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your-nerd-is-showing · 3 years

Text

To Tame A Wild Heart

Combined fanfic with @mguqiis WC 5.3K 13 pages long! This will be a complete fanfic I have 3 different ones I will be posting here.

Satoru Gojo the college campus hottie, his reputation of him getting around proceeds him. Every girl wants a piece of him and many have gotten a piece already. Then one day you transfer into one of his classes and he sets his eyes on you. He wants you but you’re unobtainable, that drives him crazy making him want you even more. No one ever, ever says no to Satoru Gojo. Every single one of your friends warned you about him but you didn’t listen…. You thought you were special to him and could tame him…. Maybe you can….

Chapter one: Welcome to Freshman Year

It was the third week of school and you were able to finally transfer into Advanced Placement Writing for your major. You made your way into the classroom and went all the way to the top away from everyone. To your classmates and friends you were (F/N) (L/N) but to the internet, you were known as Yoru-Chan famous smut writer of the series When a God Falls. You pulled out your laptop to work on your latest book, instantly getting sucked into your writing the world around you disappeared.

~Takara looked deeply into Fudo's endless ocean blue eyes as he pounded into her. “F-Fudo I m-missed you soooooo muchhhhh!” She moaned out as she slammed down on his cock hard.

“I missed you too my love.” He leaned up to kiss Takara deeply, she wildly attacked his lips as she entangled her fingers in his soft white hair.~

You faintly heard the bell ring, suddenly someone was tapping you on your shoulder bringing you back to reality. You looked up at a young man with white hair and the most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen…. “No fucking way…. Fudo?” You mumbled to yourself as you got lost looking at him.

The young man just smiled at you. “Hello my name is Satoru Gojo.”

“Oh-oh hello my name is (F/N) (L/N). It’s nice to meet you Gojo.” You replied shyly.

“Please call me Satoru.” He smiled at you again. “So whatchya working on?”

“Oh! Its n-nothing just a story of mine.” You said dismissing the subject.

“I would love to hear about your story.” Gojo said as he leaned in closer to you.

“M-maybe another time….” You said shyly as your cheeks turned red.

“Okay class listen up!” Started the professor. “Today we are picking partners for your projects! By the end of the year I want an entire book written minimum of fifteen chapters!”

The class groaned in annoyance.

You were sitting on the edge of your seat very excited for this.

“Come on guys don’t give me that! This is going to be a fun assignment! Anything goes in your book!”

Your eyes widened in wonder. “A-anything?” You said to yourself.

Gojo looked at you. “Pssssst (Y/N).”

You glanced at him. “What is it Satoru?”

“Will you be my partner?” He flashed you a sexy smile.

You turned bright red. “Uh-uhhhh wh-why do you want to be m-my p-pa-partner?” You stammered.

Gojo took your hands in his. “Because I see how excited you are for this project and I want to be partnered with someone who has a passion like I do for writing.”

You took your coat, hat and glasses off revealing your beautiful body and captivating (E/C) eyes. You had a cute punk look going for you wearing a black skin tight shirt with holes cut in all the right places, cut up jeans with fishnets peeking out of the holes and combat boots.

“Damn little hottie has a body. Now that is something I would like a go at.” Gojo thought to himself as he looked you over his ocean orbs stopping on your big breasts.

“So what do you say?” He looked at you.

You tucked your long (H/C) hair behind your ears. “Uh-uhhh we-well.” Your eyes darted around and noticed a group of girls were coming your way. “What is he super popular or something? I mean he is absolutely gorgeous.” You thought to yourself. “Wait Satoru Gojo I have heard about him! He’s a Sophmore and I heard he gets around with the girls on campus…. What am I about to get myself into?...”

“Y-yes I will be your partner!” You said really loudly drawing attention to yourself.

Gojo smiled at you. “Wonderful!”

You and Gojo looked over at the group of girls, they looked like they wanted to kill you.

“AHEM!” The professor cleared his throat gaining the classes attention again. “As I was saying anything goes in your stories! You’re adults now I want to see you push your limits step out of your comfort zones! Write something gruesome! Write some smut I will allow it!”

Your eyes almost fell out of your head when the professor said that.

“Okay now go pair up and start discussing your books!”

Gojo turned to you. “I can see the wheels turning in your head (Y/N)-chan, what are you thinking about for our book?”

You tapped you chin. “Hmmmm.” You took out a notebook and a pen. “Well what kind of books do you like to read?”

“Oh! I love fantasy, folklore, sci-fi…. Hmmmmm oh!” Gojo motioned you to move closer to him. “My guilty pleasure is the web novel series When A God Falls by Yoru-Chan.”

Your eyes grew wide. “No way….” You mumbled.

Gojo's eyes lit up. “You know the series? Oh my God I am obsessed with Yoru-Chans writing it’s amazing! Plus Fudo reminds me a lot of myself.”

“That’s for sure you certainty have his charming personality and good looks.” You muttered to yourself.

“What was that?” Gojo asked.

“Oh nothing…. So I’m taking a wild guess you want smut in our story?” You said smugly.

He placed his hand on your leg. “I was hoping we could write from personal experience.” He looked at you his ocean blue orbs filled with lust.

You removed his hand from your thigh. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am but I don’t jump into some random guys bed that easily Satoru. Are you extremely attractive? Yes you are, but you’re going to have to try harder than that mister.” You stuck out your tongue revealing a piercing.

He raised his eyebrow. “So there is a chance?” He said smugly. “Then challenge accepted! I’m taking you out to dinner tonight!”

“W-wa-wait just a minute.” You said getting very flustered as you fiddled with your hands.

“What you don’t want to be taken out by the hottest guy in school?” He said smugly.

“I mean I do but this is moving all so quickly.”

He smiled at you again. “Baby girl I am Satoru Gojo I do not take things slow.” He placed his hand back on your thigh.

“Well I’m not the type to move fast, I have heard about you reputation Satoru you never get into a relationship with any girl and I am not looking for a random fling.” You said removing his hand yet again.

He grabbed your hand and leaned in close to you. “Like I said (Y/N) challenge accepted.” He winked at you. “Now do you have any other classes today?”

“No this is my last class.”

“Perfect! Do you have any plans this weekend?”

“N-no?” You stammered.

He smiled at you.

“What are you scheming Satoru?”

The bell rang for class to end, Gojo held out his hand for you to take, you did so.

“This weekend my dear you are mine.” He smirked at you. “Let’s go out for lunch then back to my apartment. Sound good to you?”

“O-okay that sounds good.” You packed up your bag, Gojo wrapped his arm around you making you freeze up. Your heart was trying to beat out of your chest.

Gojo took you out to a very nice sushi restaurant for lunch.

“Damnit why of all people Satoru is…. He is the spitting image of Fudo….. Literally the man of my dreams and he’s a player….” You thought to yourself letting out a frustrated sigh.

Gojo tightened his grip around your hand making you look up at him. “What are you thinking up in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You shook your head and laughed. “Boy you are so smooth, it’s laughable how hard you’re trying to get in my pants.” You patted his hand.

“When I set my eyes on someone I like I won’t give up until I make them mine.” He held your hand.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh so very charming. How many girls have you used that line on?” You said sarcastically. “Too bad I see right through you Satoru. Those sweet compliments and a sexy smile might work on every other girl… that just means they’re easy to get into bed. I am a much more complex woman who isn’t as easily swayed just by your good looks.”

He leaned in close to you. “So what do you want?”

“A-a love like Takara and Fudo.” You started.

“Ohhhhh so you do read the series!?” Gojo got all happy.

You blushed. “Y-yes I do read it.” You said shyly.

“Hm? There’s more to it isn’t there?”

A small huff left your lips, though the pink which scattered your delicate cheeks stayed. “There isn’t. You shouldn’t pry in others’ affairs.” You said defensively.

You let out a small sigh, thinking to yourself. “This is absolutely ridiculous. I’m ridiculous!” You had the urge to smack yourself at the nearest wall, but right now wasn’t the best time and place.

“There’s something off with how she suddenly reacted like that…” Gojo thought to himself.

“How about we just go to your apartment?”

“Aren’t you eager ‘Ms. I’m different from other girls!’?”

“Not particularly…” You turned your nose up.

“What?”

“I-It’s not what you think!” You said in a huff.

“What I think? Sweetcheeks, just what do you mean by that? How scandalous of you-“

“No! It’s not like that!” You backed up.

“I mean, why else would you go to a guy’s place?” Gojo moved closer to you.

“I said its not like that!”

“Keep it up and I’ll seriously continue to think you’re some closet pervert.”

“P-Please don’t!” You stammered as your face turned redder by the second.

“Her face is so red, can’t help but tease her.” Gojo thought to himself and chuckled.

---

You stepped into his apartment looking around surprised. “It’s so clean.” You said in amazement.

“I'm kinda offended by that (Y/N),” He replied sounding kind of hurt. “you make it sound like all I do is get it with girls!” He walked over and took your jacket.

“Isn’t that exactly what you do..?” You scoffed mumbling to yourself.

“Huh? Said somethin’?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing at all!”

He turned around and walked closer to you.

You backed up into a wall slightly intimidated by Gojo's God- like features.

He put his arm on the wall and looked deep into your eyes. “Now that we’re alone… Wanna tell me just what about that book got your panties in a twist?”

“W-What do you mean?” You shuddered averting your eyes from his gaze.

“You know exactly what I mean. Why else would you smile when I mentioned it? Or the way you just dismissed it when I asked about it? You’re definitely hiding something, (Y/N).”

“N-No I’m not! I…” You started getting defensive again trying to hide your nervousness.

He tilted your head up to look at him. “Yes you are (Y/N).” He leaned in closer to you. “Look at the way you’re acting right now.”

“Shit… he just looks so much like him. It’s just to hard to resist…” You Thought to yourself.

“Cat got your tongue? Should I help you fix that?”

“Fudo I-!”

“...Did you just call me ‘Fudo’?”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” You thought to yourself.

“Why on earth did you call me ‘Fudo’? Don’t tell me you’re in love with the main character!?” He smirked at you getting an idea.

“Don’t be so shy love.” He gently grabbed your butt picking you up as he leaned into your neck.

Your skin was getting hotter by the second as Gojo pressed his body against yours. “F-fuck why is he doing this!? This is exactly like the first time Takara and Fudo met!” You thought to yourself your breathing getting heavier as Gojo pressed his soft lips against your neck.

“F-Fudo wh-what are you doing?” You wined out.

Gojo stopped and looked at you with his ocean orbs. “What ever do you mean Takara?” He leaned in close to your lips.

“F-fuck why are you doing this?” You shook your head coming back to your senses. “No Satoru please stop. This isn’t what I want.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You were really getting into it (Y/N).”

“Getting into what?” You asked looking confused.

“Roleplaying? I’ve never tried it before but roleplaying this book would be a lot of fun and seeing as you look a lot like Takara who is totally hot-“

“Roleplaying? You mean like acting out different characters?”

“Uh yea? What did you think I-“

“I mean I did model Takara after myself….” You mumbled a bit too loud and Gojo heard you.

“Woah wait just a minute! What do you mean you ‘modeled Takara after yourself'?”

“Huh?” You looked at him. “Oh shit…. Ummmm.”

“Okay (Y/N)! Spit it out!” Gojo yelled as he tickle attacked you.

You flailed about. “Noooooo Satoruuuu stoppppp!” You wiggled in his grip as he tickled your sides, you started to laugh. “Hehehe Satoruuuuu!” You continued to flail trying to free yourself, you managed to knock Gojo over landing on top of him.

Gojo locked you in a bear hug. “Ha I caught you! You’re not getting away until you tell me what in the hell you’re talking about.” He came dangerously close to your lips. “Now tell me my dear (Y/N).”

“Uhhhhh.” You studdered becoming a hot mess in Gojo's arms.

Gojo looked deep into your eyes giving you the puppy dog stare pleading with you. “Pleaseeee?” He kissed your cheek.

“Damn you Satoru.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “I….. Am Yoru-Chan.”

His eyes widened in amazement. “No fucking way seriously!? You’re Yoru-Chan!?” He let go of you giving you a dumbfounded look.

“What!? Why is that so hard to believe? Do you want me to show you some of the new book?” You asked taking out your lap top.

“I just never expected the writer of a famous internet smut novel be a cute little punk girl…. And a Freshman in college at that! The way you write about sex and describe it is like how someone with year’s of experience would write…. My closet pervert theory is standing with you!” He laughed teasing you more.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as your cheeks flushed a deep red. “H-hey now! I am not a closet pervert! For your information I am still a virgin!” You yelled as those words spilled out of your mouth you realized what you just blurted.

Gojo looked at you wide eyed. “You're a virgin and you write like that!? Oh my God….” He took you in his arms. “well then why don’t you write from personal experience?”

“Hey cool it Fudo!” You growled pushing Gojo off of you.

He smirked. “You really did model Takara after you, shy but defensive personality. This is going to be fun! Okay I want to take you out to dinner and a club after. I’ll walk you to your dorm so you can get clothes for the weekend.”

“Uhhhhh I don’t know if that’s a good idea my roommate Utahime is not a fan of you at all…. She might get really pissed off.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be fine! I insist a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be walking around on your own.” He smiled at you and handed you your coat. “Plus you don’t know how to get back here from your dorm.”

“Okay you got me there.” You admitted as he helped you put your coat on.

Gojo opened the door and a girl was standing there. “Oh! Yuki what are you doing here?”

Yuki looked at you. “Uh Gojo we had a date today?”

“Oh.” Gojo laughed nervously. “Sorry Yuki I need to cancel I have an important project that’s most of my grade in AP Writing and (Y/N) is my partner.”

Yuki laughed. “So why not ditch the nerd and let her write it?” She gestured to you. “Then we can go out! You’ve never cared about school this much before or ever hung around a goth girl. Gojo what’s up with you?”

“Excuse me who are you calling a nerd and giving labels to?” You butted in. “How would you like it if I said you looked like an escort.” You said looking at Yuki who was wearing a skin tight leather dress with a plunging neckline.

“Well I would like to be escorting Gojo out on a date!” She said angrily not even getting what you just called her.

You looked at her dumbfounded. “Well I am sorry Yuki but he is working on a project with me and taking me out tonight. I'm sure you have plenty of other men you can go out with. Why not message one of them?”

“Why I ought to!”

Gojo locked the door behind him and walked away with you. “Oh! Yuki don’t bother messaging me ether, this young lady will be taking up most of my time now. Bye!” He wrapped his arm around you.

“That little whore just thinks she can come in and take my favorite man from me! Oh she has another thing coming!” Yuki stormed off in the other direction.

“I'll be taking up most of your time now? Really Satoru? I heard you never spend more than a week with the same girl.”

“Well maybe I’m trying something new.” He smiled at you. “Now which dorm is yours?”

You pointed to the left. “The freshman dorms are over there.” He took your hand in his walking with you to the dorms.

People were gawking at you as you walked hand in hand with Gojo.

“Tch look at the new arm ornament Gojo has this week.” A girl with blue hair scoffed. “Poor girl will learn soon enough that he is going to leave her just like he does to every other girl. Poor little naïve Freshman doesn’t know what’s coming! Haha!”

“Sa-Satoru I feel like I’m being put on display…. And I don’t like it at all. Everyone is staring at us!” You said becoming flustered.

“Shhhhh it’s okay (Y/N).” He wrapped his arm around you again and kissed the top of your head so everyone could see.

“I don’t know something seems different about him with that girl…. He would never wrap his arm around a girl or kiss their head like that.” Said one of the girls friends. “Pfft imagine someone like her catches the heart of Satoru Gojo its laughable!”

All of the girls laughed.

A beautiful tall blonde approached you and Gojo. “Hey Gojo what’s with the charity case?” She asked pointing at you.

“What the fuck!?” You growled. “Is there some sort of issue with who I am and how I dress!?”

“Calm down (Y/N) you’re beautiful just the way you are.” Gojo smiled at you completely ignoring the girl as he walked past her.

“B-but Satoru both girls who approached to talk to you made fun of how I dress….. Now I’m never one to be insecure about who I am however, the two girls looked like models compared to me…. I’m not the usual type of girl you go out with am I?”

“Hmmmmm now that you mention it no you’re not, but that doesn’t matter to me. Like I said (Y/N) when I girl catches my eye I don’t give up.”

“And what about a girl- Hey!” You yelled as someone pulled you away from Gojo. “Utahime what are you doing?”

“(Y/N) can I talk to you?” Utahime glared at Gojo as he followed. “Alone!” She stormed off with you.

“Wait at least let him in the building!” You pulled away from Utahime to let Gojo in. “I told you she didn’t like you.” You sighed. “I’m in room 345 on the third floor just meet me up there.” You said before Utahime pulled you away again.

“What was I doing here again?” You thought to yourself as you stared at your overnight bag trying to ignore Utahime.

“Seriously (Y/N)! You can’t just stay with Satoru Gojo! He’s bad news!” Shouted Utahime bringing you back to reality.

“How many times have you told me that..?” You rolled your eyes as you walked over to your closet to grab clothes. “Hmmmmm now what should I wear?” You asked yourself as you looked through your mostly black wardrobe. Your eyes fell on your beautiful purple corset dress. “That’s perfect for tonight! Hmmmmm now what else? Maybe I should start dressing more like Takara, Satoru would like that….”

“I’ll keep repeating myself if I have to, (Y/N)! Satoru Gojo is not to be trusted if you want your heart broken!” She said trying to convince you not to go. “Please be smart about this and take my advice! Don’t go!”

“We’re going to study.” You said as you packed up a couple of skirts and cute tops to go with them.

“Shut up, you’re sleeping over for the weekend!” She yelled as she took out your sexy night gown and thongs. “Look at yourself (Y/N) you were just saying that Gojo would like it if you dressed like the character of your book!? Wait does he know that you’re Yoru-Chan?”

“I’m going, Utahime. There’s nothing you can do about it.” You finished packing your bag.

“(Y/N)! I’m warning you! He is a player!”

“Yeah, yeah just text me if there’s an emergency, okay?” You patted her shoulder as you turned to leave.

“That’s if you’re not already on your knees for him!” She scoffed. “You better fucking answer.”

“H-Hey! That’s not funny!” You said getting flustered.

“Then don’t go!” Utahime pulled on your arm.

“But mooooom, it’s an assignment that’s most of my grade! I have to go!” You said sarcastically as you opened the door to leave.

“Did you just call me your ‘mom’?— hey! (Y/N)! Come back here!” Yelled Utahime as you snuck out. She followed you out into the hall and saw you walking away with Gojo, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Dumbass.”

—

“So, Yoru-chan.” Gojo started.

“P-Please don’t call me that in public Satoru….” You said shyly as your cheeks flushed pink.

“Hehe, can’t help it. Still need to process someone as beautiful as you wrote such interesting stories.” He pulled you into his arms.

“S-Satoru!” You squeaked as he gently groped your butt.

“Fiiiiiiine, I’ll stop!”

silence….

“Thank you for walking me to my dorm and back.” You smiled at him

“It’s the least I should do for my precious Takara.” Gojo said flashing you a sexy smirk.

“You said you’ll stop the teasing!” You said getting a bit defensive.

“Kinda lied.” He chuckled as he unlocked his door.

You rolled your eyes. “What have I done?” You mumbled.

“Hmmmm you caught the eye of hottest guy on campus, that’s what you’ve done!” He said happily.

“Yeah too bad this gorgeous man is total player!” You said getting upset. “You know just my luck the man of my dreams-“

“Wait I’m the man of your dreams?” He looked at you confused.

“Well Fudo was modeled after the man of my dreams and you’re the real life Fudo sooooooo….. Yeah you kinda are.”

“Well if I were to truly become the man of your dreams….” Gojo held you in his arms. “what would you want me to do? Other than the obvious cutting out every girl I have ever hooked up with.”

“Hmmmmm well lets go out tonight and I will tell you after! Wait are you seriously willing to change for me?” You looked at him astonished.

He sighed. “Well seeing as Takara is the woman of my dreams and I have found my real life Takara, yes I am!” He kissed your cheek.

“You do know it is going to take a lot of proving yourself for me to trust you Satoru.”

He kissed your nose. “Challenge still accepted beautiful! I’m not giving up on you (Y/N)!”

You sighed. “Well I guess I don’t have a choice now do I?” You laughed.

“Oh you’ve had plenty of chances to leave but you haven’t yet, so I think you want this just as much as I do (Y/N).” He leaned in close to your lips.

You started to get warm and very flustered.

“Am I wrong my dear?”

You gave him a kiss on his lips. “Is that enough of an answer for now? I’m still not sure myself….. But I do know I don’t want to leave….. I’m looking forward to this weekend.” You smiled at him.

He smiled back and he took out his phone as he sat on the couch. “And to start I’m deleting all my social media and making a new Facebook that you will have the password to!” Gojo said as he started to delete apps off his phone.

“Woah hold on Satoru are you sure? You’re making it sound like I’m your g-girlfriend…”

“Well don’t you want to be (Y/N)?” He asked as he pulled you into his lap. “Don’t you want to be the girl who tamed Satoru Gojo?”

“I-I mean yes I do…. But like I said you have to do a lot of convincing for me to say yes, you are off to a good start!” You replied as Gojo handed you his phone to set up his new Facebook. “Okay the password is TakaraFudo, annnnnnnd done! What photo do you want to use?”

“I was hoping I could take a photo with you?” He asked smiling at you.

“Um sure! Why don’t we take one all dressed up for our date tonight? I don’t look very photogenic right now.” You laughed.

“You are absolutely beautiful right now!” He replied as he wrapped his arms around you taking a cute photo of the two of you. “See?” He showed you the photo.

You looked at it. “Yes I know I am beautiful, but I want to look even better! Hey can you send me that photo please?”

“Sure what’s your number?”

“It's 080-5555-2567.” You glanced down to see Gojo put you in his phone as ‘My Beautiful Takara'. Your phone buzzed and you looked at the message with the photo ‘I’m putting this as my background on my phone <3 you are so beautiful!’ You smiled at the sweet message and put Gojo in your phone as ‘My Wonderful Fudo'.

“What am I doing….?” You thought to yourself.

“Would you care for a drink (Y/N)?” Gojo asked you.

“Do you have mango sake? That’s my favorite!”

“Uhhhhh, yes I think I do! I’ll be right back with that for us!” He got up and went to the kitchen.

“What am I getting myself into? God he really is so smooth I’ve barely known him a day and I’m already acting like a fangirl! Come on (Y/N) you’re better than this....” You sighed. “But he’s so handsome ugh, I need to get my head checked! Here I am saying I’m not like other girls but yet I agree to sleeping over his apartment for the weekend.”

“Ohhhh Takaraaaaaa! I mean (Y/NNNNN)! Sake is served!” Gojo said happily as he bounced in with the tray of sake.

You laughed. “Why thank you Satoru.” You cheered Gojo and took a shot of the sake. He poured you another shot.

“To us!” Gojo held out his cup.

“T-to us!” You cheered him again and downed the shot.

You and Gojo we’re going shot for shot, Gojo kept making up the dumbest things to toast to but he didn’t care he wanted to get you drunk so you would loosen up. About an hour passed by and you were feeling pretty good.

“F-Fudo.” You hiccuped. “I-I-I think I’m goooooood I’ve had tooooo mu-much to-to drink.” You said slurring your words.

“Hm? How drunk are you?” He asked leaning in close to you as Gojo wrapped you in his arms.

You let out a small nervous hiccup. “Drunkkkkk enough to doooooo this!” You wrapped your arms around Gojo's neck as you straddled him and kissed him passionately.

Gojo pulled you in closer deepening the kiss as he slipped his hand under your shirt.

You broke the kiss. “H-heyyy wh-what do you think you’re doing Fudo I-I mean Satoru?” You swatted his hand away “Behave! Just because I kissed you it doesn’t mean I’m giving in that easily….” You blushed. “I-I just really wanted to kiss you….”

He smiled at you. “Okay, okay I’ll behave…. For you.” He looked at you like he wanted another kiss.

You chuckled. “What do you wanna kiss me again-“

Gojo cut you off planting another kiss on your lips. He gently nibbled on your lower lip making you moan allowing entry. Instantly he invaded your mouth dancing with your tongue. He gently groped your butt making you moan again.

“Well she certainly is a horny drunk…. I wonder how far she will let me go?” Gojo thought to himself as he slipped is hand into your shirt again swiftly unhooking your bra, this time you didn’t stop him.

You broke the kiss. “Sa-Satoru you said you would behave!” You said giving him a disgruntled look.

“Heh, I lied.” He smirked at you. “Come on baby girl I can see how badly you want to give into your desires….. I see it in your eyes…. You’ve been fighting it all day....” He leaned into your neck gently kissing it. “You want me so badly right now.” He whispered teasing you.

“Sa-to-ru.” You wined out. “Yes I do want you!” You blurted out. “Fuck!” You held your hands over your mouth.

Gojo got all excited kissing you as he attempted to take off your shirt but you stopped him. “Wa-wait just a minute Satoru! I’m not done…. Yes I do want you, however I am not quite ready to give myself up that easily. So BEHAVE! Please?”

“But whyyyyyy?” He asked pleading with you.

“Have you forgotten I am a virgin? This is a big deal for me….. I always thought I would be giving it up to someone I was in love with, someone who I had been dating for a long time…. Never have I ever thought that I would be contemplating hooking up with a guy I just met…. God I really am easy!” You said getting frustrated.

“I don’t think your easy.” Gojo kissed your lips. “Not to sound bad…. Well this is gonna sound bad however I say it so I’m just gonna say it. The fastest I ever got with a girl was five minutes after I met her….”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah your right that sounded horrible…. Man-whore.” You said teasing him.

“H-hey now…. No you’re right…. Anyways what I am trying to say is most girls I meet give themselves up within a few hours of meeting me… I’ve been with you almost the entire day and you’ve stopped every advance I have made on you, which is fine I’m enjoying this immensely. I have noticed you’re letting me push your boundaries further every time I make a move on you.”

“Y-yes I am letting you push my boundaries I’m starting to become comfortable with you…. I’m starting to trust you.”

“I feel special.” He smiled and tenderly kissed your lips. “I” He kissed you again. “Can't” and another kiss. “stop” and another. “kissing” yet another kiss. “you.” He kissed your lips five more times. “I just want to spend the whole night kissing and holding you.”

You snuggled into Gojo and looked at your phone. “Uh Satoru it’s almost 8 o'clock. Don’t we have dinner and a club to go out to?”

“Oh shit we do! I lost track of time looking at your beautiful face. Let’s go get ready! I hope you brought a dress because we are going out to a fancy restaurant.”

@sassyeahhhh @mguqiis @milktaro-inc

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bangtae-sohotddaeng · 3 years

Text

we’ll be counting stars | k.th. | 3

(^ gif cred: ON THE VOYAGE | pinterest)

pairing: idol!Taehyung x publisher!Reader

rating: nc-17 (for language and themes)

summary: You’d sworn off love and relationships forever. You were here to do your job - work with the biggest boyband of the world. Not forge friendships and...and whatever it was that you and Taehyung were building up with these sneaky glances. It was, to be very fair, your Chief Editor’s fault that you’d landed in this mess. Maybe you should quit your job? Maybe you should quit life -

Oh, he was staring again, and did he freaking lick his lips?

warnings: swearing (reader’s got a potty mouth) + this is set like 5 years in the future + reader has emotional issues, she's a relationship phobe + mentions of weed

genre: so much ANGST ugh + fluff + comedy + some crack

words: 5 k

note: hey, y'all. so last month i went on a new year's trip to my boyfriend's city (yes, covid has forced us into an ldr, fml) and got too occupied in all the celebrations and reunions, and this got delayed. also, you might have noticed how the chapters progressively grow wordier, lmao i'd been confused. but i think i've found the perfectly comfortable number now. expect this length from now on. thank you for reading~💜

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You were, to be very honest, a complete mess at this point.

You hadn’t been quite certain as to what to expect when you’d picked Jungkook’s name out of the bowl in your office, but you could say with certainty that it hadn’t been even close to this.

This boy was brimming with ideas! You hadn’t been able to get a single sentence in the midst of his own enthusiastic chatter, with words and ideas folding and layering all over each other. All you had done was nod, mumble words of agreement and appreciation—that you were pretty sure he didn’t even hear—and type it all. Freaking typing. So much typing.

So basically, the entirety of yesterday spent fussing over the repertoires to ensure that the list of tasks for the first set of three weeks were well-constructed had led to this—not being able to so much as tell him about the questions your team had so meticulously framed! You felt irked, amused, exasperated, exhausted, and at the same time, really fucking lost.

How were you supposed to interrupt him without disrespecting him? You didn’t have a great amount of tact and usually just cut to the chase. Which was generally an appreciated quality in your profession, because no writer wanted to be just lathered with compliments to later find out his work was actually bullshit that no one wanted to read. But this situation was different. You felt pressured, nervous and out of your element. Because you really had no idea how to respectfully stop this guy from making a mess of all your hard work.

He was Jeon freaking Jungkook of BTS, for God’s sake!

How could you shut him up?

You were both in Jungkook’s personal studio in the BTS dorm. The boy was seated on a couch across the coffee table from your own, literally swimming in a trillion size bigger t-shirt and some loose sweatpants. His hair floof-ed all over the place as he spoke, bubbling and bursting with enthusiasm. Which he was doing a lot of. Speaking, that is.

For the better part of two hours now, you’d been listening to him go on and on about what all he wanted to include in the book. Your fingers were nearly cramping with all the typing, but you’d promised the guys no recorders and you didn’t wanna miss anything he said. But it was freaking difficult with the speed he was going at!

And also with the mess and reluctance in your own head. You were used to pulling the reins with writers. This situation was making you feel incompetent.

You hadn’t even touched your list, yet. What would your teammates think of you if their very team leader failed to finish with the assigned data collection and messed up the team’s hard work? Ugh!

Currently, Jungkook was having you make a list of all the people he needed to talk about in the book.

“And there was this boy my age, Ji-Hyun, he was so much better than me at everything! It is him, truly, that I credit my overachieving traits to. I had to work so, so hard—oh! Please also note down Mun-Hee’s name! She was the best dancer in my entire school. So… wait, where was I?” He looked up at you with wide big, round eyes.

You opened your mouth to speak—was this when you asked him to shut up? It had to be, right, because this was the first time he’d actually prompted you to speak.

You meant to take your shot, but then stopped. You blinked. Looked back at your laptop. Blinked again.

You were so confused, right now. “Uh, Ji-Hyun was better than you—”

“Oh yes!” Jungkook exclaimed, launching off into a detailed story about how and in what respects, exactly, this guy was better than Jungkook.

You shut your eyes. This had gone beyond “taking notes” and was quickly turning into Jungkook enthusiastically reminiscing his childhood and freaking telling you tales about it. And he seemed to be enjoying himself so thoroughly, looking so adorable, that it felt very wrong to ask him to stop even when you tried to avoid the added pressure of him being a whole ass idol.

But you had actual work to do. And you were leading a team. You couldn’t act so unprofessionally.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have told the boys that this was going to be like “making friends.” Jungkook seemed to have taken it too literally.

Biting down on your lip, you cleared your throat. He didn’t acknowledge it. Sighing, you shut your laptop. “Jungkook?”

This time, he stopped mid-word, looking at you with his lips rounded in a pout, sparkling eyes turning into saucers.

Now, you were in no way attracted to the guy, but you really could not deny how freaking cute he looked in the moment.

“All okay?” he asked, looking at you and then the shut laptop on your lap.

You took a deep breath, winced a little, and then shook your head. “No, Jungkook. We need to pause…” You had to stop speaking when his face crumpled. “Whoa…um?”

Jungkook slumped in his place, shoulders sinking. “I’ve been giving horrible ideas, haven’t I?”

Your eyes widened. “What? No! Absolutely not! That isn’t the case, I was…”

He wiped his face with both his hands before looking at you with really sad eyes, all enthusiasm from some time ago washed away. “Then what? You can tell me, it’s okay.”

Now. You prided yourself to be a practical human being who strived to be as straightforward in her life as possible. But right now, you really could not stop yourself from lying your way out of this one. You decided to blame it on the fear of upsetting a client, and not the impossible-to-control empathy that Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to naturally draw out of people.

“I just need a coffee. It’s been a while, my hands need a break. And my brain’s kinda overwhelmed, too,” you expertly lied, relaxing when Jungkook’s eyebrows lifted.

“We’ve been sitting here for long, haven’t we?” he said in an almost guilty tone before standing up. “And I didn’t even show you around the dorm!”

You tried to tell him how it was really not necessary, not to mention a bit too personal and…not what you were here for? But he was already moving towards the door and beckoning you along.

“Come on, let’s drop by the kitchen and then we’ll take a walk around the property!” he enthusiastically announced.

You stood up and followed him out of the room, awkwardly trying to ignore the two bodyguards that had stood as still as mannequins while you were in the room and then started to follow Jungkook wordlessly as you left.

The walk to the kitchen was a short one, and the place was, unsurprisingly, not empty.

Your team members along with their partnered BTS members had been assigned one particular space in the dorm, each. According to the email you received last evening, the kitchen was supposed to be used by Simon and—

“Taehyungie-hyung! Are those chicken burgers?” Jungkook excitedly rounded the kitchen island to peek into the paper bag Taehyung was fiddling with. “They smell so good…”

You looked from Jungkook’s face that was awash with childlike excitement to Taehyung’s, and your breath caught when you found his eyes already trained on you. While you struggled to formulate a coherent thought at the intensity his eyes seemed to be emanating, yet again, his lips slipped into an easy smile.

“Hello!” he greeted you cheerily, bowing his head.

You, dazedly, bowed back and dragged your feet up to the island, standing across from the two guys. “Hey,” you mumbled in English.

His smile widened further to show his teeth. “Food?” he asked you in English, nodding at the burger Jungkook was pulling out of the bag.

You shook your head. “No, coffee,” you responded in Korean, earning raised eyebrows from him.

“I hate coffee.”

You smiled, this time. “You’re missing out.”

“Can I call you by your name?” he asked out of the blue, and you did a double take.

“Uh…yes?” you stammered. “Yes, of course Taehyung-ssi.”

“You should call me Tae.”

You swallowed, continually nodding your head like a damn puppet. “Yes. Tae. Sure.”

“I’m bac—boss?”

You twisted on your heels at the familiar squeak. “Simon, hi,” you mumbled, professionalism slipping over you in the blink of an eye at having a member of your team in your vicinity. “Where did you wander off to?”

Simon seemed to be sweating a bit, and you really couldn’t really tell why. You’d just asked a simple question.

Maybe you’d become too scary…

“Just the loo,” Simon responded with a forced giggle.

You nodded, giving him a long look and observing how his smile grew progressively weirder. Then you turned back to the island. And nearly choked.

Taehyung’s fringe hung over his eyes, making his eyes look that much more hooded. His lips were twisted up as he watched you.

Oh, dear God, did this guy have a crush on you or something? But how? Why?

He was a bonafide Greek God, and you were…well. Not.

And needless to say, he was literally not allowed to have a crush on you. Or anybody else, for that matter. It was against BigHit’s policies. According to what you’d read, the boys were to wait out one more year, as of now, before indulging in any sort of romance.

You were, by contract, also bound to not encourage any such advancements. Not that smiling at you could be considered one, to be honest. He could very well be trying to make friends, and you could be reading too much into it.

You decided to stop thinking so much.

“You want to eat something?” Jungkook asked as he handed you a cup of brew.

You smiled and shook your head. “I don’t eat at work. None of us do.” You eyed Simon and he nodded with his gaze wide. “Disturbs the momentum.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t consider this strictly work,” Taehyung spoke up in that deep ass voice of his, startling you. “We’re also making friends, here. This is also not your office, but our home.”

And then he grinned at you with all of his teeth. You felt your cheeks heating up.

This was not going according to plan.

You were panicking.

Flashing Taehyung a close-lipped smile, you stepped away from the counter. “Um, Jungkook?” you mumbled. “D’you guys have a pool in the house?”

Jungkook looked surprised but as enthusiastic as ever. He nodded, his hair bouncing all over. “Come on!”

Throughout your walk around the house, you had tried to slip in ideas from your first three week’s layout to Jungkook that would fascinate him enough to make him at least want to hear them out. And, you’d proudly like to claim, it had worked.

Jungkook had heard your plans and had even asked you to pull the list up on your laptop to have a look at it. And henceforth, you’d made tremendous progress.

And now, at nearly nine o’clock of the night, you and your team were taking your leave for the day.

You had exchanged brief words with all the members to see how they found their partners. Currently, you were conversing with Yoongi.

“ARMYs know a lot about all of that,” the guy said, referring to his life before BTS. “But there’s still a lot that they don’t. I talked to Nathan about all of it, we made notes. I’m really excited about the book.”

You gave him a professional grin. “I couldn’t be happier! Nathan’s got a really innovative mind. I’m sure he’ll make this a good experience for you.”

Nodding, Yoongi wished you a good night and bowed. You bowed back, moving away from the building and towards the vans waiting to drive you back to your hotel.

Jimin flashed you a wide grin as you got into the car. “Have a good night,” he wished you, shutting the door like a gentleman. Then he peeked and waved at Areum, your team member assigned to him. “See you tomorrow, Areum-ssi!”

Namjoon followed suit with a hand forwarded through the window for you to shake. “How did today go for you?” he asked you in English, causing Hoseok to elbow Jungkook, probably asking the younger to eavesdrop. Jungkook’s eyes met yours, though, and the two of you shared a covert giggle. “Did we meet your expectations?”

You smiled, formally. “It was… a good introduction of sorts, I’d say. Highly informative. Moderately productive. And we didn’t have any expectations, per se, but my team really loved you guys. We’re super excited to be working with you.”

You looked around yourself, prompting the three team members seated with you to nod in agreement. “Likewise!” Namjoon nodded at you, his smile turning his eyes to crescent moons.

“Thank you. How was your experience with Sana?” you asked him, nudging the girl sitting next to you.

Namjoon grinned with his teeth. “Amazing! She’s really compassionate and driven. Today’s session was interesting and felt comfortable. I’m eagerly looking forward to more.”

You secretly exhaled in relief. Sana had been the one person on your team that you’d been the most worried about. It was good to learn that she’d managed to impress Namjoon despite her initial nerves.

Next to you, she gave a short, very professional chuckle, and leant by you to nod at Namjoon. “Thank you, Namjoon-ssi.”

“Have a safe journey and a good night,” Namjoon wished you before peeking into the car. “Bye, Sana! See you tomorrow!”

You waved at the boys and their manager as your van started to move. You looked behind to check that the other one, carrying the remaining three members of your team, was following closely behind.

“What a day!” Simon exclaimed from his seat opposite you.

“You can say that again,” you mumbled, massaging your temples. “And what was up with you? You looked really wound up when I saw you in the kitchen.”

Simon took his glasses off and rested his head against the back of the van’s seat. “Let’s just wait it out, boss. I’ll tell you later if I absolutely have to. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

You frowned, but let him be.

Today was just the first day. If you stuck to your schedule, you would have a hundred and twenty five more of these before this project was done.

You could do it.

Right?

You, as it turned out by the end of the first week, could do it. The same couldn’t be said about Simon, though.

On Saturday night, barely an hour after you’d all retired to your rooms after dinner, Simon sent an SOS to the group chat. The six of you were in his room within a minute.

“You look physically okay,” Nathan, the only other guy on the team, mumbled as he squinted at the bespectacled nervous wreck. “What’s up?”

“I can’t do this anymore!” Simon blurted out.

All eyes immediately landed on you.

You did a double take. “Come again? You can’t do what anymore?”

He sighed, shrinking into himself as Riya, another member of your team, sleepily sat on one corner of his bed. “You can’t quit the project, Si,” she mumbled, patting his shoulder. “You signed a contract.”

Simon’s wide eyes met yours. You raised your eyebrows.

“Then—then I need a different partner.”

Sana clicked her tongue. “No can do. We’ve all worked on our homeworks. No one’s gonna sacrifice theirs for you.”

You agreed, so you stayed quiet when Simon looked at you in hopes of a counter.

“I can’t go into another week, please! It’s…” Simon trailed off with a helpless expression on his face.

You sighed. “Everyone, out.”

Your team trickled out of the room, tossing curious glances and hushed whispers your way.

“What is it?” you questioned Simon when it was just the two of you.

“He’s too intense. I have a huge crush on him.”

Your jaw fell open. “Dude… I… what? You have a fiance!”

He exhaled. “Yeah, he cheated on me.”

You drew a sharp breath, shocked. “Oh. Oh, my God, what? What the hell’s been going on with you, I’m so sorry, Simon. Are you…okay? When did you find out?”

“I’d been suspicious for a whole week, hoping it’d turn out to be a lie.” He sighed. “Guess not. But, don’t worry.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll deal with it, no big deal. It’s happened before. I’ve done it before, too, that’s not the issue. The problem is that, right now, this is all making me wanna kiss Taheyung. What the fuck do I do, boss?”

You sympathised with the guy and felt responsible, in a way. After all, you’d been the one that forced him to propose to his boyfriend so that you could bring him with you on this project. If only you knew what kind of a toxic pair these two were! Goddammit.

But, this guy was really telling you he couldn’t focus on work properly because he wanted to kiss Taehyung? For real?

What a guy.

“Get a fucking grip, Simon, what else?” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up.

“No, I can’t. Don’t you think I have tried, already? Please take me off this project before I fuck things up for all of us and the company.” He shut his eyes, rubbing his face with both his palms. “And I’ve also, technically, broken the contract, so… Ask Boss to send someone else in.”

Was this happening for real? You were caught between wanting to smash the glass vase kept next to you over Simon’s head, and hurling yourself over the balcony.

You inhaled deeply, then exhaled. You could, realistically, do neither of the above. So you thought clinically and professionally, and made the sound decision to burden your boss with this mess instead of trying to sweep it under the rug by yourself.

“Fine.” You cleared your throat. “Take a break tomorrow. I’ll have a word with Manager Woo, he’ll talk to Taehyung. Tomorrow’s a Sunday, so I’ll be calling Boss for the first weekly check-in. I’ll ask her if something can be done to replace you on the team.”

Simon nodded with a grimace, which may have been his attempt at trying to smile.

You retired to your room on heavy feet. How could things go south in a week? You had barely begun and a buckload of bullshit was on you already.

Exhaling, you opened your laptop to leave a mail for Manager Woo. Quoting a personal emergency, you drafted an apologetic letter stating Simon’s absence tomorrow and asked the man to forward your apologies to Taehyung as well. At the same time, you were also mentally seasoning yourself for a possible confrontation with Taehyung when you went in tomorrow.

You’d just put your laptop away when your phone rang. Frowning, you lifted it up, only to silent the ring with a groan.

Ever since you landed in Seoul, your best-friend cum roommate back at home had taken to giving you a call every single night. Even when you didn’t pick up. Ever.

Every morning you would text him an apology, and every night he would call again. It’d been a week to this pattern, now.

Why was he doing this? You’d made it abundantly clear that you weren’t going to get roped into any kind of affair with him—emotional or physical. What did he want, now?

For a second, you wondered if he was maybe only just concerned about your well-being in a foreign country? But then you dismissed it, immediately. Why would he? What had you ever done to deserve his—or anyone’s, really—concern? You were a bitch to the majority of people in your life, without trying and even meaning to. Why would anyone give a fuck about you without ulterior motives, right?

Lying back on your pillows, you looked at the ceiling.

You’d been absolutely horrible at treating people with compassion and care for the majority of your life. You were always labelled either too prudish, too selfish, too career-oriented, or plainly, too narcissistic by people around you.

And, strangely enough, it never bothered you.

But that didn’t mean you had not cared about anyone, ever. You had. Too much too, once upon a time. But what had that left you with? Expectations and hurt.

So then, wasn’t it better to not care at all, and not expect at all? You never got hurt, this way.

Sighing, you rolled over to your side, tugging the covers up to your chin. Lifting up your phone from the nightstand, you turned it to silent.

An unread message was displayed on the locked screen:

Looks like you went to bed early again, lol. Hope you’re safe, warm and relaxed. Have a good day at work tomorrow xo

You sighed, yet again. You did not need anyone’s hugs and kisses for your day to be good. Why couldn’t people take a hint?

Shutting your eyes, you tried to get some sleep.

You were absolutely not surprised when, barely an hour into a fierce discussion about his school life, you and Jungkook were disturbed by a knock on the door. But Jungkook was, and jumped at the loud rapping, his wide eyes flashing to the door.

Your back being to the doorway, you looked at the boy expectantly to inform you of the intruder. Not that you didn’t already know.

Jungkook didn’t say anything, though, and simply kept looking behind you with raised eyebrows and rounded eyes. You sat very tightly wound up, contemplating whether to peek around the sofa’s high back or to stand up, when a deep, heavy voice enunciated your name.

You stood up, slowly, pulling on a professional frown of very minute concern on your face. You willed yourself to act surprised when your eyes met a timid looking Taehyung’s. And, you actually slightly were, too. Why did he seem so shifty and nervous?

“Hello, Tae,” you wished, formally bowing to greet him.

He bowed back, licking his lips as he stood back straight up. “May I please borrow you for a few minutes?”

You twisted on your heels to look at Jungkook. It took him a few seconds to focus on your stare and recognise the question. “Oh! Sure! Of course! I’ll be here, I’ll wait.”

Nodding in gratitude, you stepped out of the studio to join Taehyung in the lounge area attached to the kitchen.

“I know what you would ask—”

“Have I not been cooperating well with Simon?” Taehyung cut you off with a question you were not expecting.

You frowned. “What makes you say that? He had a personal emergency today, Tae, that’s all! I’m sure he must be having a great time working with you.”

Taehyung sighed. “You think, or you know?”

How were you supposed to answer that? You bit your lip, trying to read Taehyung’s eyes, but the collar-bones peeking above the wide neckline of his oversized, brown t-shirt kept distracting you. On some level, you could understand what Simon must have been facing. But! You were all supposed to be professional adults and quell any unprofessional thoughts and not foster them!

You turned your face to your feet, not missing the wide-legged, knee-length shorts Taehyung wore. You mentally cursed yourself.

His sigh floated over to you. “I hope it isn’t something I did. I know I can seem a bit overwhelming sometimes and uninterested at other times, but… I am excited for this project and I really want to give it my best, too.” His eyes looked pained when you met them again. You softened. “Please tell me the truth.”

You drew in a breath. “It’s just as I told you, Tae. Simon has to sort some issues out in his personal life. And what makes you think you’re too overwhelming or uninterested? Did Simon say something?”

“No, no!” Taehyung immediately shook his head. “I just…speak from previous experiences. I don’t collaborate with people that well. I tire them out. And Simon… I don’t think we like each other’s approach very much. I feel like he doesn’t really agree with my ideas, just goes along out of courtesy.”

Your lips turned downwards. “I’m sure it’s none of that, Tae. Absolutely positive. And if worse comes to worst and the two of you actually aren’t able to work together, we will arrange for a switch-up so that you’re able to work comfortably.”

Taehyung seemed to perk up at that. “Switch-up? Will you work with me?”

You narrowed your eyes. He seemed a bit too keen about wanting to work with you, didn’t he? You could very clearly recall your first meeting and how he’d seemed to wane when you told him you were paired up with Jungkook.

Curious.

“We’ll see how it unfolds. But as of now, I am partnered up with Jungkook and you’re fretting over nothing. Simon will be back tomorrow, and things will get back on track. I promise.”

You hoped.

Taehyung nodded, excusing himself to visit the kitchen and you took your leave and came back to an eagerly waiting Jungkook.

He stood up the moment you entered the room. “Is everything okay? Hyung looked sad.”

You honestly had zero idea as to what to tell Jungkook. Pursing your lips, you slowly nodded in contemplation as you made your way to your seat. “He’s not working well with Simon,” you honestly told him.

“Oh.” Jungkook’s lips rounded, forming an adorable pout. “Taehyung hyung has a very artistic soul,” he said, taking you by surprise. You leant forward to listen in with interest. “He tends to get awkward and insecure about his ideas and conceptualizations. They’re usually off-beat and hard to work with, but they’re amazingly creative if you look at them like an artist. Not everybody has the right vision for those things, though. Maybe that is why Simon is…” Jungkook trailed off with a shrug.

You bit your lip in consideration. Taehyung’s words echoed in your head.

‘I don’t think we like each other’s approach very much.’

Maybe they really were mismatched, outside of Simon’s immature, unprofessional, god-awful behaviour, too.

“Hey, could we add him to our group?” Jungkook suddenly asked, confusing you.

“Huh?” you very eloquently responded.

He gave a small giggle. “Hyung. Could he work with us? We have been pretty efficient, and you certainly seem to have an artistic vision.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Jungkook, that’s really flattering. But also, no, I don’t think we can do that. The contract we’ve all drawn has a couple of strict clauses and one-on-one sessions is one of them.”

Frowning, Jungkook nodded in acceptance.

The two of you resumed your discussions from before, but the vigour and drive was now lessened to a great extent. You, especially, couldn’t stop worrying. You were the leader of the team, after all.

Sunday night brought in the awaited conference call with your boss.

Looking at her excited, smiling face on your computer screen, you couldn’t help but dread the news you were about to break to her.

“So. How is it going?” Your boss rubbed her hands together, wiggling her eyebrows. “How is Sana doing? You were quite wound up about her, if I remember correctly.”

“You do remember correctly. There’s good news and bad news,” you responded with a grimace. “Which one first?”

Your boss pursed her lips. “Don’t wanna immediately spoil my mood, so, the good one please.”

“Sana has been doing fantastic. She’s been nothing short of professional, and according to what I’ve seen and heard, Namjoon is really pleased with her,” you relayed, smiling when your boss sighed in relief.

“Okay, so that’s out of the way. What’s wrong?”

You sighed. Better rip the band-aid straight off. “Simon has a huge crush on Taehyung and feels like he broke the contract. He wants to leave.”

You watched quietly as your boss choked on an inhale, coughed, had some water, and sat back down to blink at you with a blank face. “These words must not leave your room. Or Simon’s. None of the BigHit staff must catch a wind of it.”

You groaned. “Please don’t ask me to work through this, boss, please—”

“Work through it, Y/N!” your boss cruelly cut you off. “This is such a tiny, little, manageable thing! Resolve it.”

You gawked. “You literally just choked—how is this little, boss?”

“Counsel Simon. Ask him to push through. Threaten his employment with us, if necessary.”

It was your turn to blink at her, owlishly. “And? That’s it?”

Your boss shrugged. “And if it doesn’t work out, swap him with someone else on your team.”

You sighed. “This is all such high school, teen flick bullshit. What the hell.”

“I know, hun. Which is why I’m asking you to manage it. And I know you can. You’re my favourite, Y/N.” Your boss nodded at you with a solemn look. “I have believed in your capabilities since day one. It’s time to make them shine.”

You nodded, dumbly. The back of your mind was hinting at an inkling that you were being manipulated by flattery, but the forefront was basking in all the praise and could really not be bothered.

All you had to do was keep the whole thing hush-hush from the BigHit people and keep Simon in line, right? You could manage that.

Bidding your boss goodbye, you rung up Simon.

“Hey, boss.”

“You’re coming with us tomorrow and you’re gonna be a fucking professional like you’re supposed to!” you barked into the phone. “Bottle up your feelings, or eat them—I don’t care. You’ll do the job you were here for, and you’ll do it right.”

There was a long, suspended silence at the other end. And then a sigh escaped Simon. “I don’t think I have a choice. Fine, I’ll try.”

You put your phone to silent and shut your eyes, knowing you’d receive another call tonight and that you won’t pick up tonight, either.

You lay back in the bed, gearing up for tomorrow.

If worse actually did come to worst, and Simon sent everything down the rabbit hole, who would you make him swap places with? All of you had built really amazing rapports with your assigned partners in just a week. No one would be willing to start over.

If it came to it, would you have to? Would you be able to?

You could maintain professionalism a hundred times better than Simon, that much was certain. But you and Jungkook had been working so well! And who was to say Simon wouldn’t cause trouble with Jungkook, too?

You let out a whine, beyond mad at the situation this guy had landed you in.

But you’d have to navigate out of it, somehow. This was the biggest project of your life so far—the first ever you were heading. You would ensure everything worked out at the end.

You would tie all the loose ends and make it all work. You would.

(You literally had no choice.)

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Tags: @tangledsparkles @hoefortaeshands @getmemyfries

#taehyung angst #bts angst #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #taehyung imagine #bts imagine #v angst #v fluff #v imagine #jungkook imagine #bts v #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #vantaenet #*mine #f: wbcs

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ubemango · 4 years

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miss Ella, what’s the oral receiving scene like for pups!joon ? 🥺🥺 will we get see that in future pups drabbles? I love this series so much 🥺 I didn’t know I could actually adore a series ljke this DDJDJDJ

Omg love u :3 You know how Namjoon kind of just wants to D*e whenever oc does something cute ;_; or something that he just finds Attractive of her ;_; You combine these two reactions and BOOM he’s like on the verge of actual Death jhfbsjfhbdhfbg You know what? Lemme demonstrate the Very First Time! Rated M for oral and Namjoon’s internal thought process just being AAAHHHH and oc being Cute As Always!!!!

Introducing you to the privacy of his room was a mistake. You’re a reserved person, everyone knows this, but something about being within the confines of his space made you so… eager. And Namjoon doesn’t think his heart can take it anymore.

Just an hour ago he’d watched you interact with his roommate. Hoseok’s been a long-time friend, and it made him happy knowing you guys got along well: just a simple how-are-you conversation that only lasted three seconds because Namjoon had herded you through his door way too fast for you to keep up good dialogue. Trust him to cut short any affair that got in the way of getting you in his bedroom, but Hoseok understands the gesture because he shouts out a see you later! once Namjoon had locked his door.

The front door shut, and it was just you and him.

You didn’t take any initiative at first. And if Namjoon was being truthful, he’d be ready to admit that he really wasn’t trying to instigate. He liked his room. He liked you. He liked you in his room and he really–truthfully–wasn’t trying to instigate anything, and then you were lying on his bed without your jeans on (you didn’t like sitting on beds with your outside clothes on) and something inside him collapsed.

“Your bed smells good,” you said.

“You smell good,” Namjoon shot back, and you laughed. You looked like magic.

The lead-up was not eventful. It’s never eventful. He just loved lying down with you, and today had been particularly gruelling on your numbing brain, this close to some important deadline you had for an essay about time and the essence of life. Big-brained, convoluted things.

“I’m kinda horny,” you said simply.

Now, this. The present, where you ask to learn about sucking him off and he says yes, please yes and you’re kneeling between Namjoon’s legs now, and his pants and boxers off and is my dick nice? He doesn’t think it’s a bad dick.

“Big,” is all you have to say.

“You’re just being nice.”

“What if I choke? I’m gonna look ugly.”

“That’s–you’re not ugly, oh my god.” He laughs at your blush. “It’s okay, just. Go slow. Or whatever.”

“Well what do you like?” You whisper, grabbing his dick with that tentative grip, palm too warm. He’s scorching.

“You can–put your mouth on it.” It’s your eyes that get him first. Shining with glitter, the hope that you’re doing it right. Namjoon wants to cry, feeling your tongue lick at the slit. “Y-Yeah…”

And like the menace you are, you suck him in as deep as you can, grabbing at the meat of his thighs as Namjoon yelps.

“Ah–!”

You pull up, take a deep breath. “Good?”

“Yes. Please, again,” he says.

He doesn’t fit all the way but he still feels it tenfold. The lap of your tongue, the enthusiastic suction, your legs shifting behind you so you can bob your head better.

He has nothing to say for guidance. His throat is caught with his grunting, sighing pleasure because you’re just naturally good at doing this, making him feel good. All his sweetest parts burning with your wet love.

Suddenly he feels both your hands twisting at his cock. “Oh my god.” He’s vibrating, for fuck’s sake. He wants to laugh, thinking about how you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. You’re a different kind of evil. “W-Where’d you learn this?”

You look up at him, shy. As if you weren’t jerking at his leaking cock standing right under your nose. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

He won’t question it. He’s preoccupied with the heat of your tongue anyway, smoothing along the length like you’ve got a melting popsicle. You suckle on him again, the satisfaction of a good treat. Namjoon can’t help the hand he grips the back of your neck with.

“Is this okay?” He asks. He’s out of breath. You nod, knowing you did that to him.

“Mhm.”

“I might come soon.”

“Mhm,” you whine louder, and Namjoon feels his blood rushing even further down.

He closes his eyes to your novice rhythm. The softened hold you’ve got on the base of his dick that eases your motions. Your other hand curls around his thigh once more, squeezing whenever you try to slurp lower. He knows you like to challenge yourself, knows your drive to do things right. And if doing something right meant the potential of literally choking on dick then Namjoon won’t stop you. He hisses. “Holy fuck.”

Of course he’s close. Of course you make those tiny squeaks whenever his hand presses on your nape just a little harder. He almost bursts when you soften over the tip–the little smack–to lick at your lips. You’re looking at him with unhidden pride.

“I like doing this to you.”

“You’re going to kill me,” he says with certainty.

You nod. “G-Good,” you laugh a little, catching him with an upstroke. Your mouth meets your fist in the middle, the slow jerk to your suckling.

Namjoon tries to relax. Breathing hard, letting you take him where you want. Your timid strokes picking up speed, spit lathered, your suction slippery. He feels like he’s drowning. Like he can’t keep up anymore, submitting to your waves, your motions, the cry of his bedframe shifting under you both.

“I’m coming,” he warns.

You lap him up like you didn’t hear. But you know what you’re doing, licking at the length. You know that tightening your mouth makes him shiver. You tongue what’s wet into slobber, a squelch that shouldn’t sound so good but it does.

It’s when you look up that he absolutely loses it.

He unravels quick, groaning through an orgasm you draw out so sweetly. Watching you watching him, eyes wet with your effort, the shine of your tears. And he doesn’t mean to buck up when he does–he’s so gone he doesn’t even hear you sputtering but he feels it, your throat convulsing, the little peep of surprise. Namjoon’s eyes go wide.

“You’re so pretty, pups.”

It’s the truth. The image of you, used, satisfied. Your hair is mussed from where he was gripping. He wipes the cum off the corner of your little smile, grabs a tissue from his bedside for you to spit into. Maybe he’ll ask if you’d be down to swallow, next time.

(He hopes to God there’s a next time.)

You wad the used tissue up into a ball, making a face. “Really salty,” you comment.

Namjoon reddens. “Yeah it’s pretty… gross. But… how was–that?”

“Fun.” You wobble up to your knees, using his shoulders for balance. Your smile is sincere. “It’s… you’re really hot, you know that?”

The bed dips when you straddle him. “Says you.”

“I’m telling the truth!”

He kisses you. Stained with his taste, and he can’t be bothered to care. “Thank you,” he whispers, “for taking care of me.”

“What a good boy,” you coo. “Now help me off this bed, I literally cannot get the feeling back in my legs and I’ve got your cum drying in my hand right now.”

#u know what I'm gonna tag this nicely #bts smut #namjoon smut #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #bts #namjoon #ubemango fic #f: pups series #d: pups series #drabble

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birdwonder · 4 years

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just thought of the idea of Rohan using his stand on reader and seeing on their page they have a big crush on josuke so Rohan either teases them or helps them get together. i think the idea is cute

|| i am SO sorry this took a while longer than i usually take to write. my holiday has left me without a computer so writing long stories takes forever on a phone but i hope these 3,000 words make up for it :,) its 3am so i doubt i editted properly so ill go through it again tomorrow

Josuke Higashikata | Rohan’s Help / Confession

You and Rohan have been friends for a short time. Less than a year to be honest, and yet you two felt like you were as thick as thieves — an unstoppable duo when it came to your friendship. Both of you complimented each other so well, you being able to improve Rohan’s social skills and how he treated others, and Rohan had been making progress with you to be more confident. A kind yet self-loathing highschool student who is best friends with a prideful and stuck up manga artist, who would have thought?

In the small amount of time you two have known each other, you both have been able to pick on small quirks you had and tell-tale signs of your moods. For example, you were currently leaning on the side of Rohan’s desk as he scribbled away on a piece of paper, desperately trying to figure out a new and inventive pose for his next manga page. Your blank, dull eyes staring into the distance and lack of encouraging comments was all Rohan needed to know that something was up with you. Of course, he wasn’t the best at comfort, not when it’s so early into his progress of becoming a better person, so jumping straight to sympathy and questions was not his go-to plan.

“So, what do you think so far?” Rohan questioned with hope, holding up his sketch book with one hand and gesturing towards it with another, hoping that your thoughts on his work would be at least distracting enough from whatever was plaguing your mind. Unfortunately, you only glanced towards the sheet of stunning, detailed figures and hummed halfheartedly before returning to look at absolutely nothing with your chin pressed into the centre of your palm.

Groaning, the artist tore out the page dramatically to then scrunch it up into a tight paper ball, throwing it into the trash-can beside him in a small fit of annoyance. “Right then,” he burst out abruptly, two hands slamming on his desk and his chair scraping backwards as he got up to emphasis his change in mood, “you’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now because right now I can NOT figure out how to draw this next panel, and I can’t do it when you’re sitting here like a... a...”

“Like a what?” You piped up, one brow quirked up which gave you an atypically fed up expression, one so cold it almost sent shivers down Rohan’s spine.

“Like a killjoy!” He finally said, huffing and puffing his cheeks out. “You’re just sitting there, staring like a corpse and I’m actually trying to talk to you!”

Then, you faltered. Your tightly pressed lips tilted downwards and your brows lowered, returning your expression to it’s well known gentle and kind look, something Rohan had greatly missed the last hour or so. “Oh, I’m sorry Rohan, it’s just, oh never mind.” You mumble your last words, a strange pink tint along your cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by the man who valued every single detail he saw.

Rohan then grabbed your shoulders firmly, forcing you to turn and look at him, his eyes narrowed with an intense stare boring into your own pupils. “[F/N], I refuse to take that as an answer, so let’s try again shall we? What. Is. The matter?”

You gulped a little, sucking in your breath while debating whether or not to tell your trusted companion about the problem that ridiculed you or not. You opted no. With a shake of your head, you gave an apologetic look and your frown only went deeper, “sorry Rohan, it’s really stupid and I just don’t want to say it. I mean, it can’t be solved anyways, so I’m sure I’ll get over it soon!” You placed a hand on his shoulder and forced yourself to smile a little, your heart swelling with some joy over the fact Rohan had clearly grown as a person - showing that he cared for the problems that bedevilled you was one large step from where he was when you first met. “Thank you though, really.”

Your gratitude and certainty may have been enough to rest anyone else’s soul, but not Rohan’s. He simply would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Sighing, he released his grip on you, giving you the message that he wasn’t going to pry anymore until he spoke, “I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice.”

Before you could question his words a familiar cry of “Heaven’s Door,” was yelled and you felt your body slowly feel lighter, almost weightless as you watched the skin on your face and arms unfold to reveal small prints of words, words you knew revealed everything there was to know about [F/N] [L/N].

Resistance was futile as you struggled to shift away from Rohan’s approaching form, the back of the chair and the wall behind you trapping you inbetween, prayers being your only tactic of getting out of the hectic situation. “Now let’s see,” Rohan hummed, taking a gentle hold of the pages attached to your face between his thumb and index finger, his eyes scanning each word carefully as though missing a single one would be detrimental.

“Rohan, please don’t,” you begged, fear arising in you from the idea that he would find out the cause of your sullen mood. Fear that was quickly picked up on.

“[F/N] [L/N], sixteen years old... Birthday is... Ah, here we are, something more modern. Cereal for breakfast, and currently stressing over the idea that Josuke Higashikata won’t like her...” Rohan’s out loud reading soon quietened and the look he gave you could only be summarised to ‘really?’

Once he pulled away from you, Heaven’s Door effects subsided and your skin was no longer detached from you. You sighed with relief that you were no longer in such a vulnerable state, calm until you began to lightly pound your fists against Rohan’s chest, unable to actually hurt him since you didn’t have to heart to. “Rohan, that was private information, how could you?!”

Rohan clicked his tongue, using only a finger to press against your forehead to push you away. The perks of you being so docile was getting you to stop any hint of aggression was easier than reciting the alphabet.

“I did it for you so I could help you with your problem!” He argued in attempt to defend himself and cringed slightly, speaking with venom in his voice. “How was I supposed to know that you were so worked up over that idiot and not something sensible?”

“He is not an idiot!” You retorted since you hated whenever either Rohan or Josuke insulted each other. Those two really had the potential to be friends with each other, they just never let it work. Regardless, your main concern was the fact your true feelings were revealed and in the worst possible way. You hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about how you feel, not when you were for sure that it wouldn’t matter in the end.

Josuke ... he was amazing. Friendly, strong, funny and whenever he looked with you with those kind eyes and a smile on his plush lips, your heart stopped only to restart beating 1000 beats per minute. You were certain that he was the most perfect person you had ever met, and every memory with him was greatly treasured.

Though you were almost certain he didn’t feel the same. You felt so small compared to him, figuratively that is, and everything he was good at, you seemed to fail at. Confidence, strength, styling the perfect pompadour; you couldn’t even compare to him, even if these all seemed like the most insignificant aspects ever. So, why would he want to be with someone who couldn’t reach his standards ? He wouldn’t.

Your internal self deprecation was silently evident to Rohan as you began to nibble on the bottom of your lip, dejectedly looking down like a lost puppy. No way was he going to let you keep that up, not when he had announced you as a friend to himself and actually cared about how you felt.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rohan groaned at what he was about to do although he knew it was going to be worth it if it meant you weren’t ruining your hang out times anymore. “Alright, we’re going to make you confess to Josuke.” He declared, catching you off guard, and you weren’t able to even question him as a single finger was suddenly pressed upon your lips, sealing your mouth shut with one simple movement.

“Listen and remember this well, [F/N], you are perfect the way you are and as much as I would hate to see Josuke gain anything he doesn’t deserve,” he paused to retract his hand from your face and instead ruffled your hair, treating you like a younger sibling for a second, “I know being with him would make you happy, so I’m going to help you confess your entirely questionable and possibly delusional love for that delinquent.”

You blinked up at Rohan a few times, mouth agape. There was no way that this was happening, just who was this guy and where was the real manga artist you knew?

“Rohan, I appreciate you wanting to help me, I really do, but there’s no need! It’s a lost cause, let’s just get back to what we were doing before - poses right?” Your attempt to change the subject was quickly brushed off like dust on Rohan’s shoulder when he pinched your nose, an audible ‘ow’ squeaking from you.

Your resistance to the situation was irking Rohan to no end, his drive only stepping on the gas each time you tried to refuse his assistance. There was no way he was going to let you suffer in silence. Besides, if he helped two young, dumb and lovesick teens get together then maybe he could have some insight on how to work around the more romantic scenes of his manga, if he was to ever implement them.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. This is going to happen and you’re going to thank me for it,” the green hair male stated, eyes heavily trained onto you. You gulped.

You really didn’t know where this was going to go.

——

A band of raging drums had surely replaced your heart.

The hammering sound of sticks against percussion instruments was practically akin to the violent, frantic rhythm that pounded against your chest with the diagnosis resulting to be nervousness.

You sucked in your breath and released the built up carbon dioxide by muttering words of encouragement that Rohan had taught you to rehearse to yourself in case of situations like this. Ironically, he was the one who had put you in this nervous wreck state. His vow to have you confess to Josuke had stuck through pretty solidly leaving you in a cute outfit you definitely could not have afford on your lonesome, [Thank you Rohan.] and standing in front of your crush’s door.

Gulping, you began to hype yourself up.

‘I can do this! I can totally do this. No problems here, none at all!’ The repeated phrases were practically a religious mantra at this point; if you were to even dare forget a single one you’re certain life would be a living Hell. Well your stresses shouldn’t matter anymore, you were here now. Just knock. Knock and say what’s on your mind!

The unremitting worries failed to cease however , eating at your brain like parasites that were only starting to leave once you gathered enough courage and balled your hand into a fist, rapped against the wooden door.

It took less than a minute for the door to be unlocked and opened, revealing the tall, well built figure of the one and only - Josuke. For some reason you felt as though none of this actually happening right there and then, like it was some dream or even a nightmare you were going to wake up from any second. You quickly rubbed your eyes to see if that was true. When you opened them, he was still there, his usual stylised school uniform replaced with a regular white t-shirt and dark blue jeans. It wasn’t an unwelcome look but certainly threw you off for a second seeing as it was rare to see him wear anything other than his uniform.

“[F/N], hey!” He greeted,his eyes seeming to light up at the sight of you while a hand gripped the door frame, “didn’t think it’d be you at the door. What’s up?”

The moment he smiled at you, you knew that you had to this. How he instantly had made you feel relaxed would have seemed impossible to you five minutes ago, now you felt as though things would go perfectly. If not for the persistent nagging voice in the back of your head.

“Hi Josuke! I was hoping that I could maybe uhm, talk to you! About something that is. Something really important.” Your wavering voice had caused some concern to flash in Josuke’s eyes; the way he looked down at you with such a caring expression made you want to hide your face into a pillow and squeal.

He responded easily with, “oh sure, is everything alright?” Really, you weren’t even sure if things were alright or if they were going to be at all.

You doubts rose up again and a jumbled ball of words was suddenly caught in your throat, countless words and ways to say your thoughts conjuring up but not a single thing is said. If only you had more confidence — Rohan had spent so long trying to get you to perfect your confession and despite all that effort, you were still struggling.

Glancing down, you noticed that your fingers were a plain sign of your awkwardness. They constantly switched from fiddling with the fabric of your outfit to thumbs twiddling with each other, neither things helping you in the end.

“[F/N]...? You don’t look like your usual self, where’s that cute smile of your’s, huh?”

Oh god, did he just call your smile ‘cute’? Did that just make talking even harder or ten times easier? This boy was going to be the death of you!

Teeth lightly nibbled on your low lip as you argued in your head what to do. You really don’t know if you could ever have the courage to even approach him like this, let alone think about asking him out. Besides, all of Rohan’s efforts would go to waste.

“Josuke!” The sudden change of your volume had clearly surprised the teenager, his brows raising. “I— I have something serious to tell you and I’m sorry for making it so weird so far, it’s just really hard to get through what I want to say.”

Facing him was just too much. You couldn’t handle the idea of looking up to see an uncomfortable, angered, disgusted or any expression that would send you hurdling down a pit of regret. Instead, you stared down at the ground although you paid no real attention to it, your hand clutching at the clothing over your heart, almost as though you were trying to steady the rapid beating drums within your ribcage.

Taking in a deep breath, you continue, “I’m not the best at being outgoing or confident, and as my friend I know you know that, and you’re the exact opposite! You’re bold and kind to everyone and everything about you is incredible. Saying this I think I fully realised why I lo—.”

Again, the words are caught in your throat and you’re visibly struggling, almost choking on what you want to say. None of it goes unnoticed by Josuke, who had been initially taken back by the praise and tone you were using. His smile quickly returned when things became obvious to him, much softer and sweeter than before, his plush lips turning upward all thanks to your adorable stuttering.

He reached out with a large and surprisingly softer than you would have guessed hand, his palm resting against your cheek as he guided you to look up at him with both your eyes staring into each other’s.

“Do you want to come inside?”

The question was short and simple though it still took some time to process. You made a small, questioning ‘eh’ sound to which Josuke laughed at.

“You don’t have to stress so much, whatever you’re going to say I’m sure I’m going to like hearing,” he told you, stepping to the side so that you now had room to enter his house, a hand gesturing for you to come inside. “Maybe things would be easier if we had something to drink? My mum’s not home so we can watch a movie too!”

You had no idea how things got to this but you didn’t want to ask. If what Josuke said was true and that he was really going to like whatever you said then, why rush? It was probably better to wait for when the atmosphere was much more relaxed anyways. Things just seemed more right that way. The relationship between you and Josuke were always so casual so it was best to confess just like that. He was a serious God send to be so nice and understanding.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ before walking through the door with small pep in your step and butterflies swarming in a welcomed fashion in your stomach. Josuke followed you, closing the door behind him as the two of you started to strike up a conversation about your week and what movie the two of you wanted to watch, every worry and care flying free and becoming lost in the sky.

From across the street stood a smiling manga artist, ready to walk home with nothing but pride in his heart for his shy and growing friend. All he really had left to worry about was whether or not Josuke would treat you right.

#josuke higashikata #josuke x reader #jjba x reader #platonic #rohan x reader #but its platonic #request

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edelwoodsouls · 3 years

Text

it’s hard to get to heaven (with my head in my hands) - ch. 1

"Come on, Mark," Damien insists. "Not yet- there's someone we can't leave without." [or: Caleb is fifteen years old when he finds himself in Tier 5]

dedicated to @exhaustedwerewolf for putting up with my endless babble, especially the past few months <3

Word Count: 2,431 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: N/A [currently]

Chapter 1 - Now I

Damien

"We can't leave yet."

Dr B's brother can barely stand, barely keep his eyes open - his face is thin and drawn with sweat, sunken and waxy in all the worst places, like a skeleton with skin stretched across its bones - and still he shoves Damien with considerable force as he begins to head for the exit.

"What?" Damien can't help the irritation itching in his voice. He can hear Dr B buzzing in his ear with increasing panic - it's starting to grate on his nerves, and he wants to be far away from here before she decides to grow a brain and call the AM on him.

He's not sure how many people he could manipulate at once, and certainly doesn't want to try to find out fighting his way out of this place.

"Come on, Mark," he continues, trying to lift the guy up - he's like a sack of rocks, suddenly rooted to the spot. "We don't have time for this - we have to go."

"No," Mark grits his teeth. He's clearly in pain, a breath away from falling, struggling against Damien’s desires though he doesn’t yet know it. "There's someone we can't leave without."

"As flattering as it is that you think so highly of my abilities already, even I can't face off this entire building. I can't organise a whole fucking prison break."

"I know." His eyes are wide and Damien can feel himself melting already. "But just one. Please."

Damn the Bright siblings.

"Fine. Show me."

Now that he's promised, Mark becomes a lot easier to move - but not much. He's barely holding his own weight as it is.

Whoever this other person is better not be in a coma, too, or Damien might just call it a day and leave them both to rot.

Okay, that's a lie. But what the hell can possibly be so special about one of the other prisoners here to warrant priority? Mark is leading him down a corridor lined with cell after cell, and Damien can sense countless minds - tangles of messed up wants and fears and needs - on the other side of the doors.

It makes him feel sick. It makes him feel as if that despair - their despair - is collecting like rainwater in the pit of his stomach, filling him steadily up. He wants to escape - they want to escape, and the want ricochets back and forth until it's a hammering against his skull.

He's about to give up when Mark stops. "Here," he says, nodding at a door that is no different to any of the others.

Damien leans Mark against the wall, grabs the keys he stole from the previous guard. As he reaches out for the door, he finds that awful need to flee vanish, replaced with a calm certainty. This is the right thing to do, he thinks, but the thought sits awkwardly inside him, rubbing rough edges against the rest of him.

He pushes the discomfort away. Just because you had an unselfish thought for once doesn't mean you need to have a breakdown, he tells himself, and the voice in his head sounds an awful lot like Dr Bright.

He isn't sure what he's expecting when he opens the cell door. A cute girl, perhaps. A guy Mark has made friends with - Dr B always said Mark imprinted on people like a lost puppy.

But of everything, he definitely isn't expecting the child hunched on the concrete floor. The strip lighting in the cell flickers on, illuminating the figure. He's dressed in the same drab uniform as everyone else, but it's loose, hanging awkwardly off his frame. His skin is a similar sickly pallor as Mark, shadows dragging at his eyes. The only individual flare is a spray of golden curls springing unruly from his head, falling over his face in an oddly shy, high school kind of way.

He's already staring at the door when Damien pushes it open, eyes narrowed and unsurprised.

Hm.

"Uh," Damien reaches unsuccessfully for words, "hey, kid."

Said kid ignores him entirely, eyes shifting to stare at - no, through - the wall beside him, where Mark is slumped. Can he see through walls? Detect heartbeats?

"This is a jailbreak," Damien continues, doing unenthusiastic jazz hands. "Let's go?"

"What did you do to Mark?" the boy asks - and he is a boy, seventeen at the most. Damien feels an uncomfortably sick feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"I'm breaking him out. Hang on, how did you-"

But the kid is already pushing up from the floor, rocketing past Damien without a word.

Damien stares into the room. It's small, just as sparse as Mark's room even though the kid definitely hasn't been in a coma for two years. There's a desk with nothing on it except an ipod without headphones - the wires a suicide risk, he guesses.

The bed is perfectly made - aren't teenagers supposed to be messy? Though he supposes the lack of anything else to do might make one tidy out of boredom.

He ducks into the room to grab the ipod - just in case.

When he emerges, the kid is checking Mark over with surprisingly gentle fingers, a look of utter concentration on his face.

There's something dark and brewing behind it that sets Damien on edge.

"Mark?" the kid's voice is surprisingly soft. Damien can't get a read on this kid, a bundle of contradictions swinging back and forth between two extremes. When he reaches out to feel the kid's mind, he finds a swirling hurricane of colour. Taking a single step feels like the winds will tear away his skin, his very being.

"Hey, Caleb," Mark murmurs, a laugh bordering on hysteria. "Long time, huh?"

"Yeah, come on. Let's get you out of here."

And just like that the kid - Caleb? - heaves Mark off the floor like he weighs less than a bag of feathers, holding him up effortlessly.

Damien tries not to feel self-conscious about how hard he was struggling only moments ago.

"Are we going?" Caleb stares fiercely at Damien, making eye contact for the first time, and suddenly the hallway feels too small. He can feel the fear of being trapped down here climbing his throat and strangling him. It makes the world slant in a blur of dizzying colour, the sudden onslaught rushing through his veins.

"Yeah," he chokes, all but stumbling in the direction of the exit. He wants to get out. "This way.”

~/~/~/~

Caleb

He emerges into sunlight for the first time in two years.

Isn’t it strange how you can forget things so vitally important? Things that kept you alive for sixteen years, kept you together and breathing?

Well, it isn’t so strange; he can’t remember the curve of his mother’s smile, the colour of his sister’s hair, the image of ink staining his father’s fingers. They are cartoon sketches in his head, placeholders where he knows real images should be.

Like the sun. The pain of it bright against his eyes feels like breathing for the first time in years. Stepping out of a grave back into his own skin.

Adam would say something about Persephone, or Orpheus. Caleb just grits his teeth and shoves the memory down.

He’d forgotten what it was to have that natural warmth against his skin, warmth not stolen from radiators or lukewarm cups of tea (they wouldn’t let him have hot drinks, just in case). He’d forgotten the soft yellow that wasn’t harsh halogen strip lights or flashing red alarms.

He’d forgotten the world had light and warmth at all.

Mark weighs almost nothing, as they hurry away from the building with surprisingly little fuss, even with all the muscle mass Caleb’s lost from loitering in a cell for two years. He feels the amber sparks of concern churning in his gut - and it’s almost nice.

He’d forgotten what his own emotions felt like, too, sitting inside of his chest. The last year has been a haze of grey populated with other people’s noise.

After a few seconds the emotions start to scratch against his skin. They don’t fit anymore, so unfamiliar with their home - so used to living in other people’s chests.

He reaches out blindly for someone else to latch onto. Mark - bright, familiar Mark, whose relief and bewilderment spill into Caleb instantly, like a dam being let loose.

Just for a moment, he’s adrift in a sea of green.

All too soon, that bliss is snatched away with the arrival of this new guy. He’s unfamiliar and conspicuously shady, wearing a black hoodie, his long dark hair pulled up in a loose bun. Yellow sparks across his skin like electricity, an acidic emotion somewhere between concern and suspicion.

Caleb doesn’t like how strong this guy’s emotions are, how they jump across the space between them without Caleb even reaching out, digging into his skin. How they tower over him like a skyscraper, a wave threatening to crash into him, wash away any sense of self he has fought tooth and nail to cling to these past few years.

Definitely a Class E. Some kind of manipulator.

Maybe someone like him.

“I’m Damien,” the guy says, brushing past him to open up the doors. “Let’s get going.”

And all of a sudden Caleb feels the urge, the need, to get going sink into his bones before he has time to think. He pulls Mark into the car, setting him down carefully into a seat as the other guy climbs into the front.

As soon as the wheels begin to turn, the tug in his gut vanishes, leaving behind only the ghost of a raw, exposed nerve. Like someone has cracked open his chest and scooped his organs out.

“Don’t do that again,” he hisses, surprised and pleased at how the threat sounds in his voice. He isn’t the child he was when he first came here; he’s learned from the best how to be dangerous.

He can’t help the sharp flash of power in his chest as he feels the flicker of shock roll off the other guy - Damien, what kind of name is that? - as their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“Most people take minutes - hours - to wear off the first time.”

Caleb says nothing, just glaring.

“No, seriously.” The car comes to a stop and Damien twists in his seat, reaches out and grabs Caleb’s wrist tight. The skin on skin contact burns like someone is scraping away the top layer to expose the flesh beneath. When was the last time someone - not a doctor taking his vitals but a real , human person - touched him? “What are you?”

“Angry,” Caleb snaps back. “So don’t fucking do that to me again.”

“Or what? What can you do?”

He isn’t going to rise to this guy’s goading, no matter how tempting it is. Not yet. As much as he wants to wipe the curious, hungry pool of red lapping at his heels away. As much as he wants to reach out and twist it into the bottomless silver of fear, the only colour he truly recognises as familiar anymore.

But he doesn’t have enough of the facts. Doesn’t know who this guy is, or why he broke Mark - and him - out. Doesn’t know what this world looks like, what he looks like, compared to before. He needs to bide his time.

Adam would be so proud of his restraint.

“Look,” he says through gritted teeth. “I appreciate the break out. But I don’t owe you shit.”

Damien’s hunger tints with anger - this is a guy who isn’t used to being told no.

Caleb feels that anger, that desire curl through the car, twist itself around his tongue. “I’m an empath,” he says, the words spilling out like they can’t wait to be free.

Damien’s emotions dull instantly with disinterest and disappointment. “Oh. Like you can feel other people’s emotions and shit?”

“And shit,” Caleb agrees, using what little is left of his own will to skirt around the truth.

“Disappointing.”

“I know.”

Damien’s desires evaporate slowly from the air, and Caleb breathes a deep sigh of relief, a weight lifting from his chest.

“What’s so important about you?”

Caleb blinks. “What?”

Damien’s eyes search his face, not pushing at him like before, just genuine curiosity. “I only came for Mark. But he wouldn’t let me leave without you.”

Something goes soft and warm inside Caleb - a deeply buried part of himself he tries to ignore. “We got stuck together a lot in there, before…”

The warm glow turns sour. Once Mark had vanished without trace and Wadsworth had lost her favourite toy, she’d needed a new plaything.

And after all, as she always told him, he was so special. Powerful. She’d taken a particular interest in his budding ability to affect others.

“Mark’s kinda like the older brother I never had,” Caleb shrugs, shoving away the dangerous rabbit hole his thoughts are spiralling into. Damien isn’t pushing his will onto him, but he still feels the truth rolling off his tongue unbidden.

“Hm.”

“What’s he to you, then?” Caleb reaches out, trying to tease apart the tangle of emotions Damien is giving off. “Why risk getting on the AM’s radar for one guy?”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m already on their radar, thanks to his fucking sister of all people-”

“His sister?”

“Yeah. Dr Bright.”

Caleb’s brain grinds to a halt. “Dr Bright?”

“You know her?”

“Dr Bright is Mark’s sister?”

“Uh, yeah. How do you not know that?” Confusion spills into the car, ricocheting back and forth between them.

“Mark’s last name is Bryant- fuck, of course it’s a fucking code name.”

He turns to look at Mark’s sleeping form with new eyes. It’s there, underneath the layers of trauma Tier 5 piled on top of him - in the curve of his jaw, the crook of his nose.

His former therapist is still ruining his life years after he last saw her.

“Can you just drive?” he asks suddenly. The need to flee sits between them like a bomb about to go off, a timer counting down, panic climbing his throat. He can’t think straight with those lifeless grey buildings still looming on the horizon.

“We’ll come back to this,” Damien says with a pointed look. “But sure, kid. I hate this place as much as you.”

“I very much doubt that,” Caleb laughs darkly.

He’ll be back soon, he promises himself, as that hell begins to vanish behind the trees lining the curving road.

He’ll burn the whole fucking place to the ground.

#the bright sessions #caleb michaels #mark bryant #damien the bright sessions #fanfiction #own work #morgan writes

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hadestowntm · 3 years

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Ranking musicals I know by least to most homophobic on a scale of 1-10

in a completely objective way that has absolutely nothing to do with my own personal experiences whatsoever (I’m lying)

2. Rent. I’m taking a point off of this because it makes me sad. I know that’s the point and that’s why it’s good but I’m petty and this is my ranking system.

3. Frog and Toad. They are gay and in love. Only criticism is that they could have made it more textual.

4. Les Mis. Technically doesn’t contain any canon gays but not in a homophobic way. Should technically be neutral then but the amount of gay fanon produced I think merits a point this side of neutral.

4. Chicago. No there are no gay characters but it contains cell block tango which makes me gayer every time I see it.

4. Once on This Island. I’ve only seen this once when I was like 9 and I barely remember it except the lead was a super cute girl and definitely led to my gay awakening so this gets a bonus point for that.

5. Hadestown. True Neutral. There are no gay characters but not in a homophobic way especially because it’s about characters from old myths. Also Andre deshields is gay and brings that gay energy to hermes in my opinion. And tall guy is gay and I like him.

5. The Sound of Music. No gay characters but it’s set in world war 2 so it’s not like they could be out anyways. Max is probably gay if we’re real about it, and at least one of the nuns is probably gay. And statistically one of those kids is probably gay.

5. Ragtime. Same as sound of music. There’s no gay characters but I can’t blame them. And Emma Goldman is definitely a lesbian. Probably younger brother is gay too.

5. Hamilton. Neutral but in a homophobic way. I do enjoy flamboyant Thomas Jefferson but he was a slaver and the sally reference makes it super nasty. And I also feel like they could have had some hints at romance between Hamilton and Laurens because it’s an interpretation after all but it was for sure the fear of a homophobic response that made them not do that. Don’t get me wrong I’m not a shipper I just think it could have been interesting especially because right after laurens dies Hamilton dives really hard into his work. Could be coincidence but it could have been cool to maybe wonder otherwise.

5.5. Hairspray. I feel like this musical should contain a flamboyant gay character but it doesn’t.

6. Great Comet. This should have contained a gay character because the chaos could definitely handle it and it would have been fun in that long ass introduction. Pierre could be gay in subtext but I would like text. Balaga is probably gay because could a straight person be that iconic? No. But I need the text fam.

6.5. Wicked. We all know elphie and Glinda are gay and in love but fierro is still the romantic interest. The balance here between the gay rights of showing elphie and Glinda’s relationship and the homophobia of making sure it didn’t look too gay is delicate. But fierro is a nice beautiful man with a beautiful voice so at least there’s that.

7. Newsies. Same shit here as wicked except worse because they don’t show the bond between davey and Jack as much and the love interest can’t sing.

7. In the Heights. Nina was supposed to have a gay brother but that was removed which is lame because then there were zero gay characters. And then there’s that little bit of gossip in the intro song about a guy cheating on his girlfriend with a dude which I find mildly homophobic.

7.5 Oklahoma. No gay characters and also it takes place in the south which is a homophobic place and gives me hives just hearing about it.

8. Book of Mormon. I mean to be fair this is expected. The gay guy telling the story about shutting off the gay feelings is just depressing. I mean I guess it’s funny but it’s also so depressing. But I think we can extrapolate a happy ending for him? So at least there’s that.

9. Guys and Dolls. I feel like this is self explanatory. What about guys and guys and dolls and dolls? However I was in a production of guys and dolls and played one of the chick chick chickadees so I can say with certainty that the musical could contain unknown lesbians.

10. Dear Evan Hansen. I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain this but either him or Connor should have been gay but the writers were cowards and just made gay jokes instead in a musical literally about teen suicide when gay teens are more likely to attempt suicide. Bad taste

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

Worth it

Word count: 1.7K

Pairing: Dean X Castiel, Coffee shop AU

Warnings: Fluffy and cute!

Square filled: Ship

Summary: Dean Winchester owns the beloved coffee shop in town, and he loves that his life is predictable, until a certain blue eyed man walks into his shop and his life.

A/N: This is my first entry for the @sdavid09‘s Tale Teller’s 2020 Bingo Challenge. Please let me know what you think!

If there was one thing that could be said about Dean Winchester with absolute certainty, it was that he loved making his customers happy. If you visited his coffee shop, you left satisfied and appreciated. This was why his little coffee shop was so loved by everyone who visited. The coffee was always good, but so was the morning after being greeted by him.

Dean knew everyone in the little town and everyone knew him. Here, he lived his life with satisfaction and without many surprises. He liked it that way, too.

That was true until on Saturday, 20th of August, when the guy in the Trench coat walked in.

Even if Dean hadn’t immediately known that he was new to this place, the man’s awkward mannerism would have been enough to point it out.

He glanced around the shop and then walked to the counter, holding his hands clumsily at his side, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

“A coffee to go please?” His voice was deep and low pitched. It was funny that Dean even noticed it, since he was awestruck looking into his deep blue eyes. It was a stunning color. He could take a swim in that, he thought to himself, embarrassed.

“What would you like?” Dean managed, forcing himself to concentrate and not be flustered.

“Just black,” the man smiled nervously. “I don’t know much about all these fancy names.”

Dean controlled his urge to laugh. He personally did believe that the long and ridiculous coffee names sounded better on exotic plants in botanical gardens.

“What name shall I put on the cup?”

“Oh.” The man looked startled to be asked such an obvious question. “Castiel.”

“I’ll be right back with you, sir.”

Dean decided to get Castiel his favourite brew. Barely anyone asked for it; he just kept it on the pot for himself, to unwind at the end of the day.

“Here you go!” Dean handed him the cup.

Castiel smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you for not making me go through the hundred options. I’m new here, and this is the first coffee shop I found.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean was secretly glad that his shop was at the centre of the town’s main square.

Castiel waved at him before leaving.

For the rest of the day Dean found himself humming and smiling for no particular reason.

He looked up expectantly each time the door opened the next day. Each time, when it turned out to be someone other than Castiel, he felt a small pang of disappointment.

An hour before the closing time, after Dean had given up hopes of ever seeing him again in his life, the bell at the door rang and Castiel stepped in, wet and annoyed at the rain pouring outside.

His face did break into a smile at the sight of Dean, and Dean found himself hoping against hope.

“That had to be the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted in my life,” Castiel said, running his hands through his wet hair. “What did you put in it?”

There were a lot of corny things Dean could have said, he settled for just a smile. “If I tell you, you won’t keep coming back here.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Cas said. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Soon the whole town was buzzing about this real estate developer who had come in to scope the place, with his rough voice and ocean eyes; who wanted to turn the town into something altogether new. What better place to exchange gossip than town’s favourite coffee shop?

For most part, Dean didn’t comment on anyone’s opinion, just provided them with a sympathetic ear. From what he had heard so far, the people weren’t exactly opposed to the development. Just wary. And who could blame them for not wanting to trust a stranger after being a closed community for such a long time.

Personally, Dean didn’t believe that Castiel had any intentions of selling the whole town out. He didn’t look the sort. But what did Dean know? Maybe it wasn’t his brain, just his love-struck heart that was constructing all his opinions.

“Here you go,” Dean handed Castiel his coffee to go on his twenty-sixth day. Yes, Dean remembered the number of days. It was all very pathetic.

Castiel grinned at the name. “This says Cas on it!”

“You don’t like it?” Dean asked, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s nothing like that,” he said. “I’ve just never had anyone call me that.”

That was weird. What sort of people had he surrounded himself with, who couldn’t catch the obvious nickname?

“You can call me, Cas, though,” he said quickly. “I like it.”

“Alright, then Cas,” Dean said, smirking slowly. “You have a good day.”

Cas waved and headed out the door.

“What was that?”

It was Charlie. One of Dean’s regulars at the shop and his closest friend outside of it.

“Nothing,” he muttered, turning away so she wouldn’t spot the blood rising up to his cheeks. “We were just chatting.”

“That’s not chatting,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Where I come from, it’s called flirting.”

“I don’t even know if he’s interested,” Dean huffed. No point keeping it from her. She would sniff out the barely concealed crush anyway.

Charlie reached out to ruffle his hair. “And you won’t if you don’t ask.”

Later that night, Dean was cleaning up after the last customer had left, when Cas came in. His hair was dishevelled, as if he had run his fingers through it repeatedly and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. It quickened Dean’s heartbeat to look at him.

“Are you closed? I’m so sorry for coming in this late.” He looked dejected. “But I didn't know where else to go.”

“C’mon in,” Dean said, sliding a chair towards him. “Is everything okay?”

Cas bit his lip. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said, agitated. “I don’t think any of my ideas are welcome here. The town folks don’t even want to listen to me. Maybe I should just give up.”

“That’s just plain stupid.”

Cas looked up, eyes startled.

“Look,” Dean said. “I’ve lived here all my life. Sure the people are stubborn as hell, but they aren’t idiots. They’ll see a good scheme if you keep at it. Are you trying to dupe them?”

The shocked look on Cas’s face was almost comical. “God, no. I would never.”

“Then you just have to convince them that.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he was making any headway with this handsome man. Cas’s eyes were like an open book and they didn’t look very convinced right now.

“This is a small town,” Dean tried. “These guys have all grown up together. They might have a hard time accepting outsiders, but give them time, they’ll come around.”

“You really think so?” The hope in his voice was almost desperate.

“Sure do.”

Cas placed his hand over Dean’s. “Thank you, truly.”

Dean could barely string the words together without fumbling over the contact of their fingers. “Don’t mention it, man.”

He watched over the next few weeks as town folk were slowly intrigued and then interested in Cas’s plan. He wasn’t out to demolish their houses and heritage like they had initially thought he was. In fact, the new town planning scheme would ensure more income and profit for everyone, including a small residential settlement in a property that was otherwise completely wasted.

In about a month's time, Cas had suddenly become everyone’s favourite. Dean was happy for him, of course, but it did put a damper on his plans to ask him out. Afterall, Cas had better company now and he was busier than before.

“You’re going to be a mooning single man forever if you keep this shit up.” Charlie put her hands up. “I’m just saying.”

Dean sighed. “It’s not the right time.”

“There’s no such thing,” she retaliated, picking up her latte. “And you’re just stalling at this point.”

No, I’m not, Dean wanted to say. He didn’t, though.

“All I’m saying is- if you saw the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking…” Charlie blew him a kiss and left for a table.

Cas was bright eyed today as he stepped forward for his drink and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. “The usual?” he asked.

“Yeah… Dean, wait a second.” Cas made sure that he wasn’t holding up the line. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

What?

“You’ve been the only friend I had here. Listening to me and giving me advice.”

“You don’t have to thank me for it.” He really did have the most beautiful eyes.

“It’s not just that.... Dean?”

Dean looked up. “Yeah?”

Cas seemed to hesitate. “It’s nothing…”

Dean poured the brew in the cup and put on the lid. There was a slight tremble to his fingers and a ‘now or never’ feeling in his gut as he clutched the sharpie.

“Thank you!” Cas said, taking the cup, a regretful smile on his face.

Dean followed Cas’s figure with eager eyes, when Cas stopped at the door. He turned slowly on the spot, then stared at Dean with wide eyes.

“Do you really mean this?” He asked, holding out the cup.

Instead of his name, the side of the cup read, ‘Will you go out with me?’

Dean’s heart was pounding against his ribs. “I do.”

“Yes, yes!” Cas exulted a bit wildly, “I’ve been meaning to ask since day one. I just didn’t know you were interested.”

“It translates into- both of you are really dumb,” Charlie supplied. There was a loud cheer from everyone present and Dean looked around surprised.

“We’ve been waiting for this for weeks!” Said another regular. When Dean eyed her, she jabbed him in the arm. “Everyone but the two of you knew.”

There was a lot of blushing and a hurried, ‘I’ll see you in the evening’ from Cas, before he left, forgetting his coffee altogether. As for Dean, he had never waited for an evening with so much eagerness.

The next morning, waking up in Cas’s arms, he would know that he had all been worth it.

******************************************

A/N 2: Hope I didn’t suck at this as much as I thought! Please let me know what you think <3

Tagging: @sdavid09 @mrswhozeewhatsis @thing-you-do-with-that-thing (cause you’ve been after me for ages for Destiel) literally don’t know who else to tag

#destiel #dean x castiel #castiel x dean #dean winchester x castiel #destiel fanfiction #tale teller’s 2020 bingo challenge #castiel x dean winchester #Ana writes destiel #anawrites #anawritesspn #q

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 3 Part 4

Hello, once again, to Midnight Striga, by yours truly! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Skara nervously ground her teeth against each other. A bad habit, really. One she constantly tried to break, and keep others from discovering. It was honestly something of a miracle that no one had figured it out already. These mundane thoughts did nothing to distract her from what was occurring not even four feet away; Boscha, a truly frightening grin on her face, holding a quivering Demon student by the neck of his hood. “H-hey, Boscha? Maybe we should head to lunch first, you know? I mean, it’s not like this guy is going anywhere.” Skara cringed at how obvious she sounded. Luckily, it looked like Boscha bought it. For now.

“Hmm… yeah, I could eat.” Boscha casually answered, heedless of her tightening grip on the poor Demon’s neck, as well as his increasingly urgent struggling, releasing exactly one second after he stopped moving, dropping him to the floor in an unconscious heap. It was all Skara could do not to visibly shudder at the sight. Violence was a common sight around the Isles, but that level of coldness and cruelty was usually reserved for the bitterest of enemies; it wasn’t meant for some random kid who didn’t apologize fast enough for bumping into you!!

‘Don’t think about Skara. Tuck it away, and don’t think about it. Boscha’s your friend, you look out for each other.’ She kept repeating the mantra, unsure of how much she believed it. ‘Just don’t think about it.’

Aloud, Skara replied. “That’s great! And hey, maybe afterwards, you, me and Amity can hit the town for a bit. You know, have a little fun?” She nudged her elbow against Boscha’s ribs, hoping the playful gesture would get a laugh, or a frown, or just ANY reaction other than that creepy, blank passiveness she’d had for the past few days, when she wasn’t brutalizing some Demon that is. ‘Don’t think about it.’ What Skara didn’t expect, however, was for Boscha to lift her off the ground by the front of her uniform, and bodily SLAM her against the wall!

“Don’t. Do that. Again.” Boscha growled out. Skara whimpered, barely getting out a confirmation, the pain in her back throbbing from the blow. As Skara slid down to the floor, the few members of their clique nearby watched in stunned horror. Then, to Skara’s morbid shock, Boscha’s face blanked out, cleared, and then shifted into confusion. “Why are you hanging out on the floor? Come on, let’s go eat.” Skara barely held back the tears threatening to break loose.

Shakily pulling herself to her feet, Skara did her best to enter her usual stride, following in Boscha’s footsteps. She willfully ignored the frantic whispers kicking up behind her. ‘Don’t think about it.’

Amity marched down the halls, dead set on finding Principal Bump. Surely he had some kind of answer to this!? Willow cheated. That was the only possible answer. Willow had no talent, it was an established fact throughout Hexside. That feat back in class was impossible! Gritting her teeth, Amity carefully pushed back her anger, letting her features smooth into their usual blank indifference. She wasn’t entirely successful, however, as her eyes were still narrowed, and her jaw had a harsher set than usual to it.

As she marched, she thought back to Willow’s claim. Advice. How cute. As if Advice was enough to generate such an explosive increase in skill. If that was the case, she’d be in the Emperor’s Coven by now!

As she muttered bitter things to herself, she brushed by some of the girls Boscha, and by extension herself, hung out with. They attempted to grab her attention, with one even trying to physically grab her. A glare and a few choice words sent them scurrying. She’d probably have to deal with that later. What a bother. As she rounded the corner, she spotted Willow, that kid she hung out with these days, Augustus, a new girl, and… Principal Bump!? There was no way in the Titan’s name she was letting this fly!!

As Luz and Bump traveled the halls, she wondered just what, exactly, he had in mind. She had caught a glimpse in his eyes, the look of someone who had just hatched a plan, and was very good at keeping it tucked away inside. Still, whatever it was, she could at least take comfort in the fact that it probably wasn’t harmful, or at the very least wasn’t fatal.

“Oh, LUZ! OVER HERE!!”

Turning her head in the sound of the shout, Luz caught sight of Willow standing some feet away, a vibrating younger boy standing next to her.

Bump shot her a wry glance. “I feel as though that is the student you were talking about, correct.”

Luz smirked. “Got it in one, sir.”

As the two strolled over, Luz saw Willow tense up, most definitely because of the authority figure by her side. Luz was not expecting the kid she was with to rush her, shoving his face uncomfortably close to her own.

“Oh, my Titan, A REAL LIVE HUMAN!!” The kid squealed, literally squealed!, in delight. “IS IT TRUE RAIN DOESN’T BOIL IN YOUR WORLD WHERE ARE YOUR GILLS HAVE YOU EVER EATEN MEAT RAW ARE YOU CAPABLE OF EXPELLING VENOM FROM GLANDS STORED IN YOUR NECK MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH!!!!”

“Whoa!” Luz shouted, easing the kid back. “Personal space please.”

Bump gave a tired smile at the boy. “Hmm… I should’ve expected that reaction from young Augustus here.” At Luz’s questioning look, he elaborated. “Young Augustus is the head of Hexside’s Human Appreciation Society. Out of every being in this school, his knowledge is the least flawed.” Say what you will about his teaching style, but Bump was very much willing to admit to having gaps in his knowledge and understanding.

“Augustus, eh?” Luz grinned. “I think I’ll call you Gus. Easier for me to remember.”

“Gus? Gus!” The now christened “Gus” started shouting. “A human nickname!” He whirled towards Willow. “Gus! Call me it! Gus! Yes!”

Luz gave a confused smile to a tired-looking Willow. “He’s certainly hyper.”

Willow sighed. “Yeah, but he’s a great guy when you get to know him, and he’s stuck by me through everything.”

As heartwarming as this was, Bump knew now was the best point to head things off. “Ahem.”

As Willow and Gus refocused on the sight of their Principal, both snapped to attention. “”Principal Bump!””

“Oh, calm down children. Now, Miss Park, if I recall correctly, you are in the Abomination Track.” At her sullen nod, her expression gave Bump all the confirmation he needed. “My associate,” he gestured to a smirking Luz, “has informed me that your skills are being underutilized in your current class and that you wish to transfer.” He bent down slightly, giving Willow a better look at his face, and him a better look at hers. “Is this true?”

Willow hesitated for a moment, but at an encouraging glance from Luz, and a thumbs up from Gus, steeled herself. “More than anything sir. I just… I really REALLY hate being in Abominations.” She clutched her uniform, slightly embarrassed at the admittance.

Bump gave a warm chuckle. “Don’t fret. As your Principal, one of my duties is to see that all my students reach their full potential, and to see that they enjoy their learning.” The bright grins from the three youths elicited another laugh from him. “Now, let’s see what you can do, and then see what I can do, shall we?”

Willow’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Oh Absolut-”

“Principal Bump!”

All present turned to see Amity striding their way, an irate expression on her face. As she pulled closer, she stopped herself, and pointed at Willow. “Willow Park cheated on her Abominations Project today!” The sheer certainty of her statement, and the boiling anger in her voice, sent the group rocking back.

“”WHAT!?”” The synched shouts of Willow and Luz rattled the windows.

Bump frowned, his earlier joy draining away. “Miss Blight, I hope you understand the severity of your accusation. This is not something to be made lightly.” He warned, hoping this wouldn’t escalate.

“Trust me sir, I am fully aware.” Amity stated, having rallied enough of her temper to present herself in a calmer manner. “Willow presented an Abomination today in class that was far beyond any prior recorded demonstration of skill, a jump far beyond what could be attributed to typical practice.”

“What!? Amity, that’s crazy, I didn’t cheat!” Willow cried, shocked and hurt at the accusation.

“Yeah,” Luz leapt in, more than willing to defend the girl. “I even saw her practice it myself!”

Amity gave Luz a flat look, before fixing her gaze on her ears. “I wouldn’t expect a human to get it,” she stated condescendingly, “but Willow has none of the skill needed to produce an Abomination of that caliber, such as it was.”

“Amity, I’m telling the truth, I just practiced!” Willow insisted.

“Practice doesn’t just magically erase years of incompetency, Park!” Amity shot back.

Luz stepped forward, glaring down at the mint-haired girl. “Don’t you dare call her incompetent, kid.” She snarled, fed up with the brat’s attitude. “I was the one who gave her the advice she needed to make that Abomination, and I watched her practice to get it just right. Don’t talk about things you don’t really understand.”

“Gave her the advice?” Amity murmured, before her face split into a nasty grin. “Oh, so you're the one who helped her cheat.”

“Cheat!?” Luz shouted.

“Of course.” Amity waved dismissively. “Willow always did like playing with plants, so it makes sense now how it turned out. She just slathered some vines in Abomination Goop and stored them in her pot. Of course,” she arched an eyebrow, somehow not quite concealing the anger in her eyes, “I never thought a human would understand the value of hard work anyway.”

“You...You!” Luz fumed ready to throttle the girl in front of her, but…

“I…”

The group turned to Willow, the tiles beneath her feet shuddering.

“Didn’t.”

Her eyes started glowing.

“CHEAT!!!”

With a scream of rage, a massive collection of vines ripped out from the ground, slamming Amity painfully against the far wall, a rough crack echoing from the landing. Panting for breath, eyes still burning with rage, Willow glanced down at her hands, looked back at Amity, and her eyes widened in horror. With a yell, tears streaming, Willow tore off down the hall, Gus rushing after her in worry.

Before she headed off to join them, Luz stomped over to Amity, a book clutched in her hand. With a stormy frown, she threw it at the girl’s feet. Amity hesitantly picked it up. “What is-?”

“Those are Willow’s notes.” Luz flatly stated. “Take a look. I’m done wasting time here.” And with that said, Luz took off like a bullet down the same hall as Gus and Willow, dead set on helping her friend.

“Miss Blight, I am deeply disappointed in you.” Bump stated, hovering slightly to the side of Amity.

“Principal Bump!?” Amity gasped, having forgotten his presence on the excitement.

“Indeed.” Bump stated. His face was flat and stony, his temper almost peaked. “I have always held you in high regard, Miss Blight, due to your dedication, skill, and commitment.”

“T-Thank you, Sir.” Amity shakily grinned, only for it to be wiped away by his next words.

“I now see, that was a mistake.”

Amity stilled. “What?”

Bump tisked. “Amity, your actions did nothing but disgrace yourself, based on supposition and your own jealousy of another’s work. You didn’t even take the time to test the Abomination Pot, did you?” Amity reeled back as if struck; she hadn’t, she had just assumed.

Bump turned his tired eyes to her, shame burning in his gaze. “I am afraid that I will have no choice but to inform your parents of your recent conduct. I hope you will reflect on your actions, Miss Blight.” With that, he headed off to see to his other students, one of whom had just been provoked by the girl lying behind him.

Solemnly, uncomprehending of what had just occurred, Amity turned her gaze to the book the Human had thrown at her, Willow’s notes apparently. With nothing better to do, and her usual calm utterly shattered, Amity slowly opened the book. Inside were the notes, scribbled all about, and Amity’s eyes widened. Some of these were the same kinds of notes she had taken over the years; no, some of these were Better! If Willow had been studying this diligently, then how was she struggling? Was she really a Half-A-Witch at all? ...Was what happened between them all for nothing? Shakily rising to her feet, wincing slightly at the pain it brought to her back, Amity stumbled after the others. She needed answers.

If anyone saw Boscha in the moment, they would’ve assumed she was in a bad mood, what with the intense scowl on her face. They would be wrong. She wasn’t in a bad mood, as that would imply she cared enough to allow this situation to upset her. Her fist tightened around her jewel, the edges almost biting into her hand. As the sheep scurried around her, Boscha held in an eyeroll. Such blatant weakness might’ve been welcome before, but currently? It just served to annoy her.

“Ugh, if even just one more of these pests gets in my way, I swear I’m gonna lose it!” Boscha groaned, running a hand through her hair. “It’s like they don’t have anything better to do. Right Skara?” Boscha asked, turning to look at her closest follower (friend), who was oddly subdued, hanging farther back than usual. If she was being honest, it… irked Boscha to see one of her friends so weak.

Skara blinked, dazed. “Wha? Oh! Y-yeah, totally Boscha. Totally!” She chuckled nervously, lightly rubbing at her collar. Boscha gave an eye roll to that. Just what was up with her today? She was acting like Boscha was going to commit a murder or something! Seriously, the worst thing she had done lately is put some vermin in their place, that’s all.

Grumbling, Boscha soldiered on, all the while, that voice in the back of her head, screamed it’s message; she was here.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #willow park #amity blight #gus porter #hieronymus bump #boscha the owl house #skara the owl house #magic

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boreum-dal · 4 years

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cardcaptor sakura: boy band au #1

so, a while back, in the midst of a DEEP dive into BTS, @swingsdown and i brainstormed a stupidly indulgent CCS boy band AU which i’ve written in bits and pieces over the last few months for fun. i don’t plan to do much with it, but i thought it’d be fun to post little bits of it here as it gets written.

below is the rundown:

touya, yukito, eriol, syaoran, and yamazaki make up japan’s hottest boy group, CLOW, a group that has smashed regional and global records, amassed a cult-like legion of fans, and reached new peaks of success with every comeback they stage. beyond good looks, catchy music, and charming personalities, the group captures the hearts of fans with what appears to be genuine brotherhood and love for each other both on- and off-camera. but just when it looks like they can’t fly any higher, yukito, the glue of the group, abruptly leaves, and everything is at risk of falling apart.

these are non-chronological vignettes of the band’s time together, both while yukito is with them and after he leaves as they try to stage a return to the music world.

[see below for descriptions of the boys’ roles in the band, etc. + first vignette]

navigation:

[intro & post-yukito #1] [post-yukito #2] [post-yukito #3]| [during yukito #1]

-touya: rapper/singer, 26, group leader, trainee for longest (6 years--15 to 21) because he didn’t have any proper musical training when he auditioned; wanted to become a musician to help make ends meet for his family. best rapper, ok singer, worst dancer. Is friendly enough for an idol but a little stoic but has lots of fans because he’s very good looking

-yamazaki: rapper/singer, 24, exceptionally good dancer and ok rapper, relatively terrible singer but had to take vocal lessons to improve after yukito left to help fill the gap; never fights with anyone, chaotic energy at almost all times, known for his smiley eyes; known for weirdly high iq

-eriol: singer, 22, classically trained/very good vocalist, TERRIBLE rapper, pretty good dancer, calmest/most polite out of the group, best “face of the group,” known for classic good looks, comes from rich family, bff/roomies with syaoran

-syaoran: singer, 22, second best vocalist behind eriol, not good rapper, pretty good dancer, sometimes gets called “mini touya” because they’re both a little surly and look alike (and is popular despite stoicism/attitude bc he’s cute), hardest on himself and known to be a perfectionist, bff/roomies with eriol, auditioned through global casting in hong kong, had to learn japanese, english, and korean in training

-their fans unironically call themselves “CLOWn.”

-this is modeled much more after kpop boy groups/the kpop system in general, which i know is quite different from the jpop scene.

====

[post-yukito #1]

Syaoran watched, holding his breath, as the cameraman counted down with his fingers from three for their cue. At zero, he bowed in perfect unison with his bandmates, rising back up with a practiced smile. Yukito had taught him that the eyes mattered the most--if they don’t crinkle a little, people won’t think it’s genuine, he’d said. Syaoran squeezed the muscles around his cheeks just a little bit tighter and swallowed back bile. He felt Yamazaki squeeze his elbow to his left, and realizing how tense his shoulders were, he took in a breath and tried to force himself to relax.

“Hello, we’re CLOW,” he chorused with the group, and he threw up a v-sign with his fingers, maintaining the fake-genuine smile. Yukito would have been to his right if he’d been here, and he tried not to think about how painfully naked his right shoulder felt. They’d been preparing for this for months, and even so, everything about this situation suddenly felt horribly wrong.

“Hi, CLOW!” the host, a chipper young woman with bright blue hair and purple contact lenses who’d recently made her solo debut a few months ago, exclaimed, turning briefly to them before facing the camera again.

Syaoran briefly recalled the first time they’d been on this particular concert pre-show; it had been three weeks into their debut, and he’d been so nervous that he could hardly see straight. The interviewer then had been a young man, a fellow idol singer doing a three-month stint as the host for the show, and when the host had held the mic up to Syaoran’s face, he’d been totally speechless, his voice shot from nerves. His whole group--Eriol in particular--had given him hell about it for weeks afterward. Even Yukito, in all his sweet earnestness, had given him some good-natured ribbing about it. Only Touya had refrained, for one reason or another.

“Today is a very exciting day--your first comeback in over six months with your new single, LOVETORN!” the host said, turning towards Touya. “Tell us, how are you feeling?”

Touya leaned into the mic, facing the camera and wearing a convincingly charming grin. “It feels amazing. We are so happy to be able to provide new music for our fans, who have been so loving and wonderful while we’ve been on our break. We only hope that our fans love the single with as much love as we poured into making it.”

“Well, within twenty-four hours of the music video’s release on YouTube, it already hit 70 million views, so I think we can say with certainty that your fans love the single!” the host chirped. “Can you tell us what the meaning behind this song is?”

Syaoran was relieved the mic did not go to him for this question; he’d have had a difficult time not rolling his eyes. The meaning was pretty clear, he thought. It was a song about wanting someone back. Touya and the producers had decided to capitalize off of the most painful moment in the band’s four-year history by writing a fucking song about the departure of the one member that had truly held the team together.

Eriol, predictably, was a little more diplomatic in his response, for better or for worse. “Yes, it’s about the pain of being apart from your loved one for a prolonged period of time and life not being the same without them,” he said into the mic. He pushed up his glasses. “In our case, it’s about us being separated from our beloved CLOWNs for so long and wanting desperately to be reunited. And here we are today.”

The host smiled. “Such a sad song, but you’re all so happy to be here! How are you going to emote something so painful onstage?”

It was Syaoran’s turn to speak. All eyes were on him now, and taking an imperceptible half-second to compose himself, he turned on his megawatt smile once more. “It’s quite simple, really. We’ll just think about the times that inspired us to write this song in the first place. All the hardships, all the heartache--we’ll bring it all back onstage. And to that end,” he said, looking directly into the camera, “we’ve missed you very much.”

He hoped Yukito was watching, even though he knew he wasn’t.

“That is lovely, and we can’t wait to see you perform. Yamazaki, would you like to kick off the performance?”

Yamazaki stuck his face into the camera with a wide grin. “Absolutely. You’re watching Music Centre, and get ready for CLOW’s comeback with our new single, LOVETORN, in three, two, one!”

“Cut!” The director shouted, and the cameras stopped rolling. “Great job, everyone. I love when we get everything we need in one take--after all that time away, you really are true professionals.”

The group bowed, murmuring thanks, and shuffled backstage toward the dressing rooms.

“Good job, everyone,” Yoshiyuki Terada, the group’s manager, called, looking up from an iPad. “Take ten and then we’ll meet back here--you’re due onstage after this next performance.”

Syaoran made it into the dressing room first, and immediately, he grabbed his headphones out of the pocket of his hoodie hanging from the door and shoved them into his ears. The last thing he wanted to do right now was reflect with the band on that painful interview--not right before they had to go outside and bear their souls to the world for a four-minute performance. Just as he sat down on one of the sofas, though, he felt one of the earbuds being plucked out of his ear.

He looked up indignantly to see Touya holding the earbud, who was staring down at him with his lips drawn into a disapproving frown. “Quick team meeting.”

Syaoran scowled, but he turned around and leaned the front of his torso against the back of the sofa to face the rest of the group.

“Okay, guys,” Touya said, leaning against the vanity and crossing his arms. “First live performance of our comeback. How are we feeling?”

“Pretty good, now that the interview’s over,” Eriol said with a sigh. He reached down toward the floor to stretch his legs. “That was the hardest part for me.”

Yamazaki nodded. “Now that we don’t have to talk, I feel fine. It’s just a matter of doing what we’ve been practicing for the last two months now. It’s all muscle memory from here!”

Touya glanced at Syaoran next. Syaoran glared at him for a moment, but then he met Eriol’s softer gaze, and he deflated a little. “I’m--I’ll be fine. I’m not nervous.”

Touya pursed his lips. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

“I know.” Syaoran swallowed. “But I don’t know what else I can say.”

Touya regarded him in silence for a moment, and Syaoran knew without looking that Eriol and Yamazaki were watching the exchange with bated breath. Much to Syaoran’s relief, Touya let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do a good job out there tonight. No mistakes. The choreography on this is a little different from what we’re used to, so everyone needs to be in the exact right place at the exact right time.”

Of course it’s different. We’re missing a fifth body.

“How about you, Touya? How are you feeling?” Yamazaki asked, fiddling with the zipper on one of his many pant pockets.

Touya exhaled softly, and for the first time all night, he raised the corners of his lips in a small smile. “I’m okay. This feels right.”

It didn’t, though, Syaoran thought. Nothing felt right. But his bandmates were clearly so excited to be performing again, Yukito or no, and he wasn’t going to ruin that for them just because he didn’t feel ready.

“All right, guys, bring it in,” Touya said, holding out his hand. Eriol, Yamazaki, and Syaoran joined. “On three, CLOW. One, two, three--”

“CLOW!” the four of them chimed, and Syaoran followed Touya out of the dressing room and back toward the stage.

#ccs #boy band au #ccs fanfic

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waynedunlaptheorgandonor · 4 years

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ok, if i don’t write this im gonna lose my mind -cue dmx ‘party up’-

here is a ridiculously detailed analysis of why i am bordering on near certainty of caryl endgame, and how everything that’s been set up from the start of s9 (yes, even c@rzekiel and d@nnie) has been leading up to this

spoilers and long-winded analysis under the cut

let’s take this step-by-step, okay? starting with:

The Titles:

i have said this about a million times now, but the very first indication of caryl came from the new opening credits, where mmb’s name was very strategically placed above the graphic of daryl’s crossbow, what’s meant to symbolize henry’s pike, and a bunch of cherokee roses. it was foreshadowing, not only of henry’s death, but also how her relationship with daryl was going to unfold, and, bear with me here, the downfall of c@rzekiel. speaking of which, let’s go there

C@rzekiel:

i have also rambled about this, too, but the way that kang designed this relationship between zeke and carol was so brilliant, because it was never supposed to be real, but you weren’t able to fully see how until the whole story was laid out before us. (which goes with my belief that kang tells stories over long, connected archs, and not just “you know what would be fun to toss in here rn for some drama?”

carol

1. denied zeke’s proposal

2. never once told him she loved him

3. explicitly told those saviors she could have done without her ring (a line that had absolutely no need to be in there)

4. continuously rejected the title of queen

5. regularly visited daryl in the woods

6. said herself that all it was, was a fairytale. something i’ll delve into more when i talk about carol’s ptsd

but let me touch on how daryl plays into this. we know she regularly went out into the woods to be with daryl, and she did it because he was her tether back to reality. she was living a fantasy life, and knew deep down that it wasn’t real, but had to do it, for henry’s sake, and for the sake of her mental health, because at the time of the relationship, she had not remotely begun to deal with any of her grief

the first scene we get with her and zeke is directly after daryl saves zeke’s life, which is telling. and the first time we hear her talk about her feelings about zeke’s proposal she turned down it’s with daryl, and let us not forget that the script notes stated that daryl was experiencing jealousy about it. he never asked her not to, though, because he thought she was happy, and that was more important to him than her being with him. he was willing to give her up if it meant she was happy, like what kind of angst trope suffering is that?? -chefs kiss-

and we can’t forget that zeke canonically views daryl as a threat to his marriage (i mean, rightfully so). he literally tells daryl to back off his wife so that he can fix their marriage, because he knows carol is starting to go back to him

next!

flowers:

flowers have been being used as symbolism between these two across the past two seasons a bunch. flowers are in mmb’s title card. the first scene of carol/daryl in the time jump shows them seeing flowers. daryl brings carol a flower on the dinner tray. one of the upcoming episodes is “look at the flowers”. obviously the cherokee rose scene is iconic between them, and flowers to carol represent this weird dichotomy. on the one hand, they represent daryl comforting her and giving her hope, and on the other hand, they represent her downfall mentally from the grove. interesting that one of the threads throughout this current season is carol grappling between trying to stay grounded with daryl, and her losing herself to her grief

speaking of grief!

Carol’s PTSD:

people have bitched that kang is just telling carol’s same storyline all over again, to which i’m like, tf show are you watching?? here’s what kang has done. gimple dealt with carol by literally just locking her away in a house to mull over how terrible she is a person, while never once actually dealing with her grief, and then handed that over to kang as a boiling slop of diarrhea, and somehow kang managed to take that, perform alchemy, and turn it into delicious loving carol juice.

she had henry killed off to parallel sophia, yes, that’s true, but the /reason/ she did that is because she’s righting the wrongs that were done to carol by essentially rewriting her storyline the way it should have gone. carol has lost So Much. more than most, i think, and kang is like, “that would fuck someone up pretty fucking bad, i think, so let’s see her actually have to grapple with that.” kang stays true to the carol gimple created, in that her instinct is to run away (think boat), but she’s using daryl as a means of forcing her to confront her demons. the two of them, at any given time, are running away from their struggles, but daryl is finally at a place of stability, and so he’s taking carol by the hand and saying, “no. i’m not letting you do this again. you have to stay,” and carol does, because she loves him, but consequently she’s having to actually feel it (something she explicitly stated she “can’t let herself do”), and is now experiencing the consequences of it, and poor daryl is stuck trying to handle it. his entire plotline this season has revolved around trying to help carol heal her wounds so that they can finally be together the way they should have been ten years ago.

they should be together, and daryl shouldn’t be with anyone else? glad you asked, because that brings us to:

D@nnie:

i actually think that kang never meant to make daryl/connie a ship, bc nothing in season 9 really indicated anything more than a mutual respect, and part of me truly believes that she saw the reaction to the two of them, and was like, “you know what? i can work with this.”

carol is pushing daryl towards connie because she wants to take alpha down and knows she might go down with her and she needs to know daryl won’t be alone. that’s it. period. end of sentence.

but okay, let’s extrapolate. she asks him if he’s interested in connie, and daryl very, very bluntly says no. you can’t tell me that his answer was meant to be evasive. he delivered that line like straight up “no.” no room for debate about his feelings. if they wanted to leave room for doubt they would have had norman redo his delivery, because it is too obvious. he is shutting it down completely. and carol is like, “why not?” and /that’s/ when daryl gets evasive. very “don’t worry about it, why are you worrying about it, i’m not in love with you, shut up.”

fucking kills me, guys.

now the current spoilers about carol telling daryl to get angry at her for (supposedly/probably) killing connie furthers this belief that she wants daryl to pull away from her. because he’s her tether, she loves him, and as long as he still wants her around she can’t leave. she wants him to hate her, and daryl refuses. he’s pissed as all get out about what she did, sure, but he doesn’t hate her. also, the idea that daryl going back to try and save connie and magna means he’s in love with connie is absolutely baffling. have you met daryl? his instinct is to save people at all costs. he wouldn’t leave his friends stuck in a fucking cave, are you serious? just because connie is a woman doesn’t mean daryl wants to fuck her. he’s allowed to care about his friends.

but anyway, the point here is that every “d@nnie” spoiler has been music to my ears, bc not once has it been actually shippy. that first episode with the asl book and them together? it was supposed to juxtapose zeke and carol, and how carol and daryl immediately forgot about connie and zeke in order to be with each other. every other thing with connie has either been very cute and platonic, or has been carol trying to push her on daryl. -chefs kiss- my dudes, you’re worrying about nothing

Misc bc I’m Late for Work:

here are just a handful of other indicators that caryl is on the horizon

-the dream where she dreams she’s MARRIED TO DARYL, and the scenes where she wakes up in bed and looks over and he’s not there. why set that up if the end result isn’t going to be them together in bed?

-the bracelet/the acorns and what they symbolize

-the use of “we” (”we don’t sleep” “it was like that for us before all of this” “since when have we never been enough?” etc)

-their parallels to alpha/beta (see my other long-winded text post on that one)

-ten years worth of history between them!!! that kang understands and references (carol’s claustrophobic, look at the flowers, etc)

so anyway, i don’t have time to tie this up with a nice bow bc i really have to get to work, but this is all to say that i am very very confident about the caryl endgame. i think it’s being drawn out bc kang needs to right the wrongs done by gimple first, but that caryl is where she’s eventually headed. every spoiler has been 100% caryl positive to me. i am zen af, and i think you should be too.

i’ll add to this if i think of anything i missed, but here you go. caryl is endgame and they gon fuck

the end,

-diz

#caryl #caryl spoilers #twd s10 spoilers #dunlap tp

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sabraeal · 4 years

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We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 7

Written for @k-itsmaywriting as her prize for winning the Trope Madness kitty last March! I’d make the usual groaning noises about how late I am, but honestly...this is about as good as I could do this year XD

“So let me get this straight.” Obi’s long fingers steeple over his character sheet. “Not only is homeslice the lord of this particular castle and its whole dealie--”

“Demense,” Kiki offers.

“--Right, demense. That sounds fancy enough. So he’s not only the big wig of this demense place, but also--” her stomach curls to match the trajectory of his smirk-- “my lady’s boyfriend.”

“Ah! It’s not like that!” Shirayuki waves her hands, attempting to scuttle this whole avenue of inquiry. “He’s not-- we’re not-- together.” She dares a glance at Izana. “I...think?”

His mouth twitches; no comment. This may be presumptuous of me, one of his first texts reads, burning a hole in her pocket, but would you be open to a potential failed betrothal in your backstory?

There was no way for her to know, not when her only image of Zen’s older brother was a blond man behind a backseat window, waiting in the school parking lot, but still, still--

I’m open to whatever you think would go best, should not have been her answer. Every poster on r/tabletop would have called her...well, nothing polite, that’s for one.

“I mean, maybe...technically?” She’s not entirely sure how fourth century betrothals work, especially fantasy ones. “Lynet is under the impression that this was all dissolved for, ah...” Izana offers her a beatific smile, like an angel before it sets fire to a city. “...reasons.”

“But officially,” Obi presses, “he has dibs.”

Her mouth pulls flat. “I guess if you’re the sort of person who thinks you can call dibs on a sentient being with free will, yes.”

“Right,” Obi bulldozes on, oblivious to the pothole he’s hurtling toward, “and now he’s throwing you this banquet--”

“The banquet’s for all of us,” Zen snaps, arms cross and cheeks flushed. “As a reward for saving Laxdo.”

“Oh, is that right? As I remember it--” Obi taps his chin, so thoughtful-- “Lynet was the one who figured out the whole compulsion thing. And who was it that broke the curse? Oh, right: Lynet.”

“No!” Shirayuki claps her hands to her cheeks. It would be nice if she could take even a fictional compliment without blushing. “You all helped!”

“See?” Zen cuts a hand toward her, smug. “It’s for all of us.“

“Oh yes,” Kiki deadpans, teeth peeking out from her smirk. “Moral support is just as important as actually solving the puzzle. I’m sure his lordship agrees.”

Mitsuhide rubs at his chin, stubble scraping over his palm. Four hours ago, he arrived clean shaven; now he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. Shirayuki can only stare in wonder.

“I think...they might have a point.” He winces under Zen’s scowl. “Not that I think we weren’t important! But Lord Shuuka...”

He shrugs. It’s like watching mountains heave, but in a gentle, lovable way.

Kiki’s mouth twitches. “I have the distinct impression we were afterthoughts on that banquet invitation.”

“I’m the Prince of all the Britons and the Angles!” Zen shrills, slapping his hand on the table. “I’m not an afterthought.”

The room goes suddenly,awkwardly silent; the only noise the rattle of heating through the ducts. The exactly moment his words echo back to him is made painfully clear by the way he blushes, blotchy and red all up and down his neck, like he’s the one with a curse.

Kiki’s eyebrow nearly collides with her hairline. “You mean Arturius?”

“That’s what I said,” Zen grumbles, hunching down in his seat. “Or at least what I meant.”

“In any case,” Obi presses on, “what’s a king to a cute girl you’re gonna marry--?”

“We’re not engaged.” It’s pointless; Obi’s clearly concerned less about Lynet’s marital status and more about riling Zen up about it, but still. “I mean, not now.”

“Betrothed,” Izana interjects casually, tapping the end of his pen on his notebook. “It is different. Legally.”

Shirayuki nibbles on her lip, stomach wriggling in a concerned squirm. Nothing good comes of Izana getting pedantic.

“Sure, maybe you’re not now,” Obi allows with a shrug of his shoulder. “But come on, what better place is there to woo a medieval maiden than a banquet?”

“A ball,” Kiki offers, flat, at the same time Mitsuhide thoughtfully posits, “A stroll through the garden.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zen snips, lifting his chin. “Shirayuki already said Lynet wasn’t interested.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, boss.” Obi pitches toward Izana with a smile that can only be described as looking for trouble. “How tall is this guy?”

For once, Izana seems flustered, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks down at his notes. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“This Shuuka dude. The lord here? The baron or whatever he is.” He rests his chin on his hand, smile sharpening into a feral grin. “How tall is he?”

“Ah...average, I suppose.” His brows knit, fingers shuffling through his papers. “There aren’t any good estimates of height for this era, but I suppose if you wanted a modern equivalent...five-ten? Five-eleven?”

“Really? You don’t say.” Obi cuts his smile toward Zen. “And just how tall are you, Your Highness?”

Shirayuki winces at the flush climbing Zen’s neck; if they’d been outside, she’d have suggested some aloe vera before the burn blistered. As it is...

Zen’s fingers crumple the edge of his sheet. “Arturius is six-one.”

Obi hums. “How interesting.”

It is a fine day at Laxdo; this autumn may still have a bite, but it’s crisp, refreshing after so many days in the confines of the great hall. A great hall that is now transformed, tables and benches populating it instead of the sick. Most of the afflicted now hobble about the grounds, slow and unsteady, but healing; the few still confined to their sickbeds are only the elderly and previously infirm, and your attentions are a boon to them still.

The manifest is in your hand now, the last few names in your care curling across the page. It is those men on your mind now as you sweep through Laxdo’s bright corridors, striding through the tiger stripes the sun leaves across the rushes. Your burden is light now that the castle’s healer is back on his feet, able to help with potions and poultices and whatever else you are able to fashion to ease the weakness in your patients, but logistics are ever the enemy. Supplies were depleted before you arrived and have only been brought lower. Winter is just around the corner, and--

Steel rings through the stone. Metal on metal-- blades meeting. Out in the courtyard.

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and your pace hurries to match it. Surely, surely it cannot be an attack; not now, when Laxdo is but a shade of its former glory.

The certainty of pragmatism grips you, your stomach roiling in its clutches. But of course it must be. What lord could suffer the sweet temptation of a neighbor brought low? It would be nothing to sweep in here and take the manor for a second son, something to placate him, to keep him complacent for another dozen years.

You steel yourself, wishing you had more than the bare pouch of herbs and water skein you carry on you, and step into the blinding light of the arcade--

Only to see a crowd of men gathered in the yard, conspicuously not fighting. Oh no, they are cheering instead.

Your mouth pulls thin, and ah, fortune favors you, for the crowd parts just so, and there are two of your recently healed patients, bare steel in hand, fighting each other in the yard.

Violence is not in your nature, but oh, you are contemplating a change of philosophy.

“Lady Lynet.”

You should startle; time and experience have taught you to shy when approached from behind, but strangely...you do not. Shuuka comes to stand beside you, a respectful distance as is due to your station, but closer than you have been used to these last few months, and it is-- easy. Familiar.

The lord of Laxdo has certainly seen better days; his shoulders stoop as if he expects to be smaller, and the circles beneath his eyes are quite deep still, but-- he smiles, and it is easy to see that time will heal his ills, even these.

“Shuuka,” you murmur in greeting, leaning against one of the arcade’s columns. “It is good to see you on your feet.”

“It is good to be on them,” he assures you with a laugh that brightens the day around you. “I see you are taking in this fine weather.”

“I am. And so are you men, it seems,” you add, wry. “Whether or not I told them to.”

“I know you told them to rest,” he says, lips struggling to rein in his smile, “but it has been a long season for my men. To be outside after such a long sickness, to be moving as one ought--” the longing on his face is plain to see and painful to witness-- “perhaps you might allow them this. Just this once.”

You watch the men dance around each other in the ring, laughing and shouting, breathless from both, and let your jaw ease. “Just this once.”

Shuuka smiles, a bright, earnest thing, and it is so hard to reconcile him to the boy you knew all those years ago. The small lord’s son who viewed the whole world through a veil of tears. He’s grown up better than you could have ever hoped.

He leans on the pillar across from yours, eyeing you with an eager sort of wariness. “I have set the night of the banquet.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” His skitters away, back toward his men. “Tonight. If-- if you allow it.”

“Oh!” You had not-- this was not-- you are not even prepared--

“Hey, you!”

You both jump, heads swinging to where Arturius storms across the yard, looking as unrelenting as winter itself. “You and I must have words, Lord Shuuka!” He glances at you, mouth pulled thin. “Privately.”

Shirayuki considers herself well read.

An understatement, actually; a well-crafted cover for the amount of hours she’d spent curled up in the B&B’s window, devouring books Jaja bought by the box at a yard sale, or the amount she could carry in her arms from the library.

(The maximum was supposed to be five at any one time, but during on particularly slow summer in middle school, the librarian had made a special “all you can carry” policy, applied solely to Shirayuki. It had turned her daily trips into weekly ones, and saved her from slowing her pace to a crawl Saturday nights, so that she could have something to read on Sunday)

She doesn’t have a favorite book-- just thinking about culling the list to top ten makes her break out into a cold sweat, let alone one-- but she has formative ones. Ones that became annual re-reads or just stuck with her, claiming a stake in the back of her mind, ready to whisper the words she needs when she wants a laugh, or the rest of the world gets too hard to handle.

So it’s no surprise when she looks at Obi, his grin stretching impossibly, gleefully wide, and thinks Cheshire Cat. It only makes sense, since she’s fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Well now,” he drawls, far too pleased. “I think we all saw this coming.”

Kiki arches a brow. “What? Because you goaded him into it?”

“Princess,” he gasps, hand pressed against his chest. “Would I purposefully rile up the Prince of all the Briton and the Angles?”

“Absolutely.”

His retort is lost, cut off by the heavy tread of Zen clomping down the stairs. If Shirayuki thought some hallway time might help him cool off, well-- that notion is instantly disabused when he turns the corner on the landing. If anything, he’s more agitated, neck flushed and mouth flat, slouching over to his seat like he’s asking for someone to start a fight.

Izana is not much better, even if his annoyance is more subtle. He settles into his chair with lips pressed thin, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that does not suggest good humor.

“Now if no one else has any more business,” he says, voice a trembling thread of his patience, “I think we can skip right to the feast.”

Shirayuki shifts, biting her cheek. It’s not important, it really isn’t but still-- “Um...”

Izana peers up from his notes, brows raised with a shocking lack of sarcasm. “Did you want to do something, Shirayuki?”

“Oh, no, I just, um...” She rolls a corner of Lynet’s sheet, tight and neat under her stubby fingernail. “I just wanted a...clarification?”

He blinks, flipping a hand out in encouragement. “Go on...?”

“It’s only, ah....” It’s silly, she knows that, but she’s already started asking. “Is this an...informal feast?”

Izana’s mouth parts, just slightly. “I’m...sorry?”

“I thought I would ask since Lynet didn’t exactly pack her, um, fanciest gowns.” Her cheeks flare with heat, and ugh, she really just should have let the chips fall as they may on this one. At least if the stares she’s getting from the rest of the table are any indication. “She was traveling light.”

“I...” His mouth opens once, then shuts. Opens again, brows furrowed. “Lord Shuuka has seen fit to outfit you all accordingly if you did not have appropriate clothing for the evening.”

She means to thank him, maybe even ask what might qualify as proper dress for a celebration such as this, but--

“So what you’re saying,” Obi interjects, grin slanted and sly, “is that Beaumain’s got some sick new threads.”

Regret etches itself on every plane of Izana’s face. “...Yes. I suppose.”

“Ha.” Obi leans back, eyes tracing a searing trail up her from heels to hairline. “Then yeah, I got something I want to do before this shindig.”

Had the Lord Himself but asked you if there were women in Laxdo, you would have sworn upon the grave of your mother that you and Morgaine were the only two. Surely you had treated none when the castle was under its curse. But when you attempt to beg off the feast, explaining that you are not properly clad for such a celebration--

Well, Shuuka finds you a gown easily enough. Your fingers linger over the remarkable wool, woven thin and tight, dyed a rich indigo. Woad, you think, though your own forays with it never yielded a color so impressive. The linen kirtle is the same, so light it might as well be air, and oh, you may be born a lady, but never did the Castle Perilous have such luxury.

A knock lands lightly upon your door, a quick little ditty sketched on oak. You’ve heard it before, though you can’t remember the words, or even the tune, just the beat. Ba-ba-bum. Bum-bum. A song from a better time.

You shake yourself. Song it may be, but a summons it is still. And you are the one who must answer it.

The door is heavy beneath your hands, but you coax it open with little effort. Behind it is the evening’s shadows, thick in the growing dim, and the gold that shines from them.

“Ah Beaumains,” you murmur as his outline resolves into a man, one dressed as fine as you. His colors are more subdued, the black of the shadows and the deep blues of his skin, humbler than any words that have passed his lips. “I was not expecting that you would, um...?”

“I am your escort, my lady.” He bows over his arm, a gallant. His pose gives the distinct impression of mocking Bedwyr, though the man himself is not in evidence. “What sort of shield would I be if I let you walk into the fray alone?”

“Ah...” You stare at his sleeve as he holds it out to you, hesitant. “I suppose that would be...unseemly, yes.”

“And I, the height of propriety.” His teeth flash like a knife’s edge as you slip your hand around his elbow. “Lucky, too.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?”

“Of course.” He shrugs; every inch a siege. “I get to see how nice you look before everyone else.”

“Hey!” Zen directs the brunt of his scowl toward Izana, though the angle of his glare is easily wide enough to include Obi. “Why is Beaumains getting this scene?”

“This scene?” Izana drawls, utterly mild. “Do you mean the conversation he just had with Lynet in her chambers?”

“Yes!” Zen’s jaw sets into an ill-tempered jut. “If anyone, Arturius--”

“You mean the scene wherein Beaumains takes the opportunity afforded by his current occupation to further their flirtation,” Izana continues, “the flirtation in which both players have built upon from their character introductions?”

A flush licks flames up her jaw, threatening to blaze across her cheeks. It’s one thing for it to happen, it’s another thing for everyone to just talk about it.

“...Yes.”

Izana raises a brow. “Because he asked.”

And it’s a whole other thing to do it like she wasn’t even here.

“Well, I want one too!” Zen pushes, hands gripping at the table. “Arturius--”

“Is missing the point that the DM is making,” Kiki supplies, deadpan. “Which is that Lynet is also choosing to have this scene too.”

Zen sputters, red-faced. “I know that! Shirayuki wouldn’t have any problem if Arturius wanted to--”

“Arturius is having a very long, very pointed heart-to-heart with the lord of Laxdo,” Izana reminds him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, it’s not like that took all day!” he protests. “I have time to do both.”

Izana pinches the bridge of his nose, letting a long, noise breath out. “The next half hour is not going to be all and sundry complimenting Lynet on her sartorial choices.”

“It’s not everyone, just Artur--”

“Why not?” Kiki tilts back her chair, wedging her knees against the table. “Morgaine wants to tell her she’s beautiful too. How about Bedwyr?”

Mitsuhide stares at her, slack-jawed, before darting a worried look toward Iana. “W-well,” he says finally, with a hard swallow, “he certainly wouldn’t be able to disagree.”

Izana stares at Kiki, nonplussed. “Well then,” he drawls, mouth settling into a disconcerting smile. “What do you think, Shirayuki?”

She’s already pink, but with everyone’s eyes on her, her skin burns to a painful red. “M-me?”

“Shall we allow Arturius--” he darts a quelling glance at Kiki-- “et al to have their moment with Lynet, or shall we press on to the feast?”

Zen smiles at her, so kind and warm, just like he did that first day at school, and she-- she wishes that this wasn’t up to her. It’s not as if she minds the compliments-- fictional as they are-- but Beamains’ had been spontaneous, inspired by the moment, and this--

--Zen settles back, his smile curling smugly at the corners. His gaze is no longer on her, oh no, it’s on Obi, the challenge written clear in his eyes--

--has nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with the people playing it.

“I think,” she begins without a tremor in her voice, “I’m fine with moving on.”

Zen’s jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard the lady.” Izana lips twitch behind his paper screen. “She is content with only Beaumains’ love making.”

Shirayuki jolts. “That’s not what I sa--”

“Anyway,” he continues, ignoring his brother’s glare and Obi’s grins in response, “it’s the feast now.”

This is no longer the great hall you remember.

Or perhaps it is if you search your earliest memories; if you allow yourself to remember being seated upon the dais, a cushion placed beneath you so that you might reach the table and impress the court with your grace. You did not-- you sister would have, were she allowed, but it was you who would be sent to marry at Laxdo, not her, practically an infant still. It was no disaster; it was not your beauty that had brought the lord of Laxdo to break bread with your father.

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka rises on the dais, holding up a hand. “Please, come here!”

It is perhaps a different tale now.

Still, this no longer resembles the hall in which you have been toiling in these long weeks. That was a dark, stifling place, the miasma of curse and compulsion lingering for days after you had dispelled them. But this--

This is a new country entirely. Candles twinkle in their holder overhead, the ceilings so high they seem as distant as the stars themselves. Bodies no longer line the hall but instead pack benches, the men dressed bright and boisterous, ale already flowing from their cups.

“Surveying your domain?”

You blink, eyes blurring as they settle on the shadow beside you. His teeth flash white against the indigo of his lips, too amused. “N-no! I was only thinking of how changed this place is. Only days ago man laid head to toe, and now...”

He tilts his heads, horns glimmering in the candlelight. “Now they are all hidden away, and we play at heroes.”

It is only the rough wool beneath your fingers, wrapped around the hard curve of his shoulder, that tells you once again you have acted without thinking. You cheeks burn as you pull away-- to think, you raised a hand to him as if he were one of the tenants’ children chasing you around the courtyard, as if you had known him all your life.

“Oh, my lady,” he clucks. “How rough you are with your servant--”

“You were unkind,” you murmur heatedly. “There are few enough that are still ailing, and they would be better served in their rooms. There is no harm in Laxdo’s lord wanting to celebrate their good fortune.”

“Mayhaps.” His nose wrinkles. “A little ridiculous, you must admit.”

You snorts, unladylike. “Says the one who polished his horns.”

Ah, now the shoe is on the other foot. His gaze is quick to drop from yours, expression rumpled with annoyance. Beaumains may be eager to ridicule the pageantry of the nobles, but he enjoys it as well.

“Come on then.” His arm tugs at yours, not gentle. “Let’s see what your skill has won you, my lady.”

You sputter, feet stumbling as you attempt to keep pace. “As I said, I am not--”

“Ah.” Beaumains mouth curves slyly, eyeing the tables he leads you past. “You may not be taking their measure, but it seems tonight they will take yours.”

It is only his words that make you notice; conversations quiet as you pass, the men’s eyes following you not with hunger, but with curiosity. For the first time, you prefer the former more than the latter.

“I cannot see why.” You take pains to place your feet more carefully, to strive for that ladylike bearing your sister achieves so easily. “They know me already.”

“But tonight is different.” He nods to the empty place beside Shuuka. You stomach drops when you see it is to his right. “Tonight they find out if you fit into the lady’s seat.”

You gut clenches. You did not come so far for this to dog your heels once again. “That-- that cannot be. I have been clear--”

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka waves again, though more subtly. No need for grand gestures when you are already so close. “Come, take your place by me.”

Beaumains’ brows raise. “Are you sure?”

You thought you were, but the smile the lord gives you as you approach gives you doubts. Beaumains pulls out your chair, chin tucked respectfully, but you do not miss his amused smirk or his knowing look. Fine. He may think what he likes but this is not-- not that. Your betrothal is long in the past for both you and Laxdo’s lord.

“My women did well,” Shuuka tells you, friendly and bright, no hint of romance. “You look radiant, my lady.”

Well...not much of one, at least. “They have my thanks,” you reply, “I truly had nothing for a feast such as this.”

His smile widens, and it does him credit that he keeps it as he turns to Beaumains. “Thank you as well, for escorting my lady.”

To his other side, Arturius scowls, glaring as your shadow performs a polite bow, no respect spared. The same he categorically refused to show the prince. “My pleasure, your lordship.”

“You honor us with your actions, Sir Beaumains.” Shuuka gestured past her, hand open in generosity. “Please, take the seat next to the Lady Lynet, I--”

A chair scrapes across the dais, and Arturius stands, as thunderous as any storm. “That man is no sir.”

The room is so quiet it practically has its own crickets. Or at least it would, if the atmosphere hadn’t suffocated them all. Shirayuki has admit, she’s feeling a little stifled herself

Mitsuhide shifts, chair creaking, mouth grim. “Zen...”

“No,” he snaps, still on his feet, red-faced and tense as he squares off with his brother. “It’s ridiculous! He’s a commoner.”

Izana peers up from his notes, raising a mild brow. “Is this really something you think is appropriate to pursue right now?”

Speaking fluent teacher like she does, Shirayuki hears the warning loud and clear: back down. But of course, Zen doesn’t.

“Beaumains doesn’t belong on the dais,” he reasons angrily. “He should be down at the tables with the vassals and retainers.”

Izana’s expression doesn’t betray a single thought, smooth as still water. “I must concede the point, technically, but as he is a member of your party, it would make sense if--”

Zen barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’re such a stickler for accuracy, but now you’re going to break a simple rule of hospitality--”

“It’s for ease of play--”

“It’s meta gaming.”

If she’d thought the room was quiet before, she’s disabused of the notion now. All motion has ceased; even Kiki holds her breath, eyes fixed on Izana who-- who--

Stands. Or rather, unfurls; every inch is a journey as his long limbs draw straight. It’s hard to remember when Mitsuhide can hardly fit both his thighs on a dining chair, but Izana is tall, a good ten inches above her perfectly respectable 5′4. He uses every bit of that to his advantage as he looms over his brother, eyes cool and steady. “I think--”

“It’s fine.”

Obi lounges in his chair, ankle cross over knee without a care in the word. Big Dick Energy, Kihal would tell her, and wow, she really does not need to be thinking about that right now, in the middle of all this.

His lips slowly spread into a grin that does not help her brain stay on the straight and narrow, not one little bit. “Beaumains can sit among the masses.”

“Obi...” His head swivels to her, and oh, she really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but-- it’s too late to turn back now. “You don’t need to--”

“Nah, nah, it’s no big deal,” he laughs, waving her off. “Let’s be real, given a choice between being in the box seats or getting trashed with the smallfolk, we all know which one he’d pick.”

Izana frowns, brow knitting. “As much as I appreciate your rationality in the face of the irrational, Obi, it isn’t necessary. It makes more narrative sense for Beaumains to be treated the same as the rest of the party--”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it, boss man. I can tank a hit for historical accuracy.” His gaze cuts to Zen. “In our fantasy roleplaying game where I play a demon and half the party does magic.”

Zen has the grace to look abashed, at least.

Izana lowers himself back into his chair, mouth set in faint disapproval. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, no prob.” Obi grins, sending her stomach into a tailspin. “Don’t worry, my lady, Beaumains knows how to keep himself entertained.”

You may sit at the lord of Laxdo’s right hand, but it is Morgaine who sits at yours, as radiant as any song. By all rights, she should be in your place; base-born she may be, but king’s daughter outranks a count’s, even born on the wrong side of the sheets. Still, she makes no protest when she takes her seat, only curling her lips in one of her mysterious smiles.

Shuuka is an attentive host, selecting the choicest cuts from the trays and laying them upon your plate. He chooses well for you, each morsel a delightful burst of flavor upon your tongue, but still--

Beaumains’ teasing spoils your every bite. It does not escape you that your host is not paying Arturius the same diligent attention but-- one does not feed a king. Or, rather, a prince. And you, well-- you would be the first to say that the curse was ended by the efforts of your whole party, but you know the men of Laxdo hold a different opinion.

(And for that matter, so does Beaumains, which he shares loudly and without prompting whenever possible, much to Arturius’ ire. It is flattering, but oh, you would much rather not be a needle used to provoke, no matter who holds it)

It is kind of Shuuka to pay you such an honor, but still, it leaves you feeling awkward, as if you were born with two left hands. You cast helpless looks to your right, but Morgaine only replies with sly smiles, ones that make your skin itch with expectation.

With no safe place to look on the dais, your gaze fans out over the press below. Lady you may be, but it’s the benches you are used to; your father had never stood much on ceremony, preferring to eat and be merry among his men, rather than make himself a proper lord. Even now you long to be among them; the talk may be bawdy and the drink more sour, but you would not suffer so many eyes upon you, measuring the curve of you breast and speculating on the red of your hair.

You do not look long before your eye catches on midnight blue and glistening horns; even dressed as a shadow, Beaumains is hard to miss among the lord’s men. He laughs, tossing his head back, hand pressed to his belly-- a truer one on him than any you have seen. To think, you had pitied him when Shuuka did not tender an invitation to the dais, but now--

Well, he’s certainly enjoying himself more than you are.

A sharp prod to your ribs sets you upright, your mind snapping back to the present, reminding you sharply that you are being watched and weighed by the same men you long to join. Morgaine pulls back her elbow, sending a pointed look over your shoulder. To Shuuka.

Shuuka, who is staring at you expectantly. Shuuka, who has almost certainly asked you a question that you did not hear.

Morgaine reaches for the wine pitcher, bumping your shoulder. “He’s asking if all this is to you liking.”

“Oh!” You stitch a smile to you face. “Yes. The fest is, ah...lovely. You do me a great honor. Ah, us a great honor.”

His own smile widens, sore pleased. “I am glad to hear it, Lady Lynet. It was my greatest hope that you would find Laxdo pleasing.”

You nod, awkward, before turning back to your meal. It is hardly touched, only a single bite from each dish, and you suffer a pang of chagrin to think you have so obviously ignored his generosity-- save that you notice everyone else’s plate remains untouched as well.

Shuuka’s chair scrapes across the dais as he stands, holding his arms wide. “Before we partake of this feast--”

Oh, Lord in Heaven, the blessing. You had forgotten it entirely. Your gaze darts guiltily across the table, trying to see whether the lord’s chaplain has caught your petty sin, but the only man of the cloth at the table is Bedwyr.

“--We must all give thanks to Our Lord in heaven, from whom all our bounty flows.”

A murmur of agreement shuffles out from the men at the tables, heads bowed with lips mouthing an impassioned amen--

Ah, right. Bowed heads. What she should be doing now, in this place of honor.

“I would be remiss if I also did not offer our gratitude to the Lady Lynet.” Your head snaps up, gaze tangling helplessly with his. “If it was not for her cleverness and diligence, not a single man would be standing here today.”

This is-- this is not the toast you thought he would make, not when he spoke of the feast this morning. Not when he had told you it would be in honor of those who saved Laxdo.

“We are blessed that the angels guided her back to us after so many years away,” he continues, every word adding to the pit of dread growing in your belly. “It can only be the provenance of Our Heavenly Father that she has returned, and in returning, removed the blight from our land. I would be turning my back upon God Himself and all His angels if I did not receive what blessing he has given us.”

You heart pounds loudly in your chest, rattling the drums of war. You had been so clear. You had said--

Not enough. Nothing short of an explicit refusal ever stuck in a man’s ear. you know this all too well.

It galls you that Beaumains knew it better.

“My father has passed, but his will has always been my guide.” Shuuka showers praises down on you, oblivious to how you wither beneath it. “It had been his wish to seen our houses joined, along with your father’s, my lady. I am eager to tread the path they left for us.”

You want to protest, you mean to protest. But all of the eyes of Laxdo are upon you, and-- and your hands clench helplessly in your skirt. For a man to be refused after such a speech, after such feeling, in front of all his men--

It would be kinder to leave a blade in him. At least that he might recover from.

Your gaze swivels to your left, to your right, but Arturius sits, stunned, and his sister is much the same. The moment for an objection has passed for them, for all those who sit on this dais, but on the floor--

You cast your gaze out, searching, hoping, but--

Beaumains is not among the tables, not anymore.

The chair squeals across the floorboards as Izana stands, smoothing down his pants.

“Wha-- where are you going?” Zen stares at him, jaw slack. “We’re in the middle of a feast. This jerk just proposed!”

Izana flips his phone, screen out, and there is Obi’s name, right at the top of his messages. hey boss can b get himself some quality hallway time

It buzzes, followed up by a long string of hot lips emojis, double hearts, and what looks like an eggplant..

“Well,” Kiki drawls, “now I know too much.”

Izana glances at his screen before swinging to glare at Obi. “Really?”

He shrugs, gleefully pocketing his cellphone. “Hey, you set it up. I just took the shot.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue that.” Izana sighs, gathering up his dice. “Give us a moment.”

“Don’t rush on our account,” Kiki hums, mouth twitching at a corner.

Izana groans, shaking his head. “At least pretend you’re going to behave.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons & dragons au #my fic #ans #one more chapter to the end of this arc #thought now I'm also considering ending this fic after that #and then having the next arc being its own fic #i don't know #these are the funnicky things I have to consider while i'm writing these fics #because otherwise this will be like a 40 chapter 150k fic or something #WHO KNOWS #i got another chapter to decide

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lilibetts · 4 years

Photo

Someone within a twenty feet radius loves you!

(Part 2/3, Theme 1)

Betty was going to delete LoveAlarm from her phone.

She should have deleted LoveAlarm off her phone.

But come Wednesday afternoon, she still hasn’t, and she couldn’t have told you why. A glutton for punishment, probably.

>>No, you’re just a hopeful romantic! Veronica texts her while she’s in the library during study hall, working on an English essay. >>The app is all about proximity. You don’t know who you simply haven’t been within twenty feet of yet. Or maybe they just haven’t downloaded the app.

Maybe so, yet Betty can’t help but feel like there is a fine line between hopeful and masochistic. She wants to text Veronica back with a passive-aggressive message about how Veronica has it easy with a bunch of pings and *at least* two people around the school who love her. But she doesn’t because that would be shitty.

The point is, LoveAlarm is still on her phone and she’s doing her best to forget all about it and her unexpectedly complicated feelings about Archie. That’s when it happens: she feels her phone buzzing across the wood table.

Frowning, she checks it, assuming it’s Veronica with more encouraging platitudes. Betty can scarcely believe what she sees, however:

Someone within a twenty feet radius loves you!

The red heart on her screen is practically vibrating off the phone as she watches in shock. Her eyes dart up and around, landing on every face surrounding her. There has to be what, twelve people in the library that could be within twenty feet of her? It’s a popular location for study hall, after all.

Someone is in love with her.

Was it Trev? Chuck? Sweet Pea? Alex C.? Tyler? Dilton? Of course it occurs to Betty that it could be a girl, but she isn’t up to date on who’s Out and who Veronica and Kevin are convinced are closeted. It definitely isn’t Ethel Muggs, who has started scowling at her every chance she gets lately.

The number on her phone goes back down to zero, so either the person turned their phone off or they just left her radius. Another frantic glance around only shows her the front doors swinging shut. Frowning, Betty realizes that Sweet Pea is no longer in the library and Trev has gotten up and walked over to a shelf in the back. Nobody seems to be doing anything with their phone.

Biting her lip, Betty considers her options, but there’s really only one solution.

*********************************************************

Jughead is in the Blue & Gold, fingers clacking away at the typewriter Betty had gotten him for his 16th birthday, Sweet Pea’s teasing words echoing in his ears, when said Hitchcock blonde comes bursting into the room.

“Juggie!” she exclaims a little breathlessly. She has one of those determined grins on her face that make his heart go pitter-patter.

Thankfully, his phone is off, so it can’t tell on him.

“I need your help.” She drags another chair up to his desk and sits down primly, spine straight and ankles crossed. /If you have the time./

/Of course. What’s up?/

Betty hesitates then, biting her lip. /I downloaded LoveAlarm,/ she says finally, arms and voice tentative. /Someone pinged it in the library earlier and I want you to help me find out who./ With that, Betty slaps down a piece of paper with a list of names on it. Jughead swallows hard.

He’s not an absolute moron, he did expect this. When presented with an unknown suitor, of course Betty Cooper would immediately start to investigate.

He could just tell her, but again, vulnerability is scary. As Tim Kreider wrote, “If you want to enjoy the rewards of being loved, you also have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.” It’s a certainty that she’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe he’s being a coward, but hey, Betty *loves* solving mysteries.

Jughead doesn’t expect her love in return, he’s just flattered that he was the first one she thought of to help her figure out who pinged her LoveAlarm.

/Why are Sweet Pea and Trev’s names starred?/

/They left my radius around the same time my LoveAlarm went from 1 to 0./

When Jughead had decided to sneak into the library earlier and make her phone ping while he hid in the stacks behind her, he had been counting on the other students around her as cover but now, seeing that she’s zeroed in on two guys in particular has a pit opening up in his stomach.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Jones. Just tell her,” Sweet Pea had told him.

His hands feel clunky as he tries to sign. /And if it’s one of them, how would you feel?/

The question stymies Betty, who shakes her head and shrugs, gathering up her things. /I don’t know. Let’s just figure out who it is and I’ll figure out how I feel then./

“Okay,” Jughead ends up saying to her retreating back.

Thursday is simultaneously the most fun and the most torturous. In the morning, Jughead finds himself helping Betty stalk Sweet Pea down G Hallway, chatting him up to stall him near the Chem classrooms and surreptitiously waving her over once he ascertains that Sweet Pea has his phone out and turned on.

“Hey, Sweet Pea!”

Betty practically bounces as she comes to a stop next to him, eyes bright but biting her lip nervously. She’s balancing a 13”x9” tupperware container in her arms, and her phone is in her left hand, turned away from them so they can’t see LoveAlarm open on the screen.

Of course Jughead turned his own off as soon as he arrived at school. What do you think he is? An amateur?

“'Sup, Coop?” Sweet Pea doesn’t know a lot of sign language, but he smiles down at her easily. Jughead is overwhelmed by a sudden urge to kick him in the shin. “Are those for me?” Sweet Pea approximates sign with some basic pointing from the cupcakes in the tupperware container before pointing at himself.

“Uh…” Betty’s sneaking a glance at her phone and for a moment, Jughead is worried. “Yes, you can have one. They’re Boston Cream Pie cupcakes.”

He groans on the inside. Those are his favorite.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Sweet Pea murmurs, grabbing one and peeling away the liner so he can take a bite.

This time, Jughead’s groan may have been audible.

Betty catches Jughead’s eye and shakes her head. Great, that’s one name scratched off their list. To Sweet Pea, she says: “I better be off, or I’ll be late. Bye, guys!”

Jughead watches her leave, ponytail swishing from side to side. Sweet Pea watches him watch her leave for a moment before he clears his throat.

“Listen, Jones, I don’t mean to rush you and all, but...having a cute girl come up to you all smiles and offering you a cupcake—a damn delicious cupcake at that—might make a guy catch feelings. Just saying.” With that, Sweet Pea takes another bite of the cupcake, getting chocolate icing smeared all around his lips. Every chew he takes seems like a threat. A helpful threat.

“Lima Charlie,” Jughead sighs. Message received and understood. Sweet Pea’s older brother had been in the army and thus, he and Jughead had spent years using military jargon over walkie talkies as they snuck around Sunnyside. With a nod, Sweet Pea gives him an unnecessarily hard pat on the back and heads down the hallway.

When Jughead ducks into the Blue & Gold in between the next classes, he sees the tupperware container on his desk, next to his typewriter, a sticky note on top:

The rest are yours! I made your favorites, after all. -B

God I love you, Betty Cooper.

Lunchtime is nearly a disaster. Betty had roped the two of them into helping the Theater Club finish some set decoration for a production of Almost, Maine. All for nothing, because as it turns out, Trev is out for a dentist appointment. Still, Jughead manages to have fun being half-heartedly helpful while he eats his lunch—two ham sandwiches Betty brought in for him as a bribe for helping her with this—and Betty’s having a good time too, as evidenced by the fact she’s smiling so hard her eyes crinkle, and even when she tries to scrunch up her face to be mad at him eating more than painting, it just collapses into another giggling fit.

It’s when lunch is over and they’re heading up the aisle to where they’d left their things that Jughead remembers he left his phone on. Betty has hers with her, since she thought she would be testing Trevor’s phone for pings, and she’s barely five feet behind him.

Crap.

He hurries ahead and grabs it, depressing the power button. Just before the screen goes black, he could have sworn he saw his LoveAlarm app begin to open.

He doesn’t let himself think anything of it. In the rush, his thumb had probably hit the app button.

**************************************************************

Thursday night finds Betty pondering the mystery that still remains: the identity of the person who loves her. Sweet Pea has been eliminated from the list of possibilities, but Trev Brown remains a question mark.

Curled up in her thick socks and comfiest sweatpants, hair wet from her shower and starting to curl, Betty stares at her laptop screen as she contemplates their next step. Her and Jughead had bonded over their mutual love of The Baxter Brothers and Tracy True books as children, and they’d conducted more than one investigation together over the years, so it’s natural that Betty had gone to him for help with this, even if it’s a little embarrassing.

But why, a niggling little voice asks at the back of her mind. Jughead’s question comes back to her: what will she do if it’s Trev? She doesn’t know.

Trev’s...nice. He’s cute, and smart, and Betty doesn’t have the faintest idea what she’d do with the knowledge that he’s in love with her. Go on a date with him, she supposes, to at least see whether there is something there before she...breaks his heart? That’s what you do, right? You go to dinner at one of the few nicer restaurants in town or you go see a movie at the Bijou.

She doesn’t really want to think about this, Betty realizes, as her attention wanders from her Sleuthster search results to the ads along the column on the right. One ad catches her eye and she gasps, straightening in her chair and grabbing her phone. Her thumbs fly over the keys as before she hits [send].

<<Do you still have the reels for Rear Window?

>>Yes, why?

<<We should set the projector up in my basement and watch it this weekend. I’ll supply the snacks.

>>Capital idea, Betts, but how are you going to get all that junk food past the K9-level olfactory senses of Alice Cooper?

<<It just so happens that my mom and dad are going to visit Polly in Boston this weekend.

>>Cambridge. Just say Cambridge.

<<As long as we dispose of the evidence and air out the basement with some Febreeze, mom will be none the wiser. I’m sure Archie will donate his trash bin to the cause.

There’s a longer pause before Jughead replies.

>>It��s a plan

>>Speaking of plans, what do you need me to do tomorrow re: Mission Pings?

Betty grins and taps out the basic framework of how they’re going to corner Trev before the pizza party at lunch, but Jughead will have her phone on him so he can feel for her ping, and listen for Trev’s ping. A thought occurs to her and Betty suddenly feels selfish for insisting that Jug help her.

<<I meant to ask you...have you downloaded LoveAlarm?

>>What do you think?

>>Besides, I already know what it would say.

A terrible feeling, like a vise in her chest, takes her over as she reads and re-reads those words. How can Jughead believe this? Almost immediately on the heels of that thought is the reminder that Betty herself had been despondent on Tuesday when she allowed the melodramatic thought that ‘nobody was going to ever love her’ to take hold.

<<That’s bullshit. Any girl would be lucky to fall in love with you!

She means her words. Jughead may be antisocial, he may wear that crown beanie practically all the time, and okay, yes he can be the most extra fucking weirdo on the planet...but he’s also clever and passionate, she’s seen firsthand how caring and considerate he can be, and of course he’s objectively attractive.

Betty stares at the window that faces the Andrews’ home, with the roller shades that are always pulled down lately, and pictures Jughead’s face in her mind, how he’s a bit on the pretty side, especially with that mouth. She thinks about how jealous she’s been of that wild head of dark hair in the past, when she’s seen him with the hat off, and how over the past year he’s shot up another inch or two and seems to have filled out, especially in the arms—

>>From your thumbs to God’s ears, Betts. Night, I’ve gotta be up bright and early to help you catch the worm.

She lets out a huff of laughter and rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see her.

<<Night, Juggie.

#bughead #riverdaleevents #avarosier writes

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notyoursterotypicalnerd · 4 years

Text

Online Love

Marvel Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Synopsis: Bucky and his mysterious S have only been communicating via phone that is until S suggests they finally meet in person. Bucky isn’t sure how he feels about that idea but he says yes anyway.

Word count: 2026

A/N: Hope you don’t mind that i used your stucky social media post as inspiration. @snowbarrysolicity

Their lives had finally stopped revolving around fighting. They had both finally figured out how-to live-in peace. No more fight against the enemy and no more fighting against each other.

They were childhood friends; battle tore them apart, but daily remainders kept each other close.

One was known as the hero to the public while the other was known as the enemy, normally stories like this would sound cliched and audiences would know where this would turn. This is exactly that story.

“Yo, Buck. We’re all heading out, want to come join us?” Sam yelled over the music in the gym.

Bucky looked up from the punching bag “Whose us?”

“Stark, Barton and Rogers”

Bucky scrunched up his face “Maybe another time.”

Sam rolled his eyes “Don’t know why you bother training; we both know I’m the stronger one out of the two of us” He laughed.

“I’ll give you whose stronger” Bucky joked as he raised his metal fist.

The two males laughed together.

“Right, fine. Catch ya in a bit” Sam called out as he headed out of their shared house.

Bucky paused for a moment as he listened to front door close shut. He rushed to his phone next to the speakers, he picked it up and smiled as he saw an unread message from his new crush.

Bucky clicked open the message.

It was nice to finally hear your voice in person last night. x S.

Bucky felt like a child with a hidden crush that his too shy to share. No one knew that Bucky had been talking to a guy. They had meet on a dating app, Sam had set one up for Bucky thinking that Buck could move his looking for love online instead of trying old 1940’s tricks that make any woman sick to hear.

He had swiped on a guy who he only knew as S, even the profile picture seemed a bit vague. Bucky didn’t care, the two of them had been messaging each other non-stop since even swapping numbers.

No one knew about Bucky’s new interest; he was even too shy to talk to Steve about it.

Bucky bit his lower lip as he tried to find the words to reply with.

Maybe we could meet in person?

Bucky backspaced the message “No” he sighed to himself.

Want to stay up late again tonight?

“Ah!” he cringed to himself. “Don’t come off quick” he sighed again.

Same time again?

Bucky pressed send. He lowered his head thinking he was going to wreck his chances too quickly. They had only been talking for almost two months, they each had their excuses on not wanting to meet in person.

Bucky’s excuse was always the same, I’m sorry but things have been hectic and trying to meet in person would be rushed.

While S’ excuse would be work’s been holding me hostage, we’ll plan something...eventually.

Bucky looked down at his phone as an instant reply came through.

I’m free now.

Bucky jumped in giddy. He took a deep breath as he rang S’ number. He looked up at the punching bag, he bit his lower lip.

“James”

He loved the way S said his name. No one called him James, not even Steve; at least not anymore.

“S” Bucky smiled at himself as he began to walk out of the gym.

“did you get much sleep after I hung up last night?”

Bucky was glad he was alone, no one could see him blush “Ah, sorry man that I crashed. It’s just been crazy lately.” He couldn’t believe that he fell asleep half way through their conversation last night.

S laughed a little “has anyone ever told you that your snore is cute?”

Bucky paused for a moment as he stopped on the stairs. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He took a second to recollect his thoughts “you should see what else is cute” his eyes widened as he realised what he had just said. “fuck!” he mouthed to himself.

S laughed a little “Are you finally free from being busy?”

Bucky clenched his human hand, letting his nails dig into his skin. He wasn’t ready to meet in person. What happens if S didn’t like what he saw? What happens if S knew about Bucky’s past?

“James, are you there?”

Bucky unclenched his hand “Yes, sorry” He took the final three steps up the stairs “is work still holding you hostage?”

“At the moment things have seem to died down and I’m no longer chained to my…” S stopped himself from speaking “Maybe we could finally meet up tomorrow?”

Bucky went quiet again, he moved along the hallway. He couldn’t but he wanted to. He shouldn’t but he wanted to. A million thoughts ran through Bucky’s mind.

“James?”

Bucky stopped at the entrance of the kitchen “Tomorrow?” he tried to remain calm.

“Yeah? Say around 3?”

Bucky paused. His thoughts started to swirl around trying to find a good excuse to use, trying to find something that could avoid a meet up. He loved texting S and he loved finally hearing S’ voice for a change but meeting in person? No, that was off the table.

“James?” S started to worry.

Bucky caught his reflection in the window. He didn’t think he was a looker, his shoulder length dark hair pulled into a messy bun, a scruffy beard around his lower jaw. A baggy singlet over his upper body and a pair of sweats over his lower body.

He had heard Sam’s jokes too many times, not that it bruised Bucky’s ego but some days he did believe the joking insults Sam said.

“James? Are you still there?”

Bucky snapped back into the conversation, he wanted to hang up. Use some excuse of the phone call ending abruptly. “I..can...3..is” Bucky fumbled with his words.

“Are you sure, James? We don’t have too meet in person”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Bucky finally managed to find his words.

“Nah, you don’t want to meet up or cool that you do?” S tried to find certainty in the answer.

“Sorry, S. I totally want to see you tomorrow, it’s about time, anyway. Right?” Bucky tried to act cool.

S laughed a little “It’s certainly overdue. Alright, say across the road from the building that used to be Stark towers?”

“3pm, at that coffee shop?”

“Yep. Alright, I get it...I’ll get off the phone” another voice could be heard in the background, but Bucky couldn’t make out what they were saying “Sorry, James. Friends of mine want me off the phone, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye S.” Bucky waited for the line to go quiet before he put his phone in his pocket.

He couldn’t believe it; he was going on his first date since having his memory and metal arm altered by Shuri. To say Bucky was nervous would be an understand; he was scared and nervous. He couldn’t believe he had agreed to it.

# #

Bucky placed the razor down on the sink’s edge as he looked at his smooth face in the reflection of the bathroom mirror; he smiled a little.

“Oh, come man, now I’m going to have to look at that ugly thing all the time? At least the beard was an improvement” Joked Sam as he stopped in the doorway of the bathroom.

Bucky rolled his eyes.

Sam’s eyes moved to the bathroom floor seeing Bucky’s chopped hair on the floor “hope you plan on cleaning all that up”

Bucky looked at Sam.

“What? I could’ve said something about the towel too but” Same shrugged a little “I’ve grown numb to you walking around in a towel.”

Bucky smiled a little.

“Doors were invented for a reason dude” Sam leaned against the door way. “What’s with the clean-up, anyway?”

Bucky looked at the sink, he turned on the taps trying to clean up the mess of his beard “I..” he paused for a moment “I have a date”

Sam burst out laughing “What girl wants a weak ass like you? Should tell her, that the falcon is over here.”

Bucky wanted to correct Sam, it wasn’t a she he was meeting; it was a he. “Come on, man. We know the ladies love the metal” He joked back at Sam.

“Always using that lame ass excuse” Sam rolled his eyes “Do I know her?”

Bucky shrugged.

Sam shrugged in reply “Is that all I get? A shrug? Man, your finally getting the hang of this century.”

Bucky turned off the taps, he looked at Sam “That’s all your getting, birdman.”

“Bird man?” Sam pretended to feel offended “At least I’m a chick magnet”

It was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Are you bringing her back here?”

Bucky carefully knelt down to the ground trying not to let his towel come loose, he shrugged.

Sam shrugs “again with a shrug?”

“Look, Sam. I don’t know. This is our first-time meeting in person. Probably go back to theirs” He started to try and clean the cuts off his hair from the floor.

“Well if you bring her back here, than just send me a text so I can clear the zone. I don’t want to see your nasty ass walking around naked.”

“ ‘right” Bucky tried not to feel hurt over the last comment. He was trying to stay positive for his date with S but the conversation with Sam was taking Bucky’s thoughts down.

# #

Sam looked at Bucky “Gotta admit, you don’t scrub up too bad” he complimented his friend.

Bucky smiled a little. He was dressed in jeans, plain shirt, and a leather jack. Bucky ran his metal fingers through his hair to slick it back slightly, he used his human hand to check his phone “thanks man.”

“Let me know how it goes and if things don’t work out. Give her my number”

“Yeah, that ain’t happening.” Bucky waved bye to his friend as he walked towards the front door. He pulled his sunglasses out from the inside of his jacket and put them on. He shoved his metal hand into the pocket of his jeans trying to make himself look as human as possible as he walked out of their property.

# #

Bucky checked the time on his phone. 14:50. He sat down outside the café as he waited for his order. He could feel his heart racing, he wanted to bail, and ghost S. Bucky would rather go back on the run again than deal with meeting S.

Bucky looked down as he felt the table vibrate, he noticed a new message flash across the screen of his phone. He opened the message.

Who am I looking for?

Bucky looked up around him trying to see if anyone was looking at their phone. A lot of different people were, he sighed a little than began typing.

Leather jacket, glasses on. Back corner on the right, outside the café.

Bucky looked up at the café waiter as they placed down the coffee he had ordered “thanks”. Bucky hit send on the message.

He ran his metal fingers through his hair, nervous were building up.

“James?”

Bucky quickly shoved his metal hand in his jacket pocket “S..” he looked up at the male standing next to him; his eyes widened couldn’t be, but it was “Steve?”

Steve Rogers winked at Bucky “You seem surprised?” He sat down across from Bucky.

“Well, yeah...I’m waiting for a friend. I didn’t think this neck of the town would be your thing anymore”

Steve shrugged a little “I’m surprised you never put two and two together.”

Bucky paused for a moment “Your S?” He was in disbelief “you can’t be S.” he was lost for words “How?”

Steve smirked “You see Buckaroo, you weren’t taking my hints before and I thought I’d try something different. Though I’m surprised you even know what a dating app is”

Bucky blushed a little “Me? What about you? Did Stark finally teach you how to finally use a phone?”

The two males laughed.

Bucky was no longer nervous to find out who S was, but he felt stupid that he hadn’t realised it was his childhood friend.

#stucky #mywriting #4th october 2020 #steve rogers x bucky barnes

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