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frostsinth · 3 years

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Burdened by the Stars - Pt. 5

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 - MasterList - Art

Holy Shit, it’s an update! A real update! For an existing story! Not a new project, not some random side quest.

Hey! I’m not dead! Whooo!

Welp. I hope you guys enjoy this! I’ve started writing the next chapter already, so hopefully it won’t be another four months for an update. Thank you for your patience! Lots of love.

Requested tags: @lightning-butterfly

“Auntie Gana!” Lorette squealed excitedly, launching herself onto my back and wrapping her arms around my neck. “I found you!”

I jumped nearly a foot, then laughed to dispel my jitteriness. Nearly toppling over entirely as her brother Corwin gave a shout upon the discovery of us both and jumped right on top. Our combined hot breath billowing like a cloud around us.

The afternoon with my nieces and nephews had certainly been refreshing. Though the mountain air of the goblin castle gardens was cold (colder even than the usual winter temperatures at lower altitudes), with all the running around we were doing, I hardly noticed. The six of them had been ecstatic to be pulled from their lessons early for the day, and had nearly bounced off the walls. Much to the disdain of their tutor, who gave me a dark glower as I pried the youngest off their chalkboard. But as I was the goblin Princess, and technically an adult, they had no recompense against my decision to dismiss them for the day to take over supervision of my nieces and nephews.

“It’s your turn to find us, Auntie!” Corwin informed me as Izaak and the twins skipped over. Likely alerted by the sounds of my hiding spot being uncovered.

I nodded my agreement, tossing Lorette over my shoulder as I stood up. She squealed and kicked, laughing so hard she was breathless. Her red braids slapping about her face as she wriggled. I glanced up at the sky, feeling the edge of anxiousness at the pestering thoughts of what Erramun might be doing. It was a thought that had often interrupted my afternoon. Leaving me more than a little distant and distracted, to the point where even my youngest charges were starting to notice. Hopefully he was still asleep, or at least resting quietly. Though with the sun sinking ever lower, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could assure myself of that.

“Alright, one more round.” I told them, placing Lorette back on her feet. “Then I’ve got to get you all back inside to wash up before dinner.”

I ignored the round of groans at my response. The twins, Yua and Hilal, each grabbed on to one of my legs and began to loudly proclaim I’d have to drag them inside if that’s what I wanted. Hilal even argued that she wasn’t hungry, and that dinner was going to be yucky anyway, so there was no point going in. Apparently Niko was currently on a healthy eating vendetta. Feeling that his family was far too indulgent in sweets and treats not indicative of a well-rounded diet for growing boys and girls. So he had taken a firm mindset and an iron grip on what was being cooked and served for their meals. A decision that I gathered was not sitting well with his offspring. Or his husband, evidently. I looked around four a moment as Lorette ducked under my elbow and tugged on it insistently.

“Where’s Viktor?” I asked Izaak, who was currently having a shoulder shoving match with Corwin, the closest to him in age with only a year between the two.

“Viktor?” Izaak took a step back, letting his brother topple to the ground at his feet as he turned his attention to me. Craning his neck back to look up at me with his soft, umber eyes. “He went to pick flowers I think.”

“Shut up, you ninny!” Cried Yua, jumping up from my leg and shoving her older (and much larger) brother to little effect. “He wanted to surprise Auntie Gana!”

Izaak gave the 6 year old a barely concealed scowl. “Well then he shouldn’t have taken so long.” The little prince squared his shoulders and tucked his hands behind his back. “He should have stayed with the rest of us, now it’s getting dark.”

“It is getting dark,” I agreed, reaching out to ruffle his messy blonde hair, “We should go find him.”

Izaak squealed in displeasure, pushing my hand away. “Auntie! Please don’t touch my hair! It took me forever to get it combed straight!”

Corwin, having scrambled back up, attempted to now launch himself at his sibling. Trying unsuccessfully to rangle Izaak to the ground. They may have been close in age, but Corwin was a full blooded goblin, leaving him smaller and lankier than his half-blooded older brother. Izaak was tall, even for a human child at his age, and while Corwin was by no means a runt, he would likely never quite manage to catch up. Still, he gave Izaak more than a little trouble, hanging off him as he was.

“Be careful not to get Crown Prince Izaak messy!” He mocked as he did, giving a sharp toothed smirk, “Papa is never messy, so Crown Prince Izaak can’t be messy either!”

“Get OFF, Cory!” Izaak howled back, beating a little fist into his brother’s back.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I told them, prying Corwin off and tucking him under one arm despite his wiggling and the fact that one twin was still latched to my leg, “Come on, we’ve got to find Viktor before it gets too dark.”

“He’ll get scared if it gets too dark,” Yua reminded the others busily.

“He can’t see in the dark like us,” Hilal finished, tugging on my skirts and offering me a traditional pointy toothed grin from her place still wrapped around my leg.

I glanced at her, returning her smile, then at Yua, now standing over her sister to tug at my skirts. The pair weren’t actually twins; Niko and Grier had adopted both of the goblin girls at the same time as chubby infants, and they had fast become inseparable. Now they championed the title of ‘twins’, rarely going anywhere without each other and making it a point to finish each other’s sentences. And thoughts, at times. It helped some that they didn’t look particularly dissimilar, though Yua had copper brown hair while Hilal’s was nearly pitch black. Other than that, they were the same age and height, and tended to prefer the same clothes and hairstyles. I brushed a few wild strands of Hilal’s hair out of her face as I finally put a kicking and wriggling Corwin back on his feet.

“But Auntie Gana,” Whined Lorette, “If we spend all that time looking for Viktor, we can’t play one last round!”

I thought about that for a second, tapping my fingertips dramatically against my lips as goblins did and leaving the children giggling excitedly. I had long ago adopted it as my signal to show them I had something fun planned for them. I could see them all bouncing on their toes eagerly as they waited. Even Izaak, trying so hard to be stoic and proper as he thought a Prince should be, had a glimmer of light dancing in his wide eyes.

“Well then, we’ll just have to make a game of it.” I told them. “First one to find Viktor… Gets dessert after dinner.”

I didn’t have to say it twice to have 4 of the five children screeching with delight and bounding off through the gardens. Certainly they must be deprived of sweets for such an incentive to work. I almost laughed at that, and almost being able to picture the tiniest of scowls at the corner of Niko’s lips when he found out. Soon their bobbing heads had disappeared among the hedges and paths. Izaak looked like he wanted to join them, his body slightly angled as if to launch into a full sprint. But he stopped, hesitating and looking up at me.

“Are you ok, Auntie Gana?” He asked me quietly, shuffling in place.

I looked at him in surprise. “Of course, Izaak! Why?”

He shrugged, bringing his hands around to rub at the palm of one. “I just thought you seemed a little quiet today… Are you and papa fighting?”

I almost groaned. “Did your inunu put you up to this? Or Niko himself?” I asked knowingly. Eying my oldest nephew suspiciously. Wondering if he had been spying on me this entire time. And also wondering if i had given anything away.

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Both. Inunu promised I could have three isiok if I asked, and papa said I could stay up a whole hour late with him.”

I would have laughed, shaking my head and putting my hands on my hips. “Is that why you aren’t racing off with your brother and sisters to find Viktor?” I reasoned, and he nodded.

“I already get dessert, even if someone else finds him.” He told me, sounding pleased with himself. “Papa doesn’t know inunu already asked, and inunu doesn’t know papa asked!”

I did laugh then, reaching out and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as we turned to make our way off the grass and walk along the main garden path. Mindful of his hair per his request. It hadn’t appeared particularly neat, but I was sure the messy locks were quite uncooperative. And I knew how much he tried. He slipped in a little closer, matching my stride with his and squaring his little shoulders again. I smiled to myself. He looked so much like Niko when he did that. A tiny little green-skinned, blonde-haired Niko, I corrected myself with amusement, but Niko-esque for certain.

“Two birds with one stone,” I mused aloud, wrapping my arm about his shoulders, “Very clever of you, Your Highness.”

He couldn’t seem to help grinning again, looking down at his shiny boots. “Yeah, but I think it only works if I have something to tell them.”

I shook my head once more, kicking up a little gravel as we went. “Not at all! The promise from both of them was just for you to ask me right? They didn’t say you had to get an answer.” I grinned back at him. “Or that you couldn’t tell me they asked you to.”

He seemed to think about that for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, Auntie, you’re right!” He looked up at me again, tilting his head to the side. “So you don’t have to tell me… unless you want to, that is.”

I sighed a little. “Alright, here’s what you can say. You tell Niko I said that he needs to stop treating me like a baby and pestering me all the time. And tell Grier I said you should get four isiok, because you are a very sweet and clever little Prince and you deserve all the extra dessert you want.”

Izaak chortled, nodding in bemusement. “Alright Auntie. I can do that.”

“And tell them Lorette gets dessert tonight too,” I proclaimed more loudly, as the rest of the gaggle returned, the half-goblin triumphantly holding a screeching Viktor over her shoulder, “As she is the best little brother wrangler of all time.”

That brought a round of giggles as Lorette passed her still kicking brother to me. Viktor stuck his tongue out at her, then quickly offered up a messy fistfull of half pulverized flowers to me.

“You’re not coming to dinner, Auntie?” Corwin asked, shoving Hilal out of the way to come and stand next to my leg.

“Not tonight.” I told him, reaching down to push his curly black hair out of his eyes after taking the flowers from Viktor with a pleasant thanks. “I’ve got… other stuff to do.”

“Lorette cheated!” Squealed Yua, stomping one foot angrily.

“She’s bigger than us! We can’t carry Viktor like she can!” Hilal agreed, pouting.

“Not forever,” I assured her, “Soon, I think Viktor will be taller than all of you!” I hoisted him up into the air over my head in illustration, which had him giggling with delight. “Besides, the deal was whoever found Viktor got dessert, not who carried him back.” I turned to the twins, who looked at each other for a moment before turning back to me. “And who found Viktor?”

“Lorette.” They admitted begrudgingly.

“So, the dessert award stands as it is.” I declared, putting the youngest back down on his feet to hold his hand instead. Not that I felt particularly bad. I knew my brother’s sense of fairness was indomitable, and having granted one child such permissions, I had likely granted it to them all. “Now, let’s get you all inside and washed up before your fathers take away my dessert.”

That brought a fresh round of laughter, and the six royal children of the goblin kingdom darted eagerly around my legs and up and down the halls as we made our way back up to our quarters. I spared the tower a final glance before we ducked into the castle, wondering not for the first time just what I would find when I went back to my own rooms.

.....

I was able to hand off my nieces and nephews to their caretakers after helping them all get washed up and changed for dinner without running into either Niko or Grier. Which I took as a small blessing, as I kept nervously glancing out the window to try and gauge just how long I had left until the Kings might just decide to pop in. I knew it was unlikely; usually they met their brood in the dining room at the end of each day. But I didn’t put it past either of them to attempt to catch me unawares. Especially as I was sure they had already heard I had liberated their children from their studies early to play with them in the gardens. Little went on in the castle that the two didn’t know about.

That thought made me smirk to myself in accomplishment as I hesitated outside my own door, having seen the Princes and Princesses off down the stairs with their attendants before heading back down the hall. Certainly I could think of no one else who would have been able to smuggle an orc of all things into the castle undetected. I had even managed to get his mare into the stables with no one batting an eye at her blood splattered coat before I had picked up my nieces and nephews. I glanced about briefly to make sure I was alone once more before I slipped back into my rooms. My heart in my throat and my nerves jumping on end.

The sitting room was quiet and dark, and I closed the door and latched it behind me. My eyes strained in the dimness, with only the barest hints of light coming from under the door to the hall. Perhaps I should get my eyes charmed like Niko’s, I thought to myself as I fumbled for the candle by the entrance. Placing the bundle of pulverized flowers from Viktor on the little table there for a moment as I did. It would certainly make living in a goblin castle half the year much easier. As the wick caught with a soft hiss, I heard the telltale creak of my bed in the other room.

Quickly I had to douse my nerves, straightening myself out with the reminder once more that these were my rooms. I was supposed to be here. Erramun was not. I felt another twitch of satisfaction at the corner of my mouth again, unable to resist feeling a little smug in that confidence. Even if he wanted to leave, he wouldn’t get anywhere without my help. It was a reassuring feeling to have the half-orc under my thumb. Though the reminder of my guest set my heart skipping again. Which I of course briskly ignored.

I used the light of the candle to find a vase amid my things, feeling each clutter and clank of my shuffling was louder than a thundering herd of cattle. Rather hoping the half-orc wasn’t sleeping. I had to move two small boxes and a stack of books out of my way. But I eventually found what I was looking for, and placed the small colorful vase on one end table. Gathering the messy bouquet up carefully from where I had left it by the door to set it into its new home. I ran my fingers over the pretty blooms, smiling to myself. I’d have to get them some water. But I should check on Erramun first.

However, it was suspicious how quiet everything was. I paused for a minute by the door to the bedroom, listening to see if I could hear anything beyond. I had assumed such a behemoth would be a snorer, though I guess that was rather small minded of me to think so. It was also, I realized, possibly silly of me to assume he would even be asleep. I had been gone for hours, perhaps he had woken, if he had slept at all. I pushed aside the fearful thoughts of what he had been doing this entire time if he had not been sleeping.

I hesitated with my hand over the handle. If he was asleep, would my entering wake him? And if he wasn’t… My face felt hot with the sudden reminder of a pair of dimples at the base of his spine. Not to mention the rest of that scene permanently burned into the backs of my eyelids. I glanced around the foyer once more, still trying to decide. Working to calm my suddenly racing pulse. Then chided myself with the reminder yet again that these were my rooms. If he was naked again, well then, I’d just have to scold him better this time. And… maybe I could get a better look. I scoffed silently, pushing away that thought as wholly undesirable and the heavy blush that accompanied it. Giving the handle a solid downward yank and shoving the old bedroom door open with my shoulder.

I had barely started to draw in a breath for a proper greeting when I released it suddenly in a loud shout instead, my body jerking forward with a sudden intruding force acting upon it. My hands went up defensively, the candle abandoned to gravity, as I reached for the sudden weight dropping on my shoulder.

Muscle memory took over then, and it was a blur as my hands found purchase. I shifted my weight, dropping my shoulder down and bending at the knees to use the larger form’s already moving momentum to my advantage as it went to grab me and send its weight forward. Then, a quick twist and a sweep of my foot had it flipping the rest of the way with a abrupt and heavy THUD that even managed to shake the room a little.

I blinked rapidly in the dark left behind by the now doused candle that had clattered to the floor, trying to make out whatever I had just laid low on the ground. My heart racing in my chest, my blood pounding in my ears. A muffled groan broke through the adrenaline, and I nearly scoffed in exasperation. Remembering that there weren’t actually a lot of possibilities.

“Erramun!” I snapped at the large half-orc currently splayed out on my bedroom floor at my feet. “What in the nine HELLS do you think you are doing??”

“Gana!” He said in surprise, tugging at his hand still in my grip. “It’s you!”

“Of course it’s me!! Who else would it be??”

“I thought you were someone else!”

“In my personal rooms, you big idiot??” I retorted, then looked down, realizing I had twisted his arm back with his elbow facing out and his shoulder turned in the way Niko had shown me. Leaving the half-orc completely at my mercy. I was sorely tempted to twist it a little further in my ire. “Who do you think would be just randomly coming in here other than me??”

The dark shadow at my feet gave a growl, and I gave a startled yelp as suddenly I found my own feet swept out from under me. I landed heavily on my back with a gasp, too surprised to react properly. A meaty hand on one shoulder, and the rest of a big orc pining me down with his body crouched over mine.

“I dunno. Could’ve been anyone.” He grumbled, and I saw the glint of his eyes in the dark. “This place is very odd.”

His dark hair spilled like water around us, and I had to take a few moments to calm my swirling thoughts as the smell of him filled my nose. Not to mention the heat of his body, with his big thigh on my left and the other between my own legs. One hand was firmly planted on my shoulder, half-pining me to the floor, the other held one of my hands flattened to the ground by the wrist. I wriggled for half a second beneath him, then stopped dead as I heard him snort.

“Not many can get the jump on an orc.” He noted, sounding heavily amused. I thought I could see the flash of his teeth. “But nobody can best them in actual combat even if they do.”

My temper flared at that, and I twisted sharply. Reaching up with my free hand to catch the back of his neck and burying one knee straight up. Catching his inner thigh and with a sharp upward jerk at the same time as I yanked hard with my hand. Toppling him off balance just enough to use my own weight to flip the tides once more. Using his greater weight and size to roll myself with him.

Another breath later, and Erramun was back on his back, and I glared down at him with a small but satisfied scowl etched into my brow.

“Must not apply to half orcs.” I replied smugly.

I couldn’t see him well at first in the low light of the moon filtering in from the balcony window, but at least now my eyes were finally adjusting properly. I could make out the edge of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders in the cream colored tunic. The side of his face closer to the window was also mostly visible. His black hair caught the moonlight with dazzling strands of silver, and I was pretty sure I saw his pronounced brow raise up. Thought I saw even a bit of the white in his eyes as he widened them. I could distinctly see them blink very slowly after that, and saw his wide nose flair. In fact, I could feel his entire chest rise and fall as he drew in a deep breath.

It was then my brain decided it fit to recall that I was currently sitting directly on top of the half-orc. My knees barely reached the ground on either side of him, my skirts bunched up at my thighs, and my hand was still cupped around the back of his neck. I had managed to free my other hand from his grip, and had his wrist now pinned above his head. Which brought me leaning perilously close. My own wild hair cascaded down like a net around my shoulders, and I realized my face was not all that far from his.

It seemed he had realized this same fact a that exact moment as well. We stared at each other for a long, quiet breath. Frozen in place. I found myself wondering distractedly how well Erramun could see in the dark. Was I just a shape bathed in a silver outline as he was? Or could he see the way I hovered over him, with the collar of my dress dangling a few inches from his shirt, baring the top of my chest to him? Could he see the expression on my face? And if he could, was he any better at reading it than I was at the moment? Could he see the flush of my cheeks, and hear the race of my pulse at his proximity?

I abruptly and quickly pushed away from him. Shoving him so hard in my retreat that he gave another soft grunt as I stood. My face was burning hot, despite my better judgement, and my head swirled as I tried to compose myself once more.

“You’re an idiot.” I grumbled defensively, smoothing my hands down my skirts as I took a few steps away.

“You’re impressive.” He returned, his voice a bit breathy. I saw him sit up, propping his knees and leaning on his elbows over them. “You fight better than some orcs I’ve met.”

“I thought no one could best an orc.” I chided him, carefully making my way over to the bedside table to find a fresh candle. “What are you even doing out of bed? I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

It took only a short minute of fumbling to light the candle, and when I turned to face him once more, he was still sitting on the ground. Looking up at me with emerald green eyes and his long locks spilling over his shoulders. He grinned a little sheepishly, and I had to force my heart to beat again in its wake.

“Some people can best an orc.” He said, as if deciding on it in that moment, then chewed at his thick lip thoughtfully. “Some people can beat some orcs.” He amended, and those lips split back into a wry, crooked grin. “And I got tired of resting. I’ve been resting for hours.”

“So you decided to tackle someone instead?”

His grin grew by a few molars, and I eyed him warily. “It was fun. At least for a moment.” He winced, and his hand went to his injured side. “I think I may have torn it open again.”

“Serves you right.” I grumbled, walking around to light a few more candles around the room. “Perhaps you should just stay on the floor all night then. Seeing as you seem to like being there. At least I’d get my bed back.”

He chuckled, and I heard him give a soft huff as he pulled himself back to his feet. When I shot him a glance over my shoulder, he was using the bedpost to steady himself. I watched him blink a few times, then shake his head stubbornly. I scoffed with a click of my tongue, putting down the candle in my hand and bustling over to him.

“Let me see.” I ordered him, reaching for the edge of his shirt.

He grunted, but didn’t argue, pulling up the hem over his navel. Exposing the wrappings to my critical eye. There was a spotting bloom of pink at the center, and I ran my fingers lightly around the edge thoughtfully.

“Well, the good news is I don’t think you made it worse.” I commended him, unable to resist the urge to skim my fingers over his skin a little. Checking to see if it was hot with infection, I assured myself. “The bad news is you’re still an idiot.”

He laughed again, and I felt it in my fingers currently pressed against his flesh. I straightened slightly, reluctantly removing my hand and trying to ignore the fresh flush that rose to my own face. Perhaps I was the one coming down with an infection instead, I reasoned distractedly.

I almost jumped as his hand came around, catching mine as it retreated. My eyes jumped to his face, and he tilted his head to the side slightly as he peered down at me. Those thick lips of his twisted into a fresh smirk, one side higher than the other. I resisted the urge to quiver at the sight.

“Lucky then that I have you, Gana.” He mused. “You have brains enough for the both of us.”

“And brawn.” I quipped, which only had his grin growing. I shuffled in place, glancing down at our hands before carefully pulling mine back. “Still. No more tackling people in the dark, agreed? Damjan won’t be happy if I return his tunic with blood stains all over it.”

Erramun nodded, slowly pulling his borrowed shirt back down. “Who is Damjan?”

I hesitated only a brief moment, turning to walk over to sit at the edge of the bed. “He’s the General of the goblin forces. Retired, supposedly. But that’s his wardrobe you’re wearing.”

That had a small flash of surprise rolling across his features. “He is large for a goblin then. Or is he human?”

I shook my head, then gave him a small grin of my own. “He’s goblin. Half-goblin at least. And half-orc.”

“Orc?” He echoed, and I wasn’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement that laced his voice. His smile had quickly faded.

I nodded, considering him. “Yes. He grew up here though. I don’t know if he’s ever met another orc. Though I suppose he must have at some point.”

Erramun nodded as well, chewing on his lip as he stared at the ground. I could almost see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice that he looked a little relieved. I leaned forward on my hands currently propped at the edge of the bed.

“You avoiding all orcs at the moment?” I poked, curious despite myself.

His gaze darted up to me, then he shrugged his big shoulders, coming around to the edge of the bed slowly. “Just most.”

I tried not to stiffen as he sat next to me, the mattress depressing almost to the frame with his added weight. “Any particular reason why?” I asked warily. “You aren’t on the run, are you?”

The soft chuckle in his chest rumbled like distant thunder, and I felt goosebumps skitter across my flesh at the sound. He glanced at me again, then down at the floor.

“I worry they might try to stop me. If they found out.”

I waited for him to go on, to explain that further. When I was answered with nothing but silence, I shifted in my seat. Debating only for a moment whether or not I cared enough to pry further. But the curiosity proved too much, and I even leaned a little closer to him.

“Found out about what?”

He glanced at me again, and I froze as his eyes ran over my face. Especially the way he seemed equally distracted for a moment as his gaze met mine. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before he finally spoke. But found myself releasing a breath I hadn’t known I was holding when he did.

“Let’s just say I’ve got something to prove to my family.” He mumbled, then his eyes finally dropped away and he shifted. “We should leave it at that. I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

His voice was strangely soft again. The way it had been when he had first mentioned the plight of his people at the border. With that same look I had seen a hundred times before on my brother’s faces. The weight of a thousand weights, I called it. I didn’t quite like his face in that shape. It made him seem older, more tired. It hurt me a little to see that look on him, when usually his eyes were filled with such vigor and bravado. I leaned a little closer, nudging his shoulder with mine until he looked up at me again.

“... I already think you’re stupid.” I assured him lightly, and my teasing tones had a smile flicking across his lips again. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He nodded, and I saw his eyes shift between mine for a moment. “Thank you, Gana… You have been very kind to me. And I have given you nothing but trouble.” He leaned a little closer, and my breath caught in my throat. “I would like to give you something else. To repay you.”

It took me far too long to respond with his breath splashing across my face. With his eyes locked in mind. Heat swelled in my chest, and my heart fluttered behind it. I swallowed slowly, trapped in those emerald eyes of his.

“... Oh yeah?” I fumbled my lips around the soft words. “What would you give?”

He paused a moment, and I felt the bed shift beneath us as he adjusted his weight. Somehow managing to shift even closer to me.

“What would you like? What can I give you, that would make you happy?”

I laughed shyly, glancing down. Away from those entrancing eyes. “I don’t want for much here.” I assured him, my heart thrumming in my ears.

“Surely there must be something you don’t have. Something you want?” He pressed, his voice still whisper soft.

My hands twitched, and I brought them together to cup in my lap. Thumbing at one as I stared down at them. So aware of his proximity I couldn’t seem to draw in a deep enough breath for fear of pulling it from his lungs.

“Freedom.” I admitted quietly. “... To go where I want. To see the world.”

“I can give you that.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “No one can give me that.”

“But I can take you with me.” He pressed. “I can bring you back to my home. It is wild and untamed. That is a start at least.”

I glanced up at him again, and found him closer than I had left him previously. He was leaning on one hand, twisted at the waist. Almost at my eye level with the gentle bow of his broad shoulders and the relaxed curve of his spine. If I moved too quickly our noses might brush together. I kept my breath trapped in my throat. I saw his eyes move, and my face suddenly blazed hot.

Abruptly, I stood, putting a few steps between us. Squeezing at my palm for a moment and feeling horribly, horribly foolish. It took a breath to steady myself, but I turned back for him.

“... You are not here to promise adventures to silly girls in castle towers.” I reminded him bitterly.

He started for a moment at that, staring at me a little wide eyed. The candlelight danced in those eyes, and I had to look away. I made the pretense of picking up the broken candle from the floor where I had dropped it earlier. I ran my thumb over the smooth wax, trying to calm my racing heart.

“No, I’m not.” He admitted, and my efforts were demolished by the skip of my heart at the regret in his tone. “... But if you help me win the Princess, then I can still give you want you want.”

I almost laughed, shaking my head and feeling the sinking weight of his words deep in my chest. Reminding myself why this man was even here in the first place, and chiding myself silently for forgetting. Trying to swallow the sudden disappointment in my throat.

“I can’t help you do that.”

“You’re the only one who can.” He pleaded. “I don’t know this world. I don’t know these people, but I need to. I need to be better, to be bigger than I am. It’s the only way to help my own people. I see that now. My plan was foolish, and I cannot do it alone.”

I was already shaking my head before he had finished speaking. “I cannot help you win the Princess.” I told him firmly, stubbornness lacing my breath. Still refusing to look up at him.

“Fine. Not the Princess.” He agreed, and I heard the creak of the bedframe as he stood. “Then help me learn to be someone worthy of her. Of this court. Teach me how to impress the Kings. How to talk without saying anything. How to dress, how to speak. How to be… human. And goblin, if needed.”

I did laugh now, and turned to toss the candle to a pile of rubbish to be taken out later. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“So teach me.” He insisted, and his voice was closer. Somewhere only a few steps behind me. “Teach me to be better than I am, to be human enough to be at this court, to pass for one of the goblins, and I will take you far away from this place when I leave. I’ll even tell you stories of all the places I’ve been and the things I’ve seen in the meantime.”

I jumped as his hand grazed my elbow, and spun to face him once more. He peered down at me quietly for a long moment. Then his lopsided smile returned, and I felt my heart skip.

“I can’t give you your freedom, Gana.” His eyes sparkled with determination. “But I can give you the chance to take it.”

Excitement surged in my chest, and I felt the heat of my blood rushing through my veins. I felt the familiar itch; to run. To just go, to leave this place and never look back. To be out there, in the world where I so longed to be. I couldn’t quell the intensity of my desire, and felt it seep throughout my entire core. I saw his grin grow, and wondered if he could see it in my eyes. I chewed it over, trying to keep a level head. Trying to think it through.

“... No Princess? Just-”

“Just teaching.” He assured me. “Even if it doesn’t work, and the goblin Princess doesn’t like me and I go home, I’ll still take you with me.” His head cocked to the side. “If you want to go.”

It would never work. I had managed to smuggle him in, but I was only here for a month or two. Could I even smuggle him back to Geriveria? Or could I leave with him at the end, like he promised? Niko would never allow it. He’d send half of the Kingdom after me, and Val wouldn’t be far behind. Even Grier would think this was crazy. I didn’t know this man! I had no idea where he had come from, or what kind of person he was. And how was I supposed to keep him from figuring out who I really was? Once he found out that he couldn’t even use anything I’d taught him, surely he’d be mad. He would not keep his promise. Besides, how was I supposed to keep him hidden from my brother, the goblin King, my nosy nieces and nephews, my ladies-in-waiting, and everyone else in the entire castle? It was insane! It was dangerous! If I was caught, if Niko found out, if anyone saw him, who knows what they would do! And even if I could manage all that, two months was hardly enough time to train some wildling everything it had taken me a lifetime to learn. It was impossible. The odds were far too high, and the chances of success so slim I couldn’t even see them.

I felt a grin sliding across my face at the challenge raised, and felt my heart skip excitedly in my breast.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

To be continued ...

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sodone-withlife · 3 years

Text

i know who i am

summary: really, he never saw himself ever willingly letting anyone in on his broken past, but here he was, sitting in across from Waipo in the tiny cramped office at the back of the shop and nervously sweating about what he was about to tell her

read it on ao3: chapter 1 is the original version with Mandarin, chapter 2 has everything translated into English

the movie really hit me hard as an ABC, and I really wanted to write something for it. even though she barely had any screentime, I loved Waipo—she reminds me of so many of my relatives—so I decided to make her be one of the most important people in Shangqi’s life, and it turned into this wonderful mess (i had to stop writing this for a bit because I literally made myself cry). there is mandarin in this, it's kind of intended to be a physical manifestation of how my bilingual brain works (i did put the English-only version first, the original version with Mandarin is under that one but the formatting for it one is better on ao3, so i suggest reading it from there). apologies for my shitty mandarin; I have mediocre language skills, but I'm still so excited to be able to incorporate it in my writing. in regards to the character's names: I only know for certain the Chinese characters used for Shangqi and Wenwu, but for Xialing, I'm going to go with what it apparently was in the hong kong release (夏灵, with 灵灵 as the nickname)

English Translation:

“Waipo, do you have a bit of time?” Shangqi stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously as fluent Mandarin rolled off of his tongue with an ease he's never felt in any other part of his life. “I want to talk to you about something."

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “Does it have anything to do with the trip you and Katy went on this past week?" she asked, Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

He wasn’t exactly sure what within him prompted this interaction. He had come to San Francisco for a normal life, to get as far away from his father’s reaches as he could and to outrun the blood that stained his footsteps.

Never did Shangqi imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to Xialing, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

Never did he imagine letting anyone in on his broken past, and even though his hand had been forced when it came to telling Katy, here he was going to the second person who truly saw something in him when he first started his new life and planning to tell them everything.

(Okay, fine, Shangqi wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling Waipo, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, Lingling, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“Little Dragon, what’s on your mind?”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that Waipo also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

You have the heart of a dragon, she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

It was a while before he could bring himself to visit the family again—there were a lot of awkward excuses before Katy reluctantly backed off—and it took even longer for him to get somewhat used to the name again, but he eventually started seeing it as a gift with each faint impression of happier days that he got every time Waipo called him that.

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. Shangqi wondered how Waipo would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell Wenwu had put him through, he was still his father. Shangqi still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past Wenwu wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered the whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

Mom, I miss you so much.

(And now Wenwu is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

(But just as she died to protect her children, he did the same. Now, his children are reunited and in contact again, getting ever closer despite living as far apart as they did, and he was reunited with his love in the afterlife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at Waipo, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“Waipo, have you heard of the legend of the Ten Rings?”

And Shangqi told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving Lingling behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before Waipo moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw Waipo.

“You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person.” she finally said gently, and the tension in his shoulders slowly loosened under her familiar touch. “You decide your own fate.”

~~~

That night, Shangqi knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

Am I still your pride and joy? Lingling grew up, but I didn’t even take care of her like I should have.

I swear to you, I will never abandon her again

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and Lingling dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their parents’ legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

Lingling is dating my best friend now, and they’re so happy together. Mom, I know you would have loved Katy. Dad, I know you didn’t like her much, but she really is a wonderful person.

Life went on.

There were the good days, when he went out with others and could almost feel normal, and there were the bad days, when phantoms pains plagued him and he woke up from a restless sleep expecting to see bruises mottling his body like they did so often when he was younger.

(Also, he was considered a superhero now and holy shit that’s still insane, even years after he first got in contact with the Avengers and the sorcerers in New York. Now he was going all over the West Coast, to help the locals take care of whichever crazy supervillain decided to wreak havoc that day.)

Dad, I hope you find this story as funny as I did: I helped a group of American superheroes yesterday. They’ve never been to San Francisco before and were extremely unfamiliar with the roads, especially Lombard Street. They spent half an hour trying to drive down the street, but I ended up driving them down myself.

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and Xialing whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

Mom, Dad, Lingling and Katy are getting married today and everyone is so excited for them. I’m taking over the Ten Ring within a month so Lingling can take a break. She’s led the organization for so long, it’s my responsibility now. I hope I can live up to her standards, she’s done really well. She’ll be back in a few years, but even after, I’m going to be much more involved to lessen Lingling’s workload.

Shangqi walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I’ll take care of them.

I hope you’re happy together in the afterlife.

~~~

Don’t be afraid, Shang-Chi, for you have heart of a dragon and the power of the Ten Rings.

We will always be with you and Xialing.

Original Version w/Mandarin

“外婆，您有没有一点儿时间？” 尚气 stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously. “我想告诉您一些事情。”

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “是不是跟你和瑞雯这前个星期去的旅行有关？” Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

Never did 尚气 imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to 夏灵, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again and damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

(Okay, fine, 尚气 wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling 外婆, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, 灵灵, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“小龙，你有什么心事儿？”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that 外婆 also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

你有神龙之心，she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname. You have the heart of a dragon.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. 尚气 wondered how 外婆 would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell 文武 had put him through, he was still his father. 尚气 still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past 文武 wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

妈妈，我太想你了。

(And now 文武 is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at 外婆, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“外婆，您听说过 ‘十环’ 的传说吗？”

And 尚气 told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving 灵灵 behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before 外婆 moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw 外婆.

“你是所有在你之前的人的遗产，但你是你自己的人，” she finally said，“你决定你自己的命运。”

You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person. You decide your own fate.

~~~

That night, 尚气 knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

我还是你的骄傲吗？灵灵长大了，但我也没好好照顾她。

我向你发誓，我再也不会抛弃她。

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and 灵灵 dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their family’s legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

灵灵跟我朋友最近开始谈恋爱，他们俩可开心了。妈，如果你还在我们身边，我保证你会喜欢她。爸，我知道你一开始不太喜欢她，但她确实是一位精彩的人。

Life went on.

爸爸，我希望你跟我一样觉得这个故事很好笑：我昨天帮了一组美国超级英雄开车。那是他们第一次来旧京山，对道路非常陌生—尤其是 Lombard Street。他们开也开不好，花了半个小时慢慢的开下去。最终，我把他们的车开下去的。

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and 夏灵 whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

妈，爸，灵灵她今天会跟我最好的朋友结婚，我们都很兴奋。我一个月之内开始接管十环的业务，让灵灵休息休息。她干了多少年了，现在是我的责任。我希望我能辜负她，她管的非常棒，帮了许多人。她几年后会回来继续当领导，但我好像在领导方面发挥更大的作用。

He walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

妈，爸，你们放心吧，我会照顾他们。

我希望你们俩来世都幸福。

~~~

尚气，你别怕，你有神龙之心，十环的力量。

我们永远会在你和灵灵的身边。

#i’m so sorry if the mandarin is shitty #the format is better on ao3 #but i’m so excited to be able to at least try it #shang chi spoilers #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings spoilers #shang chi fanfiction #shang chi #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings #marvel fanfiction #mcu #shang chi imagines

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

Pretty Little Picture (2/3)

for day 2 of @malex-cupid and yes it still counts becuase I haven’t slept yet

ao3

Alex woke up before Michael.

Michael slept on his back with the blankets pulled up to his chin, his mouth open. Alex carefully reached over to close it before he pulled his arm back into his own space. Michael’s hair was dry now, fanning out across the pillow. He looked good. So good. Really, obnoxiously good.

Alex had lived with this man for three years. They’d known each other for way longer than that. Sure, they hadn’t really been close in high school, but they were friendly by way of Alex being friends with Liz and Liz dating Michael’s pseudo-brother. It just made sense for them to share a house.

At first, it was a little difficult to get used to. Michael had always been attractive and Alex had gotten a little flustered when he realized how often he’d go without a shirt. He worked part-time as a mechanic before he got this internship and came home regularly a fucking mess and Alex’s blood would simply rush from his brain and leave him light-headed. But, after a while, he got used to it. They got closer, touchier, more comfortable and Alex didn’t see him as just a hot man using his kitchen and burning himself on the stove every morning because he always forgot to keep his arm away from the pan. He was his friend.

But now he was really starting to feel like the hot man with grease stains on his face all over again, only worse, because he was giving Alex ample attention.

Alex carefully turned so his back was to Michael and he grabbed his phone, unlocking it to text Liz. He needed that for his brain.

Alex: I’m not saying you’re right, but also how would one go about not falling for a man who keeps being super nice and flirty and touchy with you

Liz: ALEX !!!!

Alex: shhh he’ll hear you

Liz: ha ha.

Liz: Make an excuse to leave. You’re gonna regret it if you don’t.

Alex: okay, BUT what if I’ll regret it if I leave? Like I know Michael doesn’t mean any of it like that and nothing’s gonna happen, shouldn’t I just enjoy it?

Liz: Alex that’s sad. You deserve more than just enjoying attention while it lasts.

Alex: I mean, it’s Michael, he’s going to keep giving me attention after this because he wants attention too. He’ll just go back to normal

Liz: please be careful, your heart is so fragile

Alex: I’m rolling my eyes so hard right now

Liz: make sure that’s the only thing that’s hard

Alex: STOP

Liz: I’m kidding!

Alex: pls don’t tell Max about this

Liz: he wouldn’t listen even if I tried

Alex: ??? are you sure you should be the one giving me relationship advice then?

Liz: I MEANT because he doesn’t want to hear about Michael’s sex life, don’t be rude

Alex: suuuuuuure

Alex dropped his phone in shock as Michael’s alarm started blaring, the standard Samsung alarm more than a little startling. Michael apparently thought so too because he shot up and frantically reached to shut it off. Alex happily pretended to still be asleep as he slipped his phone under the pillow.

“Fuck,” Michael breathed, voice a few steps deeper due to the morning as he fell back against the pillow. He was still for a minute before shifting and Alex soon felt fingertips on his back between his shoulder blades.

Alex was absolutely, extremely, unfathomably fucked.

“You awake?” Michael asked, dragging his fingers up until he touched Alex’s bare neck. He moved his hair out of the way and everything. His voice was so deep in the morning that Alex was pretty sure he was going to have a heart attack.

“Yeah,” Alex whispered.

“Good, we gotta get up soon,” Michael said, scooting closer. Alex had never liked the sound of movement under sheets before that moment.

Michael was warm as he pressed up close behind him. Alex swallowed hard, his heart thudding in his chest and his face burning so much that his ears started ringing. His warm hand trailed down his arm and wrapped him in a hug, squeezing him so tight he never wanted to be let go.

“You’re so soft, dude, what the fuck,” Michael said, bowing his head in the crook of Alex’s neck. Alex huffed a laugh, wiggling his arm free just enough to pat his head.

They laid there for a few seconds and Alex couldn’t help but think about how nice it was to wake up to someone like this. Wake up to Michael like this. He took a deep breath and allowed it to sink in a little more.

Which was fine and relaxing until Michael’s lips pressed against his neck and Alex’s eyes flew open, his heart picking up pace again. It was just a short little peck, but it was there. Michael lifted his head afterward and laid it back on the pillow with no mention of it, no comment of it. It was almost jarring‒just in the best way possible.

“Okay, so, today we go to breakfast. I think Curtis plans to have a talk with his employees during it, so we might be separated. Keep your phone on you and good luck if we do. Then we’re going to, like, this… I guess it’d be like a pseudo-conference. Curtis is gonna give a talk about, like, balancing work and home life and some shit like that. Then, I’m sorry, but couples yoga led by Jeannie. It’s gonna feel super cult-y, but play nice because I think it’s like their secret dream jobs. Then lunch. Then a nature walk because, well, you saw this place is surrounded by trees and shit,” Michael said, sounding more awake now as he leaned over Alex’s shoulder to tell him. His hands idly played with the hem of Alex’s shirt as if this was just something they do.

“I really feel like you should’ve warned me about couples yoga, what if I don’t have anything to wear?” Alex asked. Michael paused and tilted his head.

“You’re Alex, you wear yoga-appropriate clothes all the time. You’re telling me you didn’t bring one pair of those leggings that are borderline obscene but you think are totally socially acceptable?” Michael asked, his voice soft and warm.

Alex huffed a laugh, smiling easily at him as he tugged on his arm and urged him to come over him completely instead of laying half on him. Michael did so, rolling over him and laying in that tiny space between Alex and the edge of the bed. Alex held onto his hips‒so he wouldn’t fall, of course.

“I mean, yeah, but you could’ve warned me.”

“My bad, I’ll warn you next time we have to do couples yoga,” Michael said flippantly. Alex snorted and nodded his head. “Anyway, then we’ll have a repeat of last night, basically, socializing and dinner, but it’ll be a little bit more casual. Tomorrow, though, brunch and then another Curtis Talk, probably a bit of free time to bond as a couple, and then an early, more secluded dinner before we get sent off.”

“How is any of that supposed to gauge how good of an employee you’ll be?” Alex asked, mindlessly rubbed a small circle against his hip.

“Uh, what do you mean? What’s more telling of someone’s character than hell well they follow instructions, keep a cool head while in new situations, poker face under stress, and how well they can play well with others that they don’t know that well and could possibly be annoying and yet have to spend a bunch of time around them?” Michael explained. Alex stared at him for a moment before he huffed a laugh.

“I didn’t even think of it like that.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got my mind on one thing and it’s this business venture,” Michael said. But then his eyes, still half-lidded and a bit dark-ringed from sleep, drifted across Alex’s face. “Well, mostly one thing.”

Alex shook his head. “Such a charmer.”

“Absolutely,” Michael said, “And so are you. That’s why we’re pulling this off so well.”

“Mm, the only reason?” Alex teased. Michael grinned and shrugged a shoulder.

“I don’t know, guess we’ll find out,” he said. Before Alex had to come up with an answer, Michael rolled towards the edge of the bed and somehow landed on his feet. Alex shook his head against and stayed in his spot. “Gonna go tame my hair. Wear something hot.”

“Don’t I always?”

“True.”

Alex’s eyes followed Michael into the bathroom, waiting for the door to click shut before he kicked his legs and covered his face with his hands. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

He didn’t bother messing with the smile that stayed comfortably on his face as he searched through his bag for something yoga-and-workplace appropriate. He settled on a pair of those leggings Michael apparently liked more than he realized and a flowy tank top that covered anything that could really be described as obscene. He pulled on a cardigan over it to give it some semblance of a day-wear vibe.

“Remind me to stand behind you when you bend over so no one just stares at your ass,” Michael said as he came out of the bathroom. Alex laughed and stood up straight from where he was bent over to plug in his charger.

“Is that just a lame excuse so you can stare at my ass?” Alex asked. Michael just shrugged and went to his own bag.

“Who’s to say.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Alex laughed, “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t stay gone for too long, I might miss you.”

Alex rolled his eyes and closed himself in the bathroom. He took a deep breath for his own sanity, but he was simply hit with the smell of Michael’s curl cream and leave-in conditioner and that made it actually impossible to regain any semblance of sanity.

Still, he managed to focus as he dealt with his own hair, brushing through it and then pulling half of it back into a small ponytail and making it a bit purposefully messy. He again drew on his eyeliner, doing something simple because he still was working on making a good impression.

He finished up pretty easily, brushing his teeth and double-checking before he walked out. Michael was in jeans and a collared shirt. Alex scoffed

"Wait, wait, wait, you get to wear jeans? Are you going to do yoga in jeans?" Alex laughed. Michael rolled his eyes, wiping his hands over his thighs.

"I've got a pair of athletic leggings underneath, but I'm not comfortable in them," Michael admitted. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Take those off, I'll give you something more comfortable," Alex told him, going to his own duffle bag. He dug through it for a second before pulling out a pair of gray sweats that were loose around the crotch and thigh area but got tight around the calves. "You'll look like an asshole, but they'll be comfier."

"Why do you own them if they make you look like an asshole?" Michael asked as he unbuttoned his jeans. He dropped them to the floor and–Yeah, those leggings didn't leave much to the imagination. Alex shook his head.

"Comfy," Alex said simply, "Also I got them a few years ago."

"Ah," Michael said, his thumbs hooking in his leggings and yanked them down. Alex averted his eyes. "I don't care if you look, Alex, nothin' you haven't seen before."

"Yeah, well," Alex breathed, swallowing. Michael laughed and took the pants. Alex gave it a few seconds before looking back at him. "Okay, tell me you have a better shirt?"

Michael stared at him blankly.

"Michael, I know you wanted to look nice, but come on," he laughed, going back to his bag, "You're lucky I'm a chronic over-packer."

"Mm, I feel lucky," Michael hummed. Alex rolled his eyes again, but his smile came back in full force.

Alex handed him a loose tank top that was a black version of the one Alex was wearing.

"They'll think we're cute and matching," Alex said, "Please tell me you brought at least one flannel."

"Of course I do, I'm not an animal," he scoffed. Alex grinned.

"Go grab it and we'll go down for breakfast," Alex told him, shoving his shoulder lightly. Michael swayed forward to peck his cheek before leaning back and pulling off his shirt with one smooth motion. Alex took a deep breath.

They both slipped on their shoes and started to head towards the elevator. Again touching, poking, prodding, laughing. Alex hummed as Michael slowly backed him into the corner of the elevator.

"When the door opens, they'll think we can't keep our hands off each other," Michael said, voice low. Alex raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know that we could keep our hands off each other," Alex said, tilting his head as he grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged him in closer. Michael’s lips parted and his eyes widened, that same level of awe on his face that he had whenever he’d make the ‘on your knees’ comment from the night before.

“You, Alex Manes, are gonna be the fucking death of me,” Michael breathed, leaning forward until their foreheads touched.

Michael was pressed up against him at their hips, their upper body only separated by Alex’s palm. Their breath mingled between them and Alex slowly began to wonder if Michael wasn’t just teasing. Maybe he never had been. And, honestly, Alex wouldn’t mind. Actually‒wouldn’t mind was a gross understatement.

Alex, never one to back down from something that he wanted, gave him his best set of ‘fuck me’ eyes and licked his lips. Michael breathed in deep as his eyes drifted down and then back up to meet his eyes, back and forth a few times before his head started tilting and he started moving his jaw a bit closer.

Their noses touched.

“Oh! Wow, okay,” a voice said. Michael quickly moved off Alex like they’d just been caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing‒and maybe they had been. Callie stood in the open elevator door, her bulky glasses not hiding her amused expression one bit. “Should I leave or…?”

“Sorry,” Michael said, clearing his throat. He pulled at the sides of his sweatpants before tugging at the hem of his shirt. Alex felt a little dizzy at the idea that he needed to cover something up. “Didn’t know you’d be barging in.”

“It’s an elevator, Guerin, you’re the one that should learn to keep it in your pants,” Callie said, walking in and letting the doors close. Alex kept his breath even as Callie gently shoved Michael.

“It’s very clearly in my pants, Kemeny,” he joked back.

“And for how long?” Callie said, gaze drifting over to Alex, “Because I know how you can be.”

“You that bad at keeping your cool at work?” Alex asked, raising his eyes at Michael.

“I’m perfectly capable of self-control!” Michael argued. Alex and Callie both snorted a laugh at the same time and Michael’s bottom lip protruded in a pout. “You’re both so mean to me.”

“I’m the nicest person you’ve ever met,” Callie insisted. Michael rolled his eyes even though his pout faded. “See I was gonna slyly tell Alex I stole a good bottle of whiskey if he wanted to get away from you for a little while, but I can clearly see things have transpired.”

“Transpired?” Alex echoed.

“She knows you’re just my roommate,” Michael said, “She called me out when I told Curtis I’d be bringing my boyfriend ‘cause she knew I didn’t have one of those. And nothing transpired, Kemeny, we were just… playing.”

“Mhm, playing. That’s what I told my mom when she caught my high school boyfriend hiding under my bed.”

Michael elbowed her and hissed a childish, “Shut up.”

“I’ve said nothing,” Callie grinned.

The elevator doors opened and she walked out first. Michael glanced over at Alex before holding out his hand.

“Breakfast?” he asked. Alex took it willingly and let himself be led to the dining area.

There were a lot of things Alex knew about Michael. He was touchy and flirty and he was a genius. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who knew that. He was obvious enough that Callie knew and they didn’t hang out outside of work as far as Alex knew. And, surely, it was normal for people to fall for Michael.

However, it never occurred to him that he’d be interested in Alex that way. It was fun to push with no expectation and fun to push with theories. You’re just my roommate, Michael had said, nothing transpired. So he must’ve meant it that way. Alex had a little crush, but Michael didn’t reciprocate. They were just playing. This was just what he did.

Which was fine. But how much playing could Alex get away with?

“So,” Alex started as he stabbed the cube of cantaloupe with his fork, “Playing, huh?”

Michael pointed at him with his own fork. “Not you fucking with me too.”

“I’m not!” Alex laughed, “Just, you know, wondering.”

You’re roommates, his brain suddenly reminded him, stop it before you fuck that up. Alex didn’t stop. He didn’t want to. This weekend wasn’t real anyway.

“Why?” Michael asked, slowly lowering his fork. Alex shrugged.

“I mean, this weekend isn’t really, like, serious, you know? Things go back to normal when we go home,” Alex said. Michael stared at him for a long few seconds.

“What do you mean?” he wondered.

“This is the first Valentine’s since my junior year of high school that I’m not getting laid,” Alex pointed out, grabbing his glass of coffee and taking a sip.

“Jesus, Alex,” Michael breathed, laughing softly as he shook his head as he stood to go have breakfast with his coworkers in the other room, “You’re gonna make a man do something stupid one day.”

Alex shrugged, a smile on his face.

“Do it. I dare you.”

Curtis was, in the nicest way, not meant to be a public speaker.

Despite his well-written script that he had memorized, his charismatic personality, and the flashy PowerPoint, he had no fucking stage presence. He wasn’t captivating to watch and it was the most boring thing Alex had sat through in awhile. Michael nearly passed out four times and Alex had resorted to pinching his thigh to keep him away.

“I’m gonna have bruises,” Michael grumbled as they moved towards the room they’d be doing couples yoga in.

“I wasn’t about to ruin all your hard work by letting you fall asleep,” Alex hummed. Michael took a deep breath.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Alex had done yoga a pretty decent amount before, mainly with Maria back in high school and then with random other friends that wanted someone to go with them. He wasn’t bad at it and he definitely didn’t hate it, it was just never something he really remembered to keep up with without someone else.

Michael, on the other hand, probably had never done anything similar to it in his entire life. Alex wasn’t even sure he could touch his toes and he wasn’t even that tall. Though, with Isobel around, it didn’t make sense. Still, Alex didn’t have high expectations.

They sat beside each other on a relatively large mat, waiting for things to get started. Michael kept looking over at him as if waiting for him to do something, though Alex wasn’t sure what. He ignored it, though, and shrugged off his cardigan and placed his phone in the bundle. Michael slowly mimicked him with his flannel and put it beside them on the mat.

“Alex,” Michael whispered.

“Hm?”

“About what you said earlier…”

“When?” Alex asked. Michael blinked at him and then shook his head.

“Nevermind.”

Alex eyed him for a moment and then wondered if just by bringing it up that morning had been pushing their little game of pretend too far. Maybe it wasn’t as pretend as he was assuming. Alex turned his head to him entirely and made eye contact.

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I was just joking. I don’t mind you being touchy and cuddly, but I also don’t expect anything like that from you either, okay? You’re my best friend,” Alex said honestly, keeping his voice low. Michael nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he said, “You’re my best friend too.”

They stared at each other for a few more seconds until Jeannie started talking and they had to pay attention.

She led them through a bunch of exercises. They sat with their backs together and stretched each other’s spine (Alex was indeed more flexible than Michael who complained at every big movement). When Alex had to lay against him to stretch, it was fine, but when Michael had to lay on Alex, it was a little bit more tense.

“Tell me if I’m crushing you,” he whispered. Alex huffed a laugh.

“You literally couldn’t crush me if you wanted to.”

“I mean… I could, though,” he said, “If I squeezed.”

Alex took a deep breath and had to tell him to shut up. He did, thankfully.

They eventually moved to have their feet pressed together and pulling each other forward and Alex was met again with Michael’s lack of bending. He could pull Alex until he was almost bent in half, but Michel struggled to even get a little bit.

“I do not believe no man has tried to bend you in half before,” Alex mumbled. Michael gave a pathetic little whine.

“They always worked me up to it at least.”

“Mental images all around.”

A few more stretches, more touching, more becoming viscerally acquainted with Michael’s body. It was meant to be for non-sexual intimacy and trust, but Alex couldn’t help himself. It was a little overwhelming the longer he had to help him stretch and work up a sweat.

By the time it was over and Alex felt loose and pliable, it was almost cruel to just tell them to go get freshened up for lunch in an hour.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable, by the way,” Michael said as they walked into their room, more distance between them on the way up than there had been since they arrived at the trip, “I just didn’t really understand what you meant.”

“But you do now?” Alex wondered.

“I think so.”

With a newfound understanding of some sort, they took turns cleaning up. Once Alex came back out of the bathroom, he found Michael curled up in bed again. Temptation was too much and he walked near him, reaching out to run his fingers through his hair. Michael’s eyes slid open slowly.

“I want a nap,” Michael whined, “Let’s skip lunch.”

“Well, we can’t skip, that’d be bad,” Alex said, “But we can lay down for a few minutes.”

“Set an alarm, please?” Michael asked, pouting. Alex did, setting one for ten minutes before lunch was scheduled. “Set?”

“Yeah, so‒”

Michael cut him off by grabbing his arm and tugging him down. Alex landed on top of him with wide eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind as he wrapped his arms around him and held him there. So apparently they were an equal enough understanding to do that.

Alex bowed his head against his chest and happily let himself stay kept there, crush be damned.

“Alex. Alex. Alex. Alex. Alex.”

“Oh my God, shut up or I’m going to push you into that creek.”

“It’s important.”

Alex took a deep breath and pulled out his earbuds to give Michael his attention. They’d agreed that on the nature hike, Michael would let Alex listen to some of the pieces he had to have memorized for his test in a couple of weeks. But apparently Gesualdo’s Moro, lasso, al mio duolo wasn’t as important as whatever he had to say was.

“Look,” he whispered from where he was crouched by the creek. Alex sighed and walked closer, leaning over his shoulder. In the water, there was nothing but tadpoles. “Look, this one has its legs and everything.”

“This was important?” Alex asked softly.

Michael blinked up at him and nodded. Alex sighed and sat beside him, taking one of his earbuds and putting it in Michael’s ear.

They listened to renaissance music and watched the tadpoles together for well over an hour before they had to go get ready for dinner and somehow, stupidly, that did nothing but make Alex feel like he was crushing even more. And suddenly the game wasn’t funny or playful and he was starting to feel like it was too much.

Alex: mistakes have been made. He listened to Gesualdo and des Prez with me by water while we watched tadpoles what kind of backwoods ass romcom am I living in Liz help

Liz: ABORT MISSION

Alex: I CAN’T

Alex: I’D BE THE WORST FRIEND EVER

Alex: Liz

Alex: he listened to the three masses with me

Liz: oh no

Liz: how can he do that and expect you not to fall in love with him???

Alex: THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING

Alex: oh my godddd

Liz: maybe he likes you back??? I’m literally catholic and I simply could not

Alex: ...why would you give me false hope like that

Liz: I’M JUST SAYING

Liz: play it cool. Don’t drink too much. One more night.

Alex: if he corners me in the elevator again, that’s it, I’m jumping him

Liz: HE DID WHAT?

“Literally what the fuck,” Michael scoffed, “How do you look so good? How did I go so many years without knowing I was bisexual when you were right there?”

Alex rolled his eyes as he buttoned up his shirt. He left the top two open, but he usually left three or four. Modesty, he supposed. At least for his own sanity.

“I don’t know, denial?” Alex suggested. Michael laughed, coming up behind him in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on his shoulder. Alex was going to faint. “You keep sayin’ stuff like that without an audience and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”

Michael took a deep breath and shrugged, hugging Alex tight.

“Menace,” Alex accused. Michael’s brilliant response was to let his teeth drag across Alex’s neck.

Because that’s apparently what friends did.

“Michael,” Alex said, a little more serious than intended. Michael tilted his head in attention, arms already beginning to loosen up. “Don’t fuck with me like that.”

“Who said I was fucking with you?” Michael asked.

They stared at each other in the mirror for an absurdly long time. Alex’s mind was racing through all the things that had happened yesterday and today and how it was a lot of confusing things that were all his best friend just being flirty because they were faking it. And Alex thought he pushed too far by making it too real, but apparently, he wasn’t even the worst offender.

“We have a dinner to go to.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, “We do.”

It was officially the longest dinner Alex ever had to sit through.

While Michael didn’t corner him in the elevator, he did hold his hand beneath the table while they ate. And then it went from resting on top of Alex’s leg to between his thighs and steadily moving up. Alex’s heart was thudding in his chest and his stomach grew warm at the same speed his slacks grew tighter. He stayed still, managing not to shift even as Michael very much decided to screw all professional behavior.

“Aren’t you supposed to be showing how good of an employee you’ll be?” Alex hissed at him at the loudest point of conversation so no one would overhear.

Michael’s thumb traced the seam beside his zipper.

“I am,” Michael, smiling like they were talking about the wine, “Poker face while under stressful situations. You’re so good, Alex, no one suspects anything. Best decision I’ve ever made.”

“Well, yeah, this isn’t the first time some boy with a pretty face has felt me up under the table of important people,” Alex responded, his face calm despite the fact he was losing his damn mind. Not only with confusion, but also because what the fuck. “Though, last time, he wasn’t trying to win them over.”

Michael shrugged, just casually rubbing their joint hands against him as if he was just being sweet. He was quite literally being the opposite of sweet.

Alex leaned closer to put his lips by his ear so he could whisper, “I thought we were friends,” without anyone hearing.

“Friends can’t help each other out?”

“Didn’t realize we were at that level of friendship.”

“Weren’t you the one who said this weekend wasn’t real?”

“Fair enough. Keep going.”

Alex focused back on his food and Michael’s coworkers, making small talk with ease despite the fact he was just steady getting more and more worked up by just too much pointless movement and not enough actual friction. Michael’s face was completely normal as did the same. Both of them sipped their wine and no one suspected anything.

Maybe that made them bad people, but Alex didn’t even fucking care anymore.

It did get a little difficult when they stopped sitting and had to walk around and chat. Michael thankfully pulled away long enough for Alex to calm down a little, but his mind was still on it as he stayed glued to Michael’s side.

“You play the piano? So do I! Well, I haven’t played in a while,” a girl whose name Alex couldn’t remember said.

“It’s like riding a bike, you don’t forget it,” he said, laughing warmly. Michael’s hand was low on his back. Normally it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. Currently, Alex was about to explode.

“I bet! I’ll have to play sometime again. Oh, wait, let me go get Ivan, he’s a classically trained violinist,” she said, turning to go find him. Michael leaned into his ear.

“The more composed you are, the harder it is to keep my hands to myself,” he said. Alex huffed a laugh.

“They have never been kept to yourself.”

“You get what I mean.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

Ivan came up and they talked. Will came up and they talked. Callie, Emily, Alisha, etc, etc, etc.

“The more I look at you, the more I think we should leave,” Michael said as the night started to wind down and Alex needed to get away from all of them.

“Then let’s go. Let’s leave,” he said, Michael nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Michael! Alex!” Jeannie called before they could make a run for it.

“Oh my god,” Alex whined softly. Michael grinned.

“Hey!” Michael cheered. Alex put on his award-winning smile to match.

“Can I just say you boys are the sweetest?” Jeannie said, her voice hushed as if it was a secret, “So many couples come to this thing and I’m not even sure they like each other. And, honestly, I’m so over men who just complain about their spouses at work. It’s nice to see you two. You’re really in love and it’s so comforting to know that it’s still something you can find.”

If only she knew.

“Thank you so much,” Alex said earnestly, “I think people just need to find something worth fighting for.”

“I completely agree! Seems you’ve found it,” she grinned. When Michael’s hold on him tightened, Alex didn’t react.

“We try.”

“Ah, well, I don’t wanna keep you. I know two lovebirds like you wanna go celebrate Valentine’s Day properly, so go on! I’ll see you in the morning,” Jeannie said, shooing them away.

“Goodnight,” they said together, not even arguing as they headed for the elevator.

“Is it weird that your boss’s wife thinks we’re gonna have sex in a room they’re paying for?” Alex asked. Michael took a deep.

“Probably less weird if she’s right.”

“I totally agree.”

Alex had never kissed Michael before.

It wasn’t like he’d never had the opportunity‒they’d been at parties together where it’d totally been plausible. Michael had drunkenly climbed into his bed and puckered his lips for a kiss before. Alex had been cornered in the elevator this very morning where he could’ve if he wanted to.

But the point was that he hadn’t and yet, when he finally did, there was no adjustment needed. They stumbled into their room attached by their lips, frantically trying to touch any and every part of each other that they could. Alex forgot he was his roommate and best friend, he forgot that this was a boy he had a crush on and he was very certain didn’t feel the same way, and he did nothing but pull him closer.

He got Michael out of his shirt and his pants, pushing him onto the bed and kneeling between his spread legs. Alex breathed heavily as he trailed his fingertips over Michael’s chest and arms and thighs. A pout formed on his face as he realized the pinching from earlier actually did bruise him.

“You bruise so easy, I’m sorry,” Alex said, moving to kiss over the little tiny marks. Michael heaved a breath. “I’ll be careful.”

“Alex, honestly, I don’t care if you’re careful as long as I can cover it,” Michael insisted. Alex’s hand stayed on his thigh as the other one slid back up to his chest. He liked touching him. He wanted to do it forever.

“You’re strong. And you did so good today, so good for me,” Alex told him, his thumb rubbing small circles into his upper inner thigh. Michael’s eyes slid closed and he swallowed hard. And the compliments from the last couple of days suddenly made a lot more sense.

“Alex,” he breathed out. And it sounded nice.

“Michael,” Alex said back softly, leaning down to kiss him on the lips just once, “Let me see what you look like on your knees.”

“Okay.”

And, truly, Alex didn’t care about how right Liz was anymore.

Fair enough.

#malexcupid21 #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #verse: pretty little picture

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 1

Summary: The first thought that comes to mind as he looks at the scene in front of him is: wow, she’s cute. The second thought is: holy shit, did she just flip a six foot, two hundred fifty pound man into the ground without blinking an eye?

Thank goodness there’s time for second… and third.. And fourth impressions?

Seriously, how many creepy people and criminals does this girl deal with on a daily basis?

1(you are here) | 2 | 3 | ao3

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Damian Wayne is sure that if his elder siblings were watching him right now, they would be screeching at him to go help the girl. But-- well. His siblings and his father aren’t watching, and he isn’t sure whether or not the girl needs his help. The weirdly hooded man who is rapidly closing in on her might just live in the same direction. Surely, this time, his instincts are wrong. He’s only following them for peace of mind. Nothing is going to happen.

Otherwise known as: Damian isn’t particularly feeling up to saving another girl outside of his Robin costume and then being come on to. Why girls always have to have a Thing for people who saved them, Damian will never understand. He can’t imagine attempting a relationship with somebody who saved him, though admittedly the pool of candidates of people who are superior to him in capability is small, and far too annoying or old for him to ever consider dating them. And even thinking about having a relationship with somebody who couldn’t take care of themselves gives him the chills.

This leads to a very contemplative two minutes of walking the same path that the girl and the hooded person were taking-- he is not following them--until the girl who is being stalked darts into an alleyway. Of course, the hooded person follows her.

Is she trying to get herself killed? Damian can’t believe the sheer idiocy of the girl. At least the last girl he saved hadn’t done anything as stupid; her attacker cornered her near her home. Gotham girls know better than to duck into random alleyways. There is too much crime in Gotham for anybody with self respect to be so dumb.

With a sigh, and a wish that his brothers and father hadn’t beat a moral conscious into him, he lopes over to the alleyway, expecting to have to break up whatever futile struggle the girl put up with her stalker, or maybe even knock out the guy because by now, she must either be unconscious or on her way to other unpleasant circumstances.

Except.

By the time he gets over to the alleyway, the girl walks out unscathed, phone pressed to her cheek.

“Yes, you should check 12th arrondissement, two streets down from the Opera Bastille. He’s 6 foot, blonde haired and brown eyed. Wearing a grey hoodie and adidas.” The girl brushes past him, blinked at his appearance, then continued on the phone. “No problem, officer.”

Damian looks into the alleyway and there the man is, head lolled to one side. Unconscious, probably. His hands are tied up with a pink plastic zip tie. He looks out of the alleyway, eyes trailing after the girl who just left. She barely reaches his shoulder. Maybe, Damian thinks drily, Parisian girls are different.

At least Damian won’t get another adoring fangirl today.

Damian is sitting at a coffee shop across from the Louvre. It’s overpriced, and the coffee tastes awful, but it’s still coffee, and he’s tired. He’s here to check out the akuma that the Paris media keep reporting about, even though the Justice league of America shouldn’t have to deal with Europe’s problems, and also largely believed that it was a publicity stunt on Mayor Bourgeois' behalf.

Now, the Justice League of America isn’t really sure what is happening, but surely it can’t be that bad if the city has no damage, right?

What a joke. Damian has been here three days (count them-- three) and he is almost sure that he has been transported into some alternate dimension where some little kid’s imagination went wild and plopped the ever loving conundrum of Paris, France into Damian’s hands.

On the first day he arrived, there was a pigeon akuma-- apparently, one of the more frequent ones that popped up. Ladybug-- one of two consistent Parisian Heroes-- made quick work of him once she arrived on the scene, but it took her a while to arrive. Almost a whole half hour. Which meant that the streets of Paris were filled with bird poop and flooded with more pigeons than Damian knew existed, and he lived in Gotham. The other hero, Chat Noir, arrived after Ladybug, but handled the situation more warily. He later found out that this was due to the superhero being allergic to feathers, as witnessed by a video on this site called the Ladyblog.

Due to some freak magic power called the Miraculous Cure that Ladybug called after her battles, the streets had been blessedly cleaned, and the pigeons flew back to their mostly hidden existence. The world was right, once more. Then, on the second day, he tried and failed to save that weird girl who knocked out a man who had a good hundred pounds on her. He’s not sure that tried and failed is applicable to the situation, as the girl seemed competent enough to take care of an issue like that on her own.

Today, another akuma appeared. His name is Deliverer, a postman who had one too many customers complain about a package not being delivered in a timely manner.

Damian isn’t really sure how he felt about having people turning into villains over such trivial things. He is also no longer sure whether he is the best choice for this mission. His emotions tend to run hot, and there is the chance that he might become compromised. Because if there are people out there turning into villains over not being able to feed some pigeons, there is no way that Damian’s own annoyance with his family and the random people on the streets won’t be taken advantage of. However, out of his family, it’s not like there’s any better choice. Dick, maybe, but he’s busy with Kor’i and his daughter, and they won’t want to move to France. And he doubts that the superheroes of Paris want a metahuman trying to solve the case in Paris after seeing how much damage a normal citizen can do when akumatized.

It only takes ten minutes for Ladybug and Chat Noir to arrive on the scene this time. Whether it is because it is a new akuma, or whether it is because they were closer to the scene of the crime, Damian can only guess. He thinks it to be a combination of the two; Mr. Pigeon is a very common akuma and the people deal with his issues quite often, thus he is probably lower on the priority list. The heroes have their own lives to deal with, Damian is sure.

In any case, Damian rushes to the akuma when he gets an alert from the Ladyblog and is able to catch the tail end of a battle where Ladybug doesn’t even have to use her Lucky Charm. She just takes the clipboard after some bizarre yoyo moves and snaps the clipboard over her knee. When the butterfly flies out of the clipboard, she purifies it. Easy breezy, and no involvement from Chat Noir, yet again. The cat looks tired and Ladybug says something to him, her posture reminiscent of a mother scolding her child, after which he flees the scene.

Then, Damian gets caught up in a wave of exhaustion. Forgoing sleep for the past two days trying to catch himself up on the situation in Paris before making any major reports back to the league will do that. He needs coffee, badly, which is why he finds himself in this tourist trap coffee shop with some of the worst coffee-- wait. That girl seems familiar.

He spends a few seconds trying to place her. Short, pig-tails, part asian, blue hair and blue eyes. The girl he saw coming out of the alleyway yesterday. Of course. She is on her phone walking slowly and frowning, purse hanging at her side. Damian traces her movements. She is naturally graceful, but closes in on herself. He looks a little closer. Her eyes look red. Perhaps she is dealing with the aftermath of yesterday’s situation.

From the side, a guy darts out at her, reaching for her purse. The girl drops her phone to the floor in shock, clutches her purse, and then side-swipes the guy. A hand to his neck, a foot to his knees, and then her arms pulling his behind his back. She pulls a zip tie from her purse and ties his hands up, then picks up her phone almost exasperatedly and before calling someone.

Vaguely curious, Damian picks up his coffee and approaches the girl and criminal. Several others have done the same, only to be waved off with a blindingly bright smile and a yes, she’s fine, thank you very much.

“Need help?” More of a courtesy than anything else.

“No thanks, Monsieur.” The girl looks down at the time on her phone, then scrunches her face up. Freckles dot her pale skin. A text message alert from her phone causes her to scowl, and she looks down at her phone, then back up at Damian.

“Actually, could you do me a favor? I’ve really got to get back with my class, and I don’t really want to leave this guy in the middle of the street like this. I just called the police, and they should be here any minute. Stay with him?”

It’s not like his research on Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t wait a few minutes.

“Sure.”

Then, the girl runs off without another glance backwards. True to her word, the police do arrive a few minutes later.

“Where’s the girl that called?” The policeman asked with a furrowed brow.

“She had to leave.” Damian eyes the man, who has barely looked at him. The policeman is assessing the scene, taking in the handiwork of the pigtailed girl.

“Half-asian, blue eyes, freckles?”

“Yes.”

The policeman handcuffs the criminal. “That poor girl. She always seems to attract these street thugs. It’s really a blessing that she can take care of herself.”

This piques Damian’s interest. “This happens often?”

“She’s almost like an urban legend, at this point. Whenever we find a criminal tied up with a neon pink zip tie, we know it’s her. A real shame, too. She’s such a nice girl.”

He’s not sure if nice was the word to use. She looked slightly stressed and harried. Polite enough, but she certainly has no trouble putting guys twice her size down.

“Well, thank you for your help.” The policeman tips his cap and makes his way to the patrol car.

Damian goes back to drinking his coffee and scrolling through the Ladyblog on his phone.

“I’ve heard you do this quite often.” Damian appears at the girl’s side like a ghost, but she doesn’t jump. Doesn’t even flinch. Just takes a step back to reposition herself and gives him a side eye. Tactically, a good decision if he is another potential attacker. She created just enough distance that it would make it harder to attack her, but had moved in a smooth fashion that said she wasn’t going to run and was prepared to stand her ground. Her body half faces him, like she is ready to put up her guard at any moment.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Her victim this time is unconscious. Damian isn’t exactly sure what happened, but the quivering girl only a few feet away from them made him think that the girl in front of him has a bit of vigilante in her, because it is clear that this time she hadn’t acted in self defense.

In an act of goodwill, Damian takes his hands out of his pockets slowly, showing that he doesn’t have anything to hide. In response, the girl-- who Damian mentally decides to call Pigtails, since she’s had the same ridiculously childish hairstyle for their past three encounters-- relaxes, just a little, and turns her attention to the crying girl instead.

“Do you want me to call the police?”

Pigtails eyes flicker towards the man on the ground, who is what Damian approximates to be six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds, and then towards the crying girl looks to be in her mid twenties.

Pigtails hasn’t tied this one up, yet, but she has flipped him onto his stomach. Judging by the lingering look that she gives the man’s unbound hands, and the ziptie that she pulls out of her small purse, she’s ready and willing to tie him up at the slightest movement, or at the other girl’s command.

“I’m going to tie him up, okay?”

The other girl manages a yes, please. And so, Pigtails brandishes her ziptie, directs Damian to call the police; tell them they’re on Barbes Boulevard.

Damian assesses the situation before the operator comes on. The would-be victim is somewhere around twenty four, is slender and full of what his brother, Dick, would call French girl charm before getting hit by Cass or Barbara. She has brown hair that’s a mess on the left side of her hair, probably from the man grabbing her on that side, and is lightly tanned. There are bruises on her wrist and on her cheek that are quite visible and continuing to darken.

Now that Pigtails has tied him up, Damian nudges the man’s face with his foot to see what he looks like. Average looking at best, and he reeks of alcohol. Damian crinkles his nose. Midday drinking is not a good look on anyone. His clothes are also cheap. Fast fashion, but bad.

Then, there’s Pigtails herself. Evidently she trusted him enough to look after the brute, because after giving him a once over and nodding, she goes over to the other girl to comfort her. Damian is sure that Pigtails can’t be much older than himself, but he's not sure. She has a sort of timelessness about her, between the lightness in her step and the sharp, intelligent look in her eyes. Her sense of fashion is simple but chic, and whatever she is wearing looks pretty high end. Designer, even.

After relaying the information that he has gathered to the operator, he is told to please wait there with the victim and the attacker, and if he could have the other party involved stay there as well, that would be fantastic.

Pigtails is surprisingly good at calming people down. The other girl seemed seconds away from a complete breakdown and was rocking back and forth, muttering to herself before Pigtails started talking to her. Already, the other girl’s crying turns to hiccups, and then stops. She is then embraced by Pigtails, circles rubbed soothingly on her back, and a gentle smile that makes Damian purse his lips. He doesn’t see that kind of smile often in Gotham. Everybody is harder there, less willing to help. If they see somebody in danger, most times citizens hurry on their way because they don’t want to get involved. When citizens do get involved, their aftercare is fairly rough, if there is any aftercare at all. Even as a vigilante, Robin didn’t often comfort victims afterwards. He helped them to police stations or the hospital occasionally, but never stopped to talk with them.

By the time the police get there, Pigtails has the girl standing with a watery smile on her face. What a feat. Damian wonders, briefly, if having Pigtails’ social capabilities would help victims back in Gotham.

“Ah, Marinette,” the police officer smiles warmly. “We meet again.”

“Officer Raincomprix,” Pigtails inclines her head.

The officer is of stocky build, red headed and green-eyed. He cuffs the man, lugs him to the back seat of his cruiser, locks the door, and then comes back out. “I’d like to take your statements, now.”

Damian learns that the attacker, Fraser Barbot, was in several of Nicolette Deanne’s master classes this year. Both were studying business with an emphasis on fashion, which resulted in a lot of time spent together. Fraser thought that a relationship was the inevitable next step. She refused, because besides their master’s emphasis, they didn’t really have much in common. She also just wasn’t interested in him. He became slightly more hostile to her after her rejection. Then, as the months went by, they started vying for a lot of the same job opportunities. Nicolette had gotten the most prestigious one, and had many other companies attempting to persuade her into joining their business instead. Fraser had gotten very few, and was convinced that Nicolette had stolen those job opportunities away from him, had seduced her potential employers, and asked her why she wouldn’t do him if she was so willing to put out.

That was when Marinette had come in. She was walking to a fabric store when she heard the commotion and saw Fraser hitting Nicolette. By the time she got over to them, Nicolette had already acquired several bruises on her arms, shoulder, and face. After arriving, she promptly knocked him out.

By the time the three of them finish their statements, nearly ten minutes have passed, and Officer Raincomprix bids them farewell.

“If you ever feel like you’re in danger again, Miss Deanne, feel free to call. Since you want to press charges, we’ll be in contact with you soon. Call us if more than three days go by without hearing from us. A taxi has been called for you, so you can get wherever you were going in peace.”

Officer Raincomprix turns to Marinette and Damian with a slightly sunnier disposition. “And thank you two for helping. Especially you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you ever change your mind about wanting to go into law enforcement, just give me a call. I should really have Sabrina do whatever training you’re doing, because it’s clearly effective!”

Marinette laughs. “The bakery is magic. Between lifting bags of flour, running around the city for deliveries, and Maman’s cooking, anybody could do what I do. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the studio down the street from our school, though, so you could have her look into that.”

This, Damian thinks, is such a bald-faced lie he almost chokes on his own spit. There is no sort of magic food that imbues a person with the ability to fight like Pigtails does and lifting flour bags in a bakery doesn’t suddenly allow people to take down people with ease. She has to have had some professional training, though if he is being honest, her movements feel like they have more of an origin in street fighting than they do in any martial arts.

She’s remarkably good at lying, mixing jokes with statements that had the possibility of truth. Maybe Damian is just being paranoid. Maybe she trained at some studio that she didn’t want to mention and the studio taught amazing self defense. Maybe she is just an excellent study. Somehow, Damian doubts that was the truth of the matter, but there isn’t much of a reason for Damian to spend his precious time determining the reason why this girl lies to policemen. It’s her business. It doesn’t concern him.

Then, Officer Raincomprix heads back to the police cruiser and Nicolette gets into the taxi she ordered for herself, looking worlds better. Marinette turns to him with a smile. The smile is so blindingly bright and pure that he suspects it lets the girl get away with a lot of things. “Thanks for the save. It was a lot easier to calm Nicolette down since you handled the call. I’m Marinette, it’s nice to meet you.”

Damian nods in return to her wave and smile. “No problem. I guess this answers my earlier question. You do get caught up with criminals quite often.”

She flushes, and it makes the freckles on her pale skin show even more. “What do you mean by that?”

“You seemed to be on very good terms with that police officer.”

“Oh, that. He’s a classmate’s dad. I’ve seen him around plenty of times.” She waves him off.

A very good liar, indeed. Pigtails keeps to half truths and vague statements. Damian gets the feeling that she definitely saw him more often in the capacity of a police officer than he did as a friend’s father. Understandable to lie to him, though. He is just a stranger, and he certainly doesn’t go around telling every person on the street his life story. Maybe Pigtails values privacy, just like he does.

The movement of the police cruiser catches his eye. Fraser has woken up, and he is not happy about being handcuffed in a police cruiser; they can hear him screaming at Officer Raincomprix from the street. Marinette’s eyes jump to the cruiser as well, eyes narrowing as she sees a butterfly approach the cruiser.

“Oh, for--” Marinette glances at Damian, at the butterfly, and then at Fraser. She makes a split decision. “Come on, let’s get out of here. This is not going to be pretty.”

“What do you--” Pigtails is pulling his arm with more strength than he thought possible. If this is just her pulling him, it’s no small wonder that she fares so easily against all her opponents. She definitely has strength behind her small frame.

“Fraser is probably going to get akumatized and we have to get you to the nearest shelter. Then, you’re going to wait there until the all-clear alert is given, got it?” She pushes him into a building, says by way of explanation to the bewildered looking employees, “Akuma,” and then rushes off, saying, “I’m going to go home, because clearly I’m not going to be able to go shopping for fabric today.”

Damian doesn’t stay in the shelter that Pigtails has so kindly guided him to, and there are a few people who look at him in confusion; people should be entering the building if there’s an akuma attack, not leaving. But Damian has a job to do and watching the battles up close is much better than watching the footage on the Ladyblog, which, in recent years, has turned into little more than poor speculations and attempts to stoke relationships between heroes that haven’t been used in years. When he looks at the information the website had up years ago, Damian finds a bunch of interviews that clearly haven’t been fact checked done with a girl named Lila, who is in the class he’s going to be transferring into, and despite the fact that they’ve been taken down since then, he doesn’t trust most of the Ladyblog’s information without video evidence. Not the most reliable news source about akuma, however, most other blogs he found didn’t have any videos taken up close. The older footage of past battles on the Ladyblog were pretty good quality, but they had gotten worse and worse, which meant that Damian and the Justice League didn’t have a clear picture about the heroes’ or villain’s capabilities.

By the time Damian arrives, back on the scene, Ladybug is already there in her red and black spotted glory. She has pulled Officer Raincomprix to safety.

“I am Shackled! Burdened by unfair double standards that allow incompetent tramps to get jobs before other, clearly more superior candidates do and by the corrupt justice system that wants me to go to jail, I desire what I should have been given to begin with! The affections of ladies clearly below me, and jobs that were made for me.” Convenient. If every villain explains their modus operandi to the heroes, it is probably easier to take them down. “Give me your Miraculous, Ladybug!”

The hero scoffs, avoids the chains that Shackled controls, and crouches atop a car a fairly good distance away.

Chat Noir lands, quick to make a pun. “If you feel so tied down by society, why don’t you just bug off? No woman wants to deal with somebody who has such a su-paw-riority complex.”

Ladybug rolls her eyes, but allows the pun. “Chat Noir’s right. You need to get taught a lesson on ethics and morality. If a woman got a job and you didn’t, that just means she’s better than you. Your interviewers probably saw that you had an awful attitude and work ethic. Nobody wants such a toxic person in their work environment.”

“Don’t you mean clawful, m’lady?”

“Chat,” Ladybug reprimands. She tosses her yoyo in the air. “Let’s get this over with. Dealing with misogynistic akumas is annoying. Just talking to them uses up all of my common sense.”

She throws her yoyo in the air, and calls, “Lucky Charm!”

A pack of zipties falls from the sky. Ladybug groans. “You have got to be kidding me. Zip ties? Really? You couldn’t have given me anything else? This is going to take forever. Chat, grab some of his chains and zip tie them together.”

“You’ve got to be yanking my chain, m’lady. We can just take him out without using the Lucky Charm.”

“No, the akuma is in the chain that’s between his handcuffs. And we can’t get there unless we immobilize all of these.” She gestures around wildly, then begins the process of grabbing chains and zip tying them together. As she continues to tie more and more together, it begins to get harder and harder for Shackled to move them as he wants, and a butterfly mask flashes over the akuma’s face.

After almost thirty minutes of tying and avoiding the few free flying chains that there are left, Chat Noir and Ladybug finally get all of the chains in one messy bundle that is too heavy for Shackled to control. At one point in the battle, Ladybug darts towards Chat Noir, a concerned look on her face, but he brushes her off and they continue working. Chat Noir cataclysms the chain between Shackled’s hands, and sure enough, a butterfly flies out. Damian watches as Ladybug shoves the butterfly into her yoyo and feels his eye twitch as the black-purple butterfly comes out white. He hates magic. It makes things so much more complicated than they should be.

“Bien Joue,” the two superheroes say to each other before heading off in opposite directions.

Damian sticks to his first thought. Whatever is going on in Paris is definitely the equivalent of some kid having a series of very weird dreams.

______________________________________________________________________

All the way up to ch 4 is already posted on ao3! I’ll be posting this fic daily up until i catch up :) also how do you decide where to put the keep reading for all you experienced tumblr users? idk where a good place to break is

#miraculous ladybug #daminette #dc #mlb x dc #sbgs #ch 1 #maribat #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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singingunderthecurtain · 3 years

Text

God, Is That You? | 20190320

Author: @julietsoddeye Genre: Angst | Fluff | Fantasy AU Pairing: Xiumin x Female Reader (ft. Taeyong) Warning: Language | Mention of ONS

Plot: Dear Diary, hopefully this is just a dream because this is not how he said it should be!

A/N: This one is pretty long lol D:

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

~A table, a very long one, ahead of you.

A grand flower centerpiece in the middle of it.

Layers of plates right to your front and millions of cutleries at the sides of said plates.

A lot of yummy-looking Chinese food is served, yet not a single strand of noodle is on your plate.

You noticed you are seated on one side of the “power seats”, in the middle. You look to your right and your department bosses are there with your immediate manager nearest you and on your left side sat your colleagues and, of course, Taeyong the closest.

Everyone seems to be in fun conversations, eating and drinking alcohol. But they do not make a sound. You can hear none of their cackles or the silverwares scratching the surface of the plates.

You tried picking on your ear and nothing happened. You called out to them and no one seems to hear you, yet you’re screaming bloody murder.

You tried standing up, but your butt is literally glued to the seat. You touched your behind and–holy shit!–you’re actually one with the gaddamn chair… —WAIT, no, your actual lower half IS the chair!!!

“WHAT IS HAPPENING, AAAAAAAAAAA!?!?!” you scream once again.

Are you deaf all of a sudden, but you can hear yourself… Or do you just hear yourself in your mind? AAAAAAAAA

“Dang, you don’t have to yell— Can you please pass the chili oil?”

You suddenly hear something other than yourself.

“What?!” you called out again.

“I said… Pass me the gad-dang chili oil!”

You crank your attention to the direction of the voice, on the other side of the table across from you. It looks like he is miles away but you can see him crisp and clear.

This… delicately ethereal-looking being has soft rosy hair, he’s wearing a creamy pink and white bomber jacket and a pair of cream pants. His–pinkiness–compliments his snowy skin.

Gosh, you haven’t seen such gracefulness in your life.

Wait, no, that’s a lie. Taeyong is handsome too. But /he/ is different...

“I can’t move, I’m a chair,” you said with a small voice.

“Haha, sorry about that!” he stood from his position and up in the chair he previously occupied.

The aura suddenly changed and beams of luminescence suddenly shone behind him as he ascended slowly into the air.

“HOLY FU—” you stopped yourself from cursing, noticing that no one is paying attention to what was happening to him but you.

“God, is that you?”

“Silly, I’m not God. I’m just…” he started with a laugh as he forwards closer to where you are, still floating in the air like a divine being, “Well, you can say I’m a guardian. Your guardian.” he continues when his bare feet touch the ground in front of you.

Looking behind him, everything and everyone is gone. Not Taeyong, not a single one in sight. You’re now in a field of pink rose petals, several butterflies of different shapes, colors, and sizes flying around the both of you.

You see you have your feet back, barefoot just like he is. You wiggle your toes and giggle when the flower petals tickle your pads. You’re wearing a sabrina-neckline amaranth lace ball gown, the hem just a few inches above your knees.

You look up from below and he is just a few feet away from you, smiling serenely, watching your every action. Gosh, his beautiful monolid eyes are much, much more appealing up close. He’s not reacting any more than him smiling, probably waiting for you to talk again first.

“So… You’re an angel???” you carefully ask, your eyes narrow at him, brows raised waiting for a response.

“Ah, you’re so adorable,” his cheeks bunched very cutely when he grinned and expressed his adoration.

“Uhh…”

“But to answer your question, no, I am not an Angel.” he grins once again.

You can totally see his gums, but it's so cute and his teeth are so cute and he's so cute. UWU

“BUT!!!” before you can even react he exclaims, “I will give you a gift.” He continued.

“A gi—”

He suddenly plunks his right pointer finger on your lips, stopping you from talking any further.

“Shh, shh, shh. Stop talking, you just listen, okay?” he widens his eyes at you and you have no other choice but to widen your eyes as well and bob your head as a reply.

“When you wake up, you will be in a much better time… Or at least the beginning of a better life for you. A life you always wanted.”

His hands are holding your shoulders tightly. Not tight to a point that it causes discomfort for you, but just tight enough for you to have a hint, a little taste, a tinge of his excitement. You smiled when his smile widened.

“But be careful of men… Some men.”

And just that, his elation dips. You dare not reply.

“Okay?” he asks and you just nod again.

“Okay.” and his smile is back.

“I am going to wake you up now, okay?” he slowly pushes you back and when he stops, his hands leave your shoulders and you can already feel the dreariness of his absence.

The cute, pink-haired angel, God, celestial being, guy—inhaled and then exhaled—before suddenly giving you a quick peck on the lips.~

As you opened your eyes, you thought, ‘holy crap!’

“When you wake up, you will be in a much better time… Or at least the beginning of a better life for you. A life you always wanted.”

Those words flutter in your mind. You can still hear a trace of his voice ringing in your ears.

And he kissed you, he said he will wake you up and then kissed you… And then you wake up, and…

“Damn,” you rub your eyes to wake yourself up and then grab your phone to check the date.

Of course, it’s still the twentieth. It was just a weird dream. Did you honestly believe that?

Although, last night, talking with that guy from that dating app definitely took your boredom away.

You messaged each other nonstop for three hours straight, no joke. If you haven’t fallen asleep, you probably have texted longer.

He sent you pictures of his cat and you sent him pictures of your plants. He said he wanted to start taking care of plants too, but he’s suddenly become busy with the family business.

Something about his dad wanting to suddenly retire and wanting XiuMin to take over as soon as they possibly can handover everything. You forgot to ask what business it was, but it’s probably a restaurant or a cafe of sorts ‘cause he said he and his dad bond over food a lot.

In that span of three hours, each of you has shared a lot about the other and connected so well. You feel like you already know him just by those tiny details he shared.

Like that time he told you he was at the park drinking his afternoon coffee and some pigeon decided to invade his space, wanting to steal his pastry. He said he hates birds, but by the sound of his story in your mind, he’s probably afraid of them. Cute.

The thing though is, you don’t know what he looked like yet.

You never asked him what he looks like so he never bothered to ask you for selfies either. You do have pictures on your profile, but all of it has animals or cutie, kinda kiddie, filters that alter your face.

Well, that doesn’t matter, for now, you’re just bored. You’ll probably stop talking with this guy after you come back to work.

But when you woke up the next morning, you had about twenty messages from him. Two of which he realized you probably fell asleep as it was pretty late, but the rest are random things he asked your opinions about.

Of course, you replied. One apology for the non-reply from last night and then one answer for each thing he asked about. Gosh, you finally found it! The thing, or in this case a person, that will occupy you for the rest of your unwanted break from your routine.

BUZZ!

Wow, your shuttle food delivery is early. That’s kinda suspicious, but eh. You’re hungry now, just in time. You thoughtlessly open your door without peeking at your security monitor first and Taeyong’s face pops out.

“What are you…” you started.

“Doing here?” he chimed.

You finish each other's sandwiches, apparently.

Taeyong pushes in, carrying three bags of food. Wow, more food.

“You weren’t answering my texts and calls, I thought you died, dude.”

You told him you were embarrassed by what happened. By your temporary termination. He said it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s ‘part of growing up’, like what he usually says to you about, well, almost everything. Which kind of makes sense a lot, weirdly.

Not like you have control over what the management decides on, he said. And you agree. You don’t even know why you previously felt that way, especially with Taeyong? The Taeyong who has heard you burp like a man but still chooses to be your friend?

But he said it’s cool and he forgives you, he said that very smugly when you didn’t even ask for forgiveness. You roll your eyes at him and playfully hit his shoulder.

You both spent the rest of the night eating and playing your favorite game on your console.

And right after your head hits your pillow, you realize you completely ghosted XiuMin for hours!!!

You quickly type a small sorry and explanation as to why you were M.I.A all day, which you know is not necessary, but you wanna do it cuz you enjoy talking with him and don’t want to make him feel like you’re finally done with him, or whatever.

Not bothering to wait for a reply, you instantly fell asleep.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

WEDNESDAY | 20190320 — 3 things happened: 1. Had a super weird dream. 2. Met this XiuMin guy on Thunder last night and we connected??? 3. Taeyong visited me.

WTF OwO

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obutsuwrites · 4 years

Text

Play with Fire (dabi x reader, pt. 1)

Summary: “You summoned the fire demon Dabi to feel up his horns?” This brat. xxx basically fire!demon dabi smut that's a 2 parter coz i'm gross :3c smut is in part2~!

words: 1,777

my ao3 for more shitposts

my inbox b open 4 requests~!

She was positive this time the ritual was flawless. The wooden floor displayed various burnt circles, all failed attempts. Drawing a perfect circle required practice. The task took longer due to the woman’s poor eyesight. Each circle had been abused for her ritual. Flecks of spice decorated them. Squinted eyes observed the shape. A smile plastered across her face. Yes, this was it.

Without haste, the young woman began to prepare the circle. Spices and herbs sprinkled around the scorched area, candles set in an outer half circle. The website had dictated no less than six inches between the burnt circle and the candles. A measurement the woman abided by. She was never one to stray from the usual. A strict woman.

It was the woman’s craft that led her to this. She was a minor pyromaniac. Blazes would send the flesh on her arms into euphoric goosebumps. The delight almost aroused her. She felt like she could devour the flames and become one. A hot exchange of fire and flesh. That thought aroused her. Fire licking at sensitive flesh; her face flushed with pleasure.

She squeezed her legs together. Thoughts pooled against her; the moist fabric of her panties noticeable. The woman had stumbled upon the site by accident. Her nightly viewing consisted of the occult and found footage of infernos. The woman’s interest in the occult was merely a hobby. She had heard hushed whispers speak of despicable flame demons. Monsters that used to ravish ancestors. Originally, she had assumed them to be rumors. However, the woman’s hunt for knowledge had gotten the better of her.

☼

The website looked like it was out of ‘97. Poorly animated neon graphics decorated the page, the cursor a tongue-in-cheek broom. In big circle letters read the site’s title: ‘Occult for Dummies~!’. It was almost cute. A website obviously made by a student for some web design class. She had chuckled at the thought. Curious fingers clicked the first graphic: ‘How to Summon Him~!’.

Him?

Tired eyes tried to decipher the page. Foreign symbols and phrases were sprinkled through the article. The article was confusing. As if the summoning of a demon was science. As if it were real. She clicked off the page. A tidal wave of sleep washed over her.

☼

‘How to Summon Him~!’ had faded into obscurity. The woman’s mind consumed with the routine of suburbia. Job, go home, sleep. A schedule of mundane. However, a particular event revived the memory.

It was Friday. Promises on the weekend were a privilege for her; a much needed break from the conventional pattern. Normalcy was a bore for the young pyromaniac. Habitual work peppered in with sleep was tedious somehow. This is why infernos excited her; their chaotic, violent nature. Brilliant oranges and reds popping against kindling. The aroma of smoke invoked a sense of peace within her.

She was headed home. The traffic backed against the mid-afternoon sun. Heat pressed into her back, the woman seeking relief from a rolled window. Bored eyes scanned the road before, no stop in sight. She sighed. A soft sound stuck in the humid air.

Seeing it had caused a lump of excitement to form in her throat. The woman’s eyes stuck to a blossoming cloud of obsidian. A fire’s threat against the horizon. Air rushed from her lungs; the organ now starved for oxygen. The woman anxiously glanced around, traffic still thick as syrup.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Wobbly legs escaped the vehicle, trembling hands fumbled with the locks. Arousal mixing with sweat. The sun beat against her. The woman’s face ablaze from embarrassment and exertion. She shuffled to the sidewalk. An inferno awaiting her. Passion budded in her chest. The smell of smoke was an aphrodisiac. Legs carried her in search of the blaze.

Eventually, whiffs of smoke evolved into the asphyxiation of smog. An audible moan echoed into the black cloud; the sensation of choking was erotic. Helpless.

Before the woman stood the ancient, smoldering bones of a building, the inside reduced to charred bits of wood; phantoms of a house. Fire no longer raged inside. Little orange sparks against dying embers. The woman sighed. She never quite arrived early enough to see a fire in full force. Hungry flames that engulfed man and structure.

‘Occult for Dummies~!’ ‘Learn How to Summon Dabi: the Demon of Cremation!’

☼

“Okay, now I need… Oh fuck, yeah, I need the paper,” the pyromaniac thought aloud. A scrap of paper somehow hidden among the mess of soot and herbs. After furious digging, the woman found it. She had scribbled the phrases that were necessary on a scrap of singed paper. Abuse from failed attempts had reduced the sheet to a palm sized remnant.

Archaic words sprang forth from the woman; the evoking of a chant.

☼

Oh my fucking god. Jesus Christ. What the fuck?

She awoke from a daze, joints aching from an uncomfortable position. Her hardwood floors offered no support. The woman blinked sleep from her eyes. Had… had she fallen asleep again? Anticipating a myth?

Doubt settled in the pyromaniac’s chest. Perhaps, she did. Fucking stupid. The woman stood up, feet smudging soot. She didn’t quite remember turning off the nights or… how stupidly cold it was. Goose flesh prickled against the chill. Moonlight cast into the room; a faint LED 61 the only other light source. An awkward laugh echoed from her. Right. Sixty-one.

Frigid hands reached blindly against the wall. Light flooded the modest space. Tired eyes noticed nothing suspicious. The scrap of burnt paper was simply that charred. Blackened ash sat underneath the occultist instruction. Her eyes lingered at the soot. It felt wrong. Soot had not… Had not been there before.

An exasperated sigh escaped the woman. Nothing would get done with such needless paranoia. The very idea was ridiculous. No stalker or crazy neighbor would break in, only to leave a slip of paper in embers. Who would just burn one piece ? Such a pathetic sliver of paper would require kindling. No inferno wasn’t complete without kindling.

☼

No light filtered through the blackout curtains; the young woman instead experiencing the shrill sound of an alarm. Negative ASMR. Sleepy hands fumbled in the darkness, eventually disarming the alarm. Stale breathe expelled into the room. The woman’s body still trapped in sleep. Muscles slack against a willing body.

“What… What the --”

Before she could finish her muttering, a foreign raspy voice resounded through the door. His true tone muffled from the wood.

“Gonna let me in?” He sounded bored. As if it was a usual activity to break into a single woman’s apartment and stand menacingly behind her bedroom door! This guy is a fucking pervert. Quick. Quick. She sat up; her body thrown into survival. I have scissors! Adrenaline filled legs carried the woman to the bathroom, her legs quivering from fear.

A rough knock broke her concentration. Blunt scissors were poised in her grip. The woman now adequately prepared for an intruder.

“I know you’re in there. You move like a mouse.”

The man’s tone held a hint of annoyance. Obviously, her reaction was inordinary.

Soft footsteps thumped through the room as she attempted to move quietly. Action movies taught surprise attacks. Hot breath was forced from her lungs. Her chest felt ablaze. The desperate sounds only fueled her anxiety.

The woman found her voice. “Get the fuck out. I mean it. I -- I have a fucking bat, asshole!” She waved around the scissors, trying to emulate bravery. Perhaps, he would buy her bluff.

“Little bit of a brat. Oh well. Your loss, I guess. I was summoned by you anyway,” the mysterious man replied, a throaty chuckle muffled. A sarcastic undertone in his voice.

Summoned?

“I summoned you? What the fuck are you talking about? Are you mentally deficient?” she mocked, a trembling hand against the cold door knob. The woman’s doubt mirrored through the warped brass.

Anxiety shot up the woman’s spine as she felt the knob jiggle. Horror ate into her belly; the woman paralyzed with fear.

“You’re not the pyro that started all those shit circles?” he asked.

Shit circles?!

The woman turned the knob. The wooden door ripped open, scissors in hand. “Listen, asshole. You can’t break into my home and tell me how shitty it is!” The words boomed from her tiny frame; the woman hopelessly dwarfed by the stranger in her living room. “It took me fucking hours.”

She noticed his skin first. A tapestry of pale flesh and charred remains, stitched together by staples that glistened in the moonlight. Electric turquoise eyes watched her. A stoic expression bore into his face. Messy strands of obsidian framed his face; a distinctive pair of horns sprouted from his head. Miniature goat horns coated in the same obsidian with specks of dull blue. Silver mismatched earrings hung from his lobes, the man’s only garment a pair of black shorts.

“Holy shit. Are you okay?”

The scarred man’s gaze didn’t falter. “No wonder. You barely summoned me.” His eyes traveled down her form. The scissors stayed to the woman’s hip. This man was mentally unhinged.

A laugh erupted from the woman. No fucking way. NO fucking way.

“I know what this looks like,” she said, a free hand gesturing to the various ashened circles that decorated her floor. No getting the deposit back now. “I had a mild fire. It’s fine now. Uh, are you drunk? Were you at a con?” She had to admit the horns looked hyper realistic. As if they were an organic part of him.

“No. Don’t you listen? You,” he pointed to the woman, “summoned me.” The mortal before him was a brat. Her behavior was unbecoming. She should be worshiping him, begging the fire demon to wreak havoc.

The woman’s brows pulled together. A pensive quiet overcame the two. Lack of sleep was apparent. Fuck. What was a question to ask him? ‘Hey Dabi, those horns a prosthetic?’ She racked her brain to conjure the next step from the article. A crucial aspect she had neglected to write down.

A trembling hand reached up and grasped the man’s horn. The appendage felt solid. Craftsmanship was obviously a concern. She rubbed the horn, a soft vinyl met her touch.

“These bad boys real?” The question rushed from her mouth; the woman not realizing how crass she sounded. An urge to tug on them crept into her.

He smacked her hand away. A stern look now painted on his face. First, a stupid brat summons him. Now, she’s fondled his horns. The man felt insulted.

“You summoned the fire demon Dabi to feel up his horns?” This brat.

#dabi x reader #bnha #demon au #quirkless!au

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Hey Gorgeous - Under Your Skin 30

We’re jumping ahead a couple of years here. I was trying to do a couple in-between pieces because I thought, you know, even though the whole fic just kind of skips over random stretches of time, two years is a lot...but then I realized I didn’t actually want to write that stuff and so here we go.

Congratulations were made, caps flew in the air, and at last the graduates were released back to their friends and family. He saw Marinette an instant before she saw him. She ran into his arms and he lifted her up and swung her around, her black gown billowing out around her. "Congratulations, Gorgeous," he said, setting her down and kissing her hair before releasing her to go into her parents' embrace. He turned to give his sister the same treatment, and then opened an arm to welcome in Rose.

Luka ran his fingers through his hair as he watched the girls proudly make the rounds of hugs and kisses and congratulations from their assembled friends and family. Weirdly he felt more emotional right now than he had at his own graduation. Maybe because his just felt like a stepping stone while this one felt more like the end of an era. His life hadn’t changed all that much after graduation, but now everything was going to change. It had been four years since he met Marinette, and in that four years she had proved herself a rising star. While he and Marinette had talked and worked out ways for him to do some of the gigs Toni wanted him to do without taking him too far away for too long, Luka had remained resolved against going too far from the best thing that had ever happened to him, and quietly turned down more than one opportunity that would have required him to move.

But now Marinette had an internship in New York lined up that would take her away for a year. After four years of seeing her almost whenever he wanted, and two years of waking up with her...he was less excited for her than he felt he should have been.

It wasn't like they hadn't talked about it, and he had admitted he didn't really want her to go, but the opportunity was too important and when it was clear that she really did want to go, he supported and encouraged her. It was only for a year, anyway. They'd have a few months together before she had to go, and they'd just have to make the most of the time. Luka already had a few plans for that. And then after she left, they'd just have to do their best.

Luka was pretty depressed about it, even so. He tried to keep his moping to himself, but right at this moment, it was a little hard.

Luka shook off the gloom and berated himself for selfishness as they all separated into vehicles to go to the party set up for the graduates in the party room of Mrs. Cesaire’s restaurant. This was a big day, a big deal. Even his mom had come up for Marinette's graduation, which had surprised him a little. He ought to put his own worries aside and just be happy for her, for today at least. He could mope tomorrow.

He shook his gloom off as best he could, sticking close to Marinette but trying not to hover as they mingled and chatted. He was talking to Nino when Nino suddenly grinned and stepped back. Luka paused and looked around, and he realized that the small party had made room around him and Marinette, and were now circled around them watching expectantly. "Did I miss something," he wondered, and then he looked at Marinette as she took his hand.

Luka's eyes widened as she sank to one knee and took a shaky breath. "L-l-luka C-c-c-c—“ She grit her teeth in frustration. Stunned though he was, Luka’s free hand came up to cover hers and squeeze reassuringly. Marinette took a breath and tried again. “L-Luka C-couffaine, w-w-will you mmmarry mmme?"

Luka's mouth dropped open and he looked around quickly, immediately spotting his smirking sister.

"You knew! Juleka, you fucking traitor," he hissed. Juleka raised her eyebrows and pointed to Marinette, who was blinking up at him in nervous surprise, clearly not expecting that to be his first reaction.

Luka reached down and took Marinette's other hand gently. "Babe, I would be honored to marry you," he said, gently pulling her to her feet. He shot another glare at his sister, digging in his coat pocket. "Which is why I asked my traitor of a sister who's apparently been laughing at me behind my back for God knows how long to help me pick out a ring." He took the box out immediately fumbled it. “Shit, my hands are shaking,” he murmured with an apologetic half-smile, once he had it secure again. “I wasn’t exactly prepared for this—well, I was, obviously but just not—just not right now. Not that I’m not happy! It's um, it’s really not much," he said, opening the box and carefully taking the ring out. Marinette gasped and Luka smiled when he saw Marinette's hand was shaking too as he lifted it. "But it would make me really happy if you'd wear it."

Beaming, Marinette let him slide the slender band with its tiny stone on her finger. Luka closed his hands around hers, gripping tightly, and the shaking stopped. They stood there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes.

"Kiss already!" Alya hollered, and Luka chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss against Marinette's lips. Just a little one, because he knew she didn't like kissing in public.

But apparently they were making another exception today, because she threw her strong arms around her neck and wouldn't let him go until he kissed her much more thoroughly, to the cheers of their onlooking friends and family, Luka's mother and Marinette's father each easily overpowering the rest put together.

When he pulled back from the kiss he put his forehead against hers and laughed incredulously. “You little sneak,” he muttered, squeezing her.

“Sssorry, n-not sssorry,” she smiled.

“Holy fuck, we’re getting married,” he said wonderingly, feeling weak in the knees from the sudden rush. He was pretty sure his heart had either stopped or was beating so fast the individual pulses were indistinguishable.

“Yep,” she giggled, and then their moment was over, because Tom couldn’t wait any longer, sweeping them both up into a giant bear hug, booming his congratulations and excitement. Luka just stood there stunned in his embrace as Alya and Nino got up on ladders and unveiled a Congratulations On Your Engagement banner beneath the banner for the graduates. Someone brought Marinette a tiara and a sash that said Bride, and Tom and Sabine had a special cake ready.

“How did you even set all this up without me noticing?” Luka asked wonderingly.

“I d-didn’t,” Marinette said, sounding embarrassed. “I t-told them I was g-going to ask y-you and th-they d-did the rest.”

Luka just laughed and put his arm around her. “This was supposed to be your big day, Gorgeous,” he chided softly. “I was holding onto it because I didn’t want to steal your thunder.

“N-now it’s ours,” she shrugged. “I l-like ours j-just fine.” She giggled. “B-besides if I had w-waited until l-later I wwwould have exploded from anxiety.”

“That would be bad,” he smiled. “But how come I didn’t get a tiara?”

Marinette giggled. “Bend d-down.”

Luka did as she asked, and she moved her tiara into his hair and kissed his nose. “There.”

“One question,” Luka asked, straightening up. “Are we eloping or do I have to wait until you get back from New York?”

“Th-that depends,” Marinette grinned, grabbing his arm and turning him towards the small knot made up of her girlfriends and her mother, who were all giggling and bouncing and he could practically see hearts flying off them while wedding bells rang. “Who’d be t-telling them that we eloped? B-because it’s n-not gonna be mmme.”

Luka nodded slowly. “Okay. After New York it is.” He sighed.

“I l-love you,” Marinette said, slipping under his arm and snuggling against his side.

“I love you too,” he smiled, squeezing her against him.

For a moment they stood there, at peace and happy while their friends and family collectively lost their shit around them,

“Hey Gorgeous?” Luka said after a moment.

“Hmm?”

He grinned. “I’m gonna marry you.”

Marinette giggled. “Y-you bet your ssssexy y-yet adorable ass y-you are.” She tugged his arm until he looked down at her and smirked. “Y-you’re mmmy f-fiancé after all.”

That had him grinning like an idiot all night long.

@thethirdwheelfriend @mystery-5-5 @nataladriana9 @queenmj10 @the-real-gingakid @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @crytallized

#hey gorgeous #hey gorgeous 2 #quickspins #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #mlfics

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retrocelly · 5 years

Text

Friends Share Pt.2 (Auston Matthews+)

A/N: Finally!! Sorry this took so long, but I hope it was worth the wait :)

Warnings: smut, 4some, mentions of patty marleau (sorry leafs fans)

Word count: 2.484

part 1

You’d seen Kappy twice and Freddie once since what you’d been calling “the incident.” Contrary to your beliefs in the moment, Auston apparently had not invited his friends over to fuck you, since it had been nearly a month and no mention of it ever came up again. Or maybe they just backed out of the agreement, you didn’t really know. You were ashamed to admit that you were a little disappointed by the fact that nothing had happened with Kappy or Freddie. Especially after Auston made sure you’d be okay with it, you’d assumed that the plan was set. Obviously not.

Before he left for practice, Auston told you about a dinner he was having at your shared apartment with some of the guys from the team. Naturally, your ears perked up, but when Aus told you that Mitch, Patrick, and their partners would also be present, you slumped back into your disappointment.

Admittedly, the dinner was nice. You truly enjoyed talking to Steph and Christina as well as the boys. However, you were unable to shake the dirty thoughts crossing your mind as you sat opposite of Freddie. Would he be dominant? He was certainly big enough guy and he could use that to his advantage. Do his cheeks tinge bright pink before he cums?

You were pretty sure that Fred caught you looking at him a few times, but he was too much of a gentleman to say anything. In fact, you were pretty sure Auston caught you looking as well, but whenever you turned your head to meet his gaze, he looked somewhere else. It was infuriating, really. You spent half of the night feeling like you were 13 years old all over again, being made fun of for having an obvious crush on the guy in the grade above you.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when Mitch, Steph, Patty, and Christina trickled out that the tables finally turned. You sat next to Auston on the couch, cheeks tinged pink from the wine and your general mood throughout the night. He had an arm draped around your shoulders, talking lazily to Kappy about off-season plans. You were so zoned out that you almost didn’t recognize Freddie’s voice softly break through the chatter from his place on the chair next to the couch.

You glanced over at him, raising your eyebrows as you noticed him looking at you expectantly.

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” you shook your head, “what did you say?”

He chuckled lightly, his eyes gleaming under the soft amber light of the lamp next to him.

“I said that you look kind of out of it,” his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “you feeling alright?”

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and you reciprocated by sitting up off of Auston’s side. Neither Auston nor Kasperi seemed to notice your conversation with Freddie, keeping their casual talk going as you turned away from them.

“Yeah, I’m all good. I guess my mind is just somewhere else tonight - didn’t think it was that obvious.”

“It’s not,” Freddie reassured, “I just notice you a lot more these days.”

He had a smirk playing on his lips and your jaw fell open. You made a dumb “huh” noise, although you’d very clearly heard what he said. Freddie smiled more at your confusion as he gave you a sweeping look - one that Auston would’ve told him off for if it was any other situation.

“Well, y’know,” Freddie teased, tilting his head to the side, “after we heard you giving Auston a blowjob. We’ve been talking about you a lot more since then too.”

Freddie gestured lazily between himself and Kappy - who was still deep in conversation with your boyfriend.

“I mean that is why Auston set up this dinner in the first place. He just had to invite the chaperones so it wouldn’t be too tense before we got to dessert.”

Oh. Oh. So Auston hadn’t simply forgotten and the boys hadn’t backed out. Part of you was relieved at the news, but another part of you was suddenly feeling very overwhelmed because you hadn’t had any time to mentally prepare for this. Sure, you’d fantasized, but living it out was a much different experience.

You were stuck in your own thoughts and Freddie - wonderful, observant Freddie - did the one thing he knew would bring your head back down to Earth. He had to lean somewhat awkwardly across the armrest of the couch, but his lips were on yours all the same.

It felt different, to say the least. You hadn’t kissed anyone except for Auston in a long time, and it was odd to feel someone else’s lips against yours. However, you leaned into Freddie, a small gasp inadvertently leaving your mouth which allowed him to deepen the kiss. He wasn’t softer than Auston, merely more patient. Kissing him didn’t feel hasty or rushed as you sometimes experienced with your boyfriend. The serenity of the moment put you at ease.

“Couldn’t even wait to get to the bedroom like we agreed.”

“Eh, did you really expect him to? They’ve been staring at each other all night.”

You were aware of the conversation happening around you, you just didn’t process it as Freddie’s large hands found a home along your hips. His tongue was gentle on yours, as if he didn’t come here for the sole purpose of fucking you - as if he had no intentions of taking it further than just a kiss.

How gentlemanly, you thought, moving your hands up to tug on his hair, but that’s not what I want.

The minutes that followed were a blur. You know that Freddie was the one to hoist you up to take you upstairs, and you know that Kappy was the one to strip you of your jeans, but the details were a little fuzzy.

The important part was that you ended up settled on your bed, naked, with all three men over you. Kappy was mouthing along the skin of your neck muttering “fuck, you’re so hot” as you palmed him over his joggers. Auston seemed to be happy on the other side of you with your hand down his pants, moving up and down his hardened length. Freddie was making his way down your body, his fingers trailing across your hipbones and over your thighs, lifting them slightly only to settle them over his shoulders.

Your head fell back and you moaned feeling Freddie lick a bold strip up your slit. He stopped at your clit, circling his tongue agonizingly slowly. You were lost in the feeling when you noticed Kappy pulling down his joggers and boxers to reveal his hard cock. He was slightly longer than Auston, the head a rosy pink and wet with precum. You looked up at him for a second as he stroked himself. Freddie then halted his movements, causing you to look back at him with a whimper.

He met your gaze with a stern glare, tilting his head toward Kappy and telling you to “get to work.” He then moved down to bite along your inner thighs as you resituated yourself. You wasted no time, but it wasn’t until you had your mouth wrapped around Kappy’s cock that Freddie returned to where you wanted him.

Kasperi pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you hollowed your cheeks around him. Just as you began to bob your head, Freddie inserted a finger into your entrance. You moaned around Kappy’s member and he dropped his head back at the vibration. With Freddie moving his finger steadily as he licked and sucked on your clit and Kappy’s cock down your throat, your overwhelmed senses were quickly pushing you toward your first orgasm.

A signal must’ve been exchanged, because within a second, Kasperi was pulling you off of him by your hair and the familiar hand of your boyfriend grabbed your jaw. You adjusted yourself again in order to turn toward Auston, who had at some point stripped from the waist down. You knew what he liked, so it wasn’t surprising when he began thrusting into your mouth as soon as your lips were around him. You used your free hand to pump Kappy, a steady stream of moans from the three of you filling the room.

It wasn’t much longer before Auston pulled out of your mouth and began pumping himself - he must’ve noticed the way your hips were twisting as you got closer and you were finally able to focus on the way Freddie used his mouth. He was relentless, tonguing over your clit repeatedly with his lips wrapped around it, two of his long fingers pushing into your soaked cunt. You could hardly bring yourself to care about how loudly you were moaning, too caught up in the heat of the moment. Auston and Kappy were kneeling on the bed on either side of you, both stroking themselves as they watched you cum.

You were given no time to recover as Auston pulled you up by your waist and flipped you over. You steadied yourself on your hands and knees as you heard someone - you realized it was Fred - murmur a quiet “fuck, she tastes so good.” It took very little communication for the boys to find their positions and you knew they’d planned this all ahead of time, embarrassment briefly flooding your head until you were pulled from your thoughts. Kappy settled behind you, running his thumb up your slit as you whined.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking pretty. Auston’s a lucky man.”

A blush rose to your cheeks and you smiled lightly at his words. You could feel the head of his cock at your entrance, but he wasn’t pushing into you.

“Kas,” you spoke through a scratchy throat, “please, please fuck me.”

He chuckled from behind you before you felt him push in suddenly. You gasped, moaning loudly at the feeling of him inside you. His thrusts were hard, but not too fast, which made it so you felt every inch of him as he moved into you. Once you’d adjusted to Kappy, your hair was being pushed back again as Freddie moved in front of you.

His cock was thick and long, and he was quick to push your mouth open. However, he simply placed his thumb on your tongue and looked down at you. You closed your mouth, swiping your tongue around Freddie’s thumb, not breaking eye contact. Finally he pulled his finger from your lips, quickly replacing it with his length. You allowed Kappy’s thrusts to push you forward on Freddie’s cock, moaning repeatedly around him as Kappy slowed his pace only to speed it up again.

“Shit, Auston, you were right,” Freddie stated as he stared down at you, “she’s fucking brilliant with her mouth.”

“See, I told you,” your boyfriend responded, ��but if you think that’s good, you should feel her pussy - so tight and hot.”

Your eyes closed momentarily and you whimpered around Freddie’s cock as Kappy’s thrusts shallowed.

“Fuck, give me a second here, then you can come in, Fred.”

Kappy continued to fuck you and a few thrusts later you had to pull off of Freddie.

“Yes, Kap, just like that.” You dropped to your elbows as he pounded into you, jaw falling slack.

His rhythm was lost as he chased his finish, pulling out and stroking himself until he came with a deep groan, thick ribbons falling along your ass. He moved and Freddie immediately took his place behind you, pushing into you without warning.

The strong rolls of Freddie’s hips and his fingers gripping bruises into your skin was enough to have you moaning again. Then, you were being pulled up from your elbows as Auston moved front of you. You resumed your previous position, letting the pace of the man behind you determine how you blew Auston.

Auston reached down, pinching one of your nipples. The sensation had you clenching around Freddie, causing his hips to stutter as he moaned. It wasn’t long before the friction became too much and you were nearing your finish again.

“C’mon, baby,” Auston said, running his thumb along your cheek, “I know you’re close, let go for us.”

It was those words that had you crashing over the edge, your legs quivering as you moaned helplessly around Auston’s cock. Freddie fucked you through your orgasm, letting a series of Danish words fall from his lips as you spasmed around him. The vibrations in your throat from your moans had been enough to send Auston into his own orgasm. He pulled out as he began to cum, letting some fall onto your tongue while the rest landed across your face.

You fell to your elbows again, gasping and whining as Freddie continued to fuck into you. Just when you thought the pressure might be too much, Freddie was pulling out of you. He grabbed you firmly by your hips and flipped you onto your back, immediately beginning to pump himself over you. His cheeks were a fiery rose color as his mouth fell open and he came onto your tits.

It was a few minutes of comfortable silence after that where everyone was able to catch their breath before boys started to get dressed. Auston merely pulled on his boxers as he went to the bathroom - no doubt to grab you a washcloth. You stayed where you laid on your bed, mind still racing from the events that just occurred.

Kasperi was the first one to come over to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope you had as good of a time as we all did.” You gave him a soft smile and a nod - all you could muster - before he headed toward your bedroom door. Freddie then walked over to you, smoothing a hand over your hair as he muttered “we should do this again” and followed Kappy out of the room. You heard Auston walk past you, telling you that he was going to see the boys out.

In your haze, you couldn’t convince yourself to move a single muscle. So when Auston returned to you, he laughed lightly.

“Okay, babygirl,” he spoke, “let’s get you into bed, yeah? It’s late.”

You shifted and jolted a few times as he wiped you clean, but he was quick to calm you with his soft shh’s. Auston then moved so you could shift beneath the comforter and he laid down beside you, pulling you close to his chest as he situated the blanket over the both of you. You felt him kiss the top of your head as you nuzzled into him.

“I love you, Aus,” you murmured as he rubbed your back.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews smut #Freddie Andersen #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen imagine #frederik andersen #frederik andersen smut #frederik andersen imagine #kasperi kapanen #kasperi kapanen smut #kasperi kapanen imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Mixtapes

Summary: You were just a seventeen year old girl with an incredible knack for learning when you crashed into Ashton Irwin. It was hard for him not to fall for a girl who was as phenomenal as you were and it was hard for you not to fall for a man who thought you were so much more than a girl four and half years his junior. Maybe age really was just a number. After all, you wouldn’t be seventeen forever.

A/N: @carebearofriddles shared this lovely idea with me, so I’ve been happily bringing this to life (she has the BEST ideas y’all!). It’s a longer blurb, but I hope you’ll enjoy reading it all the same.

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“Focus, Y/N,” your coach told you from behind the batting cage. “Breathe in, out, swing. You got this.”

You nodded your head, your cleats digging into the dirt as you adjusted your feet ever so slightly. Your loosened and tightened your grip on your bat, looking for that sweet spot. Your gaze shifted to the scout manning the pitching machine. This is it, Y/N, don’t blow it. You took in a slow breathe. “Pitch,” you instructed. You let out your breath as the ball came flying at you. Muscle memory took over as your bat left your shoulder, your body pivoted, and the ball clanged off your bat and soared into the back off the batting cage, rattling the fence when it stuck.

“Dang,” the scout whistled. “How old are you, again?”

“17,” you beamed proudly.

“Welcome to the USA Olympic Softball team, Y/N. We’re happy to have you.”

~~~

You couldn’t stop grinning. You had been playing softball since you were old enough to swing a bat. You were graduating high school next month- a year early- and were already accepted to your local state university to their psychology program and their softball team. And now, you’d be training to go play in the summer Olympics next year. Life, you decided, was pretty damn sweet.

To channel the euphoric emotions coursing through you, after a shower and change of clothes, you set out to create a musical piece.

It wasn’t much, as you never put lyrics in your pieces, choosing to let the music speak for itself in it’s raw and unaltered form. You had been playing instruments almost as long as you had been playing softball. Piano you had picked up first, courtesy of a Christmas gift for piano lessons. Drums you had learned shortly after, when you got caught pounding on your older brother’s kit and instead of pounding you, he taught you. Bass had been a recent acquisition, this time thanks to your softball coach who took an interest in your interests off the field.

Your apparent genius had a name: Savant Syndrome. And while it earned you more than your fair share of stares and whispers, you were humble. While your ability certainly gave you an edge, no one could deny how hard you worked to be at the top of your game. Gifted or not, you worked just as hard, if not harder, than anybody else. And it was paying off in ways you had only dreamed about.

~~~

Your announcement of punching your ticket to the Olympics quickly threw you into the spotlight.

“So, Y/N, you are 17, is that correct?” the interviewer asked you.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’re starting at your local university here in a few months, yes?”

Again, you nodded. “Yeah, I graduated high school back in June, so I’ll be attending the local university here in another month.”

“Congratulations. What will you be studying?”

“Psychology.”

“And is it safe to assume you’ll be playing softball?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So, Y/N. You’re a 17 year old girl. What do you do when you’re not playing softball? Mall with your friends? Dating?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I hang out with my friends. But, in my spare time, I like to make music.”

“So, no boyfriend, then?”

You laughed again, not sure what else to do. Was this going to be your life? Dodging questions about your dating life, or lack thereof? “I’m a little busy for that. The music keeps me pretty busy.”

“Music? I thought you played softball?”

You held back an eye roll. Did interviewers even listen if it wasn’t the answer they wanted to hear? “I do a lot more than just play softball,” you answered, getting a little annoyed now.

“Like what?”

You were going to scream. Instead, you forced a smile. “I make music. I study for classes. I hang out with my family and friends. I just keep my head down and keep busy.”

~~~

“That was such bullshit,” you growled at your coach after the interview was over.

“I know, Y/N, but you did great. You kept a cool head.”

“Is that what I have to look forward to? Questions about boys and dating?”

“You’re a pretty teenage girl, Y/N. So, unfortunately yes.”

“That’s bullshit…”

“I know. Go channel it.”

So you did, in the form of a drum heavy, pissed off, 8 minute rant.

~~~

“Oh, my bad!” you apologized as you stopped in your tracks, after almost colliding with the tall man in front of you. You looked up and your eyes locked on a hazel gaze underneath a cloud of long brown curls. You knew exactly who this was. “Holy shit… you’re…�� you breathed.

“You good?” Ashton Irwin asked, nodding at the stain seeping into your shirt, from your knocked over drink.

You looked down at your shirt. “Oh, yeah,” you laughed nervously. “Only water. Is your beer okay?”

“No harm, no foul,” he said. “Can I buy you a new water?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you brushed him off.

“Nah, it’s my fault you’re wearing your drink. I wasn’t looking where I was walking.”

“It’s okay, honestly,” you assured him.

“I won’t take no for an answer, Y/N,” he smiled, his dimple showing, and you felt your heart race in your chest. Ashton Irwin wanted to buy you a new water and he knew who you were? Wow…

“You… you know who I am?” you asked as you walked faster to keep up with his long strides as he went in search of a drink stand.

“Course I do. Big fan of the Olympics.”

“I haven’t even gone yet.”

“I know. I like to keep updated on who’s going. Word on the street is, you’re gonna win your team the gold. Powerful swing, fast feet, quicker hands. Phew, you’re dangerous, sweetheart.”

“I’m not that good,” you mumbled as your cheeks flushed.

“Aw, she’s modest, too,” he grinned. “You’re phenomenal. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. 1 water please.”

Your cheeks flushed a deeper red as he handed you the water bottle. “Thanks.”

“See you around, Y/N,” he winked, placing a hand on your shoulder before disappearing in the crowd.

You took a drink of your water. What the hell had just happened?

~~~

Good luck, Y/N! your phone pinged.

Ash? How did you know I was playing today? you messaged back, holding back a grin. He had messaged you for the first time shortly after your run-in, and he messaged you at least once a day either to wish you luck or to remind you that you were phenomenal. You had already written 2 songs about him. Lovestruck ones about how sweet he was, and how it could never happen because you were 17, and he had just turned 22.

Gotta keep tabs on my favorite girl.

Your face flushed. Ash, you really shouldn’t say things like that.

But it’s true. Let me take you out for coffee when you get home. I miss you.

Ash, you barely know me.

Bullshit. We’re famous, sweetheart. Everybody knows us.

~~~

“Stop!” you giggled, throwing a straw wrapper at him.

“What you did! You were phenomenal out there. As always.”

You kept giggling. You had been friends with Ashton for almost 8 months now. Friends as your age gap was still a big concern for you. But, there was no denying the chemistry that was between the two of you. “I’m really not.”

“Hey! What did I tell you? You are phenomenal. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. That includes you.”

“But if I do that, then I won’t have you to remind me,” you smiled over at him.

“Oh, I’ll always remind you. Don’t worry about that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, then his lips were on yours. A brief, soft kiss. You were about to melt into it, but your brain screaming at you that this was wrong was too much to ignore.

“No!” you gasped, pulling away. “Ash, no… Don’t do that…”

“What? Don’t kiss you? Y/N, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?”

“Ash… I’m… you’re… we’re…”

“You turned 18 yesterday,” he reminded you.

“You’re still way older than me! This… this… no. No, Ash.”

“Really? You’re still gonna pull the age-gap card? You’re 18! And don’t you dare sit there and say you haven’t been thinking about kissing me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was right. Of course you had thought about kissing him. You had 7 songs sitting on your computer that were all about him and wanting to kiss him. Songs he would never hear. “Ash, we live totally different lives. We can’t do this.”

“Different lives? Yes, okay. You’re in college, and I’m a rockstar. Sure. But we’re both in the public eye. We’re still really good friends. Friends who have more than friends feelings towards each other.”

“No!”

He sighed. “Alright. Fine.”

After that encounter you had 8 songs about him.

~~~

“Move in with me.”

“What?!”

“Move. In. With. Me.”

“Ash!”

“Y/N!”

“I can’t just move in with you!”

“Yes you can! You’re going to be a sophomore in college, you can’t possibly like staying in that crapped dorm. I have plenty of room at my place. Plenty of privacy, too, as I’m hardly ever home.”

“I’m not dating you, Ashton.”

“I’m not asking you to, Y/N.”

“Good. As long as we both know that I’m moving in as a friend.”

He put up his hands in surrender. “Just friends.”

Your eyes narrowed at your “friend” and his hazel eyes that were full of trouble. “Fine. I’ll move in with you.”

“Great! I’ll help you pack.”

~~~

“No! I’m not ready! Can’t you understand that!” you screamed at Ashton.

“This is bullshit! You’re 20 years old, Y/N! We’re not those same kids from 2 and a half years ago! Nobody cares about the stupid age gap!” he screamed back, his eyes shining with tears.

“I do! I care! I just turned 20! You’re gonna be 25! That’s a huge difference!”

“No, it isn’t! Not to me anyway!”

“Well, good for you!”

“I can’t do this… God, I can’t keep doing this! Grow up, Y/N.” He grabbed his jacket and stormed towards the front door.

“What?! You’re just gonna leave?! Ashton, get back here!”

“I need to get to the studio, Y/N,” he said, his voice suddenly soft. “We can talk more when I get back, but honestly, I don’t know if I’m going to want to. I just… I need space. Hell, maybe we both do.” And with that, you were left alone in your shared home, wondering if it was even yours anymore. You were losing him, as a roommate, as a friend, as a potential lover, and for what? For being too afraid of your feelings? No, that wasn’t good enough. Ashton was right. It was time to grow up and stop being a scared little kid. You were phenomenal and it was time to start acting like it. So, you did what you did best. You created music. And this time, he was going to hear you.

Your fingers shook as you typed out the message.

If you show this to anyone, I’m moving out, and you’ll never hear from me again. It’s called You, Me, Us.

Before you could overthink, you attached the audio file and hit send. “Please don’t break my heart,” you whispered before shutting off your phone, terrified of the response.

Ashton’s phone pinged and he was grateful for the interruption. They were stuck on making the last song for the album and nothing they were making seemed like it was good enough. When he saw the notification was from you, he grabbed his headphones and excused himself into a different room.

He read the message first, his heart soaring. He knew how private you kept your music, never letting him so much as catch you doing something as simple as playing. Music was the one thing you had always kept just for yourself. He hit play on the 9 minute audio clip, your voice sounding out, “Alright, Ash… this has been a long time coming, but uh.. Yeah. Here it goes.” The clip was bass heavy, a drum beat looping on repeat, a little upbeat feel from the piano kicking in throughout.

If his heart had soared at your message, it ripped out of his chest with your music. A wordless melody that expressed 2 and a half years worth of emotion you felt towards one man- him. He scrambled around for loose pieces of paper, penning out a response as he hit repeat.

He was on his third listen, his response nearly complete when Calum’s “There you are, mate! We’ve been looking all over for you,” startled him.

“Jesus, Cal!” he exclaimed, a hand flying to his chest, hitting pause and slipping his headphones around his neck. “Damn near gave me a heart attack…”

“Were you crying? You okay?”

Ashton touched a hand to his face, his cheeks wet. Shit, he didn’t even notice, he had been so lost. Ashton sniffed and wiped at his face. “Yeah, I’m good, mate. I think.”

Calum raised an eyebrow, not sure what to believe, so he just dropped it in favor of wondering what his friend had been up to. “What’s this?” he asked, his Vans tapping lightly against the thrown about papers.

“Our last song,” Ashton grinned.

Calum picked up one of the pieces, scanning the title. “Part 2? When did we write Part 1?”

“We didn’t. She did.”

“Oh, shit…” Calum breathed, realizing the weight of the situation. “C’mon, let’s get this recorded for her.”

“Mike, you ready for a solo?” Ashton asked, once he and Calum went into the other room where Luke and Mike were in the midst of a guitar riff-off.

Mike’s note came to a definitive finish. “Solo?”

Ashton nodded, waving the lyrics in his hand. He would sing it himself, but his solo songs didn’t lend themselves well to being added to setlists and this was definitely one he wanted to play on tour. And he knew Mike would be able to get the emotion he needed and deserved a song on the album to showcase more than his incredible guitar playing, even if the man didn’t agree he had the best singing voice. “I only got the words, but I figure we can pair it with some heavy drums, a bitchin bass line, and some piano work. What do you guys say?”

“I say let’s make a hit!” Luke said, excited to have something to work with.

An hour later the four men sat around booth while their song played out around them, grins on their faces. “We gotta make this a single,” Luke said.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike agreed.

“Y/N gets writing credit,” Ashton told them.

“What? She didn’t write this. She’s not even here,” Mike laughed.

“She doesn’t even go here!” Luke added with a laugh of his own.

“Quit quoting Mean Girls,” Calum said with an eye roll. “You idiots do know that this title has Part 2 in it right? Y/N gets credit.”

“Shit, she wrote part 1? Where is it?” Mike asked, his green eyes wide in excitement.

“Not a chance, Mikey. Y/N trusted me that nobody besides me would hear Part 1. Now, get that on a CD for me so I can go home to my girl.”

“Your girl? What? Are you guys finally dating?!” Mike asked, his fingers inching towards Ashton’s phone.

“I dunno, mate, but I’m gonna try,” Ashton told him, moving his phone away from Mike’s hands. “Now, give her writing credit. Put it on the album. Release it as a single. And give me my damn song.”

“I thought it was Y/N’s song,” Luke teased.

“It’s our song,” he corrected, meaning Y/N and himself. Then, “Mikey, so help me God, I will break your fingers if you so much as look at my phone. No one is hearing that song.”

His hand dropped. “But… I need Part 1 to know how to sing Part 2!”

“You sang it fine, mate. Touch the phone, and I’ll break every bone in your damn hands. Are we all in agreement? This song wouldn’t exist without her.”

“Yeah, mate. Single. Album. Writing credit. Here’s her song. Go get your woman,” Calum said, tossing Ashton the CD.

“Let me hear the song!” Mike screamed after the older man as Ashton grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“I mean it, Mike. Hands. Broken. Nobody hears Part 1 but Y/N and me.”

~~~

“Y/N? Are you home?” Ashton’s voice called throughout the house. His hand clutched around the CD case, shaking with his nerves. When he didn’t hear you, he went searching, scared he wouldn’t find you, that you had left anyway after your fight earlier that morning. “Y/N,” he breathed, sighing in relief as he found you on your bedroom floor, a suitcase open.

Tears where in your eyes, and you didn’t dare look at him, for fear of crying again. You had been crying all day. “I’ll be done in a minute,” you sniffed.

He crossed the room to you and wrapped you in his arms. “What are you doing, gorgeous girl?” he whispered.

“Giving you your space,” you whispered back, still refusing to look at him. “God, I’m such an idiot…”

“Y/N, you are the smartest person I know. Now, slow down a second. What’s wrong?”

“Everything!” you screamed suddenly, your composure shattering into a million pieces. Why did it feel like he was holding you together? Why did you like it so much? Why were you so in love with a man you could never have? Why was he in love with a stupid kid? “Let me go!”

His response was to hold you tighter as you thrashed against him. “Y/N, stop,” his voice urged. “You’re gonna hurt yourself, baby.”

“I don’t care!” you continued to scream. “Stop calling me that! Stop calling me gorgeous! Stop calling me baby! Stop calling me phenomenal! Let me go! I don’t care!”

“No! I love you, Y/N! And I’m never letting you go.”

His words startled you. He had never said those words to you. All your fights about whether or not you should be together, and he had never said those words. “You what?”

“I love you, Y/N,” he repeated, before crushing his lips to yours.

This time, when you melted into him, the nagging voice telling you this was wrong stayed silent. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him to you, as his arms held you tightly, both of you a tangled puddle on your bedroom floor. “I love you too, Ash,” you said when the kiss finally broke, breathless, your lips tingling.

“Good. I have something for you,” he said, getting up and putting the CD into your stereo.

“You wrote me a song?”

“Call it Part 2,” he smiled before he hit play and left the room for you to enjoy the next 3 minutes and 3 seconds in peace.

You were crying before Mike even started singing. By the time the verse hit, you were dancing, the tears falling freely down your face. By the time the song ended, you had no doubt in your mind that you were going to be love with Ashton Irwin for as long as the world kept on spinning.

You went to start the song over, but clapped your hand over your mouth instead. Only Mike’s voice was singing the song, with only Ashton’s voice harmonizing in the background. Mike had done a fabulous job, but in order to the song justice, he deserved to hear Part 1. Which meant you had to share the most vulnerable part of you with someone who wasn’t Ashton. “Oh, no…”

“What? What’s wrong?” Ashton said, sticking his head in, worry written all over his face.

“It’s beautiful,” you told him, throwing your arms around him.

“So, why are you crying then?”

“I have to let Mikey hear Part 1.”

“I, uh… I might have…”

“Ashton!” you growled. “I trusted you!”

“And I didn’t show him! I told him I’d break his fingers if he so much as looked at my phone! I don’t think he’s gonna want to listen cuz of that.”

“Call him over. Tell him I said he needs to hear Part 1, and that his hands are safe.”

~~~

“We need to get to the studio,” Mike said, after listening to Part 1. “Now.”

“Now?” both you and Ashton asked him, bewildered.

“Yes! I can sing this so much better now that I know the emotion behind it! We can’t put the original on our album now!”

“You’re gonna put this on the album?” you squeaked.

“Giving you writing credit, too,” Mike winked at you.

“What? No… No!”

Ashton laughed and twirled you in a circle. “Yes, and yes! The world deserves to know your brilliance, you phenomenal woman!”

“Well, go record the new version, then,” you laughed with him.

“Hey, Y/N, you got any other great hits like that one that we can have Ash write responses to?”

“You’ll never know,” you winked. In truth, you had enough for a whole album yourself. “Oh, and Mikey?”

“Yeah?”

“Nobody finds out that you listened to Part 1.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I mean it, Mikey. I’d hate for Ash to break those talented fingers of yours.”

His hands went behind his back. “Trust me, I know all about wanting to keep your private life private.”

~~~

“We already recorded it!” Calum groaned. It was 2 am by the time all four men were back in the studio.

“But, I had an epiphany! I know I can sing this song better. I know it!” Mike said.

“Ash,” both Calum and Luke looked at Ashton, begging the oldest for help.

Ashton shrugged. “He’s the one singing it. If he wants to tweak it, that’s his choice.”

“I hate this band…” Luke pouted, sitting down at the piano.

~~~

“So, this song, it’s actually Part 2? Which begs the question, where’s Part 1?” Zach Sang asked.

Ashton laughed. He had been dodging this question in every interview on this press tour. But, you had finally given the okay to reveal the truth, even share Part 1 because you wanted the world to know the whole story and Zach Sang’s interview was the best place as he was an interviewer who actually gave a shit about their art, rather than their personal lives. “It’s a bit of a story,” Ashton continued to chuckle.

“Well, by all means, let’s hear it.”

“So, Y/N and I… we met a few years ago at a music festival. And uh… well, it’s hard not to like that woman, lemme tell ya. She’s phenomenal. Anyway, she was only seventeen back then. So we were just friends, for a long time. And, uh… eventually, when she got older, I asked her to move in with me, as friends. Anyway, jumping ahead, we got in a fight the morning I wrote this song. I’ve never hid my affection for her, and I was getting more than a little mad she wasn’t willing to reciprocate, especially since our age gap isn’t as big a deal now that she’s twenty. And I left for the studio, midfight basically. And we were struggling with this album. I mean, we’ve been working hard, but it was missing something, and we couldn’t figure it out. But then, Y/N sent me Part 1. Being a musician is something she’s always kept very private, so I quickly hid out in another room to listen to it because, my God, she was finally trusting me to listen to her stuff. And like not even 2 hours later we had my response.”

“But Mikey sings it?”

“Yeah. I did it that way on purpose. I want to be able to play this song when we tour, so I can’t really be the one singing it.”

“So, how did you record Part 2 then, if no one’s heard Part 1 besides you?”

“Oh, we re-recorded it after I heard it,” Mike piped up.

Calum, Luke, and Zach all looked at Mike with wide eyes. “You heard it?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, it’s fantastic. Can we play it?”

“You have Part 1?” Zach asked, excitedly.

Ashton nodded and pulled out his phone. “Y/N wanted me to share it here on your show. Both parts, one right after the other, the full story. It’s long.”

Zach just smiled. “Alright, let’s hear this love story, folks. You, Me, Us Parts 1 and 2, coming at you live from the Zach Sang Show.”

~~~

“Here,” you said, placing a cassette player in Ashton’s hands.

“I don’t have any tapes, gorgeous,” he smiled at you.

“Yes you do,” you told him, tapping the cassette player. “Don’t lose it.”

“Are these your songs?”

You nodded. “There’s only 4, but they’re long. Mikey helped me.”

He pulled you in for a tight hug, covering the top of your head in kisses. “I’ll protect it with my life,” he promised.

~~~

“Baby!” Ashton voice said, laced with panic.

“What?!”

“I need a new tape!”

“What?!”

“The tape! I played it too much! The songs! Baby!” His voice was high and there were tears in his eyes. “I said I would protect it, and it broke! Please! My favorite song!” he continued to panic.

“Hey, relax,” you soothed. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not! I said I would protect it, and it broke! Stupid antique junk!”

“Ash! Stop. Look,” you said, flashing a new tape. “I’ll overnight it, okay? Just breathe.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him. The fact that he had played it so much he wore out the tape meant the world to you. You would make him a billion copies if he played each one to their breaking point. “One mixtape straight out of ‘94 heading your way.”

“You were born in ‘99…”

“And the man behind the music is a product of ‘94,” you smiled. “It’ll be there soon, Ash. Don’t worry. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just a tape.”

“No it’s not. It’s our tape.”

~~~

Before he left for his World Way Joy tour, you gave him another tape. “Don’t break this one,” you teased.

“Not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” you laughed.

“It’s not funny… I was very careful with it…”

“It’s true,” Mike piped up, overhearing the conversation.

“He doesn’t go anywhere without that damn hunk of junk,” Calum scoffed.

“It’s vintage!” Ashton hissed playfully.

“It’s obsolete, mate. Just put those suckers on Spotify, Y/N.”

“Never!” you smiled, hugging Calum goodbye. “Take care of him for me.”

“Always, Y/N, always.”

~~~

When Ashton finally came home, after both the tour and spending the holidays with his family, he was restless.

You rolled over in bed to find it empty. You squinted as you checked the time: 2:13 am. Where the hell is he? you wondered as you got out of bed to search for him.

You found him in the backyard, guitar strumming softly, a cup of coffee on the patio table. “Ash,” you whispered, pulling the blanket tightly around you. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Late?”

“Very… is that coffee?”

“It’s decaf…”

“Come to bed.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Can’t sleep? Ash, you need to try. Rest your body at least.” Now you were worried. You had noticed the dark circles under his eyes when he came home earlier that afternoon, but you had expected the man to sleep soundly for several hours, not be wide awake at 2 in the morning. This, you decided, was very bad.

“Not. Tired,” came the response and a pluck of guitar strings.

You sighed, but decided not to say anything. Ashton was a grown man and he wouldn’t appreciate you babying him. Instead, you had an idea.

You worked relentlessly on the project, using the research of you thesis project to help you, keeping late hours yourself. Ashton was worried you were pushing yourself too hard, but he also kept his mouth shut. You weren’t giving him shit about his insomnia, so he wasn’t going to give you shit for yours. Instead, he got interested in what his girlfriend was up to.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you.

Your head snapped up. “Thesis,” you said, pulling out of his arms and out of your seat in front of the keyboard.

“Your thesis has you making music?”

An idea formed in your head. “Yeah,” you said, leading him to the bedroom. “It’s crazy what music does to brain waves, Ash.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s like a drug, almost,” you explained, pulling him into bed.

“Mmm, fascinating,” he smiled at you. He loved when your smart side showed in full force even though he had no idea what you were talking about half the time.

“Yeah,” you smiled back, running your hands through his hair. “So, we already know how music makes people feel. There’s this study where they tested the idea of music being therapeutic. What they did is they did a series of surgeries, already planned surgeries, mind you. But they did these surgeries. Some with music playing, some without. And what they noticed was incredible!” you were whispering now as his eyelids drooped lower and lower.

“Mmm, incredible, yeah,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s incredible. And what they realized was that the patients who listened to the music, even though they had no memory of it, they had faster recovery times. And like they mapped how their brains reacted to different kinds of music. And like, that’s what I’m doing! Like what type of music causes our brain waves to do this instead of that type of stuff. God, Ash, it’s so cool!”

“Mmm, very,” he mumbled again, then let out a small snore.

You grinned to yourself. Finally, Ashton was asleep. Now, you just had to find a way to make him sleep like this without boring him to death with research and science. You were almost there. You just needed to run the tests to make sure you could record the perfect lullaby.

~~~

“Here!” you grinned, handing him the tape before he left for his No Shame tour.

“How many tapes do you have, gorgeous?” he laughed, taking the tape anyway.

“Last one, I promise,” you told him. “Just listen to it when you go to bed, okay?”

“Okay,” he told you.

Later that night, he crawled into his bunk on the tour bus, put in the tape, secured his headphones, and hit play. In 5 minutes, he was in the deepest sleep of his life.

“Baby, I don’t know what type of superpowers you put in that last tape, but I swear I haven’t been able to finish it.”

You grinned. Your research had paid off. You had created the perfect lullaby. “Good!”

“No, not good. I want to finish it. I want to hear your music. But every time I’m out like a light. I dunno what it is.”

“It’s the music,” you continued to grin. “Brain waves. Science!” You were laughing now and wiggling your fingers like magic. “The power of sleep compels you!”

He laughed with you. “Thanks baby. I don’t think I’ve ever slept better.”

~~~

“So my last thing… and this counts as 1 thing!” Ashton laughed, pulling out the tape player and 3 cassettes. “This… wow, I never go anywhere without this. Tour, grocery shopping, anywhere.”

“Tell us what it is, Ash,” Calum said from behind the camera.

“Right! It’s uh… it’s a tape player that plays my 3 favorite tapes.”

“What are the tapes?” Mike boomed from behind the camera.

“I’m getting there!” Ashton laughed. “So, my phenomenal girlfriend made me these tapes. And I carry them with me everywhere.”

“He even showers with them,” Luke said, stepping into view.

“I do not!” Ashton protested.

“What’s on the tapes?” Mike asked.

“It’s porn, Mikey,” Calum said.

“Shut up, and let me talk, or get off the set,” Ashton laughed.

“Yeah, let him finish!” Luke said.

“LeT mE fInIsH!” Calum and Mike taunted.

“Anyway…” Ashton said, waving the tapes. “Not porn. My phenomenal girlfriend decided to share her music with me. And because she’s very private about her music, I promised to protect them.”

“It’s cuz it’s porn!” Calum whisper-yelled.

“Is not!”

“Oh, just tell ‘em how you broke one already,” Mike said.

“Right! So… uh, one of these, this one,” he said, waving the tape for emphasis, “is not the original. I played it so much in those first few days I actually broke it. And I called her in a panic to ask for a new one because my favorite song was on it. Still is my favorite. You might’ve heard it. It’s Part 1 of Me, You, Us. Anyway, now I only play the tapes once a day. And, uh, yeah, those are my 5 must haves on tour. I’m Ashton Irwin, thanks.”

“Wait, is that why you’ve been wearing jumpsuits in this era? All those pockets to hold them tapes?” Luke asked, coming back on screen.

“As a matter of fact, it is. If the tapes aren’t physically on me, they’re in a bag by my feet. Always in my line of sight and close to my heart. Y/N, I love you gorgeous. Your tapes are safe with me, baby. I promise. And again, I’m Ashton Irwin, and this has been 5 Things with 5SOS. See you all at the Tokyo Olympics where I’ll be cheering my phenomenal girlfriend as she makes her second debut as shortstop for America’s softball team. Did I mention she was phenomenal? And my girlfriend? Cuz she is!”

#mixtapes #ashton irwin #ashton blurb #5sos #galcal irwin #wow this was so fun to write!#thanks kerry for the idea!#happy reading!

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 5 years

Text

Blight | VII

BTS

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Dragon/Shapeshifter AU, Magic AU, Enemies to Lovers

Words: 6.6k

@tamedandscripted @syubcandy @cencoroil @kathrynwynterbourne @fireflower90 @bluegreenguppyfish @queen-pharaoh-hatshepsut@mygukandonly @ms-bookdragon @leemarkeurii @seaofsunbeams@astronomyturtle @v-reallife @shubaaa @loudcomputerpoetry

Jungkook could tell you hated that you had to hide your fear from someone who helped bring you into this world. Someone who despised you.

So, as you walked into the diner, and slid into a booth in the corner with only a few other bodies in the dead hour of 2 o’clock, Jungkook was beside you. The whole time.

As you and Jungkook sat at the booth’s table, you cupped your chin. Index finger tapping mindlessly at your cheek. Jungkook, who sat to your right watched you. After having another run-in with Zaros and how you put up a brave front and still being afraid of him, of course, you were irritated. He could see the negativity whirling around in your head. It practically oozed out of you.

Moreover, the diner you decided to come didn’t look too friendly- towards you at least. It was like these people knew you or something. That or maybe they just didn’t like the bandage around your arm and the dark look in your eyes. They could probably feel the magic pouring off your arm even after all these weeks of it being on you.

“Y/n-”

“Not now, Jungkook,” you lowly requested. He shut his mouth as he looked at the drink in front of him, then to your own drink. Watching the condensation of the glass drip and roll down it, something about the beverage itself started bothering him.

You ordered a simple Cola when you walked in and where sat down. Jungkook getting some sparkling water as you two sat at your booth. You didn’t even argue when he slid in next to you as opposed to across from you. He was worried about you and how you felt and he definitely didn’t try to hide it.

In the middle of the dark, fizzling drink, a sort of pulsing discolorment sat inside and caught his sensitive sight. He thought he was going crazy for a moment. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but that distorted sort of wrongness remained.

You sighed, lowering your arm from your chin so you could grasp your glass. Jungkook gasped lightly as he quickly snatched the glass away from your fingers.

“Jungkook,” you warned.

“Something isn’t right about this.”

“Yeah, because it’s still not in my hand. Give it.”

Jungkook shook his head, refusing your order. You repeated yourself and he found himself fighting against the command you issued. Fighting the contract’s absolute obedience you held over him. He knew something in this drink was wrong, but you wouldn’t believe him. Not right now. Your judgment was too clouded.

He watched as you stood- the best you could in a booth anyway- and reached for your glass. Going to just take it back from him.

Jungkook- in mid-panic decision- held you back and down the glass himself. You gapped at him as you watched him chug your fizzy delight until he slammed the glass on top of the table like you would a shot glass. He huffed from the lack of air it took to drink it all in one go as you plopped back into the booth. Mouth agape and bewildered.

This reptile-man just drank your drink you paid for. How rude! You were ready to scold him when he covered your mouth with his palm. Leaning closer to you, you stiffened as his nose touched yours and you huffed against his hand. His eyes were lidded as you blinked at them.

They were their dragon gold with his black slit pupils, but something else was there. A tinge of lavender dancing around almost menacingly in color behind the gold, consuming the natural color of the dragon. His breath hitched as his body slacked and he smirked slyly at you.

“I told you so,” he muttered before his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell backward. Tumbling out of the booth bench entirely.

“Jungkook?!” You jumped and shuffled out of the booth as you moved to kneel beside the now unconscious dragon. You slapped his cheeks and gasped, pushing your palm against his forehead. “A fever?” You whispered. How could he have a fever? His species type is supposed to be immune to most illnesses and even poisons? So how could he?

You plucked your phone from your pocket and placed Jungkook’s head on your knees and snatched the glass off the table. Holding the cell against your cheek with your shoulder, you called the only person who could get to Parrish’s just as fast as you could.

“What?” Came Yoongi’s voice through the receiver.

“I’m bringing Jungkook to Uncle Parrish’s. Meet us there.”

“Excuse me?” He quipped before you cut the call and hoisted Jungkook up slightly by slinging his arm over your shoulders. Only now realizing how absurdly massive in muscle weight he is, you groaned. As you stood with weak knees with his slouched, unconscious body leaning on your without restraint you lightly chanted something under your breath.

With burning and glowing irises, you both were swallowed up by shine of light before you were suddenly standing at Parrish’s doorstep. Knocking on it with quick raps to avoid dropping the half-dragon man. You huff and plea for someone to answer the door sooner rather than later.

It’s really no shock that Yoongi swings the door open- having travel abilities linked to shadows is apparently faster than light travel when the case involved Yoongi.

Looking at the palm, sweating and unconscious shifter, he jumped to help you carry him. “Holy shit,” he started as he took Jungkook’s other arm as he bridged between your and Yoongi’s bodies. “What happened?”

“Inside first, the story later,” you grunted as the two of you hauled and dragged Jungkook inside. The door kicking shut behind the 3 of you.

Parrish sat in his living room, reading glasses perched on his nose as his eyes scanned line after line in his most recent novel of interest. When two figures groaning entered the room with an unconscious third party, he merely lowered his book.

“Oh my. So that’s what warranted Yoongi’s sudden visit home.” The two Spellcasters groaned as Parrish stood up. “Think you can handle taking him to the office?”

A hike and body lugging journey later, Jungkook was laying on an examination table. Parrish gave you an iced rag to place onto his burning forehead. Yoongi was fanning himself, pulling his shirt out in rapid motions. Jungkook’s body heat effectively making him sweaty combined with the unscheduled workout.

After relaying what happened and handing the glass over to Parrish, he began examing. He couldn’t administer any medication until he knew what was going on and what was causing such a harsh reaction in the body of a dragon. Even some simple fever reduction medication was risky. It could send him into shock.

Running the inside of the glass through with swabs and running them under scopes to determine the apparent toxin took longer than you wished. Eventually, Parrish let out an almost child-like ‘ah-ha!’ before pushing his rolling chair from his desk.

Rolling over to a bookshelf, he plucked off one of his many medical encyclopedias. Scanning his fingers over thick, papyrus pages he scanned for what he was looking for.

Wheeling himself and his chair back to his desk he marked a page. Removing the rag from Jungkook to dip back into a pail of cool water at your side, you replaced it.

“Uncle Parrish?” He hummed, too absorbed in his reading. Yoongi long since left the medical office, too stifled and went to his own room to cool off. “Is it bad?”

Parrish turned in his chair and cupped his chin. Eyes flicked in emotions that swirled with curiosity behind his glasses.

“Well- not necessarily. The toxin he consumed wasn’t life-threatening. So, be at ease about that, Pix.” You sighed; relieved.

“Then, what’s wrong with him?”

“Well, a few things to be certain.” Parrish sighed as he scratched at his chin. “It was a potion made to bring out specific hidden instincts. If a Spellcaster- such as yourself- had drunk it, their magic would relinquish for a time. Eventually, you’d return to your normal state even without an antidote.”

“But, Jungkook’s a Shifter. Is it going to be something bad for him? Wouldn’t it just turn him human just like us?”

“No. In fact, I believe it’ll have the reverse effect. Jungkook lives as a human primarily, so his dragon instincts are probably more than likely going to be pushed to the forefront.” He looked at the boy at your back. “In short, he’ll probably be running on auto-piolet.” You gasped lightly. That could go wrong in so many ways. “Furthermore,” Parrish continued,” it’s quite likely he’ll not even recognize anyone when he wakes up. Temporary amnesia- quite the nasty side effect.”

As if on cue, the unconscious dragon shot his eyes open. Eyes that shade of lavender you saw before at the diner. You shrieked as he shot up and rolled himself off the examination table. With clattering and chaotic air around him, Jungkook now sat crouched on the ground. The sound of him hissing and growling as he did so.

You slowly leaned over the table and slowly the hissing half-reptile came into view. His eyes were narrow and threatening vibes seeped out of him. It was like Parrish said” Jungkook didn’t recognize you.

Not being a fan of you- an unfamiliar face- staring at him for so long, he pounced. Bolting up, he leaped over the table, knocking you back and onto the floor. Tacking you, he sprung back to all fours and looked around. Seeing Parrish- another stranger- just sitting in his chair, Jungkook pushed off you. Heading with every intent to rugby tackle Parrish, you sat up on your elbows and winced.

“Jungkook, that’s enough!” You screamed- irritated with his attack on you- and leaving no room for argument. Unexpectantly, Jungkook immediately halted. Skidding to a stop at Parrish’s feet as he remained still a moment. “Come back here, right now.” You demanded and it was a relief to see him trotting back towards you.

He moved and sat at your side crosslegged as you pushed to sit up more. Jungkook’s hazed lavender eyes calmed to a more mellow shade as he noticed your tattooed right wrist. Looking at his own left wrist, he noticed they matched. His dragon stuck eyes widened, something clicking his head dazed and confused head.

You weren’t his enemy. You were just his.

Jungkook grabbed your arm, pulling you to sit up properly and even pulled you a fraction towards himself. You looked at him and you saw a swirl of emotion in his face. He looked sad- pitiful even. Did he feel sorry for knocking you down?

Parrish got up and stood against his desk before he walked towards you both. Jungkook’s ears twitched as he yanked you to his chest. Leering over his shoulder and protectively growling at the adult. You swatted at his arm lightly.

“Jungkook, no.” He looked down at you. “He’s a friend.” Jungkook nodded, you sighed. At least he understood words still and he still had a head on his shoulders. He wasn’t some mindless animal like you originally feared. Parrish squat down in front of the two of you.

“It seems the Master-Familiar bond is still active. It’s very obedient.” It wasn’t long before Yoongi came into the room to investigate all the ruckus. The new body, in turn, caused Jungkook to tense up, protect you from harm (harm that wasn’t there), only for you to tell him to knock it off. Parrish chuckled. “He’s protective too.”

XXX

“So, he’s hypnotized?” Jimin asked as he arrived. Feeling ti best for Jungkook to reacquaint himself with the group, Yoongi went and dragged Jimin out of his club meeting to Parrish’s home.

You sat on the edge of the table, Jungkook perched on top of it with crossed legs. He hadn’t moved from your hip. Yoongi leaned against the wall by the door while Jimin took a seat on a nearby stool. Parrish scribbled somethings into a notebook at his desk. Pushing away from his notes and looking at the group, he scratched the back of his head.

“I suppose you could look at it as a heightened form of hypnotism, yes. Though, he’ll need an antidote to return to normal.”

“But,” you interjected, “you said that without an antidote people would revert back to normal anyway.”

Parrish shook his head. “That’s true in the case of most, though it depends on the subject. Jungkook’s body as well as his nature won’t allow for most changes to happen spontaneously. He’s subconsciously pushing the human instincts back. Without an antidote, he could return yes, but it’d take far more than a few days.”

“I see,” you sighed.

“About the antidote,” Yoongi started, “there’s a catch? Isn’t there.”

“Well, fortunately, the ingredients and process aren’t all that complicated. However, the process requires the potion to sit and age for at least a week before it can be administered properly.” You sighed again as Jungkook side-eyed you. A crease in his brow, he slowly reached and clutched the back of your shirt. Fisting the fabric in his grip at the center of your shoulder blades.

Looking back at him, he looked like a guilty animal who just did something wrong. You smiled at him and whispered. “It’s not your fault,” you reassured as the other 3 spoke among themselves. “If anything, I’m to blame,” you told yourself. You listened back and forth on the conversation at hand, but Jungkook wasn’t easily quelled.

The frown on your face didn’t let him feel better; even with your reassurance.

XXX

You’re not quite sure how you got to where you are. Standing in Jungkook’s dorm room with a duffle bag over your shoulder and Yoongi at your back with Jungkook standing beside you. You watched as he sniffed around, smelling himself everywhere in a place he didn’t recognize at the moment.

Somehow the boys had all collectively decided that it’d be for the best if you stayed by Jungkook’s side in his dorm room for the time being. A place where he’s surrounded by his stuff with you who is able to control his decision making on who’s friend and foe.

Being forced into this without your own opinion, Yoongi was soon thrusting a duffle bag of clothes and any else you may need throughout your stay into your arms. Now, he was wishing you well as he left the dorm leaving you in it with Jungkook. Jungkook stood at your side, unmoving.

“Jungkook,” you called. His attention was instantly on you. “This is where you live, you don’t have to stay by me.” You smiled as he slowly let go of the sleeve of your shirt he held. He took tentative steps inside, looking around and sniffing like a dog catching a scent. You rolled your eyes with a scoff as you took to your own task.

Jungkook may be a stranger in his own home, but it was still his dorm. Walking into the living room, you tossed your duffle bag on a chair before you sat on the couch. Inwardly thankful the couch wasn’t too stiff, as you would be booking it on this piece of furniture for a while. At least a week. You sighed as you closed your eyes and kicked your head back to rest on the back of the couch.

Jungkook who came out of the kitchen saw your eyes closed as you rested and just stood and watched you. He felt so out of it. He remembered so little, yet when he was in this place he felt like he knew it so well. His mind walked him to places like it was second nature to him.

He wasn’t stupid and he knew what was what, but acting and speaking his voice seemed like a chore. He heard and listened when the guys- apparently his friends- were talking. He listened when they said he had amnesia or he was hypnotized. He heard you when you said that it was all your fault. When he looked at your face, you seemed anything but relaxed.

His chest ached. His mind was reeling and all he knew was that he had to keep you safe, for you were his Master. However, it felt like you were more than that. Perhaps you were his friend too? Or maybe that isn’t the right word. When he thought about it, the feeling wasn’t a friend, but the word was something else.

He moved his arm up to grip his shirt over his chest. His eyes stung like he wanted to cry. He was so frustrated.

He jumped when he watched you get up, finally noticing him in the doorway. You smiled at him lightly. He squeezed his chest tighter. Why were you smiling? You walked over to him.

“Are you alright? Does your chest hurt?” You questioned with an arched brow. You cupped your chin. Parrish didn’t mention anything about physical drawbacks or side effects. You then bumped your fist into your opposite palm in some sort of revelation. “Ah! Maybe the effects are causing some heartburn. We’ll have to see if you have some medication for it.” You muttered a ‘doubt it’ under your breath as you walked past him into his bathroom and creaked open the mirror door to the medicine cabinet behind it.

Jungkook followed behind you with slow steps. He stood in his bathroom doorway. The open mirror angled enough to allow him to see his face. He reached up and touched around his eyes. He narrowed them, they weren’t supposed to look like this. Were they? He clenched his eyes closed in frustration as he crouched to the ground. He didn’t know.

Pulling out a bottle, you were shocked to see he actually owned stuff for him. They were all doctor prescribed. Shutting the door, you saw him crouched on the ground holding his face with one hand and the other on his chest. You dropped to your knees and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Jungkook? Does it hurt?”

He nodded. It did, it does. “It hurts,” he muttered. The first words he spoke since the change.

“What hurts? Can you tell me?” You spoke so softly towards him. He felt like you’ve never done that before, and something in his head told him it was different. But, maybe it wasn’t a bad different. Jungkook slumped forward, his head falling into your chest as you tettered over. You held his shoulders as he leaned against you.

You felt his body tremble. He must feel so confused. You frowned as you ran your hand up and down his back before you massaged around his neck and his hairline. Everyone was worried about how to fix the problem created when he took a bullet for you, but no one was thinking about him personally.

How confusing it is to feel like you know where you are, who you know and why you’re here but not having any of the answers? Feeling like your subconscious is one big secret and who you were is someone completely different, yet the same. Like some long lost twin, he can’t remember anymore. He’s being forced to keep a secret personality from himself, by himself.

“Heart. Heart hurts,” he mumbled into your shirt. You just breathed out as you held him for a while more.

The night swelled on and his composure returned. He still stood at your side or behind you when you would do chores. He insisted on trying to help you cook since it was his place, but after almost setting raw pasta noodles on fire, you called him officially off duty. When you took his clothes in a hamper down to the basement level of the dorm building to wash them, he was beside you the whole time. Mindlessly sticking closer than normal after you told him that he was not to growl or hiss at anyone.

As you sat in a chair with some random video playing on your phone, one headphone in your ear, the other in Jungkook’s as he sat beside you, you watched him from time to time. He was like a child. He knew what he was doing, yet he also had no idea. You smiled. He was almost endearing.

It was probably 2 AM when the floorboards creaking woke you up. You cracked open your eyes slightly and sat up on the couch, slightly wincing from the small knot you were developing in the small of your back. Stretching, your blanket slid to rest on your hips.

In the dark of the living room the small lights from all the electronics, you could see Jungkook’s figure pacing back and forth. He still didn’t seem to notice you though.

“Jungkook,” he jumped as he whipped towards you. His eyes were practically glowing in the dark. “Why are you awake?” You mid yawned out your sentence with a deeper, sleepy voice. He scratched his cheek, and if there were lights you’d probably see his red face.

Instead of answering, he marched around the couch and plopped himself down by your feet. “Jungkook?”

“I’ll go to bed later. I’m not tired,” he spoke. He mumbled quickly but he didn’t seem to have had a nightmare or anything. He probably couldn’t sleep yet. “You can sleep again,” he added. You slowly nodded as you laid back down and soon fell asleep again without a care.

Jungkook looked at you, easily seeing you in the darkness. You looked peaceful sleeping, finally getting a break from all the stress he must’ve put on you. He actually talked to Yoongi and Jimin on the phone before he came into the living room a pacing mess.

They explained to him what he was so curious about. Who he was, who you were, who they were and how everything was connected together. They told him about your arm, about your contract, about Parrish and whatever else came out of his mouth as a question.

Jungkook eventually decided his bed would be forgotten. He’d sleep here with you tonight.

The next morning, you woke up with Jungkook on your chest. Arms around your waist with his cheek pushed into your breast as he snoozed away. He really was a child, but now the real test began.

School.

XXX

You stopped Jungkook as you both stood at the main entrance on campus. You whirled around to him, a finger in his face as he looked down at it.

“Alright, Jeon. No growling or hissing or glaring at anyone, understood? This is school, and school is where we all come to not pick fights with someone we don’t know. Capiche?” He pouted his lips as he swatted at your hand.

“I get it,” he whined.

Your teachers have already been informed about Jungkook and the fact that he’ll be sitting in with you in your classes. He’s been told by you that it’s fine so long as he sits and doesn’t disrupt anything. He’s to act like any other student, the only difference is he is not to participate. You know, since he can’t.

The morning classes passed easier than you thought they might have. Jungkook did as you instructed him, sitting beside you and not making a peep the entire time. When you had to change classrooms or go to your locker, he was right at your side, trying to act as unsuspicious as possible.

When all was said and done and everyone was released from all morning activities, you let out a sigh. All this was almost too stifling. Having to explain to anyone who dared to ask what Jungkook was doing with you in the Spellcaster building and attending classes? The excuse of ‘my Familiar is just learning more about my studies’ could only go so far. Then, wouldn’t people expect you to attend Shifter courses in turn?

The solution to masking the whole Jungkook reduced to ‘someone who listens only to you’ problem is causing more commotion than you liked.

The problems continued to arise in numbers and finally hit their high as your least favorite Gargoyle decided to stop you in the halls. Cutting off your path with Jungkook as your back. His arms stretched out to halt you. You did so, as you stared at his arm before shifting your gaze to look coldly at your stupid Stu.Co. president.

“Do we have business, Elias?” Jungkook’s ears twitched. That named sounded familiar. Familiar and it made his hair stand on end as he grew agitated. His eyes narrowed at the male in front of you. Jungkook could feel the change in tension. The negativity rolling off you in waves at the confrontation of Elias.

Elias placed his hands on his hips as he began to pace the narrow expanse of the hall. Students had already left for the day or were hanging in clubrooms so of course, leaving you to your lonesome with the bigoted egoist and your clueless Familiar.

They way Elias flaunted himself around set off red flags. He pranced like he was a pirate with a hefty bounty on his ship. His head far too in the cloud that raises to his ego.

“Did you know? Apparently, the infamous Warlock Zaros has a child.” You froze. Jungkook didn’t know why, but just hearing the name ‘Zaros’ made his blood boil and fang sharpen. “He has a daughter close to our age in fact! She’s even enrolled here at the academy as a student.” His mocking tone grated on your nerves as his voice drilled against your skull. “What say you, Y/n? Who do you think she is?”

He pronounces your name with sharp syllables. His shit eating smirk coming closer to your grit teeth as he whispered to you. Up in your space. “It’s not hard for the student council president to be able to gain access to his student’s family records. They are required before enrollment after all.”

You quickly jerked you head forward, slamming your head into Elias’s face. He yelps as he staggered quickly backward. He held his nose, the bridge of it already bruising as blood trickled down his lips. He glared at you with knees bent and a haze of pain in his face. “You bitch!” He shrieked.

“You may not possess magic, but if you’re looking for a fight, President, I’ll gladly give you one! A pompous Gargoyle may turn to stone, but even the strongest of stone can shatter if hit hard enough!” You seethed. You never intentionally kept your relation to your father a secret per se. You hated him, yes, but you hated it more when someone takes it upon themselves to snoop through your family history.

Riled up and ready to fight, Elias lunged, though he never made it far.

A blur zoomed past you as a foot slammed into Elias’s gut. Bleeding with a broken nose, he now also had trouble gathering his breath. He gasped as Jungkook seized his collar and hoisted him up to his feet. Elias’s knees shook as Jungkook slammed his back against the lockers, knocking what little air he had left right out of him. Jungkook growled.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked with lavender, though his gold was shining throw in spots or what he could almost call recollection. Elias’s face spurred him on as Jungkook grew angrier the more he looked at him. “I believe I warned you to stay away from her,” he vehemently spits. Jungkook’s previous memories should not be accessible to his current state. So, to say that the memory of Jungkook warning Elias before was imprinted so harshly into his mind shocked you was an understatement.

Part of him had no idea what he was doing. Why did he say what he did and why does he feel so much hate?

He couldn’t remember and he spoke without thinking. His unconscious hidden thoughts pushing forward. It was the first time Jungkook- rather this Jungkook- had even seen Elias. So, knowing he had approached you before set Jungkook off more. He was close to tearing Elias’s collar before he threw the president onto the floor. He wanted to stomp and kick at the Gargoyle but refrained when you called him.

“Jungkook,” your voice was oddly calm. “We’re leaving.” You turned slightly, watching him look back down at the pathetic man on the hall floor. “Now. Leave him,” you said before starting down the hall away from the scene. Jungkook looked at your back, quickly turning his head to Elias again before clicking his tongue and chasing after you as you turned to go outside the building. He didn’t feel comfortable with you out of his sight for even a moment.

The two left. Elias remained on the floor, gathering what little wits he had about him left.

“Should we go after them?” Jimin, who was standing in the halls asked to his shadow. The same shadow Yoongi was hiding in. Yoongi emerged from his shadow as he shook his head. He looked down at Elias sputtering on the floor in a pathetic display.

“No, I think it’s taken care of.” The duo walking off. Yoongi smiled knowing Elias got what he had coming and knowing in at least some part of Jungkook’s subconsciousness, he did care for you. A least a little bit. “Jimin,” he called.

“Yes?”

“Why are you following me?”

“Jungkook hisses at me when I’m around Y/n, that’s why!” Jimin pouted. His best friend was hypnotized and he couldn’t even hang out with you without fearing for his well being.

“You’re stronger than he is, aren’t you?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not looking for a fight.”

“A wimpy Hellhound. I guess anything is possible.”

“Don’t patronize me, Shadow Boy.”

XXX

“Jungkook,” you called. When you left the scene, Jungkook caught you easily and grabbed your hand in his. Refusing to let go as he started off towards his dorm. You both had just entered his hall, but his room was still quite the long walk ahead.

He stopped walking with you as you called him. HIs hold on your hand not loosening in the slightest for even a moment. He didn’t answer your call, fearful of a scolding. He did the one thing you told him not to do. He started a fight and hurt someone because they got to you. Elias was too close, his scent too obnoxious and yours was too overpowering in the moment.

He acted on instinct.

“Jungkook, look at me when I’m talking to you.” He slowly turned his head, not looking directly at you but just enough where his eyes grazed your sight. He swallowed. You slowly raised your free hand and very lightly chopped his forehead with the side of your hand. “That’s for not listening to me.” Jungkook looked at his feet. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

He snapped his head back up and turned to face you further now. You didn’t look angry at him at all. You gave him a small smile and his chest felt weird because of it.

“If you hadn’t interfered, I most definitely would’ve knocked his lights out. Though, I’m curious as to how you knew he’s gotten on your nervous about me before.” Jungkook pushed the pads of his fingers into your palms one by one in repetition as he thought. He shook his head.

“Don’t know,” he answered simply. “It just kind of slipped out.”

“So, you don’t really remember him picking a fight with me before?”

Jungkook shook his head again. “No,” he answered curtly. It agitated him that Elias was a repeated incident and he can’t even recall his face before today.

More so, he could still feel so much negative emotion rolling off you in heavy waves. Your scent was as sour as your mood and the smile you gave him in place of the frown thinks you want to wear agitated him more. He didn’t know how to fix it. He’s sure the ‘previous’ Jungkook would know, but ‘he’ didn’t. Who was Zaros to him? To you? Why did hearing all of that piss him off so much?

“Y/n, is your heart hurting?”

You looked up at him to see him finally truly looking you in the eyes. You didn’t know what to say. Your chest was tight and t hurt because of your unwanted excitement from your run-in with Elias and the sore topic of your father.

Did your heart hurt?

Your free hand moved to rest in the middle of your chest. You could feel your rapid heartbeat pulse through your body as you stared blankly at Jungkook.

“I don’t know,” you squeaked in a weak whisper. You squawked when Jungkook quickly whipped around and began to drag you off down the dorm hall. He marched off, talking you in tow and getting ruffled about something. He and you ended up in his dorm after his storming marches.

You couldn’t even ask him why he acted so odd before he shut the dorm door and flicked the lock shut. He quickly turned around and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He cradled your head against his shoulder as he pushed his cheek on your head. Holding you much like how you held him when he first turned this way. Holding you the way you held him when his heart hurt.

“Don’t cry,” he told you. You were crying? Now that he said it, you could feel your eyes sting as the tears rolled in fat waves down your cheeks. Dripping off your chin as you had no doubt your nose was red by how much it tingled with your tears.

One sniffle and you were falling apart. Your body shook as your knees wobbled and you wanted nothing more than to just sit down. Relieve your feet and knees of the burden of your weight as you slowly moved to cling onto Jungkook to keep yourself grounded.

Your breathing harshened into a panic as everything set in. Elias was a crafty son of a bitch. What if he told students about you being Zaros’s daughter? What if you were mocked or what if Zaros showed up and did something about it himself? Would he kill you even? You had no doubt if he had to, he would without hesitation or question.

You hiccuped as Jungkook moved to lean his back against the entry wall and slid down it, taking you with him. Now, his knees were on either side of you as you sat behind them on his chest, sobbing. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say. He couldn’t reassure you or help you in any way because of his lack of memory. His own eyes stung. Why did seeing you hurt, hurt him so much? He blinked a few tears of his own and he held you tighter and pushed his face into your neck as you held onto the chest of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

XXX

“The antidote is ready?” You asked as you and Jungkook sat in Parrish’s medical office for Jungkook’s check up on how the drug he took was affecting him when Parrish showed a small vile of a blue liquid. It almost seemed to shimmer, showing off its magical properties.

“Yes,” Parrish answered you. “It finished it last night of settling and now it’s ready to be taken. Though, I’ll have Jungkook stay over here for the night to monitor his condition to make sure he has no reaction to the antidote.”

You nodded. “That makes sense,” you mumbled to yourself. “So, you said he won’t remember anything of the last week once he wakes up and he’ll be back to normal?”

“Correct. The effects of the drug are temporary after all, the memory should be as well.” You nodded again. Jungkook watched as you stood from your stood you sat on and turned to him.

“I’m going to be at your dorm then. You behave for Uncle Parrish and don’t cause him too much grief, okay?” You put your hand on Jungkook’s cheek as he nodded. Ever since the day with Elias, Jungkook had gotten much more clingy towards you in this state.

He would remain at your side constantly. He would help you with the chores you did at his dorm and he’d taken to carrying things for you when he could spare the moment to take them. He’d carried your bag from class to class already a number of times. He’d give you a jacket if you shivered even slightly. He’d turn on the A/C if he saw you fanning yourself. In fact, he had even gotten to the point he would be taking you to his room at night and sleeping on your chest like before.

Having you closer put him at ease. And, so long as you didn’t seem to mind whatever he chooses to do, he kept doing it.

You’ve been kind to him, always fretting over something stupid he did. He looked at his small wrapped finger in a bandaid because he cut his finger cutting up strawberries because you made some off-hand comment of how you wanted them lately.

You left Parrish’s with a few parting words and that night it felt wrong to sleep without the weight of the dragon on your chest. It was quiet in his dorm and only the ticking clock on his wall could be heard as you sat on his bed. You had grown so accustomed to waking up in his room when you knew you always fell asleep on the couch. It was too cold without the furnace that is Jungkook’s body laying on top of you. No matter how much or how tightly you wrapped yourself in blankets, sleep didn’t come as easily as you had hoped.

Meanwhile, after you had left Parrish spoke to Jungkook.

“Jungkook,” he started, “do you want to remember everything from this past week?” Jungkook looked at the medical professional. “If so, I can make it possible.”

“But- you said I wouldn’t remember anything. It’s how the medicine works, right?”

“True, but there is a loophole and you seem to forget who it is I am. By adding something, I can make it so you're able to retain your memories and experiences and still return you to normal. Though, it is a choice that’s up to you.”

Jungkook didn’t need time to think about it. The way you’ve both been this week- the bond that started to forge itself- he didn’t want to forget. “What do you need from me?”

Parrish smiled as he asked for Jungkook’s hand before pricking his finger with a small needle. Blood beaded slowly from the puncture as Parrish ran his finger along the rim of the open vile. Closing it with a cork, he swished it around and the blood of the dragon mixed with the liquid. Changing in color from blue to a pink as Parrish triumphantly tutted.

“Your blood was all it took.”

It was 4AM when Jungkook returned to his dorm. Having taken the antidote, sleeping a fair amount and waking up he immediately came back to where he knew you would be.

Jungkook stood in his room at his bedside watching as you snoozed in the center of his bed. Curled up in his blankets, tucked to your chin in comfort. He chuckled as he ran his fingers through your messy bangs and hair.

“Precious,” he whispered solely to himself. Back to normal, but with every single memory, you were told he’d forget. Though, he decided to not tell you that he didn’t forget. He would act as though he was clueless of the life he was supposed to have forgotten about. Pretend to not remember the moments between the two of you.

Keeping the truth and this new- burning- emotion in his chest to himself.

-TBC-

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

Text

El Amor Todo Lo Puede Chapter 53: After The Storm

For @thomas1340, who has been waiting a LONG time

Chapters 1-50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52

Laura had very quietly asked Sonny Carisi to take her to the airport, and asked him not to tell anyone. She had said her goodbyes to everyone else. She really couldn’t do it again. And she had a particular question she needed to ask Sonny.

One lone tear streaked her face as, for the last time, she locked the door of the apartment she’d shared with Rafael. She’d almost made it without crying. She would have been OK, except for the hollow sound the door made in the apartment as it closed. That hurt. It sounded like her heart felt.

Sonny took her suitcase from her and they walked together to the elevator.

The pain on Sonny’s face reflected her own. She wanted to comfort him, even as he tried to comfort her. “I wish I knew what to say. I don’t know how to help. I want to, so much. But I don’t…”

“I know, Carisi. And you are helping. It’s just… gonna take a long time.”

They were silent all the way to Sonny’s squad car, parked directly in front of the building with the emergency flashers going. Today was hard enough without getting into it with some flunky about fucking parking.

When they had buckled in, Carisi turned to Laura. “You said there was a question you wanted to ask me.”

“Yeah, there is.” She took a deep breath. “I need to know, Sonny. Would you tell me… when you pray… is God still there?”

The question, and the lost, frightened look in her eyes, broke his heart.

“Yes. Laura, yes. And He loves you. And He loves Rafael. And He’s got you. I don’t know much, but I know that.”

“I’m so mad at Him, Sonny! I’m so mad at Him for letting me waste so much time when I could have been with Rafael, and then taking him away as soon as we found each other.”

“I know. Me, too. And that’s OK. God can handle us being mad at him. If you’re mad, be mad. He knows, anyway.” Sonny blew his nose loudly enough to make Laura grin through her tears.

“And one more thing-” he began.

“Don’t tell me it’s His plan. I hate His fucking plan! His plan sucks!” Laura’s anger, always near the surface these days, flared. Sonny wasn’t bothered by it. He shared it.

“You’ll see Rafael again. You’ll be together again. He’s not gone. He’s just gone from here.”

“OK.” She couldn’t say more than that at this point. She didn’t know what she believed. But she heard Sonny say it. And she listened.

“So the reason I asked you to come get me so many hours ahead of my flight is, I wondered if you would, um… go to Mass with me? I thought maybe I could hold onto you and you could believe for both of us.”

“I’d be honored.”

“St. Augustine’s has a Mass in half an hour.”

Sonny nodded and pulled the car out into the street.

*********

Date: September 15 1430pm From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Hi from Stockholm

Hi, Peter,

Hope you will recognize my name after so long. If you delete this, I deserve it. I got your cards and emails, and I don’t know the words to tell you how much I appreciated them. You’re so much better of a friend than me. Sorry I didn’t write before. I’d rather talk to you than pretty much anyone else, I just haven’t really been talking to anyone for a while. Except my Mom, of course. That shit doesn’t fly with her. And Lucia, of course, because… well.

I hope I told you how much it meant to me that you came to New York. I don’t really remember much that week. So if I didn’t tell you, I knew you were there and it mattered.

Don’t know whether you heard this, but I’m in Stockholm, of all places. Liv helped me find this assignment and here I am, trying to learn how to pronounce letters we don’t even have in English and words that, between you and me, are really longer than is entirely appropriate.

I’m OK. I like it here. My job is all computer geekery all the time. It’s interesting. Do you believe I’m a fed?! We’ve been working on this one case for seven months, and they finally made the arrests this week. The only downside is they don’t let me beat anyone up.

A friend from work, Maiken, is showing me Stockholm. So between work and exploring with her, I have enough to think about other than my sorry self. Thank God, most people here start learning English in grade school, so my hellacious rudimentary Swedish isn’t so much of a handicap. Maiken taught me how to swear (no surprise I learned that first) which comes in handy sometimes on the Tunnelbana (subway to us).

I know I’m not worthy, but be merciful and write me back. I want to know how you are. I ask my idiot brothers but they suck. They only remember the scores of the games you go to. I hope you wear a disguise when you see them so no one associates you with them.

Love you.

Date: September 15 1450pm From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Re: Hi from Stockholm

Sunshine,

So great to hear from you. I can’t stop smiling. And here I am writing you back immediately. What a sucker. So glad you’re doing OK but you’re too far away. I was mad when you left the country, but I know short of leg irons there’s no stopping you.

I’m good. Got a promotion. Yay, me. Mark asks me why I bother having an apartment, then answers himself it’s where my clothes live. Weekly, he says this and expects me to laugh. My life.

I miss you, Sunshine. Please tell me when you’re coming home. Or tell me when I can come see you.

I love you, Peter

Date: September 15 1510pm From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Re: Hi from Stockholm

Hi, Peter,

I’m writing you back right away, too. Who’s the sucker now? Congratulations on your promotion! Mark’s joke sounds so much like him. I miss him. I miss you.

Would you really want to come see me here? I told Maiken about you and she wants to meet you. Beware: she has the messiest love live I’ve ever encountered. It’s like Game of Thrones, except with - no, it’s pretty much Game of Thrones. You have been warned. But she’s cool. She shows you amazing places to eat and teaches you how to swear in Swedish.

I can never figure out the time difference, but I think we can text if you want to. There’s some shit you have do on your phone (technical phrase) but I can look into it if you want.

Love, Laura d/b/a Sunshine

Date: September 15 1520pm From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Re: Re: Hi from Stockholm

Sunshine,

No I don’t want to fucking text, I want to hear your voice! Give me your number or call me.

Peter

Date: September 15 1620pm From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Re: Re: Hi from Stockholm

Peter,

Rawr tiger. I called you but you didn’t answer. You should have my number in your phone now, though. I also texted it to you. Call me but only if you’re going to be nice because I’ve thought about you a lot and in my thoughts you’re nice. I have no idea how it works, if we can just call and it’s like in the US or if we’ll get a massive bill but I don’t care. I heard your voice on your message and now I can’t wait to talk to you. Even if you’re not nice.

Love, Laura

Date: November 18 0953am From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Flight Info

Sunshine,

My itinerary is attached. Looking so forward to seeing you. Your family is pissed that you’re going to be with me for the holidays instead of them. I pretend to feel bad.

I want to bring you a present. What should I get you?

Love, Peter

Date: December 8 2120pm From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: St. Thomas!!!

Hi, Peter,

Here is a picture of me and Maiken. I’m the one on the left. So you’ll recognize me. Holy shit, I’m going to see you in two weeks!

You mentioned my family is pissed I’m spending the holidays with you. You have ignored my question (twice) about how Katie feels about it. She must be some kind of fucking saint if she’s not tearing you limb from limb. For the millionth time, she can totally come! I don’t want to cause trouble for your love life and I’m dying to meet her.

Love, Laura

P.S. For my Christmas present, you have to be in all the selfies I want. I know how much you hate them but you are wrong. Terribly, dreadfully, completely, utterly wrong.

Peter: Just landed. See you when you get here.

Peter: Checked in. Place is nice.

Laura: In line in customs. WTF. I brought like 2 bikinis and a dress. Do I really need to be behind the family with 9 kids who are apparently emigrating here and brought everything they own? There may be livestock. I’m about to lose it. For real.

Peter: DO NOT lose it. If you cause an international incident and make me miss out on those bikinis I will not be happy.

Laura: Can’t help it. I’ve been on a different continent from you for over a year and now we’re on the same tiny island and I’m trapped in bureaucratic hell. I’m not the most patient person.

Peter: Indeed. Really?

Laura: FU 😊

It was after ten p.m. when Laura finally arrived at the hotel. She intended to check in, get to her room, take a quick shower, and then let Peter know she was there. She didn’t want to be hagged out after over a day travelling when he saw her for the first time in over a year. She should have known. As she dragged her suitcase wearily across the rough tile floor of the lobby to the hotel’s check-in desk, she caught sight of Peter as he stood up from a wicker settee across the room.

For a moment, she just stood staring at him as he strode across the lobby toward her, smiling so hard it looked like it hurt. Or maybe she just thought that because her own smile was painfully wide. Sweet merciful heaven, he was so fucking beautiful! Everything about him was gorgeous, including his too-short hair and the truly heinous flowered board shorts he wore. She dropped the handle of her suitcase and let her carry-on fall to the floor as she ran toward him and leapt into his arms. He instantly swept her off her feet and she wrapped her legs around him, squeezing him with all her limbs as hard as she could. Both laughed and cried.

The desk attendant was becoming a little uncomfortable the longer they embraced, laughing and wiping tears, saying all the stupid things people said when they met after a prolonged absence. Americans, she thought. Give me some nice, polite Japanese people anyday. And these two looked a little old to be behaving like this, anyway. Her eyes widened when, many minutes later, the woman came to the desk and checked into her own room, separate from the man’s, and not even adjoining. Affair? But no, no one was joining them; they each had booked a room for only one guest. Whatever, the desk clerk thought. The day I understand the weird shit tourists do…

While Laura showered, Peter relaxed on her balcony, sipping a beer he’d brought from his own room. It wasn’t long before she appeared, toweling off her wet hair and wearing an ankle-length cotton halter dress in a very colorful print.

“You should have warned me about that dress,” Peter said, holding a hand over his eyes. “I woulda worn my sunglasses.”

“I got two words for you, hotshot. Those shorts.”

“Where’d you get a dress like that in Sweden?”

“Amazon. Like the entire rest of the known world.”

Their conversation went on like that, light and happy and easy, while Laura combed her hair and they sat watching the waves. Even at night, there was enough light to see the rocky shoreline in front of their balconies. Laura was exhausted after travelling for over a day, but didn’t want to miss one second with Peter. Eventually, she simply couldn’t sit anymore and said that she needed to stretch out.

“C’mon,” she said, “We can talk in here.”

In a very short time after they laid down on her bed, she under a sheet with her head on the pillows, he on top of the sheet with his head at the foot of the bed, they fell into a deep sleep. Peter woke during the night, and thought about crawling in with Laura, but decided it was best just to grab a pillow and stay where he was. There was no chance he would go back to his room, alone, when he could be here with her.

The next day, they hurried through breakfast so that they could catch a dive boat leaving for a sheltered bay perfect for amateurs. They snorkeled all day, exploring the bay and pointing at colorful fish, taking underwater selfies (which Peter said were the only thing stupider than selfies on land but tolerated all day long), and enjoying the sun and warm water. They had been smart enough to bring sun guard shirts, since both were coming from cold climates and had no tans at all. By the time the boat landed back at the pier near their hotel, they were both too tired to think about trying to shower and get dressed to go out for dinner. They settled for stew chicken from a street vendor they passed on the walk back to the hotel.

An hour after they returned to the hotel, Peter heard Laura’s knock on his door. She had showered and just knotted her wet hair at the back of her head, and was wearing a cool, cotton wrap dress that actually belonged to her friend Maiken. When Peter opened the door, he was wearing those damn board shorts again, and nothing else. As always, Laura immediately noticed his trim, muscular torso and his lovely, brawny arms. Tonight, though, she hoped he was planning to put on a shirt.

They sat on Peter’s balcony in the cool evening breeze, looking at the pictures they’d taken that day. There were some beautiful shots of the schools of yellow and purple fish, some of sea turtles swimming near them, and several very cute photos of the two of them. They’d also taken pictures of each other, some of which were very good, and some of which they teased each other about.

When they had tired of the pictures, they sat, side by side, sipping drinks and watching the moon come up over the water.

“I could live here,” Laura noted.

“You don’t like Stockholm?”

“I like Stockholm a lot, but it’s cold most of the time. I love this warmth.”

Peter sighed contentedly. “It really doesn’t seem like Christmas.”

“It doesn’t.”

He looked over at her. “Which, I’m guessing, is the point?”

Laura didn’t look at him. She took a long drink of the passionfruit juice she was nursing. “I don’t want the holidays. Can we leave it at that?”

“Sure. I want to hear more about Stockholm.”

Laura didn’t know whether Peter gave two shits about Stockholm, but she loved him for changing the subject. He was actually quite interested in her new life, but he also knew that this was only her second Christmas without Rafael, and that the two of them had gotten engaged on New Years’ Eve. Peter understood why Laura would need to ignore the holidays for a while.

They talked about a lot of things as they sat there, sometimes sharing stories about their work, sometimes talking about the Parkers, sometimes showing eachother photos and goofy internet memes on their phones. At one point, Peter scrolled past a picture of himself and a woman, sitting at a restaurant table clinking cocktail glasses and smiling. He had his arm around her.

“Wait, wait! Go back. Is that Katie?” She asked.

Reluctantly, Peter scrolled back and handed Laura his phone. “Yeah, that’s Katie and me on my birthday.”

“Wow. She’s a knockout.”

“Yeah.”

Laura handed Peter back his phone. “What?”

“Nothing. She’s beautiful. Yes.”

“Hmmmm. Not detecting a lot of enthusiasm there. ‘Nothing. She’s beautiful.’” She mimicked.

“I don’t really want to talk about Katie. Can we leave it at that?”

They looked at eachother and Laura shrugged more casually than she felt. “Of course.”

A silence descended, during which Peter absently flipped through pictures on his phone and Laura looked out at the waves and the moon. After a few minutes, Peter held his phone out to her and showed her a picture of the two of them huddled under a blanket at a Chicago Bears game, snow falling thickly on their hats and on the rowdy crowd around them. They chuckled.

“That was so damn cold,” Peter said.

“My toes hurt so bad when they thawed out. I thought I had frostbite.”

“Good game, though.”

“Great game. Worth losing a couple toes. How many years ago was that?”

“Don’t ask me that. I turned forty last year. I don’t like to think about how long ago stuff was.”

Another silence.

“Peter?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“I would like to have one minute of serious conversation, and then no more for the rest of our time here. You game?”

He looked out to sea. “One minute.” He made it sound like one minute of having bamboo under his fingernails.

“Are you OK?”

He looked over at her, surprise on his face. “You’re the one who… Yeah, I’m OK. I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

“Don’t lie to me, Peter Stone. I’ve known you too long. I’ll tell you how I am if you’ll tell me how you are.”

“Sunshine, I’m fine. I just don’t feel right about talking to you about some other woman. And, to be honest, turning forty kind of kicked my ass. I’ll be OK. If that’s the worst problem I have, I’m doing pretty good. OK?”

She looked hard at him for a moment. “OK. But you can talk to me if you want. And, for the record, you’re a seriously hot old guy. I’d hit that.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. Only she would say something like that to him. Only she could. “Well, thanks for that. Now you. How are you? Really?”

“I’m… OK. I feel like I’ve been frozen and I’m kind of thawing out around the edges, you know? I don’t really want to, but that’s what seems to be happening.”

“You’re too young not to.”

“Fuck,” she said, with some bite in it, then sighed heavily.

“You’re going to be OK, Sunshine.”

“Yeah, I guess. Someday. But not today. And not tomorrow.”

Peter reached out a hand and she put her hand in his. Their fingers entwined.

“You’re my best friend, you know,” he said, looking out over the moon-dappled sea.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

“Can the minute of seriousness be over now?”

“Hell, yes.”

Again that night, they eventually moved to stretch out on the bed to talk, and fell asleep next to one another. This time, Laura was the one who awoke in the night. She was cold from being uncovered in her thin, short dress, and crawled under the covers, resisting the temptation to cuddle up to Peter.

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

The rest of their time in St. Thomas was spent lounging in the sun, sightseeing, kayaking, swimming and snorkeling. They were surprised to find that the most fun they had wasn’t in the ocean, but ziplining through the rainforest canopy. Peter’s favorite picture of the trip was one that an attendant had taken of them, wearing helmets and harnesses and laughing their heads off.

True to their agreement on that second night, they had spoken about most aspects of their current lives, but hadn’t tried to tackle any subject more difficult than annoying coworkers. The front desk clerk who had checked Laura into her room would have been very confused by the fact that they never spent one night sleeping apart, but never got more intimate than the hug they’d shared that first night in the lobby.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago justice #philip winchester #peter stone #I Will Stand Alone Loving On Peter Stone If I Have To

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chicgeekgirl89 · 5 years

Text

The Liability: Chap. 2

Read Chapter 1 Here

It felt like there was a hole in his chest. Like a really, really big hole that someone had filled with fire. And knives. And acid. And….

His eyes cracked open and he took in the familiar sight (god when did it become familiar?) of the hospital ceiling. There was a strong smell of antiseptic and something was beeping nearby. Probably something keeping him alive.

He lifted a hand to rub his eyes and found it connected to an IV. Ah. Something bad had happened to him. There were flashes of it niggling at the corner of his mind but honestly, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to remember it.

“This is your fault!” someone hissed.

His fuzzy brain recognized his best friend’s voice, but the one that answered him was a bit more of a surprise. “I didn’t ask him to come with me!” Derek Hale spat back in a harsh whisper.

Stiles forced his eyes open a little wider to find the two werewolves on either side of his bed. They were glaring at each other and both had their hands clenched into fists. Apparently there was a whisper fight going on.

“He’s a human! He doesn’t have any way to protect himself!” Scott said.

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t let a member of your pack wander the woods alone in the middle of the night.”

“He wasn’t alone, he was with you. That makes him your responsibility!”

Stiles shifted in the bed and his breath caught in his throat as the fire in his belly burned even hotter. It caught the attention of both wolves. “Stiles!” Scott sat down next to him, all his attention turning to his friend. “Hey, are you okay?”

“If by okay you mean basically ripped in half then yeah, I’m good,” Stiles gasped. “Holy jeez that smarts.”

“Take it easy,” Scott said. “Do you want me to call my mom?”

“You lost a lot of blood,” Derek said. “Most of it’s in your car.”

“Really dude?” Scott asked.

“How bad is it?” Stiles asked. “How much time do I have? Are we talking days here? Weeks?”

“It’s just stitches,” Derek said. “There was barely any internal bleeding at all.”

“Barely any is too much for someone who’s mortal!” Scott snapped.

“I got him here in time didn’t I?”

“As touching as it is to have you both fighting over my deathbed,” Stiles began.

“You’re not dying!” they both snarled at the same time.

“Right okay, well it kind of feels like I am so maybe we could do something about the pain here since you both have, you know, a magical ability to suck away the agony?” Stiles asked, his breath coming in short gasps as sweat beaded on his forehead.

Scott immediately put a hand on his shoulder and the pain slowly began to ebb away. “Thanks,” he said, willing his body to stop shaking. “What happened?”

“You followed me. The omega attacked. But don’t worry. Isaac and Boyd caught up with him. He won’t be hurting anybody else.”

Stiles grimaced. A dead werewolf was better than dead citizens of Beacon Hills, but it still wasn’t a pleasant outcome. Scott wasn’t too happy either judging by the way his hand tightened on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Is uh, is my dad here?” Stiles asked. He felt pretty terrible and as nice as it was to have his best friend by his side, his dad was the one he really wanted to see right now, even if seeing him meant a pretty thorough argument about his involvement with the supernatural and its tendency to interfere with his health.

“He’s on his way. Should be here any minute,” Scott said.

“That’s good. Anyway we could not tell him about how I nearly bled out and died?”

“It’ll be all right,” Scott said.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Stiles said, looking at Derek. “You kind of saved my life back there.”

“Yeah well, don’t let it happen again,” Derek said.

“Definitely not planning on getting disemboweled again anytime soon,” Stiles said.

There was a scuffle of feet in the hallway and his dad appeared. There were dark circles under his eyes and Stiles felt a wave of guilt. He’d been all the way in Sacramento for a conference and being woken up at three am had clearly taken its toll. “Stiles,” he said, his voice weary. “What…?”

“We’ll give you a minute,” Derek said.

Scott let go of Stiles’ shoulder and the pain came back immediately, making his stomach roll unpleasantly. He swallowed it down as his dad took another step into the room. “Dad, I’m okay.”

“You sure as hell are not okay.” The sheriff sank down into the chair Scott had vacated. “Stiles…”

“I know what you’re going to say, but I’m not going to do it. Scott needs me. The pack needs me. I’m not going to stop helping them just because it might result in permanent disfigurement,” Stiles said quickly.

“Stiles come on! You can’t keep doing stuff like this. You’re not superhuman!”

“Neither are you!” Stiles shouted, wincing as his stitches pulled.

“I’m the Sheriff. I’m trained to deal with situations like this.”

“Like what? Things with fangs? Magical glowing eyes? Is that a course they offer at the police academy? Because as far as I see it, the only difference between me hunting this shit and you hunting it is that you have a gun. Which, in case you hadn’t noticed, turns out to be useless on a pretty regular basis.”

He was tired and in pain and the words came out sharper than he’d intended. His dad rubbed a hand across his face. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you Stiles.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Stiles said, the fight draining out of him as the pain grew more intense. “That’s why I’m doing this. To keep Beacon Hills safe. To keep all of us safe.”

He winced and his dad leaned closer. “Are you hurting?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad.” That was a lie. It was like freaking being roasted on a hot poker.

“I’ll get the nurse.”

Stiles thought about arguing, but with his best friend/pain reliever gone things were starting to become a bit unbearable. And if he was hurting his dad wouldn’t go home. And if his dad didn’t go home, then they would either fight or sit in a super tense silence and Stiles just wasn’t up to either.

The drugs had him drifting in and out for most of the day. When he finally really woke up he guessed it was between midnight and one am. He blinked a couple times trying to clear his head, willing his body to shift in the bed without pulling at his stitches.

That was when his eyes found the corner of the room and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “Shit! What the hell Derek?!”

The werewolf was standing moodily in the darkened corner, his arms crossed over his chest. “God damn it you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Stiles croaked. Now his stitches were definitely pulling and his pain had doubled. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“You almost got shredded on my watch,” Derek said. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“By standing in the dark and watching me sleep like some kind of stalker?”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Derek said, cracking half a smile.

“Yeah well…it’s creepy,” Stiles grumbled. “Ow.” He put hand to his chest wishing it would alleviate the sharp agony that came with every breath he took. Or the ache in his head. Or the soreness of his muscles. He wasn’t picky. Any kind of relief would be welcome.

“You’re hurting,” Derek took a step toward him, his eyes flashing in the dark.

“Yeah, well, mortal and all that,” Stiles said, struggling to sit up a little more. “Aren’t visiting hours over?”

“Does that matter?” Derek asked.

“I guess you’ve never really been a rule follower,” Stiles said. “Why are you here Derek?”

“I told you. I wanted to make sure you were all right.” Derek shifted against the wall and his eyes wouldn’t quite meet Stiles’.

Stiles realized what was going on. “You feel guilty.”

“What?”

“You feel bad that the omega got me. That you didn’t stop it.”

Derek glared at him for a moment. “Okay. Fine. Yes. I feel…a little guilt that I didn’t send you home when I first sensed you. I shouldn’t have let you follow me so far.”

“I make my own choices.”

“And it’s my job to make sure they don’t come back to bite you in the ass.”

The words seemed to surprise even Derek. “Okay…” Stiles said slowly.

“Look, you’re not my pack. But you’re part of Scott’s pack and Scott is…kind of like family. Which makes you kind of like family.” Derek’s jaw clenched. “I don’t let people mess with my family.”

Stiles didn’t have much to say to that. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Derek watching his back.

“My turn,” Derek said, apparently done with the emotional stuff. “What did you mean when you said I stole your best friend?”

Stiles’ memory of the car ride to the hospital was hazy and part of him had hoped he’d imagined those words slipping past his lips in some kind of pain induced hallucination. Apparently not. “I don’t know,” he said uncomfortably. “Nothing. I was just mad and in pain.”

“You’re lying.”

“Stop smelling me!”

“Can’t help it.” Derek raised his eyebrows. “So? What did you mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

“God, Derek, just leave me alone!”

“Not until you tell me what you meant.”

“Scott was my best friend!” The words tore from his throat and he swallowed hard, annoyed at the tears that filled his eyes. “He was my best friend because we were the same. We had the same problems. We had the same kind of life. And then you all came along and turned him into some sort of freaking super human and I’m just…me. Still human. Before, I could help him. Now I’m just…a liability. And someday,” he swallowed hard, “someday he’ll probably decide he doesn’t need me anymore. I’m not a wolf so I’m not really pack. I’m just a leftover.”

His headache was growing worse the longer he tried to hold back tears. Why the hell was he pouring his heart out to Derek? The guy didn’t even like him.

“You’re not a leftover,” Derek said quietly. “You are human. But that doesn’t make you a liability.”

“Says the one who healed from his injuries hours ago,” Stiles sniped.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not sorry that Scott received the bite.” Derek paused. “But I am sorry that it changed things between you.”

Stiles felt drained and he took in a sharp breath as pain stabbed through his chest. “Just leave me alone Derek,” he said between gritted teeth.

Derek took three steps across the room and put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. The pain began to ebb immediately and Stiles felt his eyes grow instantly heavy. “You don’t have to do that,” he mumbled as sleep began to take him away.

“I know,” Derek said. But he planted himself in a chair next to the bed and held on anyway.

“Thanks for saving my life,” Stiles said, his eyes closed.

“Don’t get used to it.” But Derek’s voice was soft and even had a teasing sound? Stiles’ brain must be making things up. But still, somehow, he felt better.

#Teen Wolf #The Liability #Stiles Stillinski #Stiles whump #Derek Hale #Scott McCall #Oh boys #Sheriff Stillinski

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sometimeinjoon · 5 years

Text

Slip

3.5k

01 - 02 - 03

Once a year, on your birthday, a veil between worlds open.

This year, they tell you they need to take you back soon, even though you were clear on that being four years into the future, still.

Your guardian steps out and tells you he’s staying a few nights so he could tutor you back into practicing magic like you did in the other dimension, but all you’re really doing is making out.

The people in the portal always just hand over gifts. Lots of them. Your adoptive parents, currently posing as humans, explained the situation at hand quite well: you were a queen-to-be being threatened by multiple enemies, so your people shove you into a different dimension until you’re strong enough to come back and rule. Oh, and kill all those motherfuckers once you return, too.

The chimera were human as human can be, minus the part where they practiced magic. The people in this dimension missed out on it, so really, this is the most ideal place to put their princess. Nothing can harm you here, for nothing is powerful enough. And if by any chance something does pose harm, they’re ready to fight for you.

The old guest room in your mother’s house is where the portal appears, and today, as much as you’d want to spend all your birthday festivities there, you’re due to stay with your dad during the weekends. Your chimera parents are laughably “divorced”, and they’re adamant about following that order since it would be a violation of royal command, apparently. Their files were specific and were set straight when they were briefed into pretending to be your parents. So here you are, all with fake last names, two different houses a 20 minute drive apart, them being divorced, all that. You’re supposed to be home schooled, but you’re really just home. Watching, reading, doing whatever it is you wanted. They said that when the time came, that time being your 30th birthday, you would be given a crash course training, and you’re going to be able to get back all your abilities from that one time thing. So really, that means you’re going to be dilly-dallying about until that time rolled around.

You excitedly open the bedroom door into the new dimension, all set up and ready for your party. It was a short and sweet celebration, but it sufficed. You saw familiar faces, and all of them treated you no less than the royalty that you are. Lots of food, lots of presents, lots of happy birthday, we wish you the best your highness. Once the whole thing was over it had only been 2 hours, and back into this world you go. It was precaution, so that you’re never in their realm long enough for the enemy to catch on.

As you bid farewell to everyone, your guardian accompanies you in crossing over, like he always does. He carries most of your gifts and books and this time, it’s no different, except, no gifts were around you when you left as they’ve apparently been poofed up into your dad’s house.

“The gifts are different this year,” he smiles. You thought back on the previous years, when they would present you with an iPhone that’s a generation advanced from the one currently being released, and a bunch of other luxurious material things.

“Different, like they’re actually valuables this time?” you jokingly ask, and he nods.

“Yes, since we’re taking you back soon, your training must begin soon as well,” he answers, and you fall silent. There must have been some sort of mistake, because you’ve turned 26 today, and they’re taking you back four years early? As fun as it was to be literally just lazing around, it scared you that you were supposed to learn everything you needed in a short period of time. What if you didn’t? What if you couldn’t kill the evil motherfuckers? What if you fail the people that have treated you like the savior they were expecting you to be?

Namjoon explains that you’ve got nothing to worry about, and that there was no mistake. It’s just that humans require vague time estimates, and 30 is the value they gave. He says you’re ready, and that he will be your personal trainer and guide throughout the entire thing.

As soon as you get to your dad’s house he smiles at Namjoon and sends you off into your room like he’s been here a million times before. Any normal father would have chased Namjoon down the block with a cleaver before he’s allowed a step up the stairs, much less into your room, but your father is not a normal father. He isn’t your father at all, but you’ve grown to love him to be.

Namjoon closes the door behind him once you get upstairs, the gifts already poised and arranged around waiting for you in your bedroom that’s apparently been renovated. Then, you notice the usual gifts: a TV, some fast food, movies, a new game console, and a bunch of other normal teenager things. They were accompanied by a very small amount of crystals and potions and books sitting by your table. You’ve figured that they still wanted to give you the usual gifts along with your relics, so you let it slide and instead just admire the brand new room you have.

“Do you like it?” Namjoon asks, looking around. The chimera redecorated while your party was going on to make it more suitable for training, Namjoon explains, and you’re left laughing a little.

“I love it, but I don’t understand how this room has been renovated to be more equipped for training! What’s a 40-inch TV got to do with anything?” You ask, and Namjoon waves you off, saying something about things coming together later.

You walls are painted a deep blue color and your curtains were now heavier and thicker. The bed was gigantic and soft as you sat down on it, pillows crowding the top half. The TV was directly in front of it, and really, holy shit, how was this room supposed to be for training?

Namjoon notices your frown and furrows his brows a little. “The bed will fit us as it is, but would you like it larger?” he asks. You stare at him a little and he’s very clueless as to why.

“The bed will fit us?” you repeat and he nods, and then he realizes your confusion as he hasn’t mentioned the fact that he’s staying over for a week for your training. And here, he’s staying here, in your house. In your room.

“Does dad know? I mean, you can magic up the guest bedroom to be your room, right? I’ll go ask dad if you can stay—,” you trail, but before you can reach the door Namjoon holds your arm and laughs.

“Your father knows about this whole thing, my lady. You do not need consent for me to be in here,” he reassures you, but you were terribly far from reassured. He says it’s part of the training for him to be in the same room as you, and you press no further. He’s your guardian, and he will do you no harm! Sure, he’s really hot and you might get flustered later on tonight, but your en suite bathroom is accessible enough to relieve yourself should you need to. Princess and all, you’re still a 26 year old accustomed to the human way, and the human way is that you get a little bothered when attractive guys are around you in the evening with no possibility of your parents trying to intervene.

Oh my god, princess, stop it, you think to yourself. In your daze, Namjoon just stood in front of you the whole time, patiently waiting for you to say something. He asks you if you’re alright and you nod at him, smiling.

The studying commences a little later, the sun barely starting to set when you started, but the room was almost pitch black without the lights because of the curtains the chimera have chosen for you. Namjoon’s running you through the basics, things you’ve read in your own time, and you’re not really listening to him. No, you were just staring at him like a woman deprived. You looked so funny and weird looking at him with just sheer desire in your eyes, and the funniest part? He’s already noticed, he’s just not saying anything.

“You know, you’re going to bore a hole through my face if you keep looking at me like that,” he says finally breaking the silence. You’re immediately flustered and you try to avoid his gaze, but he turns fully to face you, foregoing the lecture and instead starts staring at you as well. His cheek rests against his hand and he sighs after a few seconds.

“Quit it,” you say, face already burning hot. He blows air out of his nose in some form of a chuckle and leans in closer to you.

“Why? You wouldn’t have stopped if I didn’t call you out on it,” he says, face so so close to yours. You should be appalled that he’s acting this way towards you, but your mind is spinning and you can’t really form cohesive words right now. You couldn’t mouth the fuck off you wanted to playfully reply and the longer it took for you to try and compose yourself well enough to respond to Namjoon, the closer he got. He’s smiling wide, extremely white teeth staring straight at you. You want to wince at the sight.

He cups your cheek with his hand and with the other, conjures up some purple dust and taps it onto your lips.

“That should do it,” he smiles, content, and then he kisses you.

His lips were soft and as much as you wanted to brand your first kiss as innocent, this was far from it. Namjoon was hungry and you struggled to keep up with his intensity, both his hands now holding your face. You return his kisses willingly, and it takes about ten slow seconds of just plain making out before memories start to flood back into your head.

You’re now even more overwhelmed than you were about the kiss, and Namjoon holds you down firmly so you couldn’t move backwards. Breathing becomes difficult at this point, but you simply cannot break away from the kiss, not now, not while you’re remembering. It almost feels like Namjoon was trying to choke you out of breath, but he kept moving his lips against yours and now you’re overwhelmed with all the flashbacks, near passing out, and horny. What a whammy.

Then your dad walks in on the intense make out session and alas, the kiss is broken.

He sets the McDonald’s takeaway on the table and continuously swears to himself. He apologizes for disturbing, and explains that he did not expect that to happen until about the third day and so he did not bother knocking. He leaves in a panic and locks the door before he clicks it closed behind him.

“Did it work?” Namjoon asks, searching your eyes. You don’t know what that’s supposed to mean so you don’t answer. Namjoon continues to try and talk to you, ignoring your obvious embarrassment over what had just happened, but he snaps you out of your trance when he softly says, “baby?”

You’re jostled upright from your slouched position on your seat. He sighs heavily.

“That means the memories did not complete. Not when you’re surprised I called you baby,” he attempts a laugh, but he shakes his head instead.

“Sorry?” you say, and he smiles earnestly at you. It’s not your fault, really. Namjoon scolds himself about locking doors while you try to process just what the fuck was going on.

Namjoon’s a special someone, you’ve gathered that much. He was in every single one of the memory snippets you got, and he’s for sure important and dear to you in the other dimension if he kissed you like that so comfortably, so quickly. You’re not sure what to do and so you kiss his cheek as he thinks to himself, since hey, he’s probably your boyrfriend, and you’re exhilarated by that. He then smiles, and kisses your lips back.

“Well, that made this whole thing harder, but you’re probably not going to be complaining about extended training,” he says, reaching for your dinner your dad brought upstairs at a bad time.

“Training? That was training?” you ask, again, confused. Namjoon nods, and smirks. The audacity, you thought. How dare he smirk at you after he’s just choke-kissed you.

“Yes, baby. We’re going to be doing a lot more kissing than we first needed to now.”

Wait, hold the fuck up. Kissing? Your training involves a lot of kissing? What in the fresh hell? It’s not like you wouldn’t want to kiss Namjoon repeatedly with the door locked, but you’re supposed to prepare to rule a whole kingdom and take down bad guys and you’re supposed to learn how to by kissing?

Namjoon holds your thigh and rubs his nose on your temple as he chows down on the burger he’s holding and asks you to do the same, and you comply. A comfortable silence ensues as dinner passes, but your mind quickly wandered off into what the rest of the night would be like now that you’ve been briefed on what was about to go down.

“We can do it one of two ways,” Namjoon starts, standing up from his chair by the desk. “We can do it slowly, or just smack it all down all at once.” he sits on the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to need you to explain,” you answer, turning your seat around to face him.

“I did a spell a while ago, and that was really the main procedure. It’s supposed to flood memories back very very quickly, granted the kiss remained a kiss until the process was over,” he clasps his hands together. “However, the kiss was broken. And we can’t use the powder again.”

The powder, yes, the purple sugary thing. You ask him why and he says it reacts to oxygen, something this realm has so so much of. You can’t use the powder until about a week later, as it’s left in your system.

And so now, you’re left with a choice of just continuously making out in sessions over the next few days, or having sex once every day to speed up the process a little bit.

You’re so surprised by how Namjoon said your options, and wow, what the hell? Is this a thing for your kind? Sex? Random casual frequent sex? You begin to wonder if Namjoon really was anyone special, or if it was just completely normal to kiss and fuck whoever. He reassures you that he’s indeed someone special, but he’d rather let the memories explain as he’s not sure how you’d take things given that basic information scares the shit out of you.

He then proceeds to explain that chimera are, as you already knew, demons. Your lineage is from the god of lust, and so memories transfer via intimate touch. He repeats that they’re still basically human, just rearing from a lustful demon, and so partners and loyalty are very much a thing and that random necessary sex is nothing you should be concerned about. Only a person’s partner can have an effect on them, hence why Namjoon is the only one that can help you, and only he can give you back your powers.

You fall silent, and things aren’t really that hard to understand, it’s just that, what do you do? Fuck him now, or fuck him later? The kiss already got you going, so do you run the full marathon already?

No, you won’t, because that would shorten the amount of time before you’re “ready” and “fully recovered”, so you tell him you’d rather kiss. Actually, what you said was let’s fuck later, but hey, same thought. Namjoon nods and smiles approvingly.

The night is then taken slowly, you settling onto the bed cuddling into his side as you watch trash TV. It was around 9 pm when your dad knocks on your locked door. Namjoon goes to open it for him and oh dear, your dad shows up with alcohol and condoms. Namjoon laughs and takes them, and your dad says whatever you need, just ring him and he’ll be downstairs.

This is needlessly so fucking awkward, but it’s only because you’ve pretended to be human for so long. For your dad, it’s absolutely normal.

Namjoon sets the condoms down by the bedside table and he pops open a beer. He offers you one but you decline.

“Baby I know it’s weird and it seems urgent with how things are going, but trust me, we can take things as slow as you want, yeah?” He says, taking a sip from his can. “And the room’s sound proofed, if you’re worried about that too,” he smirks, and you smack his arm.

With the room being mentioned, you piece together the specific interior decoration going on. It was optimized for training, of course! It looks like a wonderful place to fuck. Dark, spacious, lots of room. In between the fucks you could chill out and play PS4 or watch TV.

After a little bit of thinking, you free yourself from Namjoon’s hold and take a sip out of his beer can. You set it down beside the condoms and straddle him, his hands welcoming you, setting themselves on your waist. You give him a quick peck and he chases after your lips once you pull away, but you don’t let him catch up.

“I want to remember a little bit more tonight,” you breathe, and he nods, taking your lips in his, a little softer than earlier. His hands snake up your sides as the kiss progresses, until one of them reach for your boob and you lean into his touch. Your hips start grinding down on him subconsciously, and then the tongue and the biting commences.

He’s aggressive with how he kisses, but he massages your breasts like they’re made of gelatin and he could crush them if he went too hard. He’s starting to moan when a memory sparks up in your head and you press into his lips harder. He moans a little louder and you grind down on him a little more urgently and there you have it, a vivid memory.

You pull away a little breathless and he smiles when he asks you what you got. You realize how much slower this process is versus when it’s aided by the powder, but you’re happy you’ve recalled that Namjoon was not merely your boyfriend, no, he’s your soulmate. The one you’re destined to be, well, fucking for eternity as your descent demands. Better than being a descendant of the god of wrath, right? How do soulmates work for them? Do they hurt each other every chance they get? Those thoughts make you immediately grateful to be under the deadly sin that requires most intimacy.

“I don’t remember your tits being so big,” Namjoon says, interrupting your thinking. He reaches for the two and starts toying with them. “But then again, the last time I touched them was so long ago.”

Being immortal in the other realm had its perks, sure, but that meant you stopped growing at a certain age, and your age was 23. Having you transfer into a different dimension made you age beyond that, and luckily for you, that meant your boobs growing a lot bigger than they were.

“Change into your pajamas and get this bra off, babe,” he says, and you oblige. As soon as you get off of him, he realizes he’s so fucking hard that changing into his own pajamas were a struggle as they just tented right on his dick. As much as he wants to take it slow like you do, he’s gonna have a hard time keeping it in his pants.

#namjoon #bts namjoon #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #rm #bts rm #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenario #rm imagine #rm smut #rm scenario

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magnolopsida · 6 years

Text

I don’t want your heart (part 2)

Info :

Conner (RK 900) x reader

words : 2,2 k

Summary :

RK900 is way more different than his previous self, totally decided to get what he wants : you. He likes to claim that you’re his, and you find yourself unable to make him understand the opposite.

Notes : okay it took me a lot of time to finish this, its my birthday, im sick and tired as hell someone help, I don’t have the time to correct this ahah enjoy this garbage I love y’all (also there will be more than 2 parts finally ;))

Part 1

Part 2

"I'm done with all the evidences, I'm going home now." you said to Hank, still at his desk.

"No problem, see ya tomorrow."

You waved your hand at the detective, tossed your jacket over your shoulders and you grabbed your belongings before leaving the office. It was really late, probably more than midnight, and most of the streets were no longer lit. With a frown, you decided to speed up to go to your apartment. You needed to sleep and forget about Conner and what had happened in the secure room some minutes before.

"You should be more careful at such an hour." a voice suddenly whispered, way too close to you.

Suppressing a scream, you turned and looked at the RK900, right in front of you. He was half in the shadows, and the only thing you could see about him was the white of his jacket, his LED and two piercing blue eyes, like sharp pieces of ice, cold and...studying you.

"Holy shit, Conner ! What the hell is wrong with you ?! We don't scare people like that in the middle of the night, dammit !"

You ran a hand over your face and you froze when he exclaimed :

"It's not a good idea to go alone in those streets, especially since the revolution. I'm coming with you."

You opened your mouth without knowing what to say. You thought you could be finally alone for the rest of the night, to go home and get some sleep and especially forget about the android until the next day, but apparently it was asking too much.

"I'm perfectly able to go home by myself, but thank you for the offer, I guess."

You were going to turn around and continue your way when he added with a cold tone :

"It wasn't a question, actually. I'm coming with you. After all, I like to take care of what belongs to me."

You froze again and swallowed, happy that it was too dark to see the blush on your cheeks. You wanted him to understand that there was no chance for him to have you, like you were some sort of an object, but the words were stuck in your throat and you just looked back at him for a moment.

"Follow me if you want," you started. "But if I die anyway because an asshole wanted to rape me and you couldn't stop him, I will come back from the dead to haunt you."

"As if a human could kill me." Conner snorted condescendingly.

Your shook your head, unable to hide your smirk at the corner of your mouth and you decided to finally go home, trying to forget about the constant presence of the android by your side. You had to admit that it was reassuring to know he was here.

Fifteen minutes later, you were finally at your front door with keys in hand. You glanced at the android, ready to thank him before going inside, but he spoke first :

"You should hurry, you need as much sleep as you can get."

"Uuuuh yeah... thank you for taking me home."

The android raised a brow at you.

"When I said that I was coming with you, it wasn't just at your door, (Y/n).”

"I assure you, I'll be fine. Nothing will happen to me at home."

Conner didn't say anything but he was studying you again, and you swallowed again. You were honestly way too tired to argue with him about this at this hour. In any case, you were only going to sleep, there was no chance he would disturb you. With a sigh, you unlocked your door and let the RK900 in. Leaving your jacket and other stuff in a corner of your kitchen, you decided to ignore Conner to grab your nightwear and headed to the bathroom.

Some minutes later, you were back in the kitchen, decided to drink some of your favorite soda before going to sleep.

"You should not drink that before sleeping. It is not good for your health and there is way too much sugar in it."

You glared at the android, standing in the middle of the room, and snorted.

"You give me too many orders. I don't like that."

With a smirk, you grabbed the bottle to drink but a strong hand catched your wrist, preventing you from carrying the bottle to your lips. You raised your head to Conner - suddenly noticing how tall he was compared to you - and growled :

" 'The fuck you think you're doing ?"

"I said no. Is it so difficult to understand ?"

"Oh, I get it. I just do what I want."

Your eyes widened when you noticed the smirk at the corner of his mouth. His other hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him in the eyes and you were unable to move, you wrist still caught in his strong grip.

"You should obey, (Y/n). You don't want me to punish you, right ?"

His words caught you off guard and you blushed, your breath escaping from your mouth. You were suddenly aware of his touch, burning your skin.

"No, I don't..." you finally mumbled after a moment of silence.

The android released you and stepped back. A little sigh of relief escaped you and you put the bottle back in your fridge, trying to ignore the smirk of satisfaction of Conner.

"I'm going to sleep, now."

"Good night, (Y/n)." the RK900 greeted you.

Hoping he wasn't going to go through all your belongings or do weird things during your sleep, you buried yourself in your blankets with a lazy smile - you could finally get some rest.

______________

The sound of the alarm clock pulled you from your sleep and you growled. Some hours were definitely not enough for you. With a sigh, you managed to push your blanket and froze when you noticed Conner, leaning against the doorframe. You didn't know how to react to that, the way he acted, like he owned the place, like he owned you.

"You know, it's creepy as fuck to watch people when they sleep."

He just smirked at this and you couldn't help but watch him - maybe he was an asshole, but he was gorgeous and it was the problem. He wasn't supposed to be here in the first place and you were unable to make him leave, too weak everytime his gaze was on you.

Standing up, you started to find some clothes who could fit together. When you finally took your head out of the closet you noticed that Conner was no longer there and you decided to take a quick shower.

"Do I smell coffee ?" you asked when entering your kitchen some minutes later.

On the table, a breakfast was waiting for you and Conner was sitting on one of the chairs. It was... strangely nice of him and you smiled awkwardly at the android, sitting next to him.

"Thank you for the breakfast." you mumbled with pancakes in your mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Conner only retorted with a frown. "I am not satisfied with what you eat daily, we will have to change this soon."

It was your time to frown at him and you put your mug back on the table. You studied him, regretting not being an android to understand him and his cold - yet caring - gaze.

"I don't understand. What- what do you want from me?"

He rolled his eyes like the question was stupid and it was the most human thing he has ever done in front of you - well, if you forgot about this possessive kiss from last night, and it as absolutely not the moment to think about it.

"I already told you about it. I want everything."

He got this little smile at the corner of his mouth at this words and a shiver ran down your spine while you frowned again. Finally, you decided to grab again your mug of coffee to finish your breakfast and go to the station. You got a lot of cases to work on and you wanted to do as much as you could manage today.

Lost in your thoughts, you noticed too late the hand of the android on your neck, leaning against a vein. You held your breath as he stroked it with his thumb, a fascinated look on his features.

"You are so small between my hands... it could be so easy to break you." he almost purred, putting the rest of his fingers in the hollow of your neck.

"Conner..." you managed to say.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you." the android whispered when he noticed the mix of arousal and fear on your face. "Unless you want me to."

He added those last words with a smirk and the possibility of what he implied made you blush worst than before.

"No !" you replied.

"Good. Now finish your breakfast, we have a job to do."

He got up to leave the kitchen and his hand caressed your neck lightly, leaving you alone and totally lost, almost worried about what he was going to do next. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath and you finished your coffee - you needed to go to the police station.

____________________

You weren't in a good mood when both of you finally showed up at the station, just because you weren't able to fight against Conner's words and gestures. You decided to go to Hank, who was apparently here in time again.

"Hey." you smiled at the lieutenant, putting a cup of coffee in front of him, with a box of colorful donuts.

He grabbed both with a raised eyebrow.

"What did I do to deserve this ?"

"I can be nice, sometimes. Enjoy, it doesn't happen often."

He smiled again at this and you decided to take a new cup of coffee in the lunch room when you noticed the horrible amount of paperwork on your desk, forgetting the disapproving look from the RK900. You were like him and his blue blood, you needed fuel to work correctly.

You headed to the room when someone decided to be on your way for coffee.

"(Y/n)." Gavin greeted you.

"Hmm, hey." you answered awkwardly.

You never knew how to act with him - sometimes he wanted to get in your pants, and the rest of the time he tried to make fun of you. You wondered for a moment what was his mood for today.

"I heard you work with a new tin can now. That's awful. Eh, maybe you could come with me to drink something tonight and forget about this-"

"No, thank you. I don't even have the time you know, too much work..."

Hank told you before that you were way too gentle with Reed and you should kick his ass but it wasn't really your style and you always brushed him off gently instead. Like always, he tried to grab your arm.

"Detective, you should leave (Y/n) alone. We have a lot of work to do, and you take our precious time."

You turned your head to see Conner and raised a brow. Why did he always have to follow you everywhere like that ? It wasn't like you were going to suddenly disappear.

"Fuck off, asshole. I'm not talking to you, actually."

You widened your eyes at Reed's words and glanced at the android. He wasn't like Connor at all, and you already knew that talking to him like that wasn't a good idea at all.

"You should be careful, Gavin." you said in a low voice.

The detective started to laugh and you looked at the RK900. His cold gaze was studying the human in front of him with a disgusted frown.

"Of what ? Him ? It's just some plastic-"

"I think detective Reed is just jealous." Conner cut him.

Your brows furrowed for a moment. What was jealousy doing in there, seriously ?

"Yes. Because he is still alone, when I am the one who managed to get you, pet." he purred in your ear, just loud enough for Gavin to understand him with an horrified look.

The nickname left you speechless for a moment and you wanted to protest against this idea of belonging to him, but the face of the detective was priceless and you just smiled at him, satisfied.

"Can I go to my coffee, now ?" you asked him with a smirk.

For the first time, you were more than happy to see Gavin like this, and he was probably not going to ask for a drink anymore.

_______________

Yep Conner is way too possessive and the poor boy don’t know how to show affection someone help him ahah

anyway idk when the next part will be done (probably when I will get better urgh)

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#connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #dbh rk900 x reader #dbh rk900 #self insert #gender neutral #magnolopsida write #detroit become human

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reylo-solo · 6 years

Note

Reylo neighbors

I had way too much fun writing this and I DEFINITELY got carried away, lol. Thanks for the prompt!

Read it on AO3.

➳ Say It With Roses

The house at 515 ParkwoodCrescent was built in the early 1950’s. It had a beautiful widow’s walk and anenclosed porch, picture windows, a cobblestone walkway, and a lovely fenced-inbackyard, perfect for parties. It had also been vacant for two and a half years.

Every morning when Ben Solo wokeup, he would take his cup of coffee and drag his feet over to his living room,where he would gaze sternly out the bay window and his eyes would always roamover the weathered ‘For Sale’ sign next door to his house. He would think tohimself, For Christ’s sake, is the placehaunted or something? He had seen any number of people get a tour inside bythe realtor over the last two and a half years, and not a single one had madean offer on it. They always left smiling, but it never amounted to a damnedthing.

Thecompany that oversaw the management of the lot consistently forgot to mow thelawn, and Ben consistently had to phone and complain to remind them. It drovehim insane. The picketed half-fence his property shared with that house waspristine on his end, but was peeling and hideous on the other side.

BenSolo was a perfectionist. He liked things to be just as he wanted them to be,no more, no less. He liked things to be kept tidy. 515 Parkwood Crescent hadnot been tidy in almost three years. So obviously, this was a big point ofcontention for him.

Untilone fateful morning when Ben’s alarm roused him from his deep slumber at 7:30.He all but fell out of bed, stretched, and put his comfortable sheepskin suede slipperson to walk downstairs to the kitchen. This time when he looked out his window,something was different. The ‘For Sale’ sign had changed. Now, it boldlyproclaimed ‘SOLD’.

“Holyshit,” Ben cursed under his breath, “it’s finally happening.”

Nowcame the anxious wait. Who had bought it? Was it a family? A single person,like himself? Would they be lazy, or proactive? Would they keep their lawn niceand orderly? Would they have children? God forbid they had a dog, whoever it was. Dogs always chewedup gardens, and Ben had a lovely row of prize roses along his side of the fencethat he would sure like to keep planted in the soil.

Therest of May went by quickly, with no signs of life next door. But Ben knew howthis worked. They would get possession on the 1st of June, and afterthat he would know who his new neighbour(s) would be.

Hehad grown oddly used to having no one living on that side of his house. Forinstance, he had enjoyed walking about naked with the blinds on that side open,because no one could see him, especially when he was upstairs in his room withits window that faced the vacant house. It would suck not to be able to do thatanymore, but if it meant the fence would get painted he supposed he should begrateful.

June1st came and went. There were no moving trucks that day, but Ben didspot an old Volkswagen car parked out front and some lights on inside thehouse. He wondered if he shouldn’t go over and say hello, but then heremembered that Mrs. Graham, who lived on the other side of his house, had donethat when he had first moved in, and he still kind-of resented her for it. No, he thought. I’d better give them a few days to get situated first.

By June 2nd, the moving trucks werethere. He saw them in the morning when he was going to work, and spotted some movingcompany workers laboriously hauling a heavy-looking leather loveseat into thehouse. But still no sign of the occupant(s).

Hedidn’t have to wait much longer, however. When he came home from work at 6:00on the dot, grabbed his briefcase from the backseat, and began heading up hiswalkway, he was surprised to hear excitable yipping getting closer and closerto him. When he looked down he saw a small blur of white and brown.

“You’vegot to be kidding me,” he grumbled under his breath. “A fucking dog.”

Indeed,the rambunctious little pup, with the brown spot on its rump and the streaks ofrust colour in its ears, was jumping up at Ben’s legs, stubby little tailwagging in pure euphoria. Ben looked down at the dog with unbridled distaste.

“Bo! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Ben’shead snapped up at the sound of a human – female – voice. A petite brunette waslaunching herself off the porch of 515 Parkwood Crescent, rushing down thecobblestone walkway, crossing over into Ben’s yard, and scooping the pup upinto her arms. Ben was stunned into paralyzed silence.

Shewas young, not far into her 20’s, with lively eyes and a sun-kissed, bronzecomplexion. Wherever she had come from, it had been warm there. Freckles weresplashed across the bridge of her nose, a few dabbled along her cheekbones. Hersmile was 10,000-watt; so bright and intoxicating in nature. She had her hairpulled up in a bun and she wore a ragged old tank-top and camo cut-offs. Shehad a touch of periwinkle paint smeared across her left shoulder and dirt underher fingernails. She extended a hand to Ben.

“Hi,I’m your new neighbour, Rey.”

Benswallowed, surprised at just how dry his throat felt. He shook her hand firmly.

“Myname’s Ben. Nice to meet you, and your, uh, dog.” He said the last word with justthe right amount of sour inflection.

Reyblushed lightly. Ben could feel his own face warming significantly.

“Yeah,again, I’m sorry. He slipped out right when I opened the door. He really likesmeeting new people.”

“Howcute.” Ben muttered.

Thetwo spoke for a short while. Rey told Ben all the minor details he couldpossibly want to know. She had grown up in London as an orphan, and had justfinished travelling the world with a photography scholarship. Apparently shewas world-renowned, but Ben had never heard of her. She was doing a lot ofrenovation work to the house and couldn’t wait to “put down roots here”. Benhad been as cordial as he possibly could be. In truth he didn’t mind listeningto her speak. Her accented voice was intoxicating. But eventually her spellbroke when little Bo took to barking at a biker riding down the street,squirming in his owner’s toned arms.

“Ah,you’ll have to excuse me. I need to get him back inside before his little heartjust can’t take the excitement anymore. It was really lovely to meet you,though. I hope we can talk again soon over the fence someday!”

Bensmiled stiffly, eyeing Bo with a healthy amount of wariness. “I’m sure wewill.”

Thetwo parted ways. After that their contact was minimal for a couple of weeks.Ben was busy with work and was out of the house six days out of the week (onthe seventh he stayed in his man cave watching terrible movies on Netflix inhis pyjamas, smoking one premium joint at around 5 p.m. – his special secrettradition to thank himself for getting through the week without killinganyone). Rey, on the other hand, clearly remained busy on her renovations. Benwould see lights on in the house into the wee hours of the morning, and if hewent outside on his deck and listened closely, he could hear muted hammeringnoises and soft, echoing music playing from somewhere inside the house. Hecan’t say he wasn’t curious about what she was doing in there. The interior ofthe house was beautiful wood and tile, with a stone fireplace, and crown moulding. It was a mid-centuryantique-lover’s dream. Surely shewasn’t making the mistake of trying to modernizeit?

Theymet once more in the evening on a Tuesday, when Ben was on his knees along thefence line, pruning his roses. Rey walked by with a heavy-looking camera bagslung over her shoulder and a binder full of papers in her arm. She gave himthat dazzling smile of hers, which made his heart actually skip a beat, on herway by.

“Evening!”she chirped. “Your roses are absolutely lovely. I’d love to have a garden likeyours someday!”

Hesmiled back, somewhat awkwardly. Ben’s smile was usually quite crooked innature; kind-of goofy-looking but in a charming way, like when a dog ‘smiles’.

“Thanks…”he replied belatedly.

Shewas clearly in a hurry. She unloaded her burdens into the backseat of her carand drove off somewhere. Ben went back to work, the look of her smiling faceburned in his brain for the rest of the night.

Reyhad barely been living next-door for a month when The Incident happened. Oh, it was a doozy, in more ways than one.

Benwoke up that morning and sauntered to the kitchen in his slippers and plaidflannel pyjama pants. His hair was a chaotic mess – he had tossed and turned alot in the night; June was turning out to be a hot month, and the fan in hisbedroom couldn’t keep up with the heat. He was just barely awake. He nearly forgotto put a fresh K-cup of breakfast blend into his Keurig. That would have beendisgusting.

Crisisavoided and with a fresh, aromatic mug of hot coffee in his hand, he wanderedover to his window. The sun had just come up, and the morning sky was streakedwith pink and yellow. A rose gold palette of natural beauty. Speaking ofroses…what was wrong with his roses?!

Heblinked and rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to wake up completely. Rich, darkdirt was scattered across his freshly-trimmed lawn, interlaced with shreddedrose petals, leaves, and a couple whole stems, dug out from their home in thesoil. And there, in the midst of it all, was a little white dog butt with abrown spot along the back.

“Areyou fucking shitting me right now?!”Ben bellowed. His coffee was instantly set down and forgotten about.

Bo,having heard Ben’s outburst from the garden, lifted his dirt-stained face up,floppy puppy ears perked towards the noise. When Ben emerged shortly after,still bare-chested in his slippers and PJ pants, with a look of dark fury onhis face, Bo froze in terror, completely unsure of what to do or where to go.

WhenBen got close, Bo suddenly rolled onto his belly, short little tail tucked inshame as much as it could be. Ben bent down and picked the dog up by the scruffof its neck. Bo couldn’t even meet Ben’s eyes.

“Whatthe hell, dog?” Ben snarled. “I can’tfucking believe this shit. It is 7:30 in the goddamn morning, and you’re goingto hurl this crap in my face? I don’t fucking think so…”

Heswiftly moved down his walkway and over into Rey’s yard, carrying the dog allthe way, tucked at his side. His slippers didn’t really make a veryintimidating sound effect as he stomped up the stairs and across the porch toher front door – which she had painted bright red for some fucking reason. Bright red. Fuck. How original. Ben’sknuckles rapped hard on the painted door.

Noanswer. The lights were off inside, but her car was most certainly parked outfront. Nope. No. He was going to get mad at somebody, goddamn it. The dogdidn’t count.

Hepressed the doorbell repeatedly and kicked at the door until finally, finally, she emerged, one eye shut tothe brightness of the morning, hair falling out of its messy bun, wrapped in anold threadbare robe that was much too big on her.

“Whatis going on…?” she mumbled, slowly registering the very angry half-naked manwith a very nice chest she was now facing. “Bo?”

“Yourfucking dog tore up my roses,” Ben growled, holding the dog up so she could seehis face, smeared with the evidence of his crime. “And I have to beg thequestion: what the hell was he doing in my yard at 7:30 in the morning?”

Reyblinked, colour quickly fading from her face. There it is, Ben thought poisonously. There’s that ‘oh, shit’ look I wanted to see.

“I-Iswear I don’t know…there’s a doggy-door out to the backyard. He must havegotten through the fence somehow, I—”

“Well.That fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” Ben spat. “Meanwhile my garden is destroyedbecause you think it’s fine to let him go out without a leash any damn time hewants!”

Rey’sexpression instantly soured. Her eyes narrowed and her chin stuck out.

“Ican assure you he won’t do it again,” she chewed out bitterly.

“Oh,you’re damned right he won’t,” Ben argued. “Because he’s not going to be letout without a leash until he gets his little digging habit under control,right?”

“Howdare you tell me how to take care of my dog?” Rey snarled, taking Bo roughlyfrom Ben’s arms and setting him down at her feet. Bo whined, blatantlyuncomfortable with the situation he had created.

“Wellclearly someone has to!”

“Whydon’t you piss off? Why do you even grow roses? What kind of soft-side bullshitis that?!”

“Whatare you fucking talking about? I’m not allowed to grow fucking roses in my own damn yard?”

“I’mnot allowed to let my dog go outsidein my own damn yard?!”

“Listen,I’ve been here a lot longer than you—”

“Oh,yeah? It shows!” Rey gestured to her facial area, even tugging down on onecheek, clearly suggesting dark circles and eye wrinkles.

“Ohdoes it?!” Ben yelled.

“Yeah,it does!”

Theirbanter was ended by the sound of Mr. Johnson shouting from a couple housesdown, reminding them both of the lovely, peaceful neighbourhood they calledhome:

“Shut the fuck up!”

Theyboth stopped, chests heaving, angry eyes never leaving the other’s face. It wasat this point Ben realized that, oh – Rey sleeps naked.

Thethreadbare robe she had so thoughtfully put on before answering the door washardly cinched at her waist, creating a very deep-V neckline that showed Ben alot more than he had been expecting to see. It only made it more eye-catchingwhen she crossed her arms like that.

Hecouldn’t help the sudden flush in his face. He was the first to break theirstaring contest, and he wasn’t proud of it. Rey had only a second to appreciateher victory before she too realized why she’d won. With a soft gasp she hastilytugged the collar of her robe closed. Now she was vibrantly blushing too, andshe also looked like she wanted to slap him, which in all actuality she hadevery right to do. But she didn’t, and in the moment she couldn’t quiteunderstand why.

“Keepyour dog on your side of the fence,” Ben grumbled. Most of his fire had diedout by now. He jabbed an accusatory hand at her side of the fence in questionas he descended the porch steps. “And for fuck’s sake, would it kill you topaint it?”

Thetwo carefully avoided one another for the next week, always checking out thewindow before daring to go outside. Ben watered his garden in the morning, Reymowed her lawn in the evening. Bo didn’t escape again. He didn’t even bark. Bensaw Rey out painting her side of the fence one day, but he didn’t dare go outand say anything about it. And it went on like this for a whole, painfully longweek. Until the first fault in the ice cracked to life.

Itwas a Saturday morning. Rey was always gone on a run on Saturday mornings, andBen left for work at 9:00. This morning though, when he opened his door at8:57, he had to pause in the threshold. For there, right outside his door andawfully close to the toe of his shoe, was a small potted rose bush,freshly-grown and healthy, with one small, deep-red bloom on top.

Mystified,Ben picked it up. Amidst the leaves and (this was no doubt done on purpose)thorns, there was a small piece of folded-up paper. Fine stationary, made ofsoft natural paper, and written on the outside of the fold in fine, flowyscript, was his name.

Muchto the (likely) chagrin of the sender, he only received one particularly nastyprick on his ring finger when he reached in to grab it. He sucked on this as hebrought the plant inside and set it down, before opening the letter addressedto him.

I’m sorry my dog toreup your roses, and I’m sorry I didn’t apologize in the moment. I should have.You were right to be angry. Bo feels really, really bad, and so do I. Just soyou know. I bought this at the Farmer’s Market and I thought you could maybeplant it and start fresh. If you don’t want to that’s fine. I understand yourroses were “one of a kind”. I hope you’ll keep this little guy alive, anyway,even if you don’t forgive us. – Rey & Bo (your apologetic neighbours)

Benwould be lying if he said the note didn’t make him smile a little bit. He setit fold-down atop his piano, and admired the little rose bush. Its leaves werea vibrant, lush green, and it was covered in buds. He flicked a leaf andwatched it tremble. He grinned. It would do just fine in his garden.

Hekept coming back to that little rose bush all day long. At work he’d catchhimself doodling, something he rarely did anymore, little sketches of roses inthe margins and bright, dimpled smiles. The plant was a sign of surrender;asking for a truce. Would he give in? Well, yes, he would. It hadn’t taken himlong to come to that conclusion. In all honesty, over the duration of the weekhis anger had faded. Once he had cleaned up his garden he noticed that thedamage wasn’t as extensive as he thought. He could forgive it, he supposed.

Buthow could he let her know it? It just didn’t feel right to him to go over toher house and offer her a plate of store-bought cookies, because lord knows hecouldn’t bake them himself. It felt fake, derivative, and cheesy. “Hey, it’sall water off a duck’s back! Here’s some Pillsbury crap on a plate!”

Itwas 3:36 in the afternoon when the idea struck him. The Grand Gesture. The wayhe was going to let Rey know all was forgiven. He had been inspired bysomething she had said the other day; her words floated back to him as though comingout of the ether of a dream. And suddenly he couldn’t wait to get home. Ofcourse, he’d have to make a couple stops along the way, pick up some suppliesand the like. He planned it out to the last detail, effectively wasting thelast hour and a half of work. And when it was finally time to leave, his deskchair had barely stopped spinning before he had left the building.

Heknew that starting at 5:00, he had only two hours before Rey would be home forthe night after she stopped at the gym (in the short time she had been livingnext door, he had quickly taken note of her daily activities). He could pullthis off in an hour and a half, if he was quick and had no interruptions. Hehauled everything over to Rey’s front lawn and set to work.

Thankfully,the universe was smiling upon him for once and everything went smoothly. He hadsuccessfully started a garden for Rey, in front of her large picture window inthe front yard. He had carefully transplanted a shoot of his own prize roses,right in the centre, with a colourful array of flora and grasses all around. Tohim it looked magnificent, but a nagging voice in the back of his head keptasking ‘Would she even notice it?’

When all was said and done, hiswatch told him it was 6:51. She would be home soon. He took this opportunity toplant his new rose bush in the spot where Bo had dug up the last one. He wasjust packing the dirt around the base of the plant when he heard her car pullup. He held his breath.

Her car door shut. He heard herunlatch the front gate and re-latch it behind her. Then came the soft shufflingsound of her shoes walking up the cobblestone pathway…and then all soundsstopped with a sudden, loud gasp.

Ben peeked precariously over thetop of the fence. She was standing halfway up the walk with her jaw slack, staringwide-eyed at the beautiful arrangement that had seemingly appeared in front of her house. She slowly walked up to it and bentdown to examine the flowers closer. Ben couldn’t see, but when she saw theroses, she grinned because she recognized them instantly.

At this point, Ben realized heprobably looked like a total jackass, crouched and watching her from across thefence. So he stood up, brushed the dirt from the worn-out knees of his jeans,and cleared his throat.

“You’re forgiven, in case itwasn’t clear,” he said. “Bo, too.”

She stood up straight and turnedto look at him, that one-of-a-kind smile glowing like the moon in the sky.

“You did this?” she askedquietly, her voice laden with emotion.

Ben nodded. “I didn’t know howelse to say it…and I remembered you telling me you wanted a garden like mine,so I figured I’d help get you started.”

“I love it,” she confessed. “It’sbeautiful, and it smells amazing.”

“Well, good. I’m glad.”

Rey sighed, shifting her weightto her left foot. She gave him an apologetic look.

“I guess we’ve been lousyneighbours, huh?” she asked.

“Uh, when the guy down thestreet has to tell us to shut the fuck up, I’m going to say yes, we have been,”Ben answered.

Rey chuckled. “Woops.”

“Woops.” Ben agreed with acrooked smile.

Rey smiled back at him somewhatbashfully, fiddling with the wire of her headphones.

“Would you like to come inside?”she asked quietly. “I think we could both use a drink, maybe. And…I’d like toget to know you better, if that’s okay.”

Ben’s eyes widened. He had beenexpecting a hearty thank-you, maybe some joyful tears, but not an invitationinside – into her life. Before hisbrain could even formulate an answer, he was nodding his head yes and hoppingover the fence.

“Careful,” Rey cautionedplayfully, “I just painted that.”

Ben smirked. “I know, it looksgood.”

“Thanks.”

As he climbed the steps of herporch for the second time in his life, he found himself in a very apologeticmood. Heat burned high in his face, turning the tips of his ears a deep pink.

“Oh, um…I also want to apologizefor, uh…well, the night of The Incident,I…I promise I wasn’t staring,” he mumbled, “at you.”

Rey smiled warmly, and Ben didn’tmiss the way her eyes jumped down his body and back up again in one quick,scanning motion.

“That’s okay,” she confessed asa sly grin spread across her face. “I just hope you don’t mind that I was.”

Ben didn’t know what to say tothat, so he just grinned like an idiot and followed her inside without a secondthought. She had freshly-baked cookies on her countertop and no Pillsburycontainer in sight.

#reylo #my fic #reylo prompt #reylo fanfic #kylo x rey #reylo au #BEN LOVES A PRIZE ROSE #REY IS A WHOLE PRIZE GARDEN 2 HIM #CHANGE MY MIND #if you liked it let me know!!

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