. Your eyes instantly filled at the sight of his own filled ones, and you wiped them away with your thumb, feeling no fear as you replied.

"I think I love you too."

Maybe you did need each other after all.

Tag list: (please let me know if you would like to be added!)

@leahkenobi @untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @aninnai @darling-murdock @daphne-turner @ellesvoid @morks-watermelon @notmyideia @farintonorth @axshadows @biggestsimponhere @thepascalofus @paleidiot @projectionistwrites

#joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #hbo tlou spoilers #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian

546 notes · View notes

froznwater · 1 month

Text

You win some and you lose some (Alenoah)

Growing up, Alejandro was a I always win type of child. There was no losing. There was no throwing on purpose. There wasn’t a bigger picture. Only winning. Come forth grade, he started to see how boosting classmates' egos could in turn boost their opinion of him. And, by product, give him a leg up in both school and social status.

He was on top of the world. A few gifts and charming compliments netted him every student of the year award on top of about a dozen others.

Freshman year though. That almost really humbled him. There were a few bothers, that he got rid of rather quickly. Students the teachers seemed to like just a little too much. Kids whose grades he needed to strike down early, and eliminate the possible enemy later.

Everything was fine. And then it wasn’t.

Noah showed up sophomore year and appeared to have a special talent for flying under the radar. Until he started taking the places of Alejandro’s name in the morning announcements. In almost every aspect that didn’t involve sports.

That year, they didn’t share any classes. Alejandro almost never ran into the boy. Only saw a couple flops of his overgrown hair in the hallway in between classes. (He looked him up online, then, when that yielded no results, searched through neighboring highschool yearbooks.)

The next year, Noah was in every single one of his AP classes. And he didn’t give a single shit about any of Alejandro’s advances. Responded coldly when Alejandro forced his signature friendly smile. Put his headphones in when Alejandro greeted him in the halls. He didn’t react to flirting.

So, for the first time in his life, Alejandro started working harder. There was someone he couldn’t beat. Someone he couldn’t manipulate.

He paid attention. Learned his schedule. Learned what he ate for lunch. Learned who his friends were.

That got his attention. When Alejandro started fucking around with Owen and Eva. Flirted with Gwen and led on Leshawna, only to leave her in pieces.

It only seemed to motivate him more. It’s exhilarating.

Noah always seems to have a comeback. Always something to say. Always one step ahead or one step behind and Alejandro literally wakes in the morning trying to make sure that he is in the lead. Thinking up what he can say or do or be to throw him off.

Senior year and the race is too close to tell. All Alejandro knows is that it’s him or Noah. Third place is a whole .3 gpa behind and that’s not even a doable comeback at this point.

All he has to do is think, breathe, look, and speak Noah.

And then Courtney moves to town half way through the year. Her gpa is right there with them. 4.05. And she’s running for school president and interning at some fancy law office on the other side of town and her father has just as much pull as his own. And she wants nothing to do with anyone. A real Type-A good girl that has her sights set on Harvard.

And all of the sudden this isn’t fun anymore.

Alejandro and Noah team up. There’s no way this random girl can just wander in and steal their place for free. She needs a distraction. Something that will help her live a little.

And what better distraction than love? Someone to give her butterflies. Just enough to miss that one assignment and throw her out of the competition forever.

Gwen seems like the perfect candidate.

Academic rivals Alejandro and Noah team up to set Courtney with their friend Gwen and fall in love in the process.

(this is not my day 2 LMAO. I was just thinking about this and wanted to type it out)

#alenoah #total drama #total drama island #total drama alejandro #total drama noah #td noah #td alejandro

71 notes · View notes

pochapal · 3 months

Note

re: Beatrice's contradictory ways haunting and vexing you, do you think this is the product of a multiplicity of Beatricehood - if not a multiple culprits theory then at least in line with your thoughts on the mythic construction of Beatrice The Witch, Beatrice Kinzo's Lover, Beatrice The Origin Of The Gold &c - or is there a grand unifying theory of Beatrice that you haven't been able to formulate?

i feel like for the most parts each beatrice is internally consistent with the exception of the overarching Beatrice The Culprit. the material beatrices each make sense in accordance with what we know of each time period and the respective people involved (save for maybe some finer details vis a vis Beatrice Kinzo's Lover and genji) and the immaterial beatrices each work within their self contained fictional frameworks (we know exactly how the beatrice that maria believes in and the beatrice that the servants tell everyone about overlap and diverge).

the problem is that Beatrice The Architect Of The Murders is in comparison rife with absolutely bizarre contradictions with no neat solution in the text. the base argument would be that this specific beatrice is defined by specific traits that can be mapped onto the relevant person(s) that are doing the crimes in the material world but outside of some reaching and projection with kinzo (who is ruled out from a lot of stuff by virtue of the existence of the other beatrices) there is basically nobody whose inner or outer self is congruent with what we know of this beatrice. if her motive was straightforward vengeance against the ushiromiya family then you could pin her origins on someone like kanon who has cause to violently loathe these people and if it was a straightforward occult ritual in accordance with kinzo's deal then that would speak more to someone like genji but as it stands "i am going to challenge you all to a life and death gamble where if you manage to stop me from killing you all you get access to kinzo's gold" is not something that really fits with any known quantity within umineko.

i think a Grand Unifying Beatrice would be to understand beatrice as a stand-in for the metaphor space people occupy when dealing with difficult truths - it is easier to talk about witches than it is fascism, or an abusive relationship, or being the person to slaughter over a dozen other human beings. beatrice as a concept is very much a mask worn by people and history to let truths filter forward less painfully. i don't think you can coalesce all these beatrices into a singular entity but i think they all operate using the same systems. the issue remains with that single beatrice who does not fit the pattern in the same way - whatever meaning beatrice has as a gambling culprit is opaque and contradictory in a way i don't think can be solved with the information we have.

my gut instinct is to say this relates to the deeper questions of fiction/storytelling and of umineko being a self-conscious mystery story that wants to be solved, but that layer of the story, if it exists, isn't accessible to us. i theorized once that there might be a metafictional beatrice who is presenting the mystery of umineko in a specific way to get a reader to want to dig into the concealed truths of the story, and i wondered if maybe something similar wasn't happening between the diegetic beatrice and the intended audience for the performance of the witch illusion on rokkenjima. the issue is that there is no convincing potential diegetic beatrice to fill this role, which is why i'm left feeling like i'm missing something. it's one of many instances where my understanding of umineko frustratingly feels like you're missing exactly one key puzzle piece needed to get a solid grasp of the picture - the truth is so close, yet so elusive.

#fatesealyou #short answer is i understand every beatrice except the one that matters most lol

18 notes · View notes

stillness-in-green · 1 year

Text

Chapter Thoughts — Chapter 382: Don’t Let Him Go

Two big lengthy segments today (guess what about) and some shorter observations. I'll just go ahead and put the jump here, shall I?

On Toga:

It’s hard to talk rationally about the drama with Toga this week, both because

(A) The early leaks led to a lot of discussion centered on Toga and love and why—as the leaks expressed quite baldly—she doesn’t love Shigaraki and Dabi, and the bad takes are like unto a lingering poison I have to shake.

and

(B) It feels so overwhelmingly like a copout.

There’s so much that can be theorized about Toga's dilemma and to what extent Tsuyu's assumptions about her love are correct, but I find it difficult to engage in good faith because it just feels so cheap. This is an almost Platonic example of arbitrary complications that are only a problem because the author says they are, not because they flow naturally from previously established facts. If the Shigaraki that couldn’t make his quirk go off were a Toga-disguised-as-Shigaraki, that would be one thing, and you could move into discussion of her feelings freely. But so far as we’re presented with, it’s not—it’s just a clone Shigaraki, exactly like any other Jin could have made himself.

Jin never had any problems with creating incomplete doubles. If he didn’t understand something well enough, it wouldn’t look perfect on the surface despite missing core aspects internally; it would just immediately turn into sludge, like his attempt at replicating Overhaul’s quirk-erasing bullet. Likewise, the various members of the League Jin doubled never manifested Jin’s own psychological need to cover his face to keep from splitting; that always remained unique to him and his self-doubles.

So why do doubles Toga makes have her emotional restriction? Well, because the author said so. Because Horikoshi couldn’t have this whole field of heroes be annihilated by a single double—even though, from all we knew about how Double worked before, that should be exactly what happened—so he had to come up with some arbitrary explanation why dozens of people haven’t been dusted where they stand.

As far as (A) goes, I think the real translation is more nuanced than the blunt statements in the leaks, and certainly the chapter as a whole is much more nuanced than the wild leaps people started making when all they had to go on was Tsuyu’s hypothesis—that people immediately took as fact—that Toga doesn’t love Shigaraki and Dabi. For myself, I’m not inclined to second-guess Toga on her own experience of her feelings of love, what qualifies and what doesn’t. She says she loves Touya and Tomura; I have to read that as at least as credible a claim as her love for Ochaco and Deku.

So where does that leave me? Well, I think there are two major possible explanations for Toga’s problems that aren’t just the incredibly reductive and insulting, “She doesn’t love them.” Both have some sub-issues of their own, but, well, that’s what comes of this whole development being dictionary-definition Arbitrary.

Theory 1: Toga’s love always been tied up in her sense of wanting to become more and more like the objects of her affection. She doesn’t just love Ochaco; she wants to become Ochaco. So maybe the issue is that, while she loves Shigaraki and Dabi, she doesn’t particularly want to become them, and it’s the desire to emulate, rather than the love, that actually defines her ability to use quirks.

That would be consistent with the way her quirk evolution was portrayed in Chapter 226—much more consistent, even, than the idea that her “love” is the key factor. Back then, the thought that’s on her mind as Curious comes in for the kill is, “I wanna be just like you.” When she uses Ochaco’s quirk to kill, her spoken line is, “I wanna be even more like the people I love.” Love is a factor, certainly, but it’s filtered through that additional qualifier. This would mean everyone involved[1] has misread Toga’s condition in a small but crucially important way.

I can see two immediate problems with this theory, but both are fairly minor.

First, Toga never showed any particular desire to emulate Jin, but she’s obviously using his quirk—not without issues, but using it all the same. This one’s fairly easy to get around, in that it would be very easy to say that she didn’t want to become Jin before he was killed, and her desire to do so now is inseparable from the fact that he was murdered. Does she want to become him so he won’t be gone from her life? So she can carry out revenge for him? That’s fairly immaterial; as long as she does want to become him, his quirk becomes accessible.

Second, Toga has shown signs of emulating Shigaraki and, to a more debatable extent, Dabi. While it’s not as full-throated as for Ochaco, obviously, Chapter 226 ends with Toga thinking that whatever she hates must be destroyed—right, Tomura? Likewise, people have pointed out that Toga’s pose on the 339 color spread could be her copying his Frankenstein’s monster hands pose from 191. So there’s at least some basis for Toga mimicking or adopting aspects of Shigaraki and Dabi, which would undercut the idea that she doesn’t want to become them ergo she can’t use their quirks. A single line of dialogue and a highly interpretable pose in a non-canon color spread make a pretty thin objection, though, so I don’t regard them as hard evidence against the theory.

Theory 2: Toga’s transformation into Twice is flawed, so his quirk isn’t working to its fullest. A flawed transformation would line up with that extremely unsubtle page of Toga agonizing about why she can’t become Jin overlaid against a background of thoughts about hero mass extinction that are highly un-Jin-like. It would also point to the Sad Man’s Death Parade not being made up of Togas-transformed-into-Jin, which I had thought was the explanation for why they were so deathly silent compared to the riotous clamor the Sad Man’s Parade raised in Deika. Rather, they are clones of Jin, but they’re flawed clones, strained through Toga’s grief and overpowering hatred, choking out Jin’s actual character: chatty, protective, desperately loyal. If those distorted copies have Toga’s emotions, it makes a certain amount of sense that they’d also have her restrictions.

This one runs into serious trouble with my (B) objection, above, particularly the idea that Twice’s own quirk was always very all or nothing—it either works or it gloops, no in between. If Toga’s attempt to use Jin’s quirk is reflecting a flawed understanding of Jin, she shouldn’t really get usable copies at all, just sludge. As for explaining away this problem, well, we might say that quirks are pretty weird, so Transform and Double having some unpredictable interactions isn’t entirely out of bounds. It’s just, again, deeply arbitrary.

I can't help but think, whatever the explanation, that there are ways around a hero massacre that wouldn't have required kneecapping Toga with nonsensical quirk restrictions. It's not as if we lack precedent for clones being way less dangerous than the real things! The Shigaraki/Dabi/AFO clones were probably made by the bazillionth Himijin clone, so are about as strong as wet paper. They'd also take longer to make, because it always took Jin longer to make clones of other people than clones of himself. Just get Hawks off of AFO-sitting-duty and back down to the field to put feathers through any League/AFO-clones that are reaching out their hands in dangerous ways.

Heck, you could even further the teamwork themes by having Hawks—who's probably a bit low on feathers to do that whole thing himself—be the eye in the sky to coordinate everyone else! (This might then leave him open to Actual Toga, who still deserves to knife him and has inexplicably not gotten to do so yet.)

Anyway. I guess we’ll see how it develops. I’m not against Toga having some good crunchy anguish, heaven knows, but it would be nice if it didn’t feel so mandated by the need to stop her from murdering a dozen acres’ worth of on-the-ground heroes.

One other thing, though, before I leave Toga and move on to the other big headache this chapter. Tsuyu says, “It seems like Himiko-chan’s own restriction applies to the doubles she makes after transforming into Twice. (...) In an extreme situation like this, a single emotion could override that restriction at any second.” That’s extra dangerous because of—and I don’t know if Tsuyu knows this or not—one of the factors in how Double works, or at least could be read as working.

Recall that back during MVA, we were told that the doubles Twice makes of other people are limited to what their real selves knew at the last time real!Twice saw them, but that this limitation doesn’t apply to Twice himself. I never could 100% parse that, but one of the logical explanations is a sort of instant knowledge transmission—that anything the original knew, any double of him made would also know, even if it was itself made by a double that wasn't present for whatever new thing just happened.

Would this have applied only to new clones, each created as an up-to-the-minute copy of Original Jin and then lagging behind as they slide into their own experience? Or is every clone updated moment to moment such that they stay accurate reflections of Jin? That’s unclear thanks to the vague phrasing, but if the knowledge transmission works the same way for Toga, and she resolves her crisis and suddenly becomes able to create quirk-capable clones, then whether every Himijin on the field can abruptly do the same or only newly created Himijins, it’s an instant ticket to The Worst Situation either way.

(I’m rooting for you, Himiko! Resolve that crisis! Go go go!)

On Shinsou and Gigantomachia:

On the one hand, this is the exact opposite of arbitrary authorial handwaves. I can look back over Shinsou’s arc all the way back to the Sports Festival and see the groundwork being laid for this. Indeed, I’d say all of his major appearances, combined with what we know about Machia, contributed to the setup for this.

At the Sports Festival, we learned that he could take control of people by tricking them into responding to them. By the Joint Training arc, he’d picked up a support item that allowed him to mimic others’ voices. In MVA, Machia was shown to be fanatically loyal to AFO, a trait that could be particularly guided by the sound of his master’s voice.

After the traitor reveal, Shinsou mind-controlled the Aoyamas through their phone call with AFO. Since he can’t force people to do anything that requires much mental engagement (here meaning he couldn’t just order the Aoyamas to respond to AFO the way AFO expected them to), we must assume he needed to be able to hear AFO’s side of that phone in order to respond to it properly. Thus, that phone call enabled him to learn what AFO’s voice sounded like such that he could later mimic it.

It all fits! It fits extremely elegantly, more so than the vast majority of the late-stage twists have done thus far.

And yet... And yet.

And yet it’s morally dubious and frankly, the Machia we were introduced to in MVA deserves better than this.

I know most people don’t care about Gigantomachia—indeed, the post-MVA series has not gone out of its way to encourage us to do so—but imagine for a moment that this wasn’t Machia attacking AFO. Imagine it were Mister Compress. He’s much too chatty to not trip into responding to Shinsou, and then he could be dropped in front of, say, Toga in hopes that seeing him would cause her to drop her guard long enough for Mr. Compress to be ordered into marbling her.

Wouldn’t that feel incredibly shitty, manipulative, and even outright villainous? Especially for the kid whose entire character arc is about proving that he can use his quirk in non-villainous ways? Like, Shinsou immobilizing Machia would be one thing, making him walk back into his cell, something like that would entirely fine. Actually forcing him to attack his own allies, however, is many, many steps past fine.

And it’s not like AFO doesn’t deserve to have a mountain thrown at him, but does Machia deserve to be forced to throw it? Well, I could talk about that,[2] but as I see it, it’s a moot point.

Forcing enemies to fight their own allies, just so we’re all clear here, would be considered a war crime if this were a duly declared war situation.[3] It isn’t a war, not least because the heroes are a nominally civilian force fighting against their own nation’s criminals, but, hot take, anything that would constitute a literal war crime in an international conflict is not something that should get readers cheering for the wholesome good guy heroes just because the crime’s being perpetrated against their own people.

Even if you set aside the ethics of the situation, though (which you by no means should), I have to ask about the tactical wisdom of bringing Machia to the field as well. So Shinsou's controlling him now, awesome; we’ve weaponized one of the villains against their own side.

What happens when that control wears off? Or Shinsou gets wounded (or worse) and loses focus? Or AFO warps Machia out of there, likely out of Shinsou’s range of control? Or Machia breaks himself out of the control because that’s just how much it agonizes him to be forced to fight his beloved master? Or AFO breaks him out of the control because Machia is conditioned to respond to his voice, and he’s got the right smell to go with it? Or literally anything because this is not a permanent solution but now Machia's out of prison and on the field with AFO, great job, team!!!

Another issue a chat friend brought up: Machia’s basically just retracing the path he took before—from the Villa to Jakku then back again. Given how incredibly destructive that was before, how destructive was it this time? Did they swerve around every settled area on the way? Just run over it again because, heck, it’s not like anyone’s had time to repair it anyway? ‘Cause like, back in Chapter 282, when the radio was running through the list of places that needed to be evacuated, the announcer listed twenty names before Uraraka picked up her line of dialogue, interrupting any further roll call of affected areas.

Furthermore, all the places listed were called cities—shi in the Japanese, the largest of Japan’s three municipal categories. There are also towns (machi) and villages (mura), neither of which were mentioned in the broadcast, but which must surely also be scattered along Machia’s route. That’s a lot of municipality to swerve around; would it even be feasible to do so and still reach the battle in a relatively timely fashion? How much time has elapsed since we saw the Jakku battlefield in 353, at which point Machia was still down and dreaming? How much time is that compared to how long it took Machia to clear the villa and arrive at Jakku in the previous war?

Machia’s travel times have always been a frankly impossible abstraction,[4] but seriously, it ought to take considerably more time to navigate around every clutch of houses in his path than to just plow through them.[5] Unless, again, the kids just said fuck it and ran back over the path he took before, trusting that it was still an evacuated wasteland. Which, while it doesn’t account for those who declined to evacuate to begin with, might be a fair bet—I can’t imagine the government’s shelling out much for repair and construction with things still so unsettled—but would still be a pretty bad look for Team Hero.

Stray Thoughts:

O The layout of the narration boxes on the first page is very fun.

O AFO is obvious, but I wonder why Dabi and not Shigaraki for Tsuyu’s pick on people they’d be doomed if Toga had chosen to transform into. Shigaraki’s ranged Decay is by some measure deadlier, and that’s not even getting into everything else Shigaraki’s packing now. Meanwhile, Dabi has still yet to kill a single named character.

O Tsuyu calls Toga Himiko-chan, which is certainly A Choice she’s consciously making, given that last time they met, Tsuyu was still rebuking Toga not to address her by her given name. Suffice to say, it’s a pretty strong suggestion that Tsuyu and Ochaco have had at least one serious conversation about Ochaco’s intentions towards Toga. I wish we could have seen it, but I suppose there’s always a chance of flashbacks.

O The panel of “Twice” with Toga’s eyes is a very nice touch. I assume it’s not meant to be literal—the “Camie” the reader first meets at the License Exam also has Toga’s eyes, which are wildly different from Real Camie’s eyes, a discrepancy you’d think her classmates would have noticed if it were meant to be a true depiction of her appearance.[6] Anyway, Ochaco doesn’t recognize her by the eyes; she recognizes her by the tears.

…Which is ironic, really, given that Jin was by far the most openly weepy of the League.

O Teen AFO is great, but what I find most striking is the shadows beneath his eyes. Specifically, the way they so strongly resemble the hollows beneath Shigaraki’s in e.g. Chapter 373.

I don’t know if this means anything, but it’s an interesting visual parallel. I wonder if Yoichi was not the only brother prone to frailty as a youth?

-------------------- FOOTNOTES --------------------

1: Tsuyu, who makes deductions based on it this week, Toga herself, who states it in Chapter 289; Ochaco, who heard it from Toga’s own mouth in the same chapter; and Dabi, back in 241, who probably also heard it from Toga at some point post-Deika.

2: Mostly I’d say that since we know neither what AFO did to earn Machia’s loyalty nor how much say Machia had in the walking disaster he’s become, we don’t actually have enough context to say what he “deserves” and what he doesn’t, and that it’s not the heroes’ job to unilaterally dispense that justice regardless.

3: Article 130 of the Geneva Conventions, which includes “compelling a prisoner of war to serve in the forces of the hostile Power” as one of several “grave breaches” of the Conventions that constitute a war crime.

4: As has been the case for all the travel times this arc has flippantly handwaved.

5: Because if plowing through them would take him longer than running around them, he would have run around them the first time, the sooner to make it to Master’s side.

6: Oddly enough, “Camie” only has Toga’s eyes for the first phase of the exam. Once Toga switches transformations to Ochaco to target Deku and then shifts back into Camie after, her eyes look the Real Camie’s. I haven’t done a thorough hunt, but she manifests Ochaco’s and Deku’s eyes normally at Deika and the Shie Hassaikai raid.

#bnha #bnha 382 #toga himiko #gigantomachia #purplezawa #quirk mechanics #stillness has salt #chapter thoughts

25 notes · View notes

marveloussupernerd · 1 year

Text

Snowed In - Zen

Idk why snowed in fics don’t exist for the mystic messenger characters. It’s cold asf where I live and I just want some comfort fic. Happy holidays xoxo

Summary: when visiting Zen to help him recover from his broken foot, you get snowed in and forced to stay the night

“Thank you again for visiting. I’m so sorry I have to send you home so late. Let me make you some tea before you head out? It was pretty cold out,” Zen offered, walking you back to his apartment from the rooftop where the two of you had looked at the stars as a snow storm began.

It was certainly getting cold. You regretted wearing just a dress, some tights, and a coat to his place. You couldn’t turn down some tea to warm you up before you had to venture back into the cold.

You had almost expected to stay the night. Probably better you didn’t. Zen had a lot going on both physically and mentally, with his broken foot making him unable to perform in the role he had been so looking forward to. But he did ask you to stay the night, then not more than fifteen minutes later asked you to leave. It was a little odd but… completely valid that he would change his mind! You just were internally hoping you didn’t do anything wrong.

You sipped your tea slowly, letting the warmth from the mug warm up your hands. “Thank you for letting me stay so long. I’ll message Jumin and ask him to send his driver now.”

You were surprised to see the half a dozen missed calls from Jumin when you opened your phone.

A bunch of roads are getting closed in your area. Please call me

You stiffened. Noticeably apparently, as Zen chimed in with a “what’s wrong?”

“I guess a bunch of roads are getting closed because of the snow. Jumin told me to call,” you replied, shrugging it off and dialing his number.

“Why didn’t you answer earlier?” Classic Jumin, not opening with any greeting at all.

“Sorry Jumin. I plugged in my phone to charge and then forgot to check it,” you replied honestly.

“Well the entire area near Zen’s is shut down. A bunch of crazy accidents and black ice. They won’t let anyone pass until they can salt the roads.”

You paused, unsure how to approach this issue. “Huh. Well I could always walk to an area more convenient!”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “It’s -20 out. Feels like -34. Blizzard-like conditions. You can get frostbite in under twenty minutes.”

Well you knew it was cold when you went out with Zen, but not that cold. Good thing you were only out there for a few minutes.

“Oh… uh-“

“Put me on speakerphone, would you?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see such an action, and wordlessly put him on speaker.

“Mr. Director?” Zen asked sarcastically.

Jumin let out a large sigh. “I am, for the record, beyond against this. But unfortunately there’s no other feasible option. The roads are closed and you two are snowed in for the night.”

“Seriously!?” Zen asked, shock evident in his voice.

Jumin groaned quietly on the other end of the phone. “So… be on your best behavior. And my driver will come tomorrow when it’s safe. Zen. I’m talking to you. Best behavior. Don’t me regret sending them to your house.”

“I- I won’t! I’m an absolute gentleman.”

“Alright. Well, I, for one, personally-“

Zen reached over and hung up the call, shaking his head. “Man! I can’t stand that guy. ‘Best behavior’ and who does he think he is! Just because he’s never been attracted to a woman and all he’s ever seen has been his father with women doesn’t mean that all men are absolute animals.”

Your own mind was swarming. You’d be staying the night… with Zen. After he had just abruptly tried to kick you out. “Uh… I’m not really sure how to say this-“ you started, trying to make things less awkward.

“What’s up?” Zen asked, leaning against the counter in his kitchen.

“I know I wasn’t really what you were expecting and you had a lot of hopes when I came here and I didn’t really fulfill them and that’s fine! I’m not going to hold any of it against you. I promise we can try and not make this awkward tonight but I’m really sorry you wanted me to go and then all of a sudden-“

“You didn’t fulfill them?” Zen questioned, cutting off your rambling. “No, you more than fulfilled them. I wanted to send you home because I’m really awful at self control, and you’re so beautiful and sweet and everything I ever dreamed you’d be and it’s… a lot, for someone like me to get that.”

“So you don’t absolutely hate me?”

Zen chuckled, sliding across the counter and closing the distance between the two of you to cup your cheek. “No, I think you’re the most amazing person that I’ve ever met.” He took a deep breath, retracting his hand. “And tonight I’m going to be a perfect gentleman, no matter how tempting you may be.”

You could feel your face heat up at the compliments. It was entertaining to see him just as flirty yet flustered as he always was in the messenger. “No worries, I’ll be good, I promise.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Don’t say that. It makes it worse.”

A moment later, he pulled his face out of his hands. “Well, let’s get you into something more comfortable. I can lend you some sweatpants and a shirt if that’s okay.”

“That would be great, thanks!”

“Okay! I’ll be just a second.” Zen went off to his room and you could hear some rummaging through drawers. All of a sudden, all the lights in his home turned off.

“Babe? Was that you?” He called.

You turned on your phone flashlight and went into the room Zen had entered. His head popped up to look at you when you walked in. “I think the power just went out,” you explained flatly.

Zen took in a deep breath. “Well tell Jumin. Maybe he can get some people on it. I’ll grab you a hoodie to wear too then. I don’t know how cold it’s gonna get in here.”

“Do you have any candles or anything?” You asked, trying to be helpful.

“Uh, I think I got a few a while back. They should be in a cabinet in the bathroom.”

You walked carefully to the bathroom, using your phone flashlight to light the way, then started digging through the cabinet in search of candles. You came back miraculously with a few tea-sized candles and two large candles: rose and vanilla scented. You had half the mind to tease Zen about how romantic it was that he kept these in stock, but then recalled your promise to be good.

You delivered the candles and he traded off with clothes for you to put on. “Thanks Babe. I’ll light these as you get changed. If you need anything just call.”

You got changed in Zen’s dark bedroom, trading your tights for warm and comfy, granted oversized, sweatpants. You tied the drawstrings really tight then, satisfied, went out to meet Zen.

“All comfy and warm now,” you greeted him in the now slightly better-lit room, doing a little spin in your new outfit.

Zen squeezed his eyes shut, then slowly opened them a few seconds later. “You look so cute in my clothes.” Was all he could muster, slinging the hood of your hoodie onto your head and chuckling.

“Ha ha. Take a seat. You shouldn’t be on your foot too much still. Do you have a gas stove? Or is it electric?”

“Gas. It should still run okay.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I’ll take some of the cans of soup we got today and cook them for dinner. It’s already starting to get a little chilly in here and I think the warm food will help.”

Zen nodded. “That’s a good idea. Yeah, low rent kinda means poor insulation in the winter. You need any help?” You shook your head and got to work making the food.

After a chill dinner of Campbell’s soup, you realized you had a lot of time to kill. “You have any board games?” You asked Zen.

He rubbed his elbow awkwardly. “I wish I could say yes?” He put on a flashy smile.

“That’s okay! We can find something to do.” You took a minute looking around, until you saw his stack of colorful highlighters on an old script on his counter.

“You done with this script?” You asked, handing it to him. He nodded. “Wanna cut it or tear it up into a bunch of cards? We can make our own game.”

Zen grabbed a pair of scissors at the corner of the counter and got to work. You went to his pantry and grabbed the sole box of cereal in there, taking the plastic bag out and collapsing the box into a giant strip of cardboard. Perfect for the game base.

You started drawing a giant, winded path on the board then separated them with a bunch of lines. Then you got to work with the highlighters, coloring each space a different color, a few spaces getting fancy symbols like stars or hearts. After putting colors on the pieces of paper Zen had cut out, you had a makeshift Candyland in just a half hour.

“You can be the rubber band and I’ll be the paper clip.” You passed Zen his dark blue rubber band player of honor and the game began. Zen was in the clear lead, getting colors that gave him a ton of spaced of lead, until he pulled the star card, sending him back to nearly the start.

In the end, you triumphed. It was starting to get cold in the apartment. You rubbed your hands together to try and warm them up. “When do you think the power will be back?” You whined.

“If the roads are closed, it’s not a good sign…” Zen trailed off. Then he opened his arms. “Come here. I’ve been told I’m pretty warm.”

It didn’t take much to convince you. You scoot d towards his embrace. Shockingly enough he was pretty warm. You buried your nose into his neck as your hands grabbed his sweatshirt he had on in attempt to warm up.

He jumped a little at your cold nose, but brushed it off, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing them up and down to try and warm you up.

“Why are you so warm?” You mumbled against his skin. Your movement pulled his sweatshirt, so you could feel that his collarbones were warmer, causing you to burrow slightly further into his sweatshirt to the warmest heat source possible.

He couldn’t help but laugh at your movements. “I always have been warm.”

“It’s like you’re my human furnace.”

He laughed, lips brushing against the top of your head (whether intentional or not, you couldn’t be sure), and ran a hand over your hair. “You wanna play again?”

“You’re brave enough for a rematch?” You asked, burrowing out of your warm spot to look at him.

“Oh you bet. I don’t like to lose.”

So you shifted your spot so you were situated between his legs, his arms wrapped tight around you except for when he had to grab a card to play the game. Eventually even that wasn’t warm enough and Zen had to grab the blanket on the sofa behind him to wrap the two of you in.

You played two more rounds to kill time until it got unbearably cold.

“That’s it. I’m officially too cold to continue,” you whined. “I give in, you win.” With two wins, beating your first round of luck, Zen was declared the winner. You buried your face back into his collarbone to try and heat up again.

“Glad you came to your senses to accept defeat. Do you wanna lay in bed under the blankets? That might help.”

You took a minute to think. “What time is it?” You couldn’t be too pitiful and go to bed too early.

“9:30. A totally normal time to get in bed.” It was like he read your mind.

“Okay. Will you lay with me?”

You could hear his heart race a little. “Of course I will.”

“Will you carry me?”

His heart was racing even faster.

And then you realized you’re stupid and he’s injured. “My bad!” You retracted from your hiding spot in his sweatshirt so you could look at him. “I forgot about your foot!”

“I could definitely try. I mean I heal fast so-“

“Nope. If anything I should carry you.”

“That isn’t necessary. Come on, let’s head to bed.”

You stood up first, grabbing Zen’s crutches and helping him stand before giving him them. Then you let him head off to his bedroom. You blew out the candles in the living room and grabbed the blanket you had used during Candyland, using your phone flashlight to light the way to the bedroom. Zen was already sat down in bed when you came in. You did a half-loiter in the doorway, not sure exactly how to go about any of this.

“C’mere Babe. Before you get cold,” Zen urged.

You flung the blanket you brought at the bottom of the bed, then made your way to the side opposite Zen, happily burying yourself under the covers.

“Nice?” He asked, watching you snuggle into the covers with heart-eyes practically.

“Soooo nice.” You scooted closer to him, slotting yourself between his warm arms to heat up.

Zen wasted no time to run his hand against your hair, smoothing it down. It was surprisingly relaxing.

“Sorry you got trapped here,” he apologized. “But I appreciate you coming to help me out today.”

You looked up to rest your forehead against his. “I’m having a good time. Sorry I had to stay when you were ready to have some time to yourself.”

He shook his head, bumping your nose with his in the process. “No, no. This is much better. So much better.”

He noticed your eyelids droop sleepily. “Get some rest. Hopefully the power will come on during the night.”

But did he hope that? Right now you were close in his embrace, breath fanning on his face, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world. Thank goodness for the blizzard.

#mystic messenger #mysme #zen #hyun ryu #// happy holidays loves

31 notes · View notes

r0und3bitch · 2 years

Text

Twin Flames ❤️‍🔥 Part 8: Crooked Love In a Straight Line

Series Masterlist

Part 8 Soundtrack

Summary: "It was no shock or surprise that Rafe was your lifeline. He always had been, since the very first night. But you’d often wondered what it was you did for him. How your chaos and turbulence could all be worth it to him."

Warnings: 18+ only!!! Cursing, alcohol, heavy intoxication, mentions of drug use, family tension, fighting, mentions of blood (slight), suggestive language, smut (towards the end)

Word Count: 9.2k

Notes: holy mother of god I cannot believe it’s taken me this long—I’m so fucking excited to finally be done with this! I’ve been looking at it so long I was starting to hate it. Pretty sure this might in fact be the first smut I ever wrote for TF 🥲 One of many big reveals happens! I’ve had this idea thought of and written for so long, it’s cool to see it come to life finally. (more to come on that…) FYI: You meet a new face in Part 9, maybe even 2 😇 enjoy, love you forever and let me know what you think!!!! Lastly, I feel like I may have missed adding people to the taglist, plz lmk if I did!!!!

A palpable change could be felt in the air over the coming weeks as an excited, frenzied spirit overtook the entire Kildare Island by storm.

You’d spent enough time on this island to be well acclimated to the social events and norms that took precedent nearly each week. Yet nothing could hold a flame to the literal chokehold currently placed on every single Figure 8 resident as the next looming yearly Kook event approached further.

That nervous energy had carried over to a certain ocean eyed, “Kook King” currently sitting across from you at the Island Club.

Rafe wasn’t even really eating, basically just toying the food around his plate, unable to stomach much until he finally asked his burning question.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned over you expectantly every few seconds since the moment you sat down nor the way he kept fidgeting with the watch in his left wrist as he looked as though he were internally debating something important.

It took only one single meaningful glance at him, eyebrow quirked out of curiosity to get Rafe’s lips to open and the words to fall out. They catch you off guard all the same.

“Will you go to Midsummers with me?”

Your face scrunched in confusion, this is what had him on edge throughout all of lunch?

“The club event thing?”

Your mind flashes back, remembering pictures you’d seen of Rafe from last year in that pale blue suit that always made your insides squirm and your face heat up. He only nodded his head providing no further explanation to his request. You’d been to dozens of events this summer already, from charity dinners to galas to important luncheons— you name it. Yet not a single one permitted the necessary of a date.

Let alone that necessity of YOU being Rafe’s date.

“Is that the kind of thing you bring a date to?”

Rafe bites back his laugh at the question, the grand gesture of bringing a date to midsummers and its insinuation to the entire Figure Eight community totally lost on you.

She has no idea…

“Yes, it’s the kind of thing you bring dates to, Y/N”.

He offers you a warm smile as the air buzzes between the two of you.

Surely you had to feel that too, right?

Rafe can barely handle the look you shoot him, your whole face lighting up at your next words.

“You’re asking me out on a date…?”

Your voice fades into soft wonder. While your question may be rhetorical, he realizes in that moment how truly alike you are in that way— how similar the two of you can be. He wonders if you even realize you’re doing it? How you need to hear him say it, how the words themselves need to validate it for you. The exact same as he’s repeatedly asked of you.

He doesn’t miss the gulp you take when he replies with a confident “Yes”, trying to appear full of nothing but patience as his leg begins to shake under the table.

When your mouth starts to fall open, Rafe goes into full panic mode.

“I’ve taken you out on dates before, Y/N/N…” he scoffs with a laugh to let you know he’s trying to play along.

“Well yeah, no shit— but none of them had you sweating through your shirt just by—”

Your breath catches when you look up at him to see the vulnerability overshadow his facial features. Your playfulness, meant to lighten the room, tugged harshly at unknown insecurities now on full display before you as you falter.

Is he really that afraid you’re going to say no?

“Baby…”

It’s one single word yet it breaks through every hardened exterior Rafe’s been protecting himself with as his eyes are beg you for an answer.

“Rafe, baby, c’mon the last thing you’re ever going to have to do is beg me to let you take me out on a date—”

“Y/N…”

His voice is soft but stern and has a pleading tone to it that you didn’t expect, catching you off guard again as you try to smooth things over with your smart ass attitude and charm.

One look at him and you know— know he needs to hear it.

“Please…”

It’s one of those moments you know he’d probably rather die than show anyone else— vulnerable and emotions ripped open and out in display. But you also know his feelings are so intense and eating him up alive over this so bad that he needs to show someone— anyone or he’s going to burst.

For the briefest of seconds you have the forward thought that maybe Rafe does want to show these moments to others he just hasn’t figured out how. Maybe that’s what he’s begging to do right now.

It was no shock or surprise that Rafe was your lifeline. He always had been, since the very first night. But you’d often wondered what it was you did for him. How your chaos and turbulence could all be worth it to him.

Maybe this was it? Maybe this is what no one else in this world can show him but you.

You stand from the tall bar chair abruptly, your body beating your mind as it tries to catch up, your arms already reaching around his neck as he steadies you against him with wide eyes.

“Rafe Cameron, I would literally love nothing more than for you to take me to midsummers…with you.”

He catches the clarification at the end, matching your quirked brow.

“Under one condition—”

The thought of holding any part of Rafe’s feelings ransom right now seems ungodly— trying to take back your words immediately, fumbling for a second.

“Er— nope, a request actually…”

Your tone changes in a second flat and Rafe, having been here a thousand times before, should’ve known better as he fully succumbs to your attempts to seduce him with one single look.

“If you’ll humor me…”

You’re only an inch or two away now, staring down at his lips as you close the gap between you even further.

“Anything, Y/N/N…”

His response, the easy confession to give you whatever you want stirs your mind.

The look you give him is truly malicious, knowing whatever words are about to come from your mouth are gonna rattle his brain.

“Promise you’ll fuck my brains out in your truck after. Or during, whichever you prefer.”

He would’ve been stunned by your words if they hadn’t pulled at a distant memory in his brain somewhere.

“In my truck…? Why in my—”

He chokes back when the memories of him and Mackenzie Slater float to the surface of Midsummers last year in his truck— coked out of his mind and having his way with her.

Your grin is easy and playful but has a deep rooted sense of mischief that sends shivers down his spine.

“I literally had to listen to this bitch talk in vivid detail about how you ‘tore her to shreds’ last summer—”

If you weren’t so giddy and breezy right now Rafe would’ve surely thrown up.

In the middle of broad daylight— on the Island Club patio, he feels your hands on either side of his face before he feels you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, suckling on it enough to earn a moan from him before pulling back.

“So now, I’m going to tear you to shreds, baby boy.”

Emotions— each and every single one of them meant for you— come rupturing out of him as arguably one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen on him breaks out over his perfect face.

You swell with pride as he laughs, letting him sturdy you against him, playfulness radiating off of you and tugging at his heartstrings.

“What if it’s not my truck— what if it’s that locker room right over there?” He whispers deep into your ear as he points to the small buildings by the pool.

“As long as it’s close enough for her to hear, I don’t give a shit—”

“Fuck…”

He needs to relax— he can already feel his dick hardening against the light fabric of his golf shorts— but he fucking can’t when you’re saying things like that.

Playful or not, Rafe has hardly, realistically if ever, experienced you being jealous— and you’ve had plenty of reasons to be, given his history. Seeing it displayed in any fashion— seeing you needy and demanding of him— was doing determinantal things to his mind.

“You’re trouble…”

Your next words full on stun him, as he hopes to fucking god you’re right.

“No, I’m yours.”

Your phone goes off as you're making your way up the staircase of Tanneyhill, this time your intentions set to the other Camerons.

Kelce 🌶: plz god tell me u said yes to midsummers…

Kelce 🌶: I don’t think I’ve seen our boy this stressed since Ward fired him for a whole month last summer after all that shit went down

Y/N: wtf is the deal with midsummers?! People are literally losing their minds over this shit

Kelce 🌶: oh my sweet, sweet Y/N…

Kelce🌶: welcome to the Figure 8, dream girl! are you even surprised at this point?

Y/N: I don’t think anything can surprise me at this point

Kelce 🌶: never say never…

You can hear Sarah on the other side talking to Wheezie as you approach her bedroom door, not bothering to knock as you twist the handle.

“I should’ve just bought a dress when I was in Charlotte last weekend this is truly a nightm—”

“Oh, thank god!”

Wheezie jumps off the bed upon your arrival, almost throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Save me, Y/N— she’s lost it!”

She’s pointing at a bewildered Sarah, dresses thrown across her bed messily as she paces.

“Girl—”

You’re shaking your head, not bothering to scan her selections, already making your way to hang them back up in her closet, your tone stern in a “my best friend needs me or she’s going to go crazy” kind of way.

“How many times have we done this rodeo?! Quit stressing, you already know we are just gonna raid my closet and I’ll dress you. Stop panicking!”

“But—”

“Sarah! I’ve got you! When have I ever let you step foot out of this house without looking immaculate?”

“Ugh, you’re right…”

Wheezie throws you another impatient, helpless look.

“What the hell! I just said the exact same thing to you for the last half hour and you didn’t want to hear it—”

Sensing a classic Cameron sister temper tantrum in the early stages, you do your best to nip it in the bud.

“Why the hell are you so stressed out about it anyways?”

“It’s Midsummers!”

Sarah throws her words around like you’re supposed to know the significance behind them.

“Mid-fucking-summers” you mock her, “Jesus Christ, what is this thing? I feel like everyone in this town is losing it.”

“Sarah has a date!”

Wheezie’s eyes narrow at her older sister.

“But of course she’s being a bitch and won’t say who—”

“Wheezie!”

You don’t even bother trying to diffuse the situation at this point, sisters will be sisters, especially if your last name is Cameron.

“Wait, who is this mystery date?”

A tingly sense of deja vu hits you as you question her.

“It’s a…surprise, I don’t want—”

“A surprise?!”

Mystery date. Noah’s favorite cologne. His most expensive watch.

“Oh my God— it’s not my fucking brother is it?”

“What!?”

Sarah and Wheezie both nearly scream in unison, making you flinch backward at the loud sound.

“No!”

But Sarah’s cheeks are still burning crimson— she feels it too, knowing she’s giving away all her secrets with one blush.

“No way…”

You’re trying not to giggle but you can tell there’s something more to the surface there.

“It’s— not— Noah!!”

Sarah throws a pillow at your head in mock frustration.

“Alright, Jesus calm down! This thing has you almost as stressed as your brother…”

“Wait— what?!”

Wheezie drops her phone between her hands, hearing it hit the floor with a loud thud as Sarah’s jaw nearly hits the floor too.

“He asked you to Midsummers?!”

Sarah’s question seems rhetorical but when Wheezie blurts in you start wondering if there’s something you’re missing, a game that you’re not up to bat at yet…

“Wait, Y/N. Rafe like legit asked you to Midsummers with him?”

The pressure of his two little sisters staring at you like you have seven heads in response to their brother— who you’ve been openly hooking up with all summer and spending nearly every waking moment with— asking you out on a date— to a stupid kook event finally boils over.

“What the fuck is the deal with all of you?!”

“Have you lost your mind? You’re acting like he’s asking for my fucking hand in courtship or some dumbass—”

Yet when Sarah cuts in, it’s almost too obvious. Her words hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Y/N! That’s exactly what he’s doing...”

The day rolls around fast, that looming stressful energy only getting greater by the second.

While this felt like any other chaotic day on the Figure Eight to you; the dozens upon dozens of texts from Sarah had proved otherwise.

Rafe had been pissed he couldn’t pick you up, but knowing the buttons he’d be pushing throughout the evening, he’d decided to play it cool when both your fathers demanded that each of you show up with your respective families.

“Show up”— being the key phrase that Rafe was willing to find a loophole.

Being a Cameron meant showing up ridiculously early to events such as these, always being the absolute picture perfect family, not a toe out of line…

Normally Rafe would have a hard time choking down the bullshit at events like these, but tonight his only intent is you. He barely hears his father drone on as he stands with Sarah and Wheezie at the front steps of the Island Club entrance.

“You don’t see their car yet do you?”

Sarah tries to ask casually but Rafe can tell there’s something off in his sisters voice.

“Why— nervous to see Noah?” Wheezie bites back quickly.

“I told you it’s not fucking Noah—”

“Then who the hell is—”

“Children—”

Ward's voice cuts off the youngest Cameron sibling as Rafe immediately wants to choke on the condescending tone dripping from his father‘s one word.

Ward takes an irritated look at his son, eyes scanning him from head to toe.

“What the fuck were you thinking wearing this?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his words from the rest of the family, Wheezie throwing her father an irritated look before lowly whispering at her feet.

“I think it looks great…”

Rafe, who’s insides are warmed at his sister's reassurance, is trying to remain calm, knowing silence will only irritate his father more. When he just shrugs his shoulders casually, Ward looks like he’s going to burst into flames.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Rafe’s next words cause Wheezie’s irritated look at her father to turn to shock.

“Oh I’m sure we will...”

Everyone just stands there, Rafe letting an accidental laugh fall from his lips as his father just stands there bewildered but fuming, not yet used to the resistance from his eldest child.

Unsure if he’s going to punch him in the face or not, Rafe braces for either option, body settling when he sees Ward take a deep breath and look to his other children.

“We are going to start lining up now— go ahead and stand behind myself and Rose—”

It’s at that moment Rafe sees the large SUV pull up, spotting your driver immediately. His heart races when he sees him get out and make his way over to the back door, watching your father get out first, followed by Zach.

“I’m not walking in with you guys…”

Rafe’s positive his father looks like he’s about to have a heart attack but he’s not even looking in Ward’s direction to confirm it— not paying him the slightest attention anymore, hearing Sarah’s voice instead, eyes hyper focused at catching the exact moment you stepped foot out of that car.

“Neither am I…”

Whatever his fathers reaction was, he didn’t catch it, his feet already taking a step toward, Sarah trailing just behind him as he sees Noah stick his hand out and watches yours latch onto it.

Noah’s firm hand helps you out of the car as you straighten your dress, a warm fuzzy feeling washing over you immediately after you step out, knowing only one thing… Rafe’s eyes are on you.

You’re twisting around, eyes scanning the entrance until you’re met with the most brilliant, breath taking shade of blue. Shock washes over your body, as you for once aren't describing Rafe’s eyes…

Your legs are no longer moving yet he’s still getting closer to you, his own closing the distance when yours fail to work.

So many thoughts compete for dominance in your weak brain. Like how you know Rafe is more than aware this was going to piss off Ward, how you know it’s going to majorly draw attention and most importantly, how you know how badly he wanted to wear it.

As your eyes scan up and down every single inch of him, you have the same thought seeing the suit on Rafe as you did that day in the store when he’s taken you shopping; how it was literally made to be ripped off of him.

The same exact deep turquoise suit you’d pointed out to him that day he’d closed down the entire store to make all of your wildest dreams come true, the brilliantly bright shade catching your eye and doing wicked things when picturing your tall, handsome boy within it. The same exact suit now fitted perfectly to every inch of his skin. As he smiles at you, that beloved strand of hair falls onto his eyelashes and you know you’re a goner.

The feeling shoots straight down and you can feel your pussy start to actually tingle. The dress you’d worn had required no panties from you— causing the pool already forming between your legs to soak down your thighs, breath hitching as you felt it drip down lower and lower…

It was going to be a long night.

That’s the same exact thought Rafe is having as he looks down at you, shades of white and gold making him melt into you, the white feather boa dangling from your elbows making his already fragile mind wander…

“Well fuck— you clean up nice eh, Boy Wonder?” Noah throws a nod in Rafe’s direction.

The words come tumbling out of your mouth so fast they’re almost hard to make out.

“This fucking suit looks incredible on you! I knew you’d lov—”

“Not as incredible as this dress I’m going to tear off you later—”

The promise of your earlier request— hoping and praying he’ll tear it to shreds.

His finger glides along your hip before his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss, not giving shit that your lip gloss now stains his face.

“Okay chill—”

Noah scoffs, looking away from you, training his eyes on Sarah, maybe for a little too long.

“I’m right the fuck here—”

Sarah just laughs. “You think they care?”

“They should care—”

“Get the fuck out!”

Kelce, already heavily tranced into his typical fun loving ‘I don’t give a fuck kind of attitude’ comes stumbling into view, Topper not far behind him, goofy eyed and sporting a lob sided grin you know too well. They were far from sober.

“Dream girl, who told you that you could show up to this fine establishment looking so beautiful, hmm?”

Kelce reaches a hand out to you, only to be swatted away harshly by Rafes, his death glare making him falter.

“Baby gir— ow fuck, your man’s ain’t playin tonight is he?”

“Watch it, Kelce—”

Topper grins further at Rafe, sensing his annoyance, the drink in his hand sloshing around dangerously as he eyes his friends outfit cautiously.

“Bro— what the hell are you wearing? I spotted you a smile away in that color—”

You catch Rafe’s eye right as he sees the twinkle form in yours.

“It looks so sexy on him, doesn’t it?” You question the group, looking googly eyed at Rafe, unwilling to help how happy and proud of him that he was slowly, on his own time, allowing others around him to see the real him.

Topper fake wretches, earning a laugh from Noah.

“They’re fucking disgusting, right?”

Your smart ass response back to your brother is cut off by his loud cat whistle, causing everyone to whip their heads towards the sound.

“Speaking of sexy…damn, Sid—okay—”

Your head snaps up, catching the moment Sid steps out into view looking like something out of a runway fashion show, his bright eyes piercing when matched with the darker shades of his suit.

You’re blinking rapidly in Rafe’s grasp, trying to decipher if your eyes are playing tricks on you.

“What’re you doing here? I told you I’d be fine tonight, I don’t need you standing guard at—”

When Sid’s arm slides gracefully behind Sarah’s back, eyes bashfully coming up to catch his gaze, your words begin to trail, the loose ends quickly coming together as you try to make sense of it in your brain.

“I’m here on other obligations, actually…”

Topper— be it the alcohol or the arrogance is the first to speak up.

“THAT'S your date?”

The way he says it leaves a tone of bitterness that can only be reflected at such events. You hear him scoff as he brings his drink back up to his lips.

“Bet Wards gonna fucking love that…”

“That’s the plan…”

The dreamy quality to Sarah’s voice matches her bright smile as she looks almost too mischievously up at Sid, a toothpick hanging loosely from his mouth as you watch her eye it closely, so close in fact you swear you can hear each and every one of her thoughts as you loudly clear your throat.

“Uh—”

“We are gonna go line up, we’ll see you inside, okay?”

Before any of you can respond, Sarah’s grabbing Sid’s arm purposefully, leading him up the staircase, not before giving you a clear “I’ll fill you in later, promise” look over her shoulder as she departs.

You’re lost wondering what they’re up to when Rafe squeezes your sides.

“We should follow.”

You watch as Kelce hits Topper on the arm knowingly, swearing you hear a “Good luck, bro” from him. Your eyes furrowed in confusion as Noah clocks the whole thing, snickering loudly at your rarely oblivious nature.

He backs away, not before whispering an eager “you got this— don’t choke” in your ear, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head when they snap to his, full of confusion.

The look on your face only makes him laugh harder, giving Rafe a pat on the back and a small wink as a final departure.

Before you can get too lost in the confusion of the last few minutes, his hands are guiding you with ease up the steps, cradled into his arms. You pretend not to notice when he falls back a few feet to pull his phone out and snap a picture of you walking up them.

Yet the “Hey, dream girl” he calls out to you, makes you halt, sending shivers up your spine as you turn to meet the lens with a smile at the exact perfect moment.

Rafe only looks down at the photo for half a second— he already knows it’s perfect— before returning the phone to his pocket, arms coming out to cradle his favorite thing in the world between them again: you.

The sun is at the perfect spot, catching that magnificent golden hour glow, the clouds eliminating those beautiful shades of pink and orange, keeping the stars safe for the time being.

There’s something about the way Rafe’s hands are touching you, like he’s never going to be able to get enough of you. He’s holding you like he never wants to let go.

You see the huge crowd of people outside through the glass windows and he leads you into the hall, joining the small line as a Island Club Society worker leads you to where you need to be.

There’s only a few people in front of you but your mind can’t focus on that, only on the man on your other side.

You feel him bring his lips down onto your shoulder, holding them there till you release a large breath that nearly turns into a whimper.

Another step forward as the line in front of you grows shorter, now waiting outside on the deck, the worker usherly you expertly into place, feeling the small breeze on your face, catching all of your friends in the crowd as they look up at you.

But it’s not just them— nearly every single person in the crowd is looking up at the two of you, making you freeze in horror until you feel his arms pull you closer into him, into the safest space you’ve ever known, his voice making you gaze up at him.

His fingers come out to gently graze your cheek, the twinkling lights and golden hour glow hitting your eyes just perfectly and he swears you look like a fucking angel— until he hears your perfectly sassy response.

“What, are you gonna kiss me in front of all these people, Cameron?”

The playful, seductive tone you’re using just bounces right off Rafe’s shield, and when he looks at you dead in the eyes, looking right into your soul— you know.

“Baby…”

There’s commotion all around you both—the electric buzz of the evening, music playing in the background, guests cheering for the couple now entering directly before you two.

True to everything Rafe Cameron has ever shown you, the second he looks at you—it all comes to a complete crashing halt, obliterating everything in the world but the two of you standing there.

When his mouth moves and he begins to speak, his words tattoo your skin with a promise.

“I’m yours, Y/N. From this moment forward, I want there to be no mistake on where I stand or what this is…what you are to me.”

As all of the air leaves your lungs, you can only think one single thing: “Holy fuck, this is it…”

“I’m in. All in. For real…no fucking games. Not with you. Ever.”

As if the act of walking through this stupid threshold at the Island Club was not a statement enough— it’s Rafe, and he needs to say it.

“You’re mine, Y/N.”

There they were. The words you were finally willing to accept that you’d been begging to hear from him since the moment you stepped foot on this island. Yet you couldn’t explain why you felt like you’d been begging for it since long before even then, long before the moment he caught you off guard months ago.

Your mouth falls open, not at all registering that there’s no longer people in front of the two of you, that it’s just the open air exposing you to the hundreds of guests in attendance, yet it’s still only him you can see.

Holy shit he’s going to do it…

You hear the speaker at the podium announce both of your names at that exact moment, Rafe’s eyes never leaving you as he grins and leans in.

“Yeah, I’m gonna kiss you now, Y/N/N...”

His leg expertly fiddles with yours for only half of second, making you feel like you’re losing your footing but really you’re just falling back into Rafe’s arms as he dips you back, his lips giving you the most tender kiss of a lifetime as the crowd goes wilds at your entrance.

When he pulls back you’re staring into those ocean blue orbs that you know will hold you down set you free forever if you let them.

The next minute he’s guiding you down the steps, not missing the eyes of eye single person in town staring between you and Rafe, not missing the whispers as you passed, your boy shooting you a wink as he squeezes your hand— no doubt hearing them too but making every single thing that has led to this moment worth it.

After all the guests have been properly announced but before dinner can start everyone in attendance is required to do the typical Figure Eight rodeo— the bullshit and arrogance of making the rounds at an all time high.

Rafe doesn’t let you go far— not that you’re even remotely trying to be elsewhere— happily glued to his side all evening.

The course of pleasantries takes you towards a circle enclosing your fathers and eldest brother entirely too quick— not missing the murderous looks they’re each throwing both of you.

“Rafe, my boy!”

One of your fathers clients ushers him over, Rafe’s tight grasp around your waist bringing you along with him as Zach rolls his eyes.

“Your father was just telling me about the deal you signed last week over in Williamston, pretty big move, son!”

Wards grinning at Rafe but it’s sickly and you can tell it’s actually paining him to do so, especially with you pinned to his sons side.

“Thank you, Sir. I’m pretty pleased with how it all turned out.”

Before anyone else can say another word, your father makes his presence known, loud and clear.

“Well, get ready, that was one of thousands. Small fish in a big pond…”

He says it so casually but you know his words mixed with the look your fathers shooting Rafe— one that says he looks at him as nothing more than a fly in his grasp— you know it’s meant to knock him down a beg.

But Rafe never flinches.

“Harold…I know you just met my son, Noah—”

Your fathers eyes sulk to you now, his bourbon grasped firmly in the same hand gesturing towards your figure.

“This is—”

Rafe Cameron also never misses.

Rafe flashes his cockiest smile he can muster towards the elder man, voice cutting through your fathers with such ease and just enough malice to effectively cut him off.

“Mr. Reynolds’s—”

Rafe’s voice is the proudest you’ve ever heard it, his arm tucked securely around your waist as he pulls you in front of him, showing you off like you’re the greatest thing in the entire world.

“This is my girlfriend—”

Zach chokes on his drink, coughing loudly but all of the men aren’t paying attention, instead hanging onto Rafe’s every word.

“Y/N Y/L/N…”

When your fathers eyes glaze over, Rafe takes one look up at him, holding firm in his stance, holding firm on you, holding firm on you trying to let his eyes do the talking.

I’ll never let you take her from me…ever

“It’s nice to meet you sir…”

Your hand comes up to shake Mr.Reynolds as he eyes between the two of you knowingly, eagerly taking your hand and holding it for a moment.

“Well I’ll be damned! I was just overhearing from another guest in attendance about some helluva speech the two of you put on a few weeks ago. Heard you both had the donors eating out of your hands so hard, you nearly tripled the projections. Heard your fathers had a field day!”

“So much for a small fish in a big pond—”

Mr.Reynolds winks over at Rafe and you’re waiting for the glass to shatter within your fathers hands, watching the way the muscles in his hand tighten.

Much to every other person's dismay, he’s all too eager to continue on singing both your praises until none other than Rose Cameron interjects the circle— the most unlikely hero— letting you all know dinner is about to begin.

Being Rose, she reads the tension immediately, eyes easily settling on you as the source of dismay as the speaker at the podium kindly asks guests to find their seats at their respective tables.

“Ayo— dream giiiiiiiiiiirl—”

As if on queue, Kelce’s slurred voice howls into the air, his arm lobbing over Rafe’s shoulder but he’s pointing at you, unlike Rose, not reading the room at all in the slightest bit— alcohol radiating off his breath.

“Bitch—What did I tell you about yo fine ass ‘bout comin in here lookin so—”

This time it’s Rose's voice to harshly cut him off, Rafe just laughing loudly at his friend's inebriation and his step mothers clear outward frustration and personal offense to it.

“Kelce Smith!”

As you watch Kelce’s lazy gaze make their way toward Rose’s beyond irritated figure, that “try me” kind of smile you know all too well from your friend by now, you know it can only mean trouble.

“Aww, C’mon now, Rose— don’t be like that sweetheart, I know you like it when I—”

Your shrill laughter cuts through the air the same moment Ward takes a step forward. Rafe, choking on his own laughter, pulls his friend back a few feet out of precaution as Rose covers her husband, taking a dangerous step in your direction as she hisses out her command.

“Seats! Now! All of you…”

None of you wait a second further, still trying your best to contain yourselves as Rafe balances Kelce over one shoulder and you on the other.

“What man? Rose might be a fucking cunt— but she’s a hot one.”

Rafe’s just shaking his head, pretending not to hear your fits of giggles as you finally find the rest of your friends at your designated table.

Rafe plops Kelce down in the seat next to Topper—the famous drunkest duo of the evening— both of them literally fist bumping as Kelce nearly knocks over his water glass— before seating him and yourself between Sarah and Noah.

All throughout dinner, he’s making eyes at you. His little touches sending shockwaves throughout every cell in your body.

The way his arm stays over the back of your chair the entire time. The way his fingers make their way to the back of your neck, kneading at the flesh there just enough to make you want to roll your head back into his grasp. The way his other hand sometimes pinches at the side of your waist affectionately whenever he laughs at one of Toppers dumb jokes or begins to tell Logan an animated story. The way his eyes dance over your features every few seconds, each time taking in different parts of you, watching as his eyes linger at his favorite parts: every single inch. The way his lingering gaze makes your legs clench under the table as your earlier promise buzzes through your mind, body electrified in anticipation.

You’re so caught up in Rafe, your friends keep having to pull you back into the conversation happening around the table, your usually bubbly and engaged presence entirely elsewhere.

“Y/N, hello!”

“Sorry, what?”

Eyes prying themselves from Rafe’s hungry gaze as Topper repeats himself, pointing toward Sarah.

“I was telling everyone about the family trip to the Bahamas…”

Rafe’s heart skips a beat for a second— his usual dreaded fear of the inevitable, yet this time feeling nothing but purpose instead of dread at the mention, fate having a funny way of working itself out.

This is it…he can feel it.

“My cousin and I managed to sneak away for a bit one night to find that club Sarah mentioned.”

“Oh my god, no you did not!” Sarah’s eyes are shooting you daggers. “I couldn’t even remember the name of the place, how did you—”

“And no wonder you two idiots—” he’s pointing between you and her now “almost didn’t make it back in one piece— that place is a fucking shit hole. I don’t even know how you—”

“But Topper how the fuck did you actually find it, all I said was what color the building was and that it was on the northern shore of the island.”

“Well there’s your first mistake Princess, it’s not on the northern shore—”

Yet it’s Rafe’s voice who makes the clarification, knowing— with a hellfire bent feeling deep in his bones that this is it— this is the moment.

“It’s on the eastern side of the island actually…right behind that old warehouse.”

You hear the words leave his mouth but it takes a moment for your brain to tell your body to actually move your gaze to his, for your brain to even function really.

“Oh my god…”

Your voice is hollow— stopping any other conversations at the table.

Yet the second you lock eyes with him, fate answers your most haunting question— for one horrific second, all of your walls come threatening to crumble down at the long awaited truth— yet that can’t be possible— because the answer is your dream boy, your safe space, your boyfriend. The answer— now staring right back at you with that famous soul touching depth— was Rafe.

“It was you…”

Realization— waves and waves of it— come crashing down on you as gravity wills you to keep breathing— to keep searching his eyes for answers to the loose strings.

He’s smirking at you now and his own eyes are shooting straight through you.

You know. You fucking know it was him

“Holy shit, Rafe...”

Hearing the tremble in your voice, his finger comes up to caress your cheek as it reddens, watching your eyes already threaten to spill over with tears.

“Shhh, baby—”

Sarah— too stunned to speak, sits there with her hand fully covering her mouth now hanging agape as Noah finally catches on, sharing the same shocked expression as her.

“Holy fucking shit, Y/N/N…“ running a hair through his perfectly slicked back locks, causing a a few strands to fall out of place, unable to find the words.

“It was YOU?!” Sarah finally manages to choke out— nearly shouting at her brother.

The table around you has come to halt but it’s just you and Rafe. His finger is still on your cheek and he doesn’t give a shit that there’s a dozen eyes on him as he chooses where to begin, never taking his eyes off you for a single second, the buzz of the evening a constant thrum in the background.

His thumb gently grazes your cheek bone, eyes boring into yours with such intensity— with such admiration— quietly willing you to trust him— the same as you had done the very first night as he finally lays out his truth.

“You were the drunkest I’ve ever seen you—”

You winced painfully at his brutal right off the bat honesty, easing instantly as words continued to tumblr out of his mouth like silk.

“I finally got you in the truck…asked me at least fifteen times if I was a predator and to please not kill you—”

(another huge wince from you—mixed with a snort of laughter from Noah—hearing it like he’s thousands of light years away)

“Told you over and over again that I knew Zach and your dad but you were relentless…”

Panic. That’s all you could feel. Scared—terrified even of where this was going, knowing your history and the fact that you remember literally nothing from this memory he’s telling you— that fateful night in the Bahamas all those years ago with Sarah.

Rafe’s voice sounds like he’s an another planet—truthfully he is— his memory taking him to the night he met the girl in front of him— the night his life changed forever.

“I don’t think I’d laughed that hard in a long time. You were so effortlessly…annoyingly—funny. Then just as quick as you came into my truck you hopped out…Turned around to look me dead in the eyes and said ‘You’re a sweet boy, Rafe Cameron’ and strode on into the house…”

His thumb brushes over your lips now and you swear you can see angels behind him.

“And I knew…the moment those words left your mouth that I didn’t stand a fucking chance…”

The look on his face is the kind that people wrote movies about. It's the kind of look that moves mountains—that defies gravity. It’s the kind of beauty that burns so brilliant it can melt you at the slightest touch. And if you were being brutally honest, you would let this man stare at you forever if it meant getting to be under his brilliant blue gaze that so intensely lit up your entire world.

Your jaw was gaping open, heart beating the fastest it ever had as his words hang in the air— as a missing piece of your puzzle comes together— as your brain feels like it’s going to begin to melt down.

Sarah, the other culprit of that fateful evening, is the one to finally break the tension, her voice a low hum against the evening happening behind them as Sid eyes you wildly next to her.

“Rafe—who the…”

Her brain seems to be breaking down too as she tries to get words out, failing miserably.

“What the actual fuck…?!” She takes one more helpless look at you and before turning around and snapping her fingers for a server. “I— we need more alcohol, please! Immediately!”

You’re finally able to break your gaze away from Rafe, swallowing deeply only to loom up to see Topper who looks like he got hit in the head. Part of you wants to laugh at the look of pure bewilderment of him face but then realize you more than likely—more like without a doubt— yours looks the exact same.

YIKES.

Voices begin to fill the air, your friends all beginning to speak at once but you can’t hear them— can’t think straight as your center of gravity shifts, leaving you off balance.

Rafe, always sensing every little detail, is already clearing his throat, standing swiftly from his chair, offering you his hand.

“I think it’s time for a dance, don’t ya think?”

He sees you begin to tremble, can see the crease lines in your brow as you look up at him— only to be met with that patient, guiding smile— the only telling you everything's okay— the one only he can give you.

Sensing that you need reassurance, he bends down to kiss the skin just above your jaw before grabbing ahold of your hand firmly and guiding you up from the table.

“C’mon sweetheart—”

That’s the thing about Rafe, he always knows what you need, most times without having to say it. And while you’d felt that connection from the moment you’d met him, it’s never surprised you how quickly it came on— how quickly you were willing to trust him and let him in within just a few short months— no short feat given your long history.

But it hasn’t been months. It’s been years… and the weight of the reality of that seems to be crushing you from the inside out.

Yet as Rafe turns you toward him, not even realizing the two of you had reached the dance floor, your perspective slowly begins to shift with each passing second.

His hands— the same hands that have touched you thousands of times this summer— the same hands you’re now realizing that pulled you into his truck that night in the Bahamas— guide you into position as he effortlessly moves you throughout the dance floor.

“Say something, Y/N/N…”

“Rafe I—”

You want to say something, many things actually—

“It was you—”

He goes to open his mouth again but now your thoughts are more concise, words jumbling out of your mouth at a rapid pace.

“Why didn’t you— I mean, were you going to— my dad was so pissed that night— I couldn’t—”

Rafe laughs, the sound still holding you just as secure as his words and actions.

“Yeah, mine wasn’t too thrilled either…”

Your heart stops.

“Ward knows?”

“Of course he knows. He kind of saw straight through my bullshit once—”

“How?”

Rafe pauses, choosing his next words carefully.

“My, uh… my hands…”

Those same hands…

“They were pretty bloody…”

You’re not sure which part you’re grappling with more— the fact that Ward, whose life has become far, far too entangled with yours for various reasons has known the truth about your first encounter with Rafe this entire time— or the fact that yet another truth to your story that night has been revealed, the part you’d been terrified and riddled with guilt and worry since the moment you’d woken up that following morning and couldn’t remember a single thing— Rafe’s bloody hands.

He watches the horror flash across your face, his next words determined to put you at ease, to wash away any worry he’d known you’d harbored of that night.

“Nothing happened to you, I promise.”

“…because you—”

Another question screams through your mind, just now burning to know, wondering if this should’ve crossed your mind when initially you’d found out minutes ago.

“Why were you even there?”

His eyes burn brightly into yours, giving you your answer without a trace of guilt.

“The same reason you were…”

It takes only a moment. The reason you’d gone to the club. The connect Sarah thought he had.

The cocaine.

You’re not sure how Rafe knows that you’d gone there for coke, likely another part of your brief counter that will be explained in due time.

“Your hair was a bit darker— you were wearing that tiny ass black dress, your hair pinned back. Your nails were this bright neon color…”

The details he’s recounting take you back to that night, back to standing in that parking lot— your last memory as you hear a group of people laughing directly behind you.

“And ya know, for a girl— no offense— very clearly in distress you were fiercely stubborn—”

“Oh god, what did I say?!”

But Rafe’s still looking at you like the sun shines out of your ass— like he’s never seen anything as amazing as you.

“Well you kept calling me Ryan…”

You laugh, a real cackling kind of laugh that makes him melt, knowing he’d bring you back to earth eventually.

“You were annoying and funny and perfect and it was the first time I ever—”

Rafe struggles for a second, truly struggles to find the words to explain what changed that night.

“I don’t know— I don't know how to explain it. I pulled you into the truck and the second your mouth started running, I truly couldn’t handle it for a second. Y/N, you have literally been driving me wild from the moment I met you. And I know I should’ve told you but—”

The look he’s giving you is foreign, touching a new part of your soul like you’re discovering it for the first time together.

Rafe pulls himself together to say the words, no matter how exposed it’ll leave him, no matter how hard he has to lay his entire heart and soul on the line, no matter how vulnerable and susceptible that makes him.

“Y/N… in twenty minutes you were able to— fuck, I don’t think I can truly explain what you did to me that night. I didn’t think pulling you into my truck that night would change my life completely but it did. And from that fucking moment— fuck, I don’t even care Y/N/N, it’s the truth. You found a way into my head and you’ve been home there ever since. And since then, I’ve felt like a hurricane has come through my life— like nothing has been balanced or in place…like nothing has seemed right in my life…”

“Until you stepped foot on this island this summer…”

“And I fucking knew— I knew the moment you looked up at me on the golf course that day after giving Noah that ridiculous fucking car and I saw the smallest hint of recognition— of something in your eyes—”

“Rafe…”

“I knew, some fucking way, be it some kind of twist of fate or just pure luck…I knew somehow you felt it too.”

All of the weight from earlier feels non existent, feeling as though you’re floating high in the clouds as your words from earlier swim through your head again, this time causing the most beautiful smile to cross your face as you speak them out again, your hands coming up behind Rafe’s neck to cradle his head between them.

“It was you…”

And then fate's final seal.

“It’s always been me…”

He kisses you in that blinding, knee weakening way that only he can, not giving a shit that people are liking staring.

When he pulls away, you swear you see him wink at the DJ as the song shifts. When the beat starts and Rafe begins slowly whispering the lyrics into your ear, you swear you can feel a part of your soul leaving your body, permanently attaching itself to him. Rafe mother fucking Cameron. That part of you now irrevocably forever, irreversibly his, until time stood still.

Shouldn’t this scare the shit out of you? Shouldn’t this type of commitment that you’ve ran away from your entire life absolutely terrify you? Instead, why does this feel like you’re finally coming up for air, feeling as though you’re able to really breathe for the first time in too long?

In the middle of chaos it felt like Rafe Cameron was throwing you a lifeline. A shot at a better evening—yes. But beyond that— a glimpse into how different life could be, filled with the beautiful, genuinely raw energy only he was capable of showing you and in turn inspire within you.

A glimpse into a life of your own.

He looks down at you with the purest look of complete adoration, his gaze so intense your knees could give out. You have to mentally will yourself to stay standing. His stare at you is enough to knock you dead. You wonder how many women have made it out alive under the same pretenses before realizing……none have. It’s just you. Only you. Only you forever.

The rest of the night is filled with longing glances, little touches that speak volumes, stealing you away a few times to push you up against one of the dimly lit back walls to put his mouth and hands all over you, meant to hold you both over until you can finally slip away and hold to to his promise.

After what seems like forever, Rafe hand is finally pulling you out into the parking lot.

“I know I made you a promise—” his hands all over you yet again, “but I really just want to take you home, baby—”

Yet you only make it to the back of the Island Club parking lot— Rafe’s hand already between your legs, losing his fucking mind at how wet you are— before he’s throwing the truck in park.

“Mmm— fuck! Rafe, baby…”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N—”

“I need you so bad, Rafe—”

You barely process that he’s parked that truck as he reaches over across the center counsel to grab the handle on the side, the seat immediately snapping down so you’re fully horizontal. He’s across the center and on top of you faster than you thought capable for how tall he is.

And even quicker, he’s in you before you can process that he’s pulled your dress up to your hips until you hear his voice in your ear, feeling him slide deep in you, reveling in how perfectly he was stretching you out while in this position.

“Fuckkkkk, YN. You’ve been driving me crazy all night…”

He’s so deep in you now you can barely breathe.

“Me? You’ve been the one fucking teasing me the whole time…”

You try to pout back as your head is ponded back into the seat.

“Ohhhhh my god. This is all I was thinking about through dinner. All night—Rafe, I….”

You feel the word vomit coming on so you crash your lips to his to silence yourself.

“I know baby girl I’m sorry I couldn’t help it—” he lets out a loud moan “This goddamn dress.”

He manages to pull the straps down, freeing your nipple so he can pinch it roughly between his fingers, the feeling sending shock waves straight to your core. A near scream comes out of your mouth and he does absolutely nothing to quiet you down, the sounds you’re making inflating his head in ways he didn’t think possible. Only you could make him feel like this.

“Oh my god YN, I’m….”

“Please god don’t stop, Rafe” as your fingers tug harshly at his hairline, blonde locks entwined between them, grip tight, never wanting to let go.

“Never.”

He moans again and you swear you’re losing your mind, this man being sexiest thing ever without even fucking trying. He fully brings you back to reality with his next statement…

“You’re the only thing I’ve ever really wanted YN... and I want you so. fucking. bad.”

His hips thrust perfectly into yours with each word, never missing a beat, hitting you so incredibly deep from the angle your bodies are smashed together, trying to get impossibly closer.

You whine deeply at the admission. Unable to help the pool of arousal that’s about to soak out of you. He feels it too as you begin clenching so tight around him, his eyes roll to the back of his head for a second and the sight alone is enough to make you nearly cum. You’re so close, you both know it.

“I’m yours Rafe. Only yours. Please”

Your lips crash back to his but only for a second as your orgasm rips through your entire body, harsh moans leaving your throat as you register Rafe screaming your name. Your response clearly setting him over the edge as well. You each take a few seconds to come back to your senses, the air buzzing around you, faint humming sound surrounding all your senses.

You realize your hands are still tightly clenched in his now sweaty hair. As you release them Rafe begins trailing kisses up your neck. You turn your head so your lips are nearly touching, eyes locked.

As he looks deep into you, he feels it again...that invisible string. That silent pull you seem to have, with one look, begging him to say it again without speaking a single word. When the words start coming out you’re confident that no man has or will ever be able to read you like Rafe Cameron.

“I meant what I said YN.”

He places another kiss on your jaw and then allows his ring clad index finger to take his lips place, fingers gliding down frustratingly slow, stirring your insides yet again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something so bad in my life.”

His words melt every single piece of ice that has frozen you over the last year, replacing it with a feeling you can’t recognize.

The feeling of really, truly, officially being his.

“I told you, Cameron. I’m yours. Pretty sure I’ve been yours since the moment I walked onto this stupid fucking island..”

He laughs at the thought but deep down he knows, knows you’ve been his long before that.

You both know now…He feels it too, he’s felt it from The Very First Night.

...

Taglist: @goldenjo @lurkymurker @mackenzielovee @mor-bs @totallynotkaibiased @aaleksmorozova @onlygetaway @itsalexwin @tsnelf7 @starkeybae @kotzmagotaz @maybanks-cupcake @valentinearc @valeriiecameron @lovedetlost @drewbooooo @barbietiingz @steveharringtonswifey09 @onmykneesforrafe

#twin flames ❤️‍🔥#rafe #outerbanks #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fan fiction #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron

72 notes · View notes

poweredsuit · 8 months

Text

Signal detected. Quadrangulating...

The control booth whooped- chairs spun, furry paws slapped pointy Asura digits, and several scientists pulled on headphones linked to the powered suit's various receivers.

X coordinate bearing relative west. Adjusting.

Y coordinate bearing relative south. Adjusting.

Z coordinate bearing relative down. Adjusting.

W coordinate bearing relative past. Adjusting.

The suit's vocalizer was basic and internal- without a speaker, it transmitted only over radio waves, directly back to control. The voice was the mentholated, Oola-esque authority of the former project director, one of a couple thousand pre-recorded lines.

"Do you think it's a hit?" a young charr in thick goggles asked, curling a hand around the shoulder of a norn in headphones, his desk covered in platters of ceremonial incense.

"We've had half a dozen echoes of Tagachi in the past month. I would not expect anything too different in this region of the mists."

There was a collective groan at that. The Mists were full of pits and eddies, where echoes could bounce around. A thousand Jalis Ironhammers swinging a thousand iron hammers, each with a marginally different outcome, eventualities unfolding, separating, and slowing.

"We should set up a filter for Tagachi," the young charr suggested. At that, a square-jawed asura stood up in his chair.

"No filters. Last time we did that, we failed to catch the Reza Frequency, and we've been trying to find a new one ever since. There could be some mutant Shiro in the mix that can eat lightning and crap thunder, and I'm not missing it."

And so the boss had spoken. The control booth fell quiet, the operators to their instruments.

"It ain't Shiro. We'd have heard clanging and banging by now. It's quiet. It's something, but it's quiet."

They all heard it, but only the young charr cringed at the sound.

Coming over the exclusive frequency from the distant depths of the mists was a little tune, repetitious and inexpert, that sounded every bit like a little wooden flute.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #powered suit #let's get nuts right away

8 notes · View notes

crowned-clown-rising · 2 years

Text

A long ass Nevra pov for the last episodes because I feel you guys don't do him justice

I'm sorry not to be a Nevra apologist but I'm imagining this episode (and last one) from his pov and it really saddens me, specially if I fit it to my headcanon storyline:

1- He has to take a bunch of people to a strange murderous world he knows nothing about while being responsible for their lives

2- Even with that responsability, he can't really do anything but use his senses to be more cautious, something only Erika seems to take seriously.

3- His lover is having the wrost time and he can't do much to change that, and on top of that both Erika and Huang Chu, a guard leader, suspect of Mathieu being a traitor. Because the Guard is 50% royal runaways and 50% traitors

4- Going with Erika to her house, watching her break before him and having to prioritize the mission over her feelings, even knowing he has a major role in her current problems (potion consequences).

5- Some strange soldier comes to take Erika away and he decides to trust her and let her go without even a proper plan to the gods know where with who for what. And the hours she takes to come back? Please I couldn't be more anxious

6- They kidnap half of HIS team before him and he doesn't even know how. Imagine being that utterly helpless as a leader. One of them being the sister of one of his only close friends and boss. Then go to his girlfirend's house, where his abusive father (like his own) lives and needs to explain to her how his father is not trustworthy and may want to kill her.

7- "This sketchy things my father do and the dangerous situations we are getting ourselves into are totally ok" Erika darling how do I spell this out to you we absolutely need an escape route. Erika please don't accept to be alone with Chales, you said 30 seconds ago that was the worst case scenario.

8- After an eternity of waiting by themselves, he hears trouble and they are attacked on their way down, and then finds ERIKA WITH HUANG CHU AND CAMERIA ALONG WITH OVER 30 HALF DEAD FAERIES BEING ALMOST KILLED.

9- Suddenly there are 30 faeries they didn't know had been abducted under their nose, including children, to take back to Eldarya, having to make them arrive through a portal that was half a city away. His lover, who he thought was having a chat with her father, had her own vomit all over her and almost falling to the ground. All as a hell lot of soldiers only he hears come for them, having to carry 30 prisioners in that state with only 3 people being able to fight. Chances are they all die in there, so I understand how he is not going to break the party to go search for Leiftan, who had already been looked for unsuccesfully. 100% chance of getting all of them killed.

10- They could massacre dozens of people, sure, that would only lead to international forces being involved and dragging the public and several countries into this war against Eldarya, which they are already loosing and the enemy is only one niche organitation. That would also incite a declared war premise so it would give the humans green light to return the favor. Those are still a lot of lives to take, period. And Erika would have to take a lot of them.

11- If his problem was the sun, then he is ok at this point, but if he has the vampire sickness, he is probably already suffering.

12- They barely make it out JUST from the building (they had to cross the city unprotected), and Erika asks for her missing ex-boyfriend, who she thinks Nevra hates and who he believes she still loves. And let's say he heard Leiftan there, how does he tell her that there is simply no way he can let her go for him when that surely leads to her death. Specially when Leiftan's life is now a valuable resource for them, since it's one of the only faeries they have left. Do you really think he relishes in leaving Leif there? come on, even logically it makes no sense to leave an eldaryan there, specially one with such power and knowledge.

13- So damn right he is not risking everything for him, his own feelings aside, if she dies then the worlds die with her.

14- Back outside: he is lost, hurting from the sun (HOPEFULLY, BC THE ALTERNATIVE IS WORSE), and guilty about taking Erika out by force, and also probably lying to her. She, who just found out her father is the leader of the organitation that almost killed her as they did with several others. He sees how Erika hurst from leaving Leiftan there, the one he thinks she truly loves, and blame herself for the choice he made. He can only think of how hard it would hit her if he died. Considering their lives are not linked.

14.5- Imagine you are hyper-sensitive and are used to rely on your hearing, then stepping in a crowded multitude full of high and low pitched sounds, noises, uncountable voices and more sounds you don't recognise. Boy I get anxiety for having adhd hiper-acusia. He also stated when Erika lost her powers how helpless he would feel without his... just like that.

15- Lover's abusive father responsible for several war crimes and their enemy makes an entrance and proceeds to drive Erika to the edge. Nevra inmediately refuses his offers because he is positive Erika would accept, because his heart simply cannot take her staying behind, because Charles obviously know about her identity and wants to use her powers to his gain, meaning both bad news to Eldarya and who knows how much emotional distress to Erika.

16- He actually ensures Leiftan's life as well as he can by threatening Charles like that. (And it worked, Charles ordered that no one touched him. His subordinates just disobeyed, making me think he is being toyed with by someone else)

17- When they get back I really hope he is no longer hurting from the sun and that he is not told he has this evil arcane vampire sickness, which tbh is probably the case because why else would they even make up something like that just to discard that later. Erika doesn't ask about this. She doesn't ask how he is.

18- They have to go get Leiftan back and he cannot deny that he is the best option for the job, as much as he wants to stay with Erika that night. But he is resposible for Leiftan's fate, Erika's ex-boyfriend who she probably still loves and whose death he cannot allow to haunt her. So he returns to Earth without saying goodbye and bringing his own sister into that hell of a world.

19- Erika is responsible of saving the world as imposed by the oracle, and that's a lot, but there are 2 worlds, and in one of them he is literally the second authority holding the actual political responsability. Like, of all Eldarya, the one whose actual job is to fix this shit is firstly Huang Hua and right next to her: him. And tbh they go a little in tandem and her decisions are mostly based on his opinions, so one could argue that he not only feels responsible, but actually is responsible of saving the world.

So yeah, I do get why he acts the way he does I'm sorry I don't care if he comes off as rude sometimes, he is the boss after all.

#And then he starts to get hard whe Erika messes up his hair #Poor boy was like omg there is no way I am doing this now please #Nevra was probs feeling so guilty for Leiftan and fucking with Erika then was probably going to be haunting #I imagine he also feels he would break down if he opens up then #Also telling Erika he probably has a deadly disease I cannot #He honestly probaby requested himself not to let Erika go back to Earth for the rescue mission even if she was helpful #And maybe that was his own emotions getting the best of him because logically she should go with #eldarya nevra #eldarya new era #eldarya ane #eldarya erika #nevra #eldarya #eldarya a new era

92 notes · View notes

elsanna-shenanigans · 6 months

Text

November/October 2023 Contest Submission #9: Three Things You Can Feel

Words: ca. 4,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: no Content: n/a

Spring

Twenty minutes before the track meet was set to start, the gleaming metal bleachers rippled with three dozen or so fans—a turnout just low enough, at this point, to keep Elsa’s social anxiety wobbling in the green. She picked her way down the stairs, careful not to rush, fall, and crack her head open. When she arrived at the bottom-most railing, she scanned the track for the figure that made this all worth it.

Elsa easily spotted Anna rounding the south corner. Her sister’s hair shone like molten copper under the late-afternoon sun as she streaked along the track. Elsa crossed her arms and leaned on the partition, admiring Anna’s speed and natural athleticism.

Elsa didn’t even have to call out. Anna spied her immediately; she veered off towards the finish line and slowed to a halt at the railing.

“What are you doing here?” Anna said, panting through the grin she tossed up at Elsa. “I thought you had your thing.”

Of all the moments to freeze up entirely for words. Elsa’s breath hitched as she drank in the sight of her younger sister: Anna’s chest heaved, glistening with a slick sheen of sweat. She was a fucking treasure—the best thing in Elsa’s dumb life. How could Elsa possibly think of leaving Anna for college in a few short months? Surely Elsa could take a gap year, loaf around at home while Anna finished her senior year, glom on and hover overhead like a creep while Anna partied and dated like a normal teenager—

Anna stared up expectantly while Elsa wrestled with her mopey internal monologue. Elsa cleared her throat, dug in her backpack, then held out what she’d brought for Anna and blurted the only thing that came to mind:

“Hydrate to dominate.”

Anna accepted the water bottle with the dopey grin she seemed to reserve just for her big sister.

“And dominate I shall,” Anna said, “now that I’ve got Old Faithful. Seriously, how do you remember this stuff?” She unscrewed the dented cap from her track meet lucky charm—a banged-up metal bottle their parents had bought her from the Yellowstone Park gift shop years ago. The image of the geyser Old Faithful hid behind stickers in various stages of wear and tear: Sanrio’s lazy egg, Gudetama, napping under a slice of bacon; “THE FUTURE IS FEMALE” in tie-dye bubble lettering; a die-cut Dolly Parton sticker Elsa had ordered for her off Etsy.

Elsa thought it was a hypothetical question, but Anna paused before taking a sip and eyed Elsa expectantly.

Because you’re the only thing that matters to me in this stupid town. Elsa answered with her usual eloquence: a bashful shrug.

While Anna gulped down water, Elsa squinted at the tiniest hint of sunburn glowing at Anna’s hairline. She bit her tongue to keep from fretting or lecturing about sunscreen, because despite Anna’s easygoing response to Elsa’s innate protective nature (reserved just for her little sister), Elsa still worried that she was doing too much, always doing too much for Anna, always giving Anna too much time and attention, hovering—her therapist had gently suggested this months ago, and ever since then, Elsa couldn’t stop agonizing over—

“You okay?”

Elsa froze, mouth ajar—caught zoning out at she stared at the long expanses of Anna’s skin, burn and sweat and freckles and all.

“Yeah,” Elsa said. “Just wondering, um—”

Think of something, think.

“—whether I have enough time to grab coffee on my way to—after this.”

Anna’s expression melted into rueful insecurity—and still she smiled through it, because she was an irrepressible people-pleaser.

“You’re sure you can’t miss your appointment this once? You’ve been so good about not skipping, and it’s my last meet of the season.”

Elsa’s heart wrenched with regret over the hurt that flashed in Anna’s eyes whenever she blew her off. Still, if ever there was a time when Elsa needed to sit in a session with Dr. Green, it would be now: now, as Elsa drowned in the unhealthy thoughts and urges that had flooded in over these past few months; now, as Elsa came to grips with living apart from Anna for the first time in their lives…

…And now, as Elsa’s attachment to Anna began warping into something that both sickened and thrilled her.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa finally said, trying to smuggle every layer of regret and shame she could never truly voice to Anna inside this simple apology over one simple track meet.

I’m sorry I’m such a mediocre sister. I’m sorry I’m such a freak.

Anna scanned Elsa’s expression. “I know you have Dr. Green to talk to,” Anna said carefully, “but if you ever want to talk to your sister about anything, I would love to be there for you.”

“Thanks.” Elsa swallowed around a lump in her throat. Her gaze drifted to the other girls rounding the corner of the track, Anna’s friends—younger girls whose sideways glances had never failed to send Elsa slinking out of any room.

“Well,” Anna said, screwing the lid back on Old Faithful, “I should probably finish warming up.” Before Elsa could react, Anna hopped up, planted her palms on the partition, and pressed a soft kiss to Elsa’s cheek.

“Thanks for always taking care of me,” Anna said, rocking her body forward and back where she balanced just inches from Elsa’s face. Elsa blinked once, twice, at a loss. Her heart soared.

Then, over Anna’s shoulder, Elsa spied Anna’s teammates trudging by, watching them with narrowed, curious eyes. Her heart plummeted to her stomach.

“I have to go,” Elsa blurted, lurching back until her shins jammed into the hard bench behind her. Anna hung, suspended for a moment, then vaulted off her palms and landed neatly back on the dirt.

“Have fun,” Anna said in a sing-song voice. Elsa offered a jerky wave before darting off up the stairs. A steady stream of fans had begun filtering into the bleachers. Elsa forged upstream, blood beating in her ears as she fought to dispel the image of Anna’s friends, their stares burned in her mind. She focused on distracting from her anxiety with a grounding technique Dr. Green had taught her:

Five things you can see:

Tufts of blue and white tissue paper squeezed in the chain link fence; elongated shadows moseying with their owners; scattered popcorn kernels on the pavement; a candy wrapper bouncing off a trash can; loose blonde hairs falling into her eyes.

Four things you can hear:

Heels crunching the gravel in the parking lot as she hurried to her car; shouts receding into a faint rumble; car doors slamming on either side; keys jingling as Elsa unlocked the BMW.

Three things you can feel:

Sun-warmed car door handle burning her palm; steering wheel bumping against her knees as she slid in; hot leather sticking to the stripe of thigh below her skirt.

Two things you can smell:

Pine-scented air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror; dust from the vents as the air conditioning kicked on.

One thing you can taste:

Copper on her tongue as she chewed the inside of her lip to pulp.

Something had to change.

Four years later. Halloween.

Breathless from darting out of the Uber across the street—or from the gilded corset that hugged her ribs—or from the anticipation of what she had planned tonight—Anna stood on the wet, glistening curb outside the Ruby Lounge and waited for her roommate to catch up.

“Do you always have to run straight into traffic?” Rapunzel griped, edging around a parked car to Anna on the curb. She carefully gathered her lacy fairy-princess skirts and stepped over a puddle.

“Always,” Anna said over the bass that oozed out from inside the club. “Come on come on, the night is young.”

They shivered in line for ten minutes, rolled their eyes at the stocky bouncer who ogled Anna’s generous cleavage, accepted the red, gemstone-shaped stamps on their wrists, and finally, finally slipped inside. Anna had been to the Ruby Lounge once—it was your typical weekend ass-shaking meat market—but tonight, the organizers had gone all out to transform the sprawling, two-story venue into a decadent masquerade party, swimming in shadows and teeming with partygoers ranging from Victorian elegance to downright slutty. Anna considered herself somewhere in the middle.

All the dress code required was a mask.

Anna and Rapunzel donned their masks as soon as they crossed into the dark, humid coat check, and suddenly, they were everyone and no one. The anonymity exhilarated Anna. If you wanted to shed your identity for the night, this was the place. But then again, if you were looking for someone…

Rapunzel nudged Anna’s elbow. “Have you heard from—”

“Not yet.” Anna fished her phone from her cleavage. No signal. She stashed it away again and promised herself she wouldn’t go searching straight away. She’d come to dance with her friend, to egg her friend on in talking to cute guys—and she’d come to dance with herself, to shake off the pre-midterm neurosis, maybe even coax herself into battling her own cute guy neurosis.

It was her senior year, after all, and she was so, so restless.

A sprawling skylight crowned the dim, pulsing lower level. It took Anna and Rapunzel twenty minutes to muscle through the dense crowd, shout their drink orders, and return to the action. Before long, the dance floor swallowed them up entirely.

Anna loved this part.

Warm bodies pressed her on all sides, stoking the pleasant heat that raced along her bare arms. It was intoxicating, made doubly so by the intrigue behind the masks that kaleidoscoped around her. She barely noticed when Rapunzel drifted away, laughing and dancing with a guy who wore a prince’s grin and a duelist’s swagger.

Amid the thrumming waves of music, Anna remembered, vaguely, the meeting she had arranged for tonight. She turned on her heel—did she even want to begin her search?—and stumbled into the arms of the woman behind her. The woman held Anna’s elbows steady and laughed, low and throaty next to Anna’s ear. A startling jolt of pleasure coursed across Anna’s skin at the sudden contact. She twisted her head to look at the stranger, all at once dazed and acutely alert. From behind a jeweled mask, curious eyes locked with her own. The stranger wore a royal blue corset buttoned up the front, and a sheer dress of thin blue lace draped from her elegant shoulders. A snowy white plume curled from her temple and swept over the side of her head. Swan Lake, Anna thought distantly.

The woman’s red lips curled in a smile, a question in itself. She said nothing, and neither did Anna. Purely by instinct Anna remained flush against the other woman, and because a split-second had passed and the woman hadn’t pulled her hands away, Anna followed the natural impulse and arched back into the stranger’s body.

On the dance floor, it may as well have been anyone.

…But, no. Not anyone.

Anna had never felt such electricity from another person’s touch. A searing current raced up her arms as the woman pulled her closer, and sensation blossomed with alarming intensity where the woman’s breasts pressed tight against Anna’s bare shoulder blades. She’d never even felt it with Hans—Hans, whom she’d meant to go looking for, whom she’d forgotten entirely. Instead, she dropped her head back into the crook of the woman’s neck. Time melted into the deafening bass as Anna danced, melded to this stranger in the whirlpool anonymity of the dance floor.

It was inevitable that Anna had to stop and fan herself, short of breath. Behind her, the stranger gently pressed her hands to the curve of Anna’s waist, a minute gesture of concern (which, of course, only elicited another gasp). A warm puff of air played across Anna’s ear.

“Let’s get you some water,” came the woman’s voice for the first time, blending into the music so seamlessly that Anna barely caught it. The stranger circled around and squeezed Anna’s hand, then said—what did she say?—Anna lost the words in the hypnotic glimpse of the woman’s delicate white teeth.

The woman slipped away. Anna fully intended to wait—she really did—but two minutes later, Hans and Rapunzel found her. Funny enough, he was the duelist Rapunzel had been cozying up with, And seriously, Anna, isn’t that hilarious that you could be talking to someone you know the entire time? Rapunzel, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed. Not so with Hans, who wanted to check out the rooftop right now, and led Anna from the dance floor before she could devise an excuse to protest. She left before the stranger came back.

A stranger, Anna thought to herself, climbing the stairs with her hand in Hans’s, light-headed. It just had to be a stranger who did this to me.

On the roof, Anna stood with Rapunzel at the water cooler while Hans waited at the bar. She pulled off her mask for the first time all night and relished in the soft breeze cooling her flushed cheeks. Leaning on the railing over the massive skylight, Anna scanned the crowd below. Without raising her eyes, she accepted a cup from Rapunzel and murmured, “Hydrate to dominate.”

Rapunzel chuckled. “I haven’t heard you say that since high school.”

“I know, right?” Anna sipped the cold water. Instant relief. “I actually picked it up from my sister. I know literally everyone says it, but for some reason I thought she came up with it on her own.”

“Elsa?” Rapunzel raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t mentioned her for a while, either.”

Anna’s gaze remained fixated on the party below. “We haven’t spoken in a hot minute. D’you know, Elsa actually moved to town a few months ago for grad school? She reached out once to hang out, but left me on read the couple of times I tried to follow up.”

Rapunzel gave a low whistle. “Harsh.”

Anna shrugged. “Elsa has her own life, and she wants to keep it private. Simple as that.” The pang of grief that raced through her was fleeting, confusing. Anna willed the sadness away. Tonight was not the night for this. Not while Hans was edging his way to the railing with her drink; not while the fine hairs on the nape of her neck still stood on end from the stranger’s touch. Before turning away, Anna glanced one last time through the skylight. She thought she glimpsed a sweeping white feather bobbing through the crowd—her heart leaped to her throat—but Hans nudged her elbow with the cold glass, she looked away, and by the time she looked back, whatever she’d thought she saw was gone.

Two years later. Winter.

Elsa hesitated at the entrance to the subway station. She touched a gloved hand to the stair railing. It would be so easy to catch the 8:10 train home, text Anna from the platform with some flimsy excuse about being tired—Anna always accepted with little argument, she didn’t want to encroach and push Elsa away. But Elsa’s heart ached in her chest, a dull flare throbbing in her otherwise numb body. She’d already walked the ten freezing blocks from her office building to Anna’s neighborhood, and right now, Elsa was just a gust of wind away from falling apart. She shuddered, then turned from the subway entrance and retreated from the bustling pedestrian traffic.

Fuck it. This wasn’t high school anymore. They’d been good for an entire year now, so of course Elsa could handle getting close to Anna again. After six years of distance, Elsa was better now.

The moment Anna’s apartment door swung open, Anna grabbed Elsa by the coat sleeve and dragged her inside, into a fierce bear hug.

“She’s a dumb bitch,” Anna murmured into Elsa’s hair, “and she’ll realize in about two days how badly she fucked up by letting you go.”

Elsa stood frozen in Anna’s arms, melting into the warmth of her sister’s words and arms—and melting, too, into hot tears and a sniffly nose.

“Maren’s not dumb,” Elsa mumbled. “And I can’t blame her for choosing…” She choked on the words and slumped into Anna’s embrace.

“Choosing to be a dumb bitch,” Anna supplied. “I’ll kick her ass if I ever see her again.” She began to stroke Elsa’s hair. Despite the harsh words, her murmur was velvety soft, so close to Elsa’s ear that the vibration made her shudder.

Elsa recognized her body’s response; her stomach turned to ice.

God, no. It had been six long years. They had tentatively picked things up and gotten off to such a good start—she was supposed to be better.

Elsa squeezed Anna’s arms and pulled back. “This was a mistake.” She tried to sound gentle.

Anna’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Elsa searched for a painless excuse. “I won’t be any fun. I really just want to go to bed.”

“Come on, dummy, you know you don’t have to be fun. Just crawl into my guest bed.” Anna absently stroked Elsa’s wrist with her thumb. “After Hans cheated on me, I don’t know what I would have done without you, so just let me return the favo—”

“Sorry.” Elsa twisted her hand away and reached for the doorknob. “I just want my own bed.”

“Elsa, please. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I like it better being alone,” Elsa said, and with a rush of self-loathing she added, “I’m not like you.”

Anna’s shoulders slumped. She looked so lost. “Well—at least let me call you an Uber.”

Elsa was already halfway out the door. “I’ll catch the train. It’s fine.”

“Text me to let me know you got home okay,” Anna called down the hallway after her.

Of course, Elsa never texted.

* * *

In fact, days went by with no response from Elsa. Anna must have sent a dozen texts into the void that was her sister’s inbox, efforts ranging from “reach out if you need me,” and “are you remembering to eat?” to TikToks of pizza-stealing subway rats with Anna’s caption, “Maren sighting.”

Nothing but read receipts in return. Anna cursed herself, wondering why she ever believed that anything had changed after six years, that Elsa would let her back in.

By the end of the first week of radio silence, Anna began cursing Elsa instead. Not only was her older sister being a dick for shutting her out, she was seriously worrying Anna. Elsa had a track record of—well, not hurting herself, but self-hating to the point of serious neglect. Anna imagined Elsa curled up in bed for days, rotting away in severe breakup depression. After work on Friday, Anna reached out one more time:

Anna: 5:26 p.m.

please drink some water ok?

Anna grabbed beers with a few coworkers, then checked her phone around nine p.m. while she waited for her train home.

Read: 5:28 p.m.

She nearly threw her phone across the platform. Instead, she set her phone to vibrate—then changed her mind by the time she let herself into her apartment. She switched the ringer back on as she climbed into bed.

You never know.

* * *

In the morning, Anna found herself in the second-floor hallway of Elsa’s building, bag of groceries in one arm, rapping on her sister’s door with a no-nonsense *THOCK-THOCK-THOCK-THOCK.* She was well past the jaunty shave-and-a-haircut knock, and well past irritation with her sister.

A minute went by. Anna rapped again. Another minute went by. Anna rapped again. She was about to start pounding when the door swung open.

“Elsa, I’m sorry to wake you up, but—”

Anna closed her mouth. Elsa looked fine. Her hair was combed, her eyes were bright, and her chambray work shirt even appeared to have been ironed.

“Anna—hey.”

Anna squinted, confused. “You look… nice.”

Elsa pressed her lips in a thin line (she’d put on lipstick, too), as if trying to trap unruly words inside her mouth. Then: “Thank you?”

Anna shifted the grocery bag from one arm to the other. “You’re—you’re okay, then?”

Elsa leaned against the door jamb with a sigh, then seemed to remember her manners and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

The place was spotless—Anna even caught a whiff of laundry detergent. It was a far cry from the depression nest she had expected. She fought down her growing irritation as she busied herself unloading the groceries for her sister, who apparently was doing just fine, and couldn’t—wouldn’t—answer Anna’s urgent texts for—what reason, exactly?

Anna stewed for a minute. She poured herself a glass of water to buy herself time to simmer down. She held together her self control for a record minute and a half, then whirled around and blurted out, “Why have you been ignoring me?”

Elsa winced. “You know, just…” She gestured vaguely. “Breakup-hibernation. I wanted to be alone.”

Anna’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a red smudge on Elsa’s wrist. She stepped closer and snatched Elsa’s hand midair, then turned it over, revealing a gemstone-shaped stamp. “Alone—at the Ruby Lounge?” Anna said with a scowl. “What, did you rent the club out all to yourself on a Friday night so you could hibernate there?”

Elsa groaned and tilted her head back. “Anna, listen…” She made to pull her hand away. Anna only tightened her grip.

“Why do you feel the need to lie to me? You don’t have to invite me to do anything with you—I get it, you want to keep your private life separate—but why—” Anna deflated and let Elsa go. “See, this is how little I know about you now. Since when are you the party-the-pain-away type?”

Elsa blinked and spread her arms in a What do you want me to do? gesture. “I can’t get so attached to you, okay? You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to be normal, to meet other people and—”

“Normal?” Anna pulled back with a frown. “So, let me get this straight. You don’t think it’s normal for us to get attached? All those weeks when I was relying on you after my breakup, was that abnormal to you? What, too clingy?”

“I can’t—” Elsa turned away and leaned on the kitchen counter. “You’re fine, Anna.”

Anna scoffed. “So it’s okay for you to have a key to my apartment, but I can only come up here once a year? It’s okay for you sit on my bed and watch me blubber to the point of throwing up, but I can’t even get a text back when youget dumped?”

“I’m enforcing. My boundaries,” Elsa enunciated through gritted teeth. Restless hands danced along the kitchen counter until she gripped Anna’s glass of water like a mooring in a storm. The therapy-speak triggered a memory. Anna suddenly remembered an early-early root of their distance, the beginning of the end of their relationship back in high school, when Elsa started to see a therapist and decided she was too cool to spend time with her baby sister. The vivid memory sent a bolt of defiance thundering through Anna.

“You’re nothing but a walking, talking boundary. Even giving a damn about you seems to cross a boundary.”

Anna could have sworn Elsa’s eyes flashed with vulnerability, and for a moment her heart leaped with fragile hope. Do something. Do anything, Elsa.

But Elsa let out a terse sigh. “I think boundaries are great.”

Anna had to prod. “You thought that was messy, then? Me knocking on your door?”

“Anna, you don’t have to do so much.”

“Heaven forbid, me double-texting you?”

Elsa’s long fingers tightened around the glass. It lasted only a moment, but the notch of frustration that twitched between her brows was enough to send Anna careening over the edge.

What’s the messiest thing I could do?

“You haven’t seen anything. What about this?”

Anna grabbed Elsa’s face in both hands and crashed their lips together. Electricity erupted where their lips met, motionless with wet shock. Anna hadn’t planned on this—she only wanted to provoke a reaction, Jesus, and what the hell was this? Through some ungodly impulse, Anna breathed hot jets of air from her nostrils—and was that a whine that escaped Elsa’s throat?

SPLASH.

Anna stood completely drenched, her mouth hanging open. Elsa held the empty glass in midair. The water dripping on the tile was deafening in the sudden silence.

Slowly, Elsa set the glass on the counter and raised trembling fingers to touch her lips. “Oh, god,” she murmured, cheeks flaming.

They decided to talk.

* * *

…Well, first, Elsa had to rein in her reeling surge of anxiety. Immediately after dousing Anna, Elsa teetered against the counter, woozy, and counted: Five things she could see—Don’t look at the curves under Anna’s soaked T-shirt, that won’t help—four things she could hear—Except the erratic pounding of my heart is drowning out everything else—three things she could feel—Not the throbbing low in my stomach, pick something external—and so on.

Anna was terrific with her—all she wanted wasa chance to prove she could be terrific in a crisis—rubbing Elsa’s back and meeting her profuse apologies with soothing words: “It’s okay, Elsa, it’s my fault, do you want me to leave? Okay, I’ll stay, you’re okay.”

Eventually Elsa regained her bearings, fetched Anna some dry clothes, and beckoned her sheepish little sister to sit down. They sat together on Elsa’s couch, Anna curled up in one of Elsa’s threadworn college hoodies, Elsa hugging her knees and wondering how the fuck they would proceed from this.

Anna didn’t waste time cutting to the quick of her feelings.

“Do you know why I got so upset?”

Elsa waited.

“Because I need you,” Anna went on, “and it makes me feel stupid. Because I wish you needed me, too.”

“I do,” Elsa said quietly. Anna glanced at her in surprise.

“I need you,” Elsa went on, “to make me give a shit about someone besides myself. Caring about you makes me feel human.”

Anna eyed her for a minute. “You know,” she said finally, “it’s that logic that compels lots of people to adopt a kitten.”

Elsa hmmm’ed and her eyes swept up to the ceiling. “I see very little difference.”

“Rude.”

Elsa shifted her weight and moved to reach around Anna’s shoulder—then hesitated, doubt clouding her expression. The withdrawal was obvious. Anna’s face fell.

I’m sorry I’m such a mediocre sister.

Screwing up her courage, Elsa reached around Anna’s shoulder and pulled her sister into her chest. Anna melted into Elsa’s side with a sigh of, what—weariness? Relief? Disbelief?

“I’m sorry,” Elsa murmured.

It was Anna’s turn to wait while Elsa searched for words. She couldn’t help herself: “For?”

“For, um…” Elsa looked away. Her arm tightened around Anna’s shoulders. “For not inviting you out to the Ruby Lounge.”

Anna snorted. “Try again.”

“For being a freak.”

“You’re—”

“By that I mean, for trying to be someone who doesn’t need you. It’s—” Elsa cast her gaze around the apartment for inspiration. “It’s—complicated, Anna.”

Anna examined Elsa closely, her eyes shining with open curiosity. She opened her mouth to press some more—then shut it again and relaxed into Elsa’s side, relishing in this miraculous opportunity to do so.

“I’m sure it is,” Anna said. She picked at a stray thread on the knee of Elsa’s leggings. “Lucky for us, we have time to figure it out.”

Elsa’s chuckle ruffled Anna’s hair. Her voice dropped to a murmur: “You’re a fucking treasure, you know that?”

#elsanna #October 2023 contest #prompt: water #submission

6 notes · View notes