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#and then go on to barely treat him with human decency let alone like 'family' lmaoooo

dangermousie · 5 months

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I really loved the first six episodes of AJTL. It feels adult in a way too few cdramas do nowadays. The protagonists are (sometimes sociopathic, weird) adults and the narrative is adult and the humor and darkness are both adult. Now, I don't mean this is some sort of meditation on the human condition like Royal Nirvana or NiF or Three Kingdoms, but the situations and characters are of a nature you wouldn't usually see in youth-oriented stuff nowadays - whether it's the fact that our FL just wants to ML for stud so she can have a baby with good genetics and no family ties or the fact that literally every politician in this is a complete scumbag.

I actually love that our FL isn't just the most terrifying mofo in the narrative full of killers but that she is a bona fide borderline sociopath who has no understanding of boundaries or proper behavior or consent or even any sort of flirtation let alone a deeper feeling. She's been a killer since childhood; what normal does she have? The fact that she's managed to have any sort of emotions left is a miracle.

So her deciding she needs a child because her benefactor told her she should as a dying wish and picking a sperm donor in our ML because he's suitable, all with about as much understanding of relationships as an alien - she doesn't want ML because she fancies him, she doesn't want a child to love. It's basically a weird duty thing. It all makes sense.

It's a wonderful gender reversal, with FL the goal-oriented, robotic psycho and ML going "but wait a minute, feelings, also no way, no how." His realization as to how crazy she is, is something else.

Look how she explains it, as if it's the most logical business transaction - your genetic material is great, you are not married so nobody will be hurt, if you die on this mission you will have someone to carry on your lineage, you are scheming so if a kid takes after you and is scheming, it's good. None of it will seduce a man in the least, let alone anything further. But I think in a way it's a weird mark of respect where she's not trying to lie but put all her cards on the table. But also - it shows how far from normal she is that she doesn't even realize how insane it sounds to anyone. He may be a spy but his life has been pretty different than hers; he's got friends and he had family - he is a fairly functional dude. She doesn't have any relationship, and the closest she had was weird stubs...

Like - she is acting like an alien...

Yeah, I don't think psychotic rose through the ranks assassins are big on consent.

She's bona fide nuts and I love that for once we have an unhinged FL. But one of the things I love so is that you slowly see her melt a little around the edges, if barely, because he keeps treating her as a proper lady however murdery and crazy she gets - she was an assassin and then she was a spy-whore, she's basically never been treated as a proper person instead of a tool, except possibly by the dowager and that was a long time ago. No wonder she gets drawn in - like she did by his decency in that rooftop speech scene. It's such a great reversal!

Like she genuinely doesn't get why he doesn't jump at the offer.

I really do love the ML who'd be the unhinged one in any other drama but here he's the sane one. And also his angry decency is mmmm.

I don't usually have fantasy casts for characters; there are very few exceptions - CGY and LYX for the mains of 2ha, Chen Kun for the ML of Dreamer in the Spring Boudoir, SZE for Prisoner of Beauty (alas), but LYN is on that short list - he's 100% my fan cast for Yuwu's Mo Xi and stuff like this gives me mad MX vibes:

I mean...

Anyway, this drama is awesome!

PS also the way secrets don't get dragged out. ML knows her true identity and we are long moving on to other stuff, hooray!

#cdrama #a journey to love #liu yuning #liu shi shi

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enviedear · 4 years

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the empty feeling → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which malfoy is consoled by a girl who can’t help but fall for him.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.1k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you thought the reason your heart never fully recovered was because of the fact you had to see him everyday.

every single day you saw him. he was laughing, bickering, looking out a window, eating, reading, and in conversations. you couldn’t help but watch. you tried not to. you tried to make the love you had for him diminish. or maybe at least dull. it wouldn’t work.

you didn’t mean to fall in love with draco malfoy. however you did. your heart overruled your brain. at least when it came to him.

you think back to the day you knew you loved the slytherin boy. it was a foggy and rainy day that truly began at a slug club meeting.

“dreadful weather we’re having right, miss y/l/n?” slughorn asks you.

the rest of the slug club stares at you as you respond, “i quite like the rain. i get the best sleep when it rains.”

he nods and replies,”ah, just like your father. i remember he loved to listen the rain when he was your age. does he still listen? to the the rain, my dear?”

you didn’t want to talk about your father. not that you didn’t love the man, but you knew there wasn’t much you could indulge. he kept his work close to him and never really told you much. you knew slughorn would eventually lead the conversation to your fathers work.

“sometimes professor. he’s usually busy these days though.” you say, looking down at your ice cream.

busy because of people like zabini and crabbe’s parents. as you looked back up at slughorn you didn’t miss the sly look blaise gave you. you quickly turned your attention back to the professor.

“ah! i wouldn’t expect him not to be. amazing work your father does, making such simple objects into wands. you know my dear, i heard he turned a rusty old spoon into a very powerful wand!” slughorn boasts for you.

you smile as a response and allow the teacher to spark conversation with the other club members.

what slughorn forgets to add is that the wands your father has begun to produce are being used by many deatheater families. since the wands cannot be tracked, and are easy to pass off as illegitimate objects. they buy them for their children and it’s not as if your father or the ministry can do much about it.

plus, your father shouldn’t have to loose his job just because others take advantage of him. and even if he did make the damn things trackable that would be putting a target on his back.

as you mull over your thoughts slughorn stands and bids you all a goodnight. you politely tell the man night, and walk out of the room. you were going to head to the hufflepuff common room, but as you passed moaning myrtle’s bathroom you stopped in your tracks.

you heard crying. and the cries weren’t myrtle’s usual wails, but a boy’s. on further inspection you found that they also weren’t just any boys cries but, malfoy’s.

you slowly creeped into the abandoned bathroom, making sure to not alert malfoy that you were there.

he sat by the sinks and looked utterly distressed. his eyes a deep red. he looked completely broken. you’d never seen the boy like this. and it broke your own heart.

against your better judgement you cleared your throat to make yourself known.

he looked up at you, defeated.

you didn’t say anything as you bent down and gave the boy a hug. he didn’t say anything as he hugged you back. he just let his tears escape onto your shirt.

eventually he let you go. you didn’t have the slightest clue what to say. nothing seemed right.

“don’t tell a soul about this.” malfoy grimaced, getting to his feet.

you looked at him shocked, “i wasn’t. i-“ he cut you off with a scowl.

“draco you have to trust me. please i won’t say anything just.. take care of yourself.” you said.

he didn’t reply. he just walked out. leaving you confused.

after that day you couldn’t see draco malfoy as a nuisance. no, after that day you couldn’t help but to romanticize the boy. you didn’t think he bullied because he was hateful. no not at all. you thought he did it because he was lonely, sad, or upset. you found his worst qualities easy forgivable. you knew he was broken. but you also knew it wasn’t an excuse, you just couldn’t help it.

so you continued to watch him daily. eyeing him as much as you could. you began to love the way his face would turn into a sneer at the slighted inconvenience. you loved the way he held his cup. you loved the way he looked over his books. and for some reason you began hoping. hoping that maybe one day he would eye you too.

alas, the boy went and broke your heart by dating pansy. you knew it wasn’t done to be malicious. you knew he didn’t know about your feelings. you knew he was probably very happy with pansy and she with him.

though, you’d still find the boy in the bathroom on a regular basis and have to console him. each time you’d think he’d come around. each time he did not.

you kept hoping though. it proved you detrimental as you went from being a happy and loving person to someone who harbored far too much loathing. you couldn’t help it, you felt so cheated. how could you love and care for this boy and he not even say a word to you?

your friends noticed your behavior.

“y/n you’re taking out whatever is upsetting you on us. and you won’t even tell us what’s wrong.”

then your teachers.

“miss y/l/n your grades are slipping. and you’re not acting like yourself at all. is everything ok?”

then your sibling(s).

“i didn’t do anything to you, stop treating me like this y/n.”

and finally your parent(s).

“honey, are you sure everything is alright at school? you don’t have to go back if something is seriously wrong.”

you were better than before. you were finally home. you didn’t have to see the boy anymore. you didn’t have to be reminded of him every waking moment.

but still, you weren’t you.

you never told any of the people worried about you why exactly you weren’t ok. you hated the thought of being this upset over a boy you genuinely barely knew.

and even though you told yourself repeatedly that you in fact did not know malfoy, your heart proclaimed otherwise.

when you returned to school, this time in your sixth year, you decided that you needed to avoid the problem.

so you did. you ate breakfast and dinner without looking up from your food. you paid far too much attention in class. you never went to hogsmeade. you isolated yourself.

and it worked, more than less. you only caught a glimpse of malfoy a handful of times. each time less painful.

by november you began to forget about your weird fascination with malfoy. but when you received news that he and pansy had broken up your heart fluttered just like it would have a few months ago.

but still, finally you felt more like yourself. you began talking to your friends more. you went on a couple of dates. started helping out first years. everything was falling into place.

you tried to ignore the off feeling of emptiness that still lingered in you.

it’s january when you bump into him, on your way to the astronomy tower to meet your friends.

“sorry.” you say, continuing on your path.

“wait, come here, y/l/n.” he says, causing you to double back.

you turn to face him not even slightly happy that you’re allowing this exchange.

“i- well, i wanted to thank you for never telling anyone about last year. i’m sorry i was so brash to you,” he pauses. “that’s all.” he says.

you look at him stunned. it took him a year to apologize. although you knew he had no idea the amount of internal struggle he has caused you, you feel your blood boil.

“i’m glad you spent an entire year gaining the courage to apologize for your behavior. however, i don’t accept your apology. you’re such a coward, malfoy. i mean, you’re afraid that people would find out i consoled you. as if it’s even a big deal. just leave me alone.” you seethe.

whole-heartedly you couldn’t help your outburst. the boy just aggravated you. how could he apologize now?

“i’m sorry i didn’t apologize sooner, but if i were you i’d take the apology i was given.” he glares at you.

“or what malfoy? what could you possibly do?” you ask.

“i never said i’d do anything! i just suggested you take the apology. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner, okay? you just looked so put off all the bloody time. i didn’t want to bother you.” he groans.

now your ears were hot and eyes stone cold.

“put off?” you spluttered, “it’s your fucking fault i looked so put off. you worried me to no end. i never knew if you were ok! and although i know it’s not my business it still hurt. i was so upset for you. and then you wouldn’t say a word to me. and then you dated parkinson. and-“ you stop yourself.

“you just apologized too late, alright.”

he looks at you bewildered, “i’m sorry i feel like i’m missing something.”

you roll your eyes, “i loved you draco. i don’t know why but i did. i wanted to make sure you were ok. everytime you needed me i was there. i never even asked for anything in return, not even human decency. but i shouldn’t have had to ask for that. you should have been nice to me. i was beyond nice to you.”

he furrows his brows,“i am truly sorry, y/n. i didn’t know. i was being selfish and i can admit i used you for your kindness. but if you’d give me the chance i’d be good to you. good for you. i- i never meant to hurt you.”

your cold gaze didn’t leave, “i don’t believe you.”

he sighs, “come here.”

he holds his hand out to you and you take it cautiously.

he leads you into the place where it all started, myrtle’s bathroom. he begins pulling a book out from his bag, and then he hands it to you.

“just look it over.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

you open the book and are immediately greeted by drawings. illustrations littering the pages, and they’re all of you.

you turn to one page, it’s a drawing of you outside studying. underneath the picture sat draco’s neat writing.

she came to calm me down today. fourth time this week. she still hasn’t told anyone. that means a lot to me. i again didn’t tell her why i was upset. it seems stupid to tell her about my problems. she’s too pure for them. i’d never want to upset her. i think i love her. i don’t know how. i barely even talk to her. but her hugs are nice. and she’s always so kind. i just wish i knew how to tell her what’s going on. i wish i wasn’t so scared of her rejection. it’s all too much. at least i have this. all of these pictures of her. now i cant forget her even if i tried. but of course, i’d never want to forget her.

you look up from the page. you cant help the few tears that escape your eyes.

“you loved me? the whole time? and you didn’t tell me?” you ask.

he bites his lip, “you didn’t tell me either. plus i knew i was a prat. i didn’t think you’d even want to be loved by someone like me.”

you huff out a pained breath, “draco i have loved you since the day you allowed me to comfort you. i wanted nothing more than to help you and to make sure you were ok.”

he doesn’t say anything, instead he envelops you in a tight hug. the embrace eases your worry and soothes the empty part of you. the two of you continue to hold eachother for minutes on end, and by the time you pull away you know draco meant every single word.

“please never stop caring.” he tells you.

“never.” you agree.

and you mean it. you can’t stop the way your heart beats for the blonde boy, and you didn’t want to. you love him. almost as if you needed to.

#draco x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x you #draco malfoy #harry potter #hogwarts #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco one shot #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #—myfics !

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angellissy · 4 years

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the good, the bad and the ugly

warnings: mentions of drugs, fighting !not physical!, Rafe punching a wall, sadness, please let me know if there is anything else that could potentially be triggering!

Rafe Cameron x Reader

based on this request : Are you willing to write Rafe x Reader in a relationship kinda way? 😙🥺 A|N: Again I did a headcanon because I really enjoyed writing the last one. This is called the good, the bad and the ugly because I believe that unfortunately that is how it would be to date Rafe. Big big thank you to my love cort for helping me and just being the person she is. so much love to her.

Listen! To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

BEFORE

previous to dating Rafe, you despised him with every fiber in your body.

He was foul, rude, and had his head so far up his ass that he didn’t realize that there were people different from him.

Not to say that you were a selfless lifesaver, but you didn’t beat people up with a golf club.

Rafe did not especially like you either, but unfortunately for both of you, his sister was your best friend.

It was just a regular day at the Cameron household, you and Sarah had been sunbathing, chatting about her stupid boyfriend. A douchebag in your eyes, a prince in hers.

The sun and lack of hydration made you go into the house, desperate for something to extinguish your thirst.

Instead, you found Rafe Cameron leaning against the countertop, a cigarette situated between his lips.

“Smoking inside now?” You furrowed your brows at him, a disgusted look adorned your sunburnt features.

With a few steps, you walked closer into the kitchen, opening a cabinet in search of a glass. A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you found none, but it was soon replaced by a surprised gasp as a body pressed against yours.

In the corner of your eye, you could see the boy behind you reaching for a glass in the top cabinet, his arm brushing past your shoulder.

You stood frozen in place, ignoring the shivers running up your spine.

“There you are, princess.” The heat from his body disappeared as he set the glass down, and with some hesitation you took it.

You turned to look at him, slightly biting your lips trying to figure out something to say.

“Surprised you even mentioned me, thought your head was too far up your ass to even notice anyone else.”

A small smirk played on his lips as he took a few steps closer to you. He placed his hand on the cabinet behind you, leaning his face closer to yours.

“You’d be surprised about how much I notice.”

Then he blew some of the cigarette smoke in your face, causing you to push him away and call him a disgusting idiot.

But still, for the following days, you couldn’t focus on anything else than the way his body felt against yours, and neither could he.

THE GOOD

Rafe Cameron loved you with his entire being, you were the only person that didn’t belittle him or invalidate his feelings. He loved you as his life depended on it, and in some ways, maybe it did.

He was not great at expressing emotions unless it was anger, but the two of you figured that out together.

He showed his love in the little things, like placing small kisses on your forehead when your head rested on his chest.

Or squeezing your hand whenever you felt uncomfortable.

Occasionally he would let the “I love you” slip through his thick walls, and when he did, the world melted away and it was just you and him.

He would bring you to play golf with his family or to go on boat rides but avoid fishing.

His family loved you, they had known you since you were a child, all thanks to your friendship with Sarah.

However, you didn’t always love them or the way the treated the eldest child.

Rafe wouldn’t let you stand up for him, not wanting you to be the one to receive Ward Cameron’s wrath.

But you tried, at least in subtle ways, that would be giving the parents gazes that could kill, and also occasionally scoffing whenever they tried to bring Rafe down.

During those times, Rafe’s hand would be squeezing your thigh, trying to make you calm down. It worked, similar as too how your presence usually could calm him.

Then there were also those times when it would be just you and Rafe on the boat, he had stolen borrowed it from his dad.

Your body would be situated between his thighs, his hands would be resting on the bare skin of your stomach.

Droplets of water still adorned your skin, a reminder of how Rafe had convinced you to jump into the shimmering sea with him. With your fingers intertwined with his, you had leaped from the boat.

“Your skin is so soft.” He said, his voice had turned a bit raspy, making your cheeks heat up even more than they usually would.

His fingers were drawing circles on your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

You just nodded, leaning further into his touch, glad to be loved by him, and glad that you could love him.

Sometimes when the two of you went golfing, you would start running around the pitch, the boredom of golf always getting a hold of you. Much to his dismay. But it didn’t matter because he still caught you and spun you around when your body jumped onto his. He held you close when the two of you stumbled to the ground, and he couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face.

“I love you” and he loved you more than anything, so he kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

THE BAD

Rafe Cameron was a troubled boy, his mind was always clouded by something and it plagued him to such an extent that he coped with the help of illegal substances.

That? You did not support, but still, you would always be there for him.

Holding his head against your chest as he silently cried, holding his hand whenever his father yelled at him and holding him back whenever he tried to start a fight.

But you couldn’t always be there to hold him and without you, he could not function. He did shit without even thinking about the consequences, leaving you to clean up his mess every single fucking time.

Rafe was sweet, but only towards you, he did not give jack shit about anyone else. In the beginning, you found it endearing, but as the months passed you found it troubling.

You didn’t like the way he would threaten pogues and call them names, you no longer liked how he softened the second his eyes found you.

But whenever you tried to talk about him about it, his fiery temper got the best of him.

“So what? I can’t show affection towards my girl anymore?” His cheeks would be red from anger, but his dilated pupils gave away the reason by his outrage.

“I never said that I just said that it would be fucking nice if you showed it to someone else too, ever heard of human decency?”

He would throw his hands in the air, say something about how you were unbelievable, and then leave you, all alone in his house.

THE UGLY

You had told yourself so many times that you would never shed a tear over him ever again, but you broke that promise too many times.

The taste of salt seemed to always be a lingering presence on your lips, but still, you couldn’t stop wishing for it to be replaced by the taste of his lips.

You left, of course, when he left you all alone in house, and you were adamant about never returning, not even for Sarah. You were done with this family, and you no longer wanted to be a part of it.

You stayed in your bed, ignoring the calls that kept disturbing the stillness in your room. However, you couldn’t ignore it when he banged on your door and kept screaming your name.

This served as the only time you were thankful that your parents always had work trips.

“Let me in, let me in, baby please just let me in.”

You would tear the door open, not wanting to hear his bullshit for one second longer.

“Shut the fuck up, please just shut up.”

His eyes were dilated, and tears were streaming from them, running down his flushed face as he cried for you. When he saw you, he would get up, trying to get closer to you, stumbling with each step.

“Let me in.”

You would shake your head no, tears escaping your eyes as you did. Your fingers were shaking as you gripped the door handle tighter, trying to ground yourself from the sadness and fear that was drowning you.

His sadness would transform into anger in just a couple of seconds, you could see it in the way he looked at you.

“Just fucking let me in, okay? We’re fine!” His voice had turned into a yell, not the soft and caring one he always used at you. You backed further away from him, your grip on the handle had faltered.

“We’re not.” You whispered, your heart shattered into tiny pieces as you said that, it was true but you hadn’t let yourself see that.

He ran his hands through his hair, and before you had time to react his fist collided with the wall a few centimeters from your face, at the same time as a scream tore through his lips.

A yelp escaped your lips as you fell to the ground in shock, the wind from his fist colliding with the wall had caressed your cheek, and that made you feel sick to your stomach.

He still had that furious expression plastered on his face, unaware of what had just happened. All he could feel was the anger, a consequence of the substances that flowed through his blood.

Before he could do anything more, you jumped up and shut the door close, locking it with shaky fingers as a loud sob left your mouth.

You fell to the ground, hugging your knees to your chest as he continued to bang on the door for hours to pass.

The door between you and Rafe had been closed, and you would never open it again.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks headcanon #rafe cameron headcanon

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quietkatie1864 · 4 years

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The Mistake

The Doctor made a mistake and now he must set things right.

10th doctor x female!reader

The Doctor made a mistake.

Now the Doctor usually doesn’t make mistakes, at least not any that he would outright admit to. He usually comes up with some complicated explanation as to how is mistake was not a mistake at all but a calculated plan. And sometimes plans backfire but that doesn’t mean that he was wrong.

But this time, this one time, the Doctor was horribly and inexcusably in the wrong. And he needed to fix it. He just didn’t know how.

He didn’t know if it was even possible.

He had made a promise. A promise to the most important person in his life. A promise to Rose. After the daleks and the cyberman, after the Doctor lost Rose, trapped in another universe that he could no longer reach, Rose made the Doctor swear to do one thing for her. Before this rift between universes open and was subsequently closed, the Doctor and Rose rarely, if ever travelled alone. Rose’s best friend, Y/N travelled with them more often than not. The Doctor and Y/N did not particularly like each other, but they tolerated one another for Rose’s sake. If she was going to travel across time and space, then she wanted her two favorite people right by her side.

“Promise me you’ll take care of her,” and the Doctor did make that promise. He swore to Rose that he would take care of Y/N. And he broke that promise, even before he made it.

Now the Doctor knew exactly what Rose meant. She wanted the Doctor to continue to travel with Y/N, to show her all of the places that he had been planning on showing Rose. Rose always thought the Doctor and Y/N were good for each other. Y/N was always challenging the Doctors so called “superiority complex” and forcing him to explain himself instead of just accepting whatever plan he came up with. And the Doctor was so good at teaching, even if he did get tangential every so often, and Y/N absorbed every word that the Doctor said, not matter how improbable or how angry she was with him at the time.

But, before the Doctor had even reopened the breach between the two universes, he had already broken this promise. The minute he lost Rose, the Doctor just left. He walked right past Y/N, weeping and sobbing on the floor for she had just lost her best friend permanently, and left. It was horrible and selfish, but at the time he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he was leaving her alone and defenseless, far away from her friends and family, with no money and no way to get back to them. He was angry and hurt and heartbroken and desperately trying to find a way to bring Rose back to him. He didn’t care who else was hurting. Especially her. The girl who took so much time away from him. Who, in his mind, kept Rose away from him and kept them from becoming the couple they were truly meant to be. Now, the Doctor knows that all of this hatred and malice that surfaced for this girl was the product for his own self-loathing, but at the time he could not see past his despair. So, he left her.

Y/N was walking out of the small boutique that she worked at when she saw it. That big beautiful blue box that had been her home for so long that she almost forgot what a normal life looked like. For a second her heart swelled with joy. He was finally back. He came back for her. But that feeling quickly dissipated.

Three months.

He left her alone in a city she barely knew for three whole months. Without any warning, or explanation, or goodbye, he left. He didn’t care about her then so why does she suddenly think he’s changed his mind. It’s just a coincidence that he parked his stupid blue box right outside of her place of work. He’ll probably be embarrassed when he realizes this and run far away. Probably to the other side of the universe if he can. But she wasn’t going to let him do that. Not without telling him off first.

So instead of turning around and running in the opposite direction, Y/N marched forward, towards her former home. Before she could raise her fist to pound on the door, it swung open revealing him.

Y/N stared at him and he stared back. And then, the Doctor grinned.

And Y/N slapped him. Hard.

The Doctor reeled back and had the audacity to look offended for a split second. His face softened once it made hers. Y/N’s entire body seemed to be trembling from pure anger and sadness. Her lips were quivering, and her eyes filled with tears and threated to spill over. So instead of some indignant response or witty retort, the Doctor stepped aside and allowed Y/N to enter the TARDIS.

Still unsure of what to say the Doctor closed the door of the TARDIS and continued to stare at Y/N. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his jaw.

“I really deserved that didn’t eye,” Y/N gave a stiff nod, still refusing to speak. “Well then let me explain-“

“No,” Y/N snapped. “You do not get to talk your way out of this this time. You are going to be quiet a listen to what I have to say. And then I am leaving.” The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N cut him off. “3 months. You left me here for three months. I had no money. I had nowhere to go. I was alone and you left me. And don’t even bother with the excuses. I know you lost Rose and you loved her, and you hate me so why should you have to worry about me when your hearts are breaking into a million pieces, but you forgot one thing. I loved her too! Rose was my best friend and I lost her too. And you didn’t even care. You didn’t care that I was hurting, because I was just a nuisance to you. I thought you would have at least had the decency to drop me off somewhere that I was familiar with, where I knew people. But no, you have to go sulk in your giant blue box and feel sorry for yourself. And now for some reason you’ve realized that what you did was wrong, and you’ve come begging for forgiveness. Well guess what? I don’t forgive you.” The tears spilled over Y/N’s face. She angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand. “Now that’s all I have to say. I am going to leave now, and I really hope I never see you again.”

Y/N wrenched opened the door of the TARDIS and almost walked out into the vast emptiness of space. She would have if the Doctor had not caught her by the elbow and pulled her back into the TARDIS.

“What the hell?” Y/N grumbled. I was ready to make a dramatic exit. She thought.

“I guess the TARDIS doesn’t want you to leave,” the Doctor mused, gracefully sitting down with his legs dangling outside the TARDIS. He wasn’t going to disobey the TARDIS. At least not until he had made his peace with Y/N. With a huff, Y/N sat down next to the Doctor at the doors of the TARDIS, knowing that what was the blue box wanted her to do. She stared out at the stars in front of her, waiting for the Doctor to speak.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor finally said. “and I know an apology is not enough and I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I’m going to anyways. You were right about everything. I was being selfish, and I didn’t care about your feelings and I should have stayed with you instead of leaving. But I don’t hate you. I have never truly hated you. You get on my nerves occasionally, but you know what else you do? You make me better. You help bring my humanity back to the surface, something I thought I had lost long ago. I need you. I need you to stay. I need you to keep travelling with me. I need you to keep me in line when I start to go dark. And you have no reason to keep travelling with me because I treated you so poorly in the past, and it was wrong of me to do that. I was wrong.”

The Doctor paused, waiting for Y/N’s response. “Say that again,” she murmured.

“Say what again?” the Doctor asked.

“You know what,” Y/N said, finally turning to face with a slight glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

“I was wrong,”

“You were wrong and I was-“ Y/N prompted.

“You were right”

Y/N giggled. A sound the Doctor hadn’t realized he desperately missed. The Doctor grinned back at her.

“I’m still mad at you”

“I know,” “And I still haven’t forgiven you,”

“I know,”

“Good,” Y/N stood up and headed towards one of the TARDIS’ many hallways, towards her room, towards her home. The Doctor’s grinned widened as he watched her.

No, Y/N had not forgiven him yet. But this was a start.

#tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor imagine #tenth doctor imagine #doctor who imagine #doctor who fic

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ddaenggtan · 4 years

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Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist }

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!)

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being.

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you.

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin.

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour."

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind.

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand.

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly.

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter.

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it.

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy.

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before.

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that.

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice.

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you.

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you.

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face.

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life.

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you.

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh.

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping.

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you.

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand.

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them.

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose.

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably.

“What?” You eventually ask.

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.”

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk.

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little.

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him.

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead.

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry.

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm.

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter.

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it.

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift.

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that.

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this.

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it.

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps.

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now.

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap.

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage.

Barely.

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips.

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it.

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face.

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride.

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist.

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other.

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here.

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something.

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son.

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious.

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues.

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault.

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den.

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years.

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal.

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you.

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late.

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend.

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat.

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late.

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table.

Away from you.

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it.

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset.

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there.

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest.

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not.

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him.

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction.

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you.

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed.

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time.

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about.

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all.

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name.

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?”

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair.

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens.

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room.

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather.

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart.

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still.

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you.

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you.

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?”

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered.

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone.

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own.

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused.

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it.

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it.

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?”

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have.

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain.

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin.

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better.

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants.

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day."

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up."

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back.

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth.

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies.

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod.

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it.

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle.

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious.

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed.

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away.

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight.

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath.

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say.

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you.

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes.

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt.

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut.

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier.

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop.

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice.

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.”

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out.

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl.

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills.

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard.

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in.

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release.

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit.

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out.

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back.

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later.

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more.

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other.

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made.

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes.

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown.

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon.

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick.

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa.

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes.

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle.

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it.

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond.

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm.

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red.

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug.

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board.

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know."

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy.

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected.

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had.

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably."

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you.

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

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bearwithegg · 4 years

Text

EVERYTHING ABOUT US || Joel Miller x OC || Part 1

I had this idea for a hot minute and thought I'd share this with y'all 🥺 this is a SUPER SUPER fckn slow burn so y'all have been warned 👀👀👀

Lots of words! Gore and language!

PART 2

THEY weren’t sure what they had expected, the last thing they did expect was for her to run the way she did. A woman covered head to toe with blood, as if a bucket full of it had been dumped over her in some sick practical joke — she had her arms raised ready to give them what they wanted in an instantly recognisable sign of surrender, but at the last second she bolted. They had almost mistaken her for infected, the skin that wasn’t covered with viscus blood was stained red, her hair was no doubt already a darker colour but no one could tell with the amount of blood soaked through it.

As nimble as she may be, avoiding the gunshots, they would track her down eventually. She had scuttled away, like a wounded animal trying to avoid the inevitable cycle of life that would catch up to her.

Gunshots drew unwanted attention through the abandoned town, attracting a variety of infected like a moth to a flame. As intelligent as hunters may be, they didn’t think this one through once they had been swarmed by a horde of runners and the odd clicker.

It appeared that the cycle wouldn’t catch up to the woman as quickly as they anticipated, by them, anyway. No doubt she would make a tasty treat to the numerous infected lurking around the town — that is if other hunters hadn’t got to her first. That likelihood dwindled as she slowed her pace down, now hearing the shouts and rounds of fire through just a mere echo.

Fucking idiots.

The thought crossed through her mind, reminding herself why she had long abandoned firearms many years ago. It drew too much attention by both parties, those parties being Infected and Hunters of course. Both terrifying and formidable enemies in the current state of the world, but nothing was more terrifying than coming up against groups of people .

At least Cordyceps had the decency to regress a person down to their most primal instinctual need to kill, scavenge and survive. People did what they did, because they were bored or they just wanted fun and the world they lived in provided those sick individuals opportunistically.

This wasn’t going to be her final fight, throwing down with a bunch of Hunters while they pulled her apart for supplies, fun or meat. A person alone was terrifying, but nothing compared to a person who had nothing left to lose but one bittersweet and potentially fatal final wish.

“Oh, fuck me.” She hissed, ducking low behind the cover of a dumpster upon catching sight of more Hunters scrounging through the abandoned town. The location had been optimal for her, it wasn’t too far away from her own residence and had more than enough supplies for her to scour through. Of course, situations change.

Vastly outnumbered on both accounts, the pressure increased on her to find a way out by doing the least amount of work. Exhaustion had already set its course through her after a tiring altercation with several runners and a clicker, the last thing she needed was to misstep and be gunned down by a group of Hunters for the sake of it.

Five hunters… Three eastbound by the post office… Two preoccupied with a horde…

She drew a heavy breath, knowing her perpetually insulting luck there were bound to be more around the wooded area in the treetops. It wasn’t her first run in with snipers, and it would be an incredibly stupid oversight to not at least anticipate the possibility of them. Cornered in a dingy alleyway behind a dumpster, she needed to think fast, hard and smart about her next movements or she might as well die right here on the spot.

Backdoor access through the bakery and out onto the main strip would leave me vulnerable if deadshots saw me… rooftop would give me an advantage on grounders…

The window of opportunity was getting slimmer by the second, weighing out all potential options took time and time was of the essence. She was patient. Her family had always been patient. Rushing things made larger room for mistake and mistakes led to an untimely death, something she considered not too long ago but wouldn’t let it happen. Not here .

Reaching over her shoulder, she drew her crossbow, quickly and carefully counting her dwindling number of bolts left. Six . They weren’t all that difficult to make, no — but supplies had been thin for her and as if timing hadn’t been anymore… Taunting… Her trusted carpenters knife had long exceeded its lifespan after numerous skulls it cut through and crossbow bolts whittled.

It was now a matter of a simple waiting game, she had boxed herself into this corner and by god if she wasn’t going to make the best out of a shit time. The distant gunfire had since ceased, now the atmosphere merely filled with ambience and the occasional humane shout.

Today had been a shit show for everyone it seemed, not just for her - who was always prepared for the worst - but also for the Hunters, who didn’t anticipate one woman causing them so much trouble.

Regardless how grim it was panning out, she kept her eyes on all her openings as she crept forward in the alley, edging out just before hitting the street. Her head very cautiously poked around the corner, catching a glance at a target as they stopped in front of the bakery. Hand cupped to the window to get a better look at what contents remained behind closed doors.

She took her opening, raising the crossbow like it was muscle memory and firing off a bolt. The sound of it piercing through his skull still made her grimace, no matter how many times she heard it beforehand, the inherent action of killing someone in self defence or not was enough to add yet another internal weight on her already heavy shoulders.

As swift as the death was, she was even quicker crouching by the newly made corpse and retrieved her bolt. The over hanging rooftop of the bakery provided her enough cover if there were anyone in the trees close by, but what lie ahead was a naked street that screamed ‘risky’. It was a gamble, but not one she was willing to bet her life on.

That was until she heard more gunfire.

Her ears piqued at the sound, instead of the rain of bullets being followed up by the sound of the infected and inevitable blood curdling screams of their victims. These gunshots had been echoed by more, which meant she wasn’t the only person in town they were after.

East… They’re firing east of town… That should clear up the western area.

One glance up at the sky, noting the position of the now rapidly setting sun and a momentary pause in thought was enough for her to get her bearings. The least ideal situation would be if she were stuck here, at night time and twice — now three times the threat.

There had been no indication of heavy set bullets being fired which meant her initial concern of snipers was completely futile, providing ill comfort for the dire situation. Just because one threat was out of the way didn’t mean she would get careless as she attentively crossed through town, keeping to the store fronts and near cover at any turn.

Nearing what was presumably a bar before the outbreak, footsteps were heavy across what sounded like old wooden floorboards. She peered in, seeing yet another target searching through the already empty ruins of the bar, much like the one beforehand, she dealt with him quickly.

His body landed with a decent thud onto an old table which looked as if it would break after years of wood rot and negligence. Unsurprisingly, the sheer weight crippled the furniture and with it, a rather loud noise. No doubt attracting nearby infected if they weren’t already at the gun show across town.

Not willing to die over one crossbow bolt, she continues her journey through town as the sun had now begun disappearing behind the surrounding tree line. If she didn’t get the fuck out of dodge soon, she’d be giving herself a one way ticket to an early death.

Keep calm… deep breaths…

She reminded herself, pushing back the overwhelming sense of anxiety that filled her. Stay calm, stay patient. Those two things alone are what got her this far into the end of the world, she’d be lying if she said that it didn’t at least provide comfort and some semblance of attachment to her family.

Pressing forward was a must, she was losing light and fast. Ideally she’d be out of town by dark but then again… patience was also a must. If she had to stay in the town then so be it, regardless if she wanted to do so or not, which seemed to be the most likely outcome as she crosses an open street with care.

It was hard to imagine what the street was like prior to the outbreak, of course there were some leftover remnants of what was, but it was still hard to think about life prior to the outbreak. She barely had any memories of living in normalcy, not being able to comprehend a life that was any different than patience, travel, adaptation and survive.

With yet another wary glance up at the sky, she made the executive decision to hole herself up in what appeared to have been a laundromat. Coming across these had been commonplace when travelling across the country as much as she had — that and it was the only building in town that had fortification, even if the wear and tear of the boarded windows indicated it’s been up since early in the Outbreak.

It wasn’t much, but it was better than waiting out the night in the middle of the street, there was one entrance and exit and she had no desire to rest until she was home safe.

‘home’

Sure, as much as a vacant house isolated in the forest could be home. No, home for her was not here.

She loaded a bolt into her weapon, placing it right beside her as she retrieved a small amount of food from her bag. Her eyes never flickered away from the entrance, similarly to how her ears never stop listening to the sounds outside of the building.

No more gunshots… lets hope they all killed each other .

A grimly optimistic thought, the less people alive the better for her considering she didn’t want to deal with it. As far as food went, whatever she cooked last tasted like shit yet didn’t deter the aggressively grumbling stomach from taking it and using it as essential sustenance.

Oh how she missed the finer things, what she’d do to kill for at least one can of soup. Minestrone to be more precise. Every grocery store, convenience store, abandoned market turned up nothing while she scoured each place top to bottom for one fucking can of Minestrone soup. Nada. Every. Single. Time.

A grimace pulled at her face, the incredibly chewy meat tasted bland and by the time she had bitten through down to the bone it was more fat than actual protein. She pondered on the way her food tasted like shit when a loud bang kick-started her adrenaline once again.

She crouched low behind the cover of a dilapidated washing machine, crossbow in hand as two sets of footsteps entered, followed by pained grunts that remained on the opposite side of the room.

“Think any more of them sons-of-bitches will come?”

It was a male voice, gruff sounding and exasperated. She could gather two things; he was injured and on the older side of life.

“Not likely… said they was after a woman, might be out lookin’ for her.”

Another male voice, younger sounding — both had accents, then again to her everyone had accents and she wasn’t keeping track. She had bigger problems at hand than to worry about accents and a complete comprehensive guide to what people sounded like from whatever part of this Country they resided in.

“Here’s hopin’ she don’t get caught then.”

With that she rose from her cover, crossbow raised. At least she was confident these two must have been the source of the secondary set of gunfire she heard not too long ago. Her sudden presence startled the two men, the non-injured and visibly younger of the two drew his pistol.

No words were said, but tension was high. She had an up on the two men, knowing that it was dark and more quiet than usual it wouldn’t be beneficial to either party if a loud gunshot alerted infected. Maybe if the other hadn’t been injured, it might’ve been different.

She wasn’t one for talking, not to people she didn’t know anyway— so that ruled out every person she had encountered in this apocalyptic hellscape. Despite this, she felt her intentions were conveyed clear enough through the stand off between her and the man before her.

“‘lright, you’re not gonna hurt us.” He was the first to break away, her intentions had been heard loud and clear even without the presence of words. He held his hands up, placing his pistol on top of a washing machine but never breaking eye contact with her. A remarkably unusual move on his behalf, that was made known by his injured companion.

“Tommy what the fuck are you doin’?” he hissed, clearly unnerved by his choice to drop his arms in the presence of a complete stranger who they’d never seen before.

Even though she was certain that the two men were much like her, seeking refuge for the night, she just couldn’t be too sure. She backed up until she was flush up against a machine and sat on top of it, weapon still raised, her eyes watching the too men like a hawk — more so now that she got a better look at the injured companion.

She was surprised at just how old he was, long grey hair and a beard adorning his face, he must at least be in his sixties… seventies maybe… poor old bastard…

“She ain’t gonna hurt us, Eugene…Reckon she’s just glad we ain’t hunters.” Tommy reassured, kneeling down to tend to the older man's leg wounds. He was indeed correct, she was most definitely grateful that they weren’t hunters but that didn’t mean she trusted them wholeheartedly.

Quinn didn’t trust anybody.

#joel miller #the last of us #imagine #joel x oc #the last of us imagine #original character #joel x reader #fanfiction

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thinger-strang · 4 years

Text

Singing in the Shower and Other Sins (aka three times Steve was caught singing and the one time he wasn't)

@gideongrace this is for you 😚

(link to the version on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21394876 )

Steve sings all the time. Loud and off key in a goofy sort of lovable way. He jams with Dustin on their way to school, dances around Scoops and Family Video when it's slow, uses anything and everything as a mic.

Which made it so weird when Robin walked into work to find Steve singing like, good.

He had his back to her with an armful of tapes. His voice was soft and he was gently bopping (so he didn't drop all the videos). But his voice was so good!

Robin leaned against the wall and just observed Steve for a moment. It was weird, almost wrong, to hear the correct sound notes come from him.

"Having fun there, Springsteen?"

She shouldn't have scared him, she knows that. But his face was so funny when spun around, barely holding onto his stack of tapes.

"Jesus, warn a guy, Buckley!" He snapped, running his free hand through his hair.

"You can sing."

"What?"

"You always sing bad when I'm around, but you can like actually sing! Like sing really good!"

"Oh, no I wasn't singing? That was...that was definitely just the radio, I can't sing for shit, you know that--"

"Nuh uh Harrington, I know your dirty little secret now! You've got pipes!"

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Rob." He started putting stuff away again. "You of all people know I can't sing to save my life."

"I just heard you, don't know why you're denying it."

"Whatever, go get your vest before Keith gets here." Steve nodded towards the break room door but smiled at her knowingly.

"Fucking knew it!" She shouted as she went to put her vest on. "Why are you trying to hide this magnificent gift God herself has bestowed upon you?"

Steve shrugged and handed her half his stack once she got back.

"Don't tell anyone, don't need you messing up what little cred I have left."

She flipped him off.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

Life went on.

ii.

Steve made the mistake of telling Dustin where the spare key to his front door was. Under the ceramic frog in the planter left of the door. But the kid was basically his little brother and he'd shown Steve where his spare key was the week before. So they were even now.

So Dustin let himself and the rest of the party into Steve's house for an impromptu hang out sesh. Mike, Lucas, and Max made a beeline for the kitchen to drop off the arm fulls of snack they had while Dustin showed Will and Jane around.

Jane had started going by "Jane" full time since the Hopper-Byers move and the party was supportive as always. And since their move, the party had had three? maybe four hang outs at Steve's. So a tour was necessary since they missed the preliminary Casa de Harrington party.

"Holy shit do you guys hear that?" Will whispered once they got to the second floor's landing.

The other two stopped and listened. They heard a shower running and a radio going. Nothing special. Dustin strained his ears.

"No way."

"'No way' what?" Lucas asked as he, Max, and Mike joined them.

"That's Steve singing in the shower!"

"What's so bad about him singing in the shower?" Jane asked.

"Steve can't sing to save his life!" Mike said, incredulously.

"He's not that bad guys," Max tried to defend him.

"Okay, I love the guy like a brother but he drives me to school everyday and no, he cannot sing." Dustin explained as they crept closer to the bathroom door.

The shower shut off and his voice became clearer. The party continued bickering until the door swung open. Steam billowed out and Steve sang a line until he noticed the gaggle of teenagers in his hallway.

"What the fuck guys."

"What the fuck yourself Steven!" Mike shot back.

"Yeah, are you serious? For like, almost a year I've had to listen to you screech along to the radio when you've had the voice of an angel this whole time?! That's just plain rude." Dustin crossed his arms dramatically.

"Angelic's a little generous, Henderson."

"Your voice is really pretty," Jane said in awe.

Steve blushed and wrapped his arms around his torso.

"Thanks kid. Hey, how's Missouri treating you guys?" Steve pulled his shirt from the floor and put it on.

"Pretty good, the school has a huge library and Will joined an art club!" Jane said excitedly.

Will nodded along with her, putting his hands into his hoodie.

"Oh that's awesome! Glad you guys like it up there--"

"Can we get back to the whole 'Steve can actually sing' thing? Because that's still blowing my mind," Lucas interjected, flailing his arms a little.

"Yeah, can you sing Whitney? Because those were some pretty high notes if my ears don't decieve me." Max grinned evilly.

"No, I can't sing Whitney, I can barely sing, remember?" Steve sounded like he was talking to toddlers.

"Dude, none of use are deaf, we all heard." Mike gave him an unimpressed look.

"Yeah, and that was Queen and you definitely hit all those high notes. You can totally sing Whitney!" Max laughed and nudged Will when he stifled a giggle.

"I can't believe I'm being mocked by a bunch of 10 year olds!"

"We're fifteen, Harrington," Dustin said sarcastically.

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Okay, can you shits get out of my room so I can get dressed? Don't feel like spending the day in a towel while you make fun of my singing abilities."

He started to herd them towards the stairs as they protested, claiming they weren't making fun, just confused as to why he would torture them with a fake awful voice.

When Steve came downstairs, Max pushed play on the tape player in the living room. "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" started playing and Steve turned red.

"This isn't fucking karaoke night you dweebs!"

But he started laughing when they all started throwing popcorn at him and he proceeded to dump snacks onto everyone else, starting an epic pre-movie night food fight.

iii.

Robin's parents were going to be out of town for the first time in a thousand years so, naturally, she was throwing a party.

It wasn't a typical high school rager, more like a get together between friends and absolutely no children, Steve!

So really it was just Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Barb, and Billy.

Steve and Billy came over early to help make food. Which translated to Steve making food while Billy sat on the couch and read, using the "I died for you bitches" excuse for the millionth time.

And ever since Robin had caught him singing at work, he became more and more comfortable singing around her. She didn't ask about him singing around Billy. So here he was, singing while mixing something together in a bowl. Like a goddamn housewife.

"If my parents were here they'd be so pleased I found a nice boy who knows what he's doing in the kitchen." She said as she measured some milk out for the brownies.

She could hear Billy snort from the living room over the "knowing what he's doing in the kitchen" comment.

Steve laughed and kicked at her shins.

Wham! came on and Steve's face lit up. And it was the yo-yo song, the best freaking one. And Robin was in band so her inntonation wasn't like awful, she definitely had the lungs for singing.

So they were singing along to George Michael in the Buckley's colorful kitchen while making brownies when the other three showed up.

"You can sing?" Barb asked with big eyes.

"You act like I've never sung in front you you before." Steve replied while hunching over, self conscious.

"Yeah but normally it's more...pitchy," Nancy offered.

"We're not judging your anything man, you've got a great voice," Jonathan filled in quickly. "Didn't really believe Will when he said Steve could sing."

He said that last part mostly to Nancy, but everyone heard it.

And Robin was kind of done. Because Steve told her, one time when they were hotboxing his car, that he sang bad on purpose because his dad thought it was "faggy" to be able sing that well. That he sounded like Freddie and George and Bowie in the worst way. And she knew he was bi, knew he got embarrassed when people started talking about him singing because of what his dad said.

She was about to call them out when Billy flipping Hargrove beat her to it.

"Leave him alone, you're just jealous your pipes aren't as good," Billy said in a monotone voice from the couch.

"It's fine, Billy, they're--"

"No he's right, lay off."

Nancy and Jonathan at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Barb walked into the kitchen to help out.

"Your voice really is good. Didn't mean to sound so shocked before. You were just...really good. And I totally remember you singing into a hairbrush that one time? And your voice cracked all over the place?" Barb bumped her hip into Steve's, wiggling her eyebrow.

"Oh my god, I almost lost my voice from that! God, that was forever ago, cannot believe you remember that."

"Yeah that's what made me realize 'King Steve" was like an actual human boy, not this entity the entire school and Nancy made you out to be."

Billy migrated from the couch to the counter when he heard the words "King Steve" and put his book on the counter top.

"When was this?" And thank god for Billy because Robin wanted to ask so bad what they were talking about.

"Oh Steve threw a little party back in junior year to woo Nancy and he was a little buzzed and was trying to make her laugh by singing along to, what was it?" Barb turned to smirk at Steve.

"ABBA, it's was ABBA."

Billy rolled his eyes and mumbled "of course" as Robin cackled.

"Very on brand, dingus."

"Yeah but he overexaggerated the awfulness and his voice cracked, like, painfully. Like, I felt it, it was so bad!"

Steve scrunched up his nose at the memory and laughed. Robin and Billy started laughing too and Barb continued telling embarrassing stories about Steve that the other two had never heard before.

+i.

Steve jolted awake to a loud clattering sound coming from the other end of his room.

"How many times do I have to tell you to clear off your fucking desk, Harrington," Billy stage whispered angrily.

"How many times do I have to tell you to use the fucking front door, Hargrove."

Steve hopped out of bed to meet Billy by the window. He scanned his face for bruises which made Billy rolls his eyes.

"Can't a guy just visit his boyfriend in the middle of the night without anything being wrong?"

"Yeah but you only sneak in through my window when you've had a bad night, you dramatic fuck." Steve cupped Billy's face with one hand and let him lean into it.

Comfortable silence enveloped them before Billy broke it.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled.

"Okay." Steve let Billy drop his head into his shoulder. " Do you wanna talk about it or go to bed?"

Because "couldn't sleep" is generally code for nightmares.

Billy shrugged, shoulder bumping Steve's chin a little, and Steve nodded, tugging him towards the bed.

He helped Billy get down to just his boxers and a tee before getting under the covers. Steve positioned them so that Billy was half laying in Steve with his ear over his heart and their legs tangled. Because Steve liked the pressure and Billy liked listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

They laid like that for a minute, getting comfortable and used to each other's warmth.

And Billy had told him, a long time ago, that his mom used to sing to him when he couldn't sleep. And that was before Billy knew Steve could actually sing. That was what made Steve sing for real in front of him.

So, on nights like this, Steve sang.

He started humming the intro to "Going to California", moving his fingers in time up and down Billy's back. Billy let out a sigh and pressed himself closer into Steve's chest.

So Steve sang into the dark of his bedroom, chasing away monsters; the kind that live in your house and the kind that live underground, until Billy drifted off and pulled Steve with him into a warm and deep sleep that only comes when wrapped around someone you love.

#harringrove #fic #my writings #HOLY SHIT #guys pls read this i spent three hours frantically writing this thx #harringrove fanfic #this is kind of mean to nancy and jonathan but i dont like them so suck it #and theres backstory on ao3 but hopper survives and lives with the Byers and therefore moves with them and barb is here bc i said so #its a happy boys and supportive lesbians fic fight me

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yourfaveisyanderematic · 5 years

Text

whatever they gave you, stop drinking it down

Haha! You asked for this, like...literal months ago. I’m sorry. As always, strayed a little from the prompt, but I hope you like it anyway, @sherlock-is-human-too!

be careful to not mistake being desired for being loved.

“We’re going out.”

Vertigo spins the floor under your feet as your heart flips over itself, but you don’t make any outward appearance of excitement; simply raise your head to look at him with languid adoration. Out? Past the crumbling stone walls and tightly drawn curtains of this forgotten palace, back into the cool night air of Cairo? Out, into the press of bodies, the throngs of humanity you’d abandoned when you entered your master’s service? Out, where the trembling lamplight is drowned out by the indifferent glare of the moon overhead, trading the claustrophobia of decaying ceilings for a roof of endless stars?

He must have seen some subtle change in your eyes, because Dio’s lips curl into something like amusement, but hungrier. He leans back slightly, your wordless cue to lean into him, and you shiver at the way his clammy breath ghosts across your face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I suppose I have been keeping you busy.”

His nails drag across the bare skin of your chest, almost light enough to tickle, and you can’t suppress a hiss as they trail lower across the bumps of your ribs and scrape at a blooming bruise. He considers the sound, and then presses again, hard enough to actually scratch, drinking in the little mewl you make just for him.

There’s a moment where you worry he might actually forget his plans and just amuse himself with your body some more—it wouldn’t be the first time—but Dio abruptly stands, candlelight glimmering off his alabaster skin as you tumble gracelessly to the floor. “Come, dress me. The mortals shouldn’t see us in anything less than our best.”

You pull yourself to your feet and hurry to the side of the room, picking your way around the discarded designer garments and silk scraps, the trappings of a man who enjoyed opulence for opulence’s sake, and pull the closet doors open. Dio has never worn an outfit more than once, and his memory is immaculate. Be careful when selecting something for him; a mistake here means you’ll be enjoying your outing without a stitch of decency again. You mentally retrace the nights your master bothered to wear proper clothes, pull something unfamiliar from the rack, and walk back to where he waits, watching you return in the full-length mirror he prizes so much.

In the beginning, you were so overwhelmed to touch him that your hands would actually shake, rattling the buttons in their fixings and hitching the fabric in the angles of his limbs. It amused him at first, but he eventually tired of it. Now you could drape him in finery in your sleep. Your movements are elegant and practiced, covering him in gold-embroidered fabric and black silk, sliding his feet into boots that cost more than a month’s rent for you, once upon a time. The cologne is next—like incense, something rich and unmistakable, nobody will be in his presence without realizing it—and you’re just about to pull heavy gold rings over his fingers when he stops you with a look.

“Is that any way to treat me?” he asks, and there’s a heartbeat of confusion where you don’t understand what he means, but you’re already sinking to your knees and bringing your hand to your lips and ah, you understand now, as your teeth close around cold metal and you tilt your head back.

His fingers are cold—not one of your endless hours with him could warm his body even slightly—as they press against your lips, his own special kiss (this one’s just for you, too. Isn’t it nice? Don’t you like the privilege?) before pushing into your mouth, sliding the ring on as his fingertips graze your tongue, the back of your throat. You remember gagging, the first time he tried this, but all you give him now is a little moan as he pulls his finger back out, slick with your saliva, and waits for you to repeat the motion with the next ring. You want to look away as you take the next one—encrusted with rubies that glint in the candlelight—or the next one—an ornate piece that forces your jaw open wider than the others—or the next one—this one you don’t even see clearly, your eyes are too blurred with unshed tears from the stress of choking down your body’s protests as he prods at your palate, a little harder each time.

You can’t.

***

what are we made of but hunger and rage?

By now you’ve learned to shut your shame away in a dark corner of your mind, but it’s still hard sometimes. There are moments when you want nothing more to cry or scream, but those haven’t been options in a long time. So, instead, you laugh.

You’re laughing now, a peal of delight that echoes off the facades of the surrounding buildings but fails to drown out the agonized bawling, inhuman groans that began their life as pleading. He’s moving, again—maybe trying to crawl away, maybe just trying to get comfortable before the end—it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. His suit is almost as expensive as the airy clothes Dio pulled over you, and the remnants of the gold chain under your feet could feed a family for months, but he’s broken and bleeding and none of it matters. It doesn’t matter.

You feel incredible. Power is better than any drug, and Dio has always been good to you—has never let you be withdrawn for too long—and you sway, drunk on your elation as Dio presses a crystalline glass of something warm and red to your lips, and you take a deep sip without even registering what you’re tasting.

In hindsight, you should have known what would be happening when you were pulled along into the cool nighttime breeze, but reality is just as painful as shame, so you consigned it to the same cell. Hopefully, you won’t have to do this for too much more of yourself; there’s only so much space in your mind before you’ve locked yourself out entirely.

“Don’t you think that’s enough, sweet thing? He’s tried to apologize so much he can’t even move his tongue anymore.”

If he really wanted you to stop, you already would have. This isn’t about the apology, penance for the crime of speaking to you without permission. You’d let Dio get bored, alone in that dark mansion, and this is how you’re making it up to him; you’re tearing apart the rich and drunk for him, with your own two hands, because it’s fun. It’s fun for him to watch. It’s fun for you to do. It’s fun.

You’re laughing again, but now it’s more of a disquieting giggle as you worry at the skin and caked blood under your fingernails and wonder how long it will take to wash the feeling away. The man takes what’s left of his face in shaking hands and pushes it back into a recognizable shape, maybe hoping your hesitation means a reprieve is coming. Perhaps the two of you, master and favorite pet, will turn your attention to something else that’s more fun to destroy. It’s an expression you barely recognize—could it be? Hope?

You’d say you feel bad about taking your nice designer shoes and undoing all his hard work, but the ecstatic bloodlust in Dio’s laughter drowns all of that out, so you raise your foot and do it again, and again, carefully and deliberately, with a precision borne of wanton cruelty, until you hear something crunch and snap and your heel suddenly sinks deeper than it did before. The mingled chorus of your laughter and his begging abruptly becomes a solo.

Quiet footsteps echo from behind you. You turn, expectant; you did what was asked of you, after all. Dio tuts, tucking a finger under your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze, and pulls you back from the body by your jaw.

“So wasteful, don’t you think? You’ve deprived me of a fine meal. You’ve made a mess of yourself—those shoes were your gift. I suppose I can’t fault you for it; I do love it when you’re having fun.”

“We have the whole city,” you find your mouth moving, “and the night is young. We’ll get more.”

“I suppose we will,” he hums, raising a thumb to wipe at a drying smear of gore on your cheek. You lean into the touch, are ready to pull yourself into his arms if he wills it, but he simply drops his hand and looks away, tired of the contact. You step into his shadow.

“Shall we play your favorite game? Good-hearted fools tend to be particularly delicious…it shouldn’t be too hard to find someone, looking like that. Don’t be boring and find a policeman, now.”

Run for your life and find someone to help you. This one’s a particular favorite of yours—you obsess over it, in fact, when you think he isn’t paying attention. It’s your favorite fantasy. It’s so nice of him to indulge you like this, to let you act it out over and over, even multiple times in one night. You’re the only one he’s like this for.

Obediently, you kneel down, stripping the gore-caked shoes from your feet, slip the blood-drenched jacket from your shoulders. You hunch your shoulders, adopt that wide-eyed terrified look that comes so naturally. The transformation is immaculate; a three-move metamorphosis from murderer to victim. Dio doesn’t move as you break into a run, feeling the bite of rough pavement under your feet as you begin the search; even if he didn’t follow, you would return to him without fail. This game was too fun to play only once.

***

the empty space your soul occupied has its own weight.

Fatigue pulls at your eyelids as you run cold water over your face, but you don’t let it slow your movements; the fun was over, and now it is time to clean before Dio pulls you into bed with him to wait out the dawn.

The clothes began their night in a number of pastels and fancy embroidery, but it’s all the same lump of red-brown staining the antique tiles now. Not your problem, naturally, but you can’t help but feel something unnamed in the distant shut-away part of yourself. Your skin is smooth and soft, clear of the blood that soaked it only a half-hour before, but you still reek of iron and salt; should you shower? Scrub at yourself with scented soaps and perfumed washes?

Yes, your thoughts whisper. You can’t stand to smell like this. You can’t stand to look like this.

Your hair is getting in your eyes, plastered to your skin by the water. You sweep it aside in a moment of ignorance before your eyes find your face in the mirror and you wish you didn’t.

You look terrible. Haggard, pale. Your lips are bitten up and swollen. There are no clothes to gloss over the weeping scars and bruises that story your skin. And to crown it all, there, at your hairline, a tightly coiled bud sits. It’s sewn into your skin, in clear view now that your hair has been pulled away, throbbing slightly as if it had a heartbeat all its own. It’s repulsive, it’s obscene, and just looking at it provokes a white-hot moment of insanity where you want nothing more than to reach up and tear it out of your flesh and choke on death, on your only way out of this nightmare.

In the instant you think it, you watch the flesh bud pulse, and your fatigue and hatred and sorrow are washed away in a flood of giddiness. What a ridiculous thought; you must be quite tired. You shut those traitorous feelings away in that distant part of yourself; hopefully, you were quick enough, and Dio wouldn’t find out.

You pull your hair back into place and open the door, leaving as the floor spins under your feet.

#yandere x reader #yandere dio #by me #yeah I know what I promised to post next I'm working on it #I'm working on it #God are we already nearing october?#I should do something special #a Halloween prompt list perhaps #Goretober prompts...I'll need to find some #if you've got good suggestions for a list lmk #otherwise I'll just make one for myself

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sunderedstar · 5 years

Text

Lalli, orders, and a driving force of the narrative

let me be clear, this post is about trains.

but it is also about moving walkways that take you in a single direction, whether you meant to get on them or not.

and finally, it’s about people who push you to get on the train against your will, and the consequences of being railroaded (ha! funny joke!) like this.

(and it’s also about how Taru is a deceptive asshole who probably deliberately targeted a vulnerable Tuuri to try to manipulate Onni, but I digress.)

actually no. let’s start there. let’s talk about the hypocrisy, deception, and all around shady tactics used by the expedition planners. the expedition is set up for failure from the start by gross mismanagement because the organizers slack off on safety and even their mission statement – they just want money. even before they get the mission approved, the budget they submitted was already “refreshingly low.”

(yeah, you guys are so damn brave.)

from the very start, all Torbjorn wanted was a cash grab. he finds normal work degrading, and that's basically it. rare, priceless books obtained under the misleading guise of a research/exploration expedition. they don’t even mention it in the mission contracts. there is nothing on the books about this shit. the proper documentation is never filed. they lied to the Nordic Council through their teeth to get the funding for the expedition. every moment of that prologue section is marked by deception and shortcuts taken at the expense of the young people they’re throwing under the bus.

(yes, Emil. there’s like a 100% chance they absolutely ripped you off. you guys got some unknown set bonuses, they get percentages. without question.)

it’s like Siv trying to cover the hole in Torbjorn’s pants with ink to fool people from a distance. it’s a fucking mess.

and then they have the audacity to strip away all the safety measures that might have prevented disaster instead of, I don’t know, cutting their own salaries. you can trace the majority of the mistakes and mishaps right back to this line here, where Taru and Trond decide NAHHH, you don’t need a day and a night scout and a cat.

one scout. pulling a basically 24/7 double duty in completely uncleansed, unfamiliar, monster-infested territory, in a role that would normally be filled by three different people/animals. way to go, guys. if Lalli and Onni hadn’t been mages of any kind of talent, everyone would have been dead.

and then there’s this blink and you’ll miss it moment, where Taru claims that she knows people who are “extremely bored with their lives” as they discuss desperate people and idiots they can hire for their underfunded, doomed expedition.

One. Taru knows one person bored with her life.

She knows Tuuri.

But she doesn’t want Tuuri. Taru wants Onni as a defense mage. She asks him first, before any other member of her extended family. And when Onni says no…Taru targets Tuuri, the actually bored, adventurous, inexperienced, easily manipulated target she had in mind to force Onni’s hand. she sells Tuuri the exact same lie about this being a research trip, and because Taru is family who also previously worked at Keuruu, she knew exactly how to lure Tuuri in with the call of adventure and discovery.

(Tuuri, you are absolutely being tricked into this.)

Taru is family, and Taru is a military strategist, and Taru plays Tuuri like a fucking fiddle. there's a blithe, almost breathtaking disregard for human decency going around here. (the Vasterstroms probably took one look at their disaffected, undereducated, prideful nephew and thought, ah, how convenient! we’ll send him off into the meat grinder instead.) Taru only failed in that Onni showed up late – she still ultimately succeeded in luring him out of Keuruu, and then afterward has the gall. the audacity. to say she intended to try to recruit him again. after Tuuri fucking died.

how callous can you get.

a lot of this is also played for laughs. Siv and Torbjorn and Trond and Taru are often comical beats, because that’s the tone the comic has taken for them. Onni’s angry protests at the start of the comic come off as that of a bad-tempered, inflexible older brother whose concern is over-exaggerated and unreasonable, who is obstructing Tuuri’s first ever chance at Adventure!!!

oh wait. whoops. that happened.

now, let’s talk about Lalli.

Neither Lalli nor Onni want to leave Keuruu. Lalli’s just quieter and less assertive about it, especially once Tuuri starts steering him around, his only lifeline in countries where he doesn’t speak the language.

in a lot of instances, however, Lalli defaults to doing what he’s told. he believes Tuuri when she fills in details for him. he keeps going to his scouting job even after Tuuri quits his job for him OH WAIT THAT’S RIGHT, TUURI LITERALLY SIGNED HIM UP FOR A NEW JOB AND VOLUNTOLD HIM TO LEAVE WITHOUT LALLI REALIZING IT HAPPENED.

because Lalli is tired. it’s a running theme. he works nights. and Tuuri eagerly dumps all this info on him during the daylight hours where their shifts overlap, and apparently pushes all of the paperwork for their new job through without Lalli actively signing off on it or processing what’s happening even once. Tuuri claims they resigned together. I highly doubt Lalli had a damn clue.

a lot of bad shit happens because people keep pushing Lalli into things when he’s exhausted. from the moment they stumble off the boat to meet Emil, Lalli is plagued by nausea, poor sleep, and sometimes no sleep at all. but for Lalli, a lifetime of obeying orders – from Ensi, from Onni, from the Keuruu military structure he grew up in – has primed him to go along with it when he’s told what his job is, almost without question.

it's a kind of inertia. Lalli doesn’t want to leave the safe routine of Keuruu, because that’s what he’s used to. but once Tuuri literally shoves him into motion, he keeps going along with her as a path of least resistance. Tuuri wants her adventure, and what Lalli wants won’t stand in her way. even when Lalli does say no, Tuuri gets what she wanted.

and only very rarely does Tuuri not get her way. Lalli plants his feet only once, really. but Tuuri still goes behind his back to make sure someone else forces Lalli to continue on, while he’s trying to assure their safety in the only way he can.

Lalli keeps winding up on/getting manhandled into one-way trips. boats he’s told he’s not allowed to leave. trains that continue to push him along the track in one direction. a walkway that inexorably pushes him toward the outside world, and change. a bridge literally collapses after standing through a century of the apocalypse so that they have no choice but to continue on the expedition. once he accepts this as his new job in a weird, scary foreign country full of death, inertia keeps him there.

and Lalli isn’t the only one who can be pushed.

Tuuri is the driving force behind a lot of the first adventure, at least as far as Lalli and Onni is concerned. literally – she drives the cat tank.

but somehow, despite her entire family and village apart from Onni and Lalli dying a horrific death to the rash en mass, Tuuri has not internalized the reality of the world. she’s running on her own plucky excitement and blind optimism and scotch tape and whatever Taru fed her about the expedition. she chafes at the confines of Keuruu and wants to see the outside world, and we’re supposed to sympathize with her sense of feeling trapped by military restrictions and an overbearing, overprotective older brother, because that’s how adventures usually go.

so reality in the form of a troll punches a hole through her and the tank.

Onni isn’t overprotective. it turns out that, in the end, he was exactly right. but just as Lalli is forced to work perpetually exhausted and psychically burdened every day by the mass presence of trolls in the silent world, Onni is now forced to work at an extreme distance. he pulls out all the magical stops, potentially gives himself a literal stroke to try to protect Tuuri from that distance – but the expedition planners bought a cheap tank and hired the bare minimum of people and picked the most dangerously careless, cheap options every. damn. time.

so as Tuuri’s illness progresses, the tank progressively falls apart, until both of them die. the crew is forced to continue on foot. it's not a fun adventure anymore; it’s survival, dealing with the ghosts and notoro hazards, and retreat. there's no new impetus without Tuuri.

(the way Tuuri treats/disregards/runs rampant over her reluctant, neuroatypical cousin is a meta in and of itself, tbh.)

once they’re back, without Tuuri pushing him along, Lalli defaults to obeying Onni. inertia in action. Lalli has been taught since he was very, very young that if he doesn’t obey orders or if he makes a mistake, he’s a risk, and he’s just seen his cousin die because he was exhausted, because Sigrun didn’t want to backtrack and has casually trusted or brushed off Tuuri’s word on Lalli’s fatigue this whole time, Tuuri pressed exactly that button while scolding Lalli about forgetting the snow, and it set off Lalli’s stubborn pride and prior trauma at the worst possible moment.

and so Onni orders Lalli to stay and get a job with Emil instead of coming with him (supposedly) back to Keuruu. it works. Lalli accepts without really understanding what has happened or why, and lets inertia keep him in Iceland for a month without questioning it, because Onni knows what to do and Onni never lies.

but Onni has lied, and Lalli has been left behind. deliberately, intentionally, by someone who he trusted to make the call.

time to take some initiative!

except things are a lot harder, without Tuuri greasing the wheels, with Lalli trying to go at it alone.

there are no one-way trains or walkways directing Lalli toward a set destination when he sets out like this. there is no Tuuri to keep corralling him when he goes the wrong way. now Lalli keeps running into minor stumbling blocks, language barrier-induced delays, and confusing evidence of where Onni’s final destination might be. unlike the silent world expedition where they had set destinations and book library targets based on prior research and maps, Lalli is essentially choosing where to go on the fly, based on what he learns as he gets there.

but that’s because this isn’t a money-grabbing, glory hounding trip instigated by greed under false pretences. the silent world expedition was inevitable in a very doomed sort of way, which was why the trip there went so (relatively) smoothly. this is Lalli, defying orders, upsetting what used to be the natural order of his life, because he’s worried about Onni.

and in a way, it’s healthier. there are no warning signs like the troll breaching the saw train early in adventure 1. we see sea trolls killed without fuss; no one has been in danger in Finland itself yet, really. They’re trying to find Onni to clear up a deception, not perpetuate a deception for someone else’s gain, at their own cost.

now with slightly more power of friendship!

trying to find Onni is…a more genuine motivation to start a trip. for Lalli just doing this goes against every instinct he’s been trained to follow, and the bumps along the way reflect that it’s an uphill journey as he finds a new way to live.

the contradiction has been there all along, though:

Tuuri tells Lalli to wait for her in Mora. he steps on the moving walkway without realizing, and has to go against the flow to get back to her. (even then, he’s still trying to do what he’s told.) Lalli’s narrative track has been leading up to this confrontation about his own inertia and tendency to fall in with what others want for a while now.

ironically, he can’t be afraid to try new things.

speculation time – this new direction for Lalli is probably leading up to a confrontation first with a kade-possessed Ensi, and then (even more speculatively) with a kade-possessed Onni, with the kade playing on Lalli’s documented tendency to defer to their orders. particularly if the it hunting the Hotakainens = the kade that possessed Ensi = the nightmare moose that attacked Lalli in the dream sea. an attack which, in addition to Tuuri’s death, would have prompted more of Onni’s urgency in returning to Saimaa. Tuuri died and Lalli almost died, and Onni’s got a very strong protective and self-sacrificial streak.

we see the prototype for what’s to come as Ensi slowly loses control of herself under the kade’s influence. she gives Lalli the order not to look into her eyes, first – but she hasn’t realized yet that the kade can just use Ensi herself to contradict that order. we can assume that if Lalli meets Ensi again, he’s going to have to disregard any order she gives him that might be suspect, in a way he’s been trained not to since he was a child. even back then, when faced with the contradiction in Ensi’s orders, Lalli wound up doing...what Grandma told him…

…but he can’t rely on Ensi’s last moments of clarity anymore. it's been too long. Lalli has to make his own calls under his own direction, with no way to know if what he’s choosing is a mistake or not.

and for a maximum ironic callback, Ensi says that she’ll retire when her replacement is trained…and when she’s dead.

if kade!Ensi is looking for a replacement for her now aging body...Onni and Lalli certainly fit the bill.

#stand still stay silent #long post for ts #i'm.......so sorry #TUULI WE'LL DIE TOGETHER. AS A FAMILY HOLLOLA DIDN'T DIE FOR YOU TO BE LIKE THIS TARU

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knightofbalance-13 · 6 years

Text

https://queenypie.tumblr.com/post/178782465728/how-not-to-write-yang

Here’s a deal for you: you stop mentioning Miles, I’ll stop doing this.

I decided to watch the last 1/3rd of volume 5 to try and grasp how truly disappointing the finale really was. Needless to say, even burying my expectations, I was shook by how awful it was.

I’ve caught you lying in all your posts on RWBY. You bitching about the finale is more evidence it was good than bad at this point.

With that said, this post will focus on Yang and Build up + Payof

Spoiler alert: They just vomit up what Dudeblade says and never talk about payoff until the final paragraph.

Of all of the characters to suffer from Miles’ Chronic inability to both build something up and have that same thing pay-off-

Between Red Vs. Blue that builds up Church degrading due to being an AI fragment and paying off in the most memorable ending to an arc the series has had, let alone the build with General Kimball being so openly and irrationally hostile to Republic of Chorus and paying off with a deconstruction of how people view each other in conflicts (all of this done BEFORE RWBY mind you)

And Camp Camp where there is a three season long build up of David’s worship of the Camp Camp’s founder and paying off with him having his adoration in the founder crushed alongside having built up Max’s cynicism for two seasons ending with the reveal that his parents never cared about him so he had a very GOOD reason to be cynical.

And Nomad Of Nowehre where there is an entire season f build up with how the Nomad just running and running from everyone only makes his situation worse and makes the people he cares about leave him which pays off with him finally fighting back and defeating both of his major opponents in the first season.-

If that issue even exists which, considering your history of editing out information and lyinbg just to create issues that don’t exist, it may not:

It’s probably KERRY’S issue, not MILES.

You know Kerry, the OTHER guy who writes for RWBY except he’s the DIRECTOR of the show so writing mistakes would be his fault even more so.

Or are you blaming Miles because he’s a widely hated guy for no reason and Kerry would just push you away?

Yang gets it the worst.

No, that would be Jaune. The guy whose built up as an important character with Monty then gets sidelined for Volume 3, has all his development funneled into Ruby in Volume 4 and gets less screentime, less lines and less focus than ILLA in Volume 5.

Huh, Miles also hates writing Jaune, mostly because you people won’t stop harassing him.

Funny how that works.

Ruby usually doesn’t get anything period, with the exception of the Silver Eyes which had basically two lines of introduction in volume 1 and have had two separate pay offs.

Which are....what exactly? Oh right, clarification is your kryptonite because making things vague makes it harder to disprove.

Weiss has had a family arc with good build up and a weak sauce pay off (but it was something).

How do you have a payoff for an ONGOING arc?

Blake has awful build up, because the white fang are a singularity point of failure, and even worse pay off, but she at least both.

And you completely failed at it so it’s more like RWDE’s the singular point of failure.

After going through an arc where the show tells Yang she’s incompetent -you be the judge on whether that’s accurate or insultingly wrong-

Being FLAWED does not make one INCOMPETENT. You can be competent AND flawed at the same damn time.

For fuck’s sake, come back when the show treats the idea of Yang fighting as a joke like it does Jaune.

for using her rage ability and losing to people with far greater experience, you’d think the show would have the decency to at least have her refight those same people and get back at them.

Because it’s not like one of those character is gone (Neo), one of them has no way to even meet Yang again (Neon), one of them is the villain of a DIFFERENT CHARACTER (Adam) or that she HAS fought them, it just wasn’t focused on (Mercury).

But no, Yang has only thus far had a chance to fight Mercury again, and most of that was off screen before she just had to run to the plot.

Not like Raven is more important, more substantial and more emotional to Yang than Mercury and thus having THEM have a conflict is just better writing-Oh wait...

Also, Mercury doesn’t fit that critera. Yang won against him. A thrown fight yeah but your critera doesn’t fit. If you’re gonna be anal about this, so will I.

No rematch with Neo, Adam is no longer worth a rematch, and neither is Mercury after getting headbutted.

because durr pacing, what is that?

After being beat down by every villain like she’s the town bike

She lost twice, get over it. Fucking Weiss, Blake and Ruby have had a worse track records, let alone Jaune.

having her arm sliced off and having PTSD from the event

*points to the rest of the cast* They all have PTSD too.

and having a best friend leave her and sending Yang to her lowest point

Really the only thing unique here is Yang losing an arm. And uh, according to RWDE standards: That’s nothing special.

what’s the payoff?

Nothing like what you’re gonna say next?

Yang gets insulted by her dad and told a tone-deaf story from Oobleck and Port and then just gets over her current funk.

A. So we’re gonna ignore how she acted in the Volume 3 finale being depressed and junk? You know, THE ACTUAL PAYOFF?

B. ‘tone-deaf’ says the person overlooking how Yang tries to talk down to her twice widowoed, numerous abandoned father about loss.

C. So we’re gonna ignore how she acts in Volume 4 Episode 9?

Oh, D. So jokes are serious now? okay, I’ll remember that when you joke about killing Miles.

Yang puts on the robot arm and the whole hesitancy to use it just vanishes.

Because durr, I no understand basic human psychology like fear of change.

Yang spars with Tai and gets told to keep a cooler head. This alone lets her fight on par with villains who previously acted like she was leagues below them, despite now having trained barely any after a long period of doing nothing.

Because it’s not like the reason WHY Yang lost those TWO times was because of her anger issues aznd that was what was holding her?

because solving your issues...doesn’t solve your issues...

Or maybe you’re a liar.

Yang gets her arm sliced off by Adam, and not only does she not fight him, Blake manages to take Adam out with a move that he should be well aware of given their interaction in V3, and a smack to the back of the noggin.

Because not like Adam is not only BLAKE’S villain but Adam kind of reflects Yang so he has similar issues.

Also what about their interactions would show he expected that? That time where he fell for the EXACT SAME TRICK?

Pick just one of these four and with a little brain power you could come with an idea that has infinitely better payoff.

Self destruct in 3...2...1-

How about Tai give Yang a motivation speech

You mean what happened in canon no less than TWO times?

or Port give an actually heartfelt story,

You mean what he did in canon?

or Yang struggling to get used to the arm before doing crazy tricks in volume 5

You mean ignore all the training she did in Volume 4? The MONTHS of training?

or Yang running off to confront Adam before jumping in to help Ruby and Co like Blake does?

You mean leave someone, probably her sister, to fight the trained killer while she goes off into the courtyard to fight someone she didn’t know was there and get dogpiled and probably killed all WITHOUT the excuses Blake had (like not knowing about Ruby and the others as well as focusing on stopping Adam long with OUTNUMBERING him?)

Anytime you build up suspense for anything, it needs to have a pay-off.

You’re right but the thing is-

You completely ignore anything that makes RWBY function. As shown above, you listed two things that ALREADY HAPPENED and another two that would have contradicted the writing already, one of which would require Fairy Tail levels of plot armor to survive.

So why should anyone listen to you?

Look at the Karate Kid: the main character gets his ass kicked, gets trained by a martial artist, and then comes back to defeat the people who wronged him.

Yeah and if this happened in RWBY, you’d ask ‘why didn’t he fight the guy who wronged him?’ It’s not the writer’s fault you ignore facts.

There’s a problem, there’s build-up to a solution, and then there’s the pay-off. Yang in this situation would be Daniel if he got beaten up, trained my Mr. Miyagi, and then just went off to study abroad.

Except this is more like you watched the Karate Kid and then walked out of the theater half way through the movie and complained that it didn’t happen.

You say you’re gonna make more of these but what’s the point? We have enough liars to make another Senate and all you’re doing is vomiting up what Dudeblade has said.

You have no point in making these. There is no way anyone will listen to you aside from people who already agree with you and they can just listen to other people for that. Unless you’re doing this to try and control people but again, you’re just another brick in the wall.

#queenypie

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sl-walker · 7 years

Text

I am just pickled enough to do this. So, let’s do this.

The AU that no one could ever have imagined before I made the mistake...

... the awesome mistake...

...the decision to write SioF.

So, it goes like this.

The Republic has a problem with understanding the requirements of juvenile offenders, which is why they keep somehow ending up in the general prison population instead of, you know, in a juvie rehab facility. (Lookin’ at you, Boba, you poor little duck.) Sometime around the age of thirteen, fourteen, they ended up with this half-zabrak who killed three guys in a highly illegal gladiatorial combat ring, but instead of doing the thing that would make sense, like maybe treating the kid with decency, they pretty much just throw him in prison.

There is actually some surprising interest in this nobody nightbrother teenager; the senator of Naboo, for instance, petitions for his release, but that doesn’t matter because he ends up killed in a mysterious airspeeder accident. Hego Demask pointedly does not show an interest.

The kid survives half a dozen assassination attempts, and ends up maiming the inmates who tried, never mind causing some real damage to a guard or two. By now, the Republic is probably never, ever going to let him go. Luckily for them, a new breakthrough by an independent laboratory funded by the IBC has come up with a way to paralyze the midichlorians of Force users for a time and has given the drug to the Republic-- for a price. Hey, research isn’t cheap! The Jedi are really very pissed off about this, in a perfectly peaceful, serene and acceptable manner, but that cat’s out of the bag.

(We won’t talk about how Plagueis totally would direct a laboratory to release this and still make a damned profit on it, all at the same time.)

Speaking of the Jedi, it had been a Jedi observer who figured out that the kid who got convicted of killing people was Force sensitive, but despite their petition for custody, they were turned down. Who knew what would have happened, but the Republic wasn’t willing to let him go.

So, a couple to few years pass. Cut off from the Force, Maul gets rather subdued and despondent; he’s still more than capable of defending himself, but he has heard nothing from his Master, has no access to the senses he was born with and has relied on his whole life. He basically marks time, but he doesn’t even really think about escape after awhile, because the reality of it sinks in: Where would he even go? He’s horribly equipped to deal with the world, the only experience he has with interacting with it is Orsis, and let’s face it, there’s a difference between interacting with mercenary cadets and the public.

It’s a pretty miserable situation, basically. Depression would be putting it mildly. He might not even exist, in any real sense of the word.

Meanwhile, though, there’s a bill being floated by Bail Antilles, on the urging of any number of civilized systems, to improve prison conditions in the Republic. It’s purely happenstance (unless it’s the will of the Force, but let’s not get too flighty) that Bail Organa is on Coruscant -- he’s on the board of directors for three different charities and that involves travelling sometimes for various functions -- and that he’s visiting the Senator of Alderaan at a time when he ends up invited on the tour of the facilities.

Not too surprisingly, since this is my AU, he does catch a glance of the teenager hanging around the general population and, not shockingly, gets curious enough to ask questions. Because Bail’s definitely not the kind of guy to just let things go. He doesn’t get much, at first, but even though he’s not even thirty yet, he’s been raised as the heir to a major player house on Alderaan and indeed, in the Republic, so he definitely has his connections and so he’s able to get a bunch of information even the Jedi couldn’t.

This takes months. His eventual petitioning for Maul’s parole takes several more. But Bail is persistent, from a powerful family, from a rich family, so eventually he gets what he wants, which is a paroled half-zabrak.

Maul has literally no idea what the hell is going on.

No, really. This is out of the blue for him. He was fully expecting to spend the rest of what was shaping up to be a very short life in prison, all connection to the Force numbed, until someone managed to off him. He does not expect probation. And who is this really unnecessarily large human who won it for him. And why?

But this is how Maul ends up on Alderaan. Lost isn’t even the word for it; is there a stronger word than lost? Because whatever word that is, that might come within a few parsecs. Maybe.

He gets his sense of the Force back, but he’s become so accustomed to doing without that he doesn’t feel anything about the return of it; not triumph, not hope, not anything.

He really has no idea how to live outside of someone else’s control. Prison had just made that worse, so while he has plenty of opportunity to run away, it just-- doesn’t happen. Again, where would he even go? What good would it do him? He’s a weapon, and a highly-specialized one, at that. Beyond that fact, though, he’s been so adrift for years now, so shut-down, that he’s more like a walking ghost than a person. Because if Mustafar was bad, if Orsis was structured, prison-- prison was devastatingly numbing and empty.

This does not get better quickly, either. He just keeps marking time, waiting to go back to prison, or for his master to reclaim him, or for direction. Something.

Meanwhile, House Organa isn’t one hundred percent thrilled with their prodigal son, given they have this convict under their roof and protection, but it’s a mixed bag and frankly, Alderaan has a very long history of taking in refugees and those who have no home. And Bail has more than enough force of personality to keep Maul around, even if he serves no purpose at all, except to haunt the grounds like the ghost he is.

That isn’t to say Bail doesn’t care. But while he holds a degree in political science and has been involved in some form of public service since before he even has memory, he’s never in his life had to actually rehabilitate anyone. He’s out of his depth, so he mostly just tries to muddle through it; once a day or so, he goes and asks Maul how he is, how he’s doing, and sits with him for awhile even when it seems to make no difference.

One hundred percent of the time, he doesn’t get an answer. Only about thirty percent of the time does he even get eye contact.

Bail might not know what he’s doing, but he doesn’t give up. And honestly, he’s prepared for the idea that House Organa might just end up playing host to a specter forever; even then, Bail is pretty sure it beats prison.

The first thing Maul says -- literally the first thing he says, he’s been silent for months and months -- when Bail one day asks him how he is, is “I don’t know.” It’s just barely above a whisper. And this poor kid hasn’t even heard his adult voice yet; this is the first time.

Later, though, he remembers the day with shocking clarity; they are on the estate, near the stream running through the heart of it hard and fast; it’s summer and the sky is bright and clear, and it smells good here, clean and alive and since he has gotten his Force senses back, he can feel the echoes of generations of this family on this property; of their loves and sorrows and hopes and fears. Of course, he isn’t a part of it, but maybe that’s why he says anything.

The second thing he asks is, “Why am I here?”

The third thing he asks is, “What am I here for?”

Bail has no good answers, but he takes each word as some kind of gift. Somewhere along the line, he got invested. He has no good answers, because really, Maul isn’t here for anything. But despite not having any good answers, or even any answers at all, he cares a hell of a lot.

Once their ghost becomes a little less of a ghost, they get him a tutor; he’s shockingly well educated, but there are also shocking gaps in that education. Maul, on the other hand, is a rather diligent student because this, at least, is something he can understand.

The first time he goes from being a ghost to being alive, present, he gives Bail one helluva black eye. The panic attack seems to blow in out of nowhere like a storm; one minute that mostly numb calm, the next the floodgates open, and he’s properly in his skin, and it’s more than he can cope with. Bail just reaches out to offer a bracing hand on the shoulder and gets hit so hard he ends up on his back, clutching his face. Maul doesn’t know what set him off, but he never wants to feel that way again.

However, this is the first panic attack, but nowhere near the last.

In between, there is a lot of pacing. Maul does run once; something in his head snaps and he makes for the spaceport. But the same problem he had before is still there: Where would he even go?

There’s another problem, too, though: There’s this unnecessarily large human who cares about him and who has never tried to hold him prisoner -- indeed, has gone to great lengths to get him out of prison -- and if there is one thing that Maul has never had before but has always wanted, deep in the core of himself, it was for someone, anyone, to believe in him. And Bail does.

He goes back and that is the first and the last time he tries to bolt.

It’s also the first real choice he has ever made as an adult.

That does change things. He engages more, if slowly and haltingly. He still panics, still loses all orientation, still lashes out in that state despite not meaning to. After he ends up giving poor Bail a concussion, he decides it’s time to train the man in self-defense. Because while Bail learned very quickly to back away, the man still refuses to outright leave Maul alone in such a state, and the only way he won’t be a target will be if he can prevent himself from being a victim.

Bail doesn’t like Maul’s reasoning, but self-defense is useful in its own right. He’s not entirely lacking in grace, but he grew incredibly fast and spent a few years as a genuine clutz, and even just past thirty, he still doesn’t always feel perfectly comfortable in his own skin.

Maul, though, is a shockingly good teacher. In his element, he is confident and calm and skilled and he’s also incredibly patient. It’s something even he didn’t expect to be, but it’s a comfortable fit.

(He also ends up teaching more rudimentary self defense to Bail’s three sisters, but he isn’t sure they’re actually there to learn it.)

The years pass; by the time he is twenty, he is three years past the age of majority on Alderaan and has been declared rehabilitated by an independent Republic observer. For the first time, he’s free, but he still stays with House Organa. By now, he is firmly one of them, even if not officially speaking; this is his home, and he knows every inch of this estate, and he would defend it with his life.

It’s before this that he discovers an unexpected talent, though: He can make Bail Organa laugh. Maul doesn’t even mean to, at first; it’s an accident, a matter-of-fact observation of a particularly stodgy dignitary visiting, and he’s actually startled when Bail starts laughing, hard enough to redden his face and make him wipe his eyes.

This rapidly becomes one of the top five things Maul enjoys in life.

He hones his wit like he would a blade; it comes naturally and really, all Maul needs to learn is the timing, to hit the exact moment he needs to, in order to have Bail curling around his own ribs. He first learns to really laugh himself because he learns how to make Bail laugh.

Bail is observant. But he doesn’t notice the way Maul starts watching him. By now, they are not quite kin, but they are close; they are at least deeply friends, if in a nonstandard way. For Bail, friendship is easy; for Maul, it is more like devotion. Because while Bail has steadfastly refused to name what he’s for, Maul has learned how to make some decisions and Bail is one of them.

When he is twenty -- free and as close to okay as he has ever been in his relatively short life -- he sweeps Bail to the mat and pins him there, and there is nothing unintentional about this. Bail -- who is usually steady, a solid sort of presence to the occasional firestorm Maul can be -- must sense some of the tenor of this; his dark eyes are wide and his heart is hammering so hard that Maul can feel the beat of it against his palms, where his hands are wrapped tight, but not bruising, around Bail’s wrists.

It’s such a strange feeling; it is predatory, but not. And tender, too, in a way. It’s a rush of heat and the urge to bite and the urge to soothe, all at once. It’s not the first time Maul’s ever felt this, about this man, but it’s easily the strongest.

To Bail, this has never really crossed his mind; he hasn’t failed to notice how striking Maul is, because honestly anyone with eyes could notice that, but the thought of something other than friendship just hasn’t occurred. There is thirteen years of age between them and while Bail has certainly been involved with people before, he has always known ultimately that he would marry for his House and that his life is one of service. But he isn’t just pinned bodily, but by the intensity staring back at him, vivid gold and calculating, but so filled with adoration that it almost aches to be on the other side of it.

Maul asks, “Do you want me to let go?”

And Bail, at a whisper, shaken and feeling the whole world as he knows it shift invisibly under the foundations of his life, answers, “I don’t know.”

It’s an honest answer. The best kind of answer is an honest one. The desire doesn’t go away, and there’s nothing in Maul which hesitates, but the rush of warmth and softness is a real thing, and this is the first time he has ever kissed anyone. He only has observation and want to go on, no practice or skill, but--

But it’s enough.

There’s more, obviously. Like how that plays out. And Breha. And life. But. XD I am pretty damn drunk by now -- forgive the typos -- so have one of the most unlikely pairings in SW and why I think it’d work out. XD To start.

#maul #bail #and how i'd ship it #forgive any typos #i am definitely not sober #game of thrones: alderaan

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licncourt-replies · 7 years

Text

Ch 4 A Change of Heart

I need to remember to update my fic over here and not just on ao3

Also, Ch 5 of the Tony/Bucky version is up on ao3 here. Ch 5 of the Steve/Tony version is in the works. This is the final chapter that is the same in both versions before they diverge into their respective relationships. Chapters 1-3 can be found by searching "a change of heart” on my blog

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

Rhodey cut his repulsors with a flourish, metal boots clanking on the asphalt of the SHIELD landing pad. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, waves of anger coursing through him. He briefly considered leaving the War Machine armor on the deck, before thinking better of it. There wasn’t a reason in the world not to go the full nine yards to intimidate Captain fucking America. Agents parted like water as he stomped down the hallways of the Helicarrier, face set with determination and body ready for a fight. When he approached the conference room door, he blasted it open with a repulsor, the door bashing into the wall with a bone-rattling crash. If he was going to be extra, he was going to be extra. Rhodey smirked in satisfaction when the sudden noise sent Rogers straight up in the air like a scared cat.

“Jesus Christ!” The captain collapsed back into his chair at the conference table and shot a scathing glare in Rhodey’s direction. “The hell was that for?” Rhodey bit back a smirk of satisfaction.

“My deepest apologies, Captain Rogers. I may have underestimated the power of the suit.” Steve raised an eyebrow at his response but didn’t contest it. Rhodey prolonged their eye contact, watching giddily as the great Captain America squirmed in his seat. “Well?” Rogers stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

“What?” he asked, confusion written on his features. Rhodey rose to his full height in the armor, towering over the seated man.

“You know, it’s proper etiquette to salute a superior officer.” Steve’s eyes widened as he clamored to his feet in a shockingly uncoordinated manner, snapping a sharp salute.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I guess I’ve gotten out of the habit with things being how they are, you know what I mean?” The colonel narrowed his eyes.

“No, Captain, I don’t think I do.” Rogers looked down at the floor.

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” He glanced back up briefly before straightening out and squaring his shoulders. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes, I believe we should.” With a nod, Rogers gestured at the empty seat beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, Rhodey stepped out of the suit, putting it in sentinel mode in the corner nearest to Rogers. He didn’t miss the captain’s nervous glance in the direction of the armor. A wave of dark glee washed over his body at his companion’s discomfort.

“So, I’m sure you’re curious as to why I’ve asked you here today, Rhodes.” Rhodey glared harder.

“Colonel.” The captain looked taken aback, but relented, albeit with a look of confusion at the hostility he’d been met with thus far.

“Sorry. Colonel.” Rhodey offered a small nod for him to continue. “Like I was saying, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you here. As much as it pains me for it to have come to this, I’ve decided that, if you’re able and willing, War Machine should take on an active role in the Avengers roster.” Just hearing the captain say it, so casually even, sent spikes of cold rage down his spine, but he played dumb, feigning shock.

“Captain, while I’m honored by your offer, I’m also a bit confused. With Iron Man as an active member of the team, it doesn’t seem like I’d be needed on active duty.” Rogers at least had the decency to look apologetic.

“About that. I don’t know how much you’re aware of the inner workings of the Avengers Initiative or the team dynamics that it entails, but it’s my professional opinion that Iron Man is not suitable to work as a member of this team any longer and should return to his previous position as a consultant. I’m sorry, Colonel. I know that Stark’s your friend. I truly wanted to make this work. I made an effort on my end, but it has to go both ways. I’m sure you understand.” Rhodey looked at the ground, faking contemplation. He cast his eyes upwards shortly after, meeting the captain’s eyes.

“I understand that you’re an asshole, Captain Rogers.” Steve’s mouth opened slightly in shock, eyes widening like a cartoon character.

“Colonel, let’s try to keep this civil, can we?” He stared the captain down, jaw tense and fists balled.

“No, Rogers, I don’t think we can. Civility went out the door when you fucked with my best friend’s emotions and treated him like shit after everything he’s done for your sorry ass, so no. I have no interest in betraying my best friend in the world, the man who is like my brother to me, by taking away the thing that gives his life meaning. If you kick him off the team, you can figure it out yourself. Have a nice life, Rogers.” Before the captain could get a word in edgewise, Rhodey was in the suit and out the door, taking a flying leap off the landing strip of the helicarrier, and on his way back to the tower. Once back in the penthouse bedroom, Rhodey sighed in sadness at the sight of his friend on the bed, shirtless and in sleep pants, head in his hands. Sitting down quietly on the bed, Rhodey began to rub his shoulders, trying to soothe the shaking and feeling Tony lean back into his touch without hesitation. It never failed to anger him how little affection Tony received from his teammates. It only made it more difficult to leave on missions and tours knowing that the most important person in his life, his family for all intents and purposes, would lack a support system. Heaven knew Tony needed it more than most.

It had taken Rhodey about two minutes of conversation on their first meeting to realize how badly Tony Stark needed love, and it never ceased to amaze him how few others saw it too. Even Pepper had taken months to even get an inkling, but Rhodey knew. He’d known since the second he found the small boy in his dorm room, short and slender, thick glasses sliding down his nose and hair falling in his dark doe eyes, sitting in nearly the same position he was in now. He’d stuttered through his greeting, Walkman in one hand, duffel bag in the other, barely just shy of fourteen and completely alone. Rhodey had been aghast nearly beside himself at the thought of such a young kid being left to fend for themselves without a second thought. All he could think of was his wonderful, loving mama, and how she would’ve never allowed it. Tony’d been so different then, tougher than he should have been, but still soft, softer than Rhodey could imagine. It had made it all that much harder to watch the sweet boy from that first day grow and harden into a persona neither of them recognized.

“Hey, Tones, how’re you doing, buddy?” He didn’t get a response, just a sad keen and a face full of silky chocolate hair as the head it was attached to made its way onto his shoulder. “Agreed.” A sad smile ghosted across his lips at the small huff of amusement that came from the armful of human he was in possession of. “So I had a chat with Rogers.” That made Tony’s head pop up from its place in the crook of his neck, face painted with fear and anticipation.

“...And?” Rhodey refused to make eye contact. Tony narrowed his glare. “Rhodes.” Still, Rhodey avoided his gaze. “James. What did you say to him?” Rhodey sighed in defeat.

“The short version?” He could almost hear Tony’s eye roll.

“Sure.” Rhodey flop back on the bed in an exaggerated sprawl of limbs.

“I told ‘im to go fuck himself with a baseball bat.” He cringed at Tony’s crow of protest. He felt a thump on his left as his friend collapsed in the same position beside him.

“You’re such a dildo.” Rhodey swatted him in the face, ignoring the velociraptor shriek of protest. They both laid there in companionable silence for several moments before Tony broke the silence. “Thanks, honey bear.” He bit back a smile, reaching over to ruffle his friend’s hair.

“Anytime, kiddo. You know I’ve always got your back.” Tony snuggled closer.

“Yeah, I actually do.” Rhodey grinned for real this time, tugging the smaller man closer to him chest, half spooning. Tony laughed and tried to wiggle out of his grasp, just like he’d done for so many years, the habit comfortable between them like an inside joke, smooth and soft on the edges from years of wear. It was old as the sun to them, and Rhodey wasn’t sure what could be better.

#my fic #marvel #mcu #pro tony stark #steve/tony #tony stark x steve rogers #stony #winteriron #starkbucks #tony/bucky #bucky barnes x tony stark

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