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noctilucid · 3 years

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DannyMay Day 15: Nature

**References my Day 4 (Stars) drabble, but stands alone.**

"Circle up everybody!" Ms. Teslaff barked, rapping her walking stick on a boulder embedded in the trail. "This camping trip is required by the state to be educational. Therefore, you will be given a group assignment designed to meet municipal standards." Mr. Lancer opened his messenger bag and started passing around packets and paper bags. A ripple of complaints and muttered curses spread out through the group. "You will be assigned a partner, and together you will search for and identify these plants. Bring back a leaf for each plant in the packet to receive full credit."

Paulina grimaced and looked down at her shoes for the tenth time that day. She had thought they'd stay close to the cabins for this trip, and her usual cute flats would have served her just fine on the broad, packed paths cut by hundreds of students' feet in the years before. But here she was, hiking in them. The mud was bad enough, but all the uneven terrain was putting creases in the material every time she had to put her weight on the balls of her feet. And now she was expected to go on a scavenger hunt? What was she, five?

"Paulina," Mr. Lancer said with a tired drawl as he read the names written on the brown paper bag on the top of his stack, "you will be partnered with Sam Manson." He handed her the bag and a packet before moving on to the next group.

Uhg, perfecto. I'm with Creepy Manson. They did this on purpose, didn't they? Paulina cut her eyes at Sam as she stomped over in her combat boots, looking equally thrilled.

"How many plants do we have to find?" Sam sighed, taking the packet from her. She flipped through the pages. "Well, at least these are all pretty distinctive."

"I'm sure you're disappointed none of them can lay eggs in my face," Paulina returned with an edge. She still hadn't forgiven Sam for that incident at the aquarium all those years ago.

Sam narrowed her eyes, not looking up from the paper. "Spores."

"What?"

"Plants don't lay eggs. Some of them have spores." She folded back a few pages and held up a picture of a fern they were supposed to locate. "This one can lay spores in your face."

Paulina raised her hand and waved at the teachers. "Miss Teslaff, I want a different partner! I don't want Sam to murder me and bury my body in the woods. I'm too pretty to die."

"No changing groups!"

Paulina huffed and crossed her arms. "Tough break," Dash said to her as he and Valarie headed off on one of the forks in the path.

"Good luck!" Kwan chimed in, who was paired with Tucker. "Hey, you got a plant identifying app on that thing…?"

"Do I ever!"

Danny put a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder as he followed Mikey uphill. "Try not to be too hard on her?"

"No promises," Sam grumbled.

Soon the path had cleared out except for the two of them and two pairs of band nerds peering over their packets together.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Sam said at length, grabbing Paulina by the wrist and hauling her off in a random direction.

"Ow! Hey, get off of me!"

Sam did let go, and then scuffled up a tumble of boulders to a trail on higher ground. Paulina let out a dramatic and frustrated groan before following her up much more slowly. By the time she caught back up, Sam was standing in the shade of a tree growing out of a split in the rock, studying the packet again.

"Oriental Thuja?" she said, forehead creased. "Why would they even put that on here? It's not native to this area."

"So we won't be able to find it?" How much is this stupid assignment worth anyway?

"No, it could be here, but it's invasive."

Paulina rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to be sacrimonious about plants now too."

"Oh, of course," Sam returned. "Because you only like nature if it's pretty and flatters you. You can't be bothered to learn about something complicated like an ecosystem." She headed down the trail at a brisk walk, grabbing a sapling and using it as a hand-hold as she swung herself down another steep portion.

"Would you stop doing that?" Paulina yelled after her, but Sam didn't slow down. "¡Joder!" she swore under her breath. Somehow, she was going to make Sam regret this by the end of the day. She just had to figure out how.

***

A brooding 45 minutes later, and Sam had found five of the plants they were looking for with little help from Paulina.

"Next is the purple coned larch…" Sam said, more to the paper held in front of her face than to Paulina. "We should probably go uphill to look for it…" Paulina died a little more inside. No more climbing hills!

"Oh, is that one of the ones that's going to lay spores in my face?" Paulina sniped as Sam strode on ahead for the hundredth time. "I guess you would end up with some weird kinks after being possessed by an ugly plant ghost."

"You're the one who brought up the face eggs," Sam said, nonchalant, and notably not slowing down. "I think that says more about you than about me."

Paulina clenched her fists. "Ugh! You're such a freak, you know that?"

"Aaaand personal attacks mean you have no convincing arguments left in your arsenal! Looks like it's Sam two, Paulina zero for the day so far." Sam was steadily moving out of range, and Paulina was forced to follow if she wanted to continue the argument. She was busy trying to think of a better jab while watching where she put her feet, but Sam beat her to the punch. "It's kind of sad that you're still hung up on this actually. Move on already."

Paulina gritted her teeth as the angle of the slope forced her to grab a muddy point of rock to haul herself up with. "Would it kill you to apologize? ¡Dios mío!”

"For what?"

"For harassing me with a starfish, Miss Don't-Be-Cruel-To-Animals!" She stood up and tried to wipe her hand clean on a tree trunk. "And I mean a real apology, not that stupid letter the teacher made you write."

"Oh, yeah, to be clear, I didn't mean that apology letter."

"It was clear," Paulina said, quiet and venomous.

"I hope you shredded it or something. I'm kind of embarrassed to have my name on the bottom of it."

"I threw it in the fireplace as soon as I got home that day."

"Well, that's a relief," Sam said with a performative grin. "And no, after what you did to Danny, you'd better believe I'd eat a hot dog before I'd apologize to you."

"I only went out with Danny to get under your skin!"

"Exactly."

Paulina's hands spasmed between gestures as she tried to collect herself. "Did you ever think that maybe, if you weren't such a self-absorbed piece of shit, maybe your friends wouldn't get hurt as much?"

Sam's face went blank for a telling second before she focused back on the paper. Paulina was a little surprised that jab had worked, actually, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She couldn't think of anything to follow up with, so she decided to allow the silence to be her victory.

And she's back to climbing again. Someone kill me…

They had almost reached the summit of the hill they were on— Paulina was debating to herself whether it was tall enough to be considered a mountain— when Sam finally found what she was looking for. The tree she was examining was scrawny and gnarled, squeezing its roots into the veins of available soil, and it was barely taller than they were.

"I think this is it. The needles look the same," Sam said, holding up the page for comparison. "It would help if the picture wasn't in black and white, though."

Paulina cast a glance over the diagram and the plant in front of them. "No, it doesn't have the little cones," she grumbled. I swear to god, if we have to climb any higher…

"This one's pretty young. I don't think it's old enough to have fruited before. They take a couple of years to get established."

"Well how can you tell if this is the right one? There's a thousand different Christmas trees on this hill, and they all look the same." Paulina shook her head. "You know, whatever. Let's just take a branch and go—" She sputtered to a stop as Sam pushed the packet and paper bag full of samples into her hands. Paulina adjusted the materials in her hands and watched as Sam stooped down, fished in her combat boot with two fingers, and pulled out something long and thin. She pulled off the makeshift cap, revealing the stubby tip of a well-used oil pencil.

Kneeling in front of the tree, Sam drew some intricate shape on the trunk with the dark blue pigment, then murmured something Paulina didn't catch. In the shadow of the trees branches, Paulina saw the symbol glow faintly green, and the same light snaked up the tree along the ridges in the bark until it reached the closest branch. With a quiver, the end of the branch put out fresh needles and then a tiny purple cone.

"See?" Sam said, breaking off the end of the branch. "Perfect match."

Paulina gaped like a fish. "You— Holy shit, you—" Magic. That was honest to god magic! Paulina felt lightheaded. She had been… dabbling. Combing the internet and old bookstores. At first, she had hoped to find a spell that could summon a ghost, or anything else she could use to get Phantom's attention. But as the weeks had stretched into months, she had become desperate to find any scrap of genuine magic. And here it was.

"Are you— is that Wicca?" she finally managed.

Sam shook her head. "Semitic Neopaganism. There's a difference."

Paulina paused to think on it. Could I learn Jewish magic if I'm not Jewish? Would it even work for me? She chewed on her lip. What am I saying? There's no way Manson would teach me anything in the first place. Then Sam started speaking softly, and Paulina had to shake out of her thoughts to catch it.

"I did think about apologizing," Sam said. "Properly. I was… kind of a mess in fifth grade. Um. And sixth and seventh too, actually." Her eyes remained focused on the pine sprig in her hand as she spoke, slowly rotating it between her fingers. "I've never liked you. But that didn't make it right for me to pick on you." She stood up and took back their paper bag, tucking the sample inside. "But then you pulled Danny into it. So, I'll never apologize." She finally looked up and met Paulina's gaze. "And neither will you." Paulina opened her mouth to retort, only to realize that Sam was an image of perfect calm. It was not an accusation, not a barb, just a statement. And Paulina had no idea how to respond. "We're both petty bitches," Sam continued. "It's in our natures. So… let's just move on." She extended a hand to Paulina. "Deal?"

The offered hand was stiff and formal, as if this were a business meeting rather than two sweaty girls talking on a hiking trail, but Paulina saw an earnestness in it. Slowly, she reached out and slid her own palm into Sam's.

"Deal." She watched Sam for a moment, her unwavering gaze, the ridiculous purple contacts, the stillness which had come over her, like a stone come to rest. Not sophisticated or refined, as Paulina sought to be, but… very Sam. Very self-assured, in a way Paulina pretended not to admire. "We don't like each other."

"Naturally." Sam released her hand and turned to head back down the slope.

"But we… don't hate each other either. We just... are. Now."

Paulina saw the little quirk of a smile enter Sam's lips. "Yeah."

"And maybe… we can talk about magic sometimes?" She shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "Like, over text, so nobody gets the wrong idea?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. That sounds fun."

A smile crept over Paulina's face in spite of her attempt to hide it. Oh, what does it matter? Sam's not looking at me anyway. She gave herself a moment to squeal silently in her head. Real magic! She'd found someone who knew real magic! She shook her head again. Of course it would be Manson. Of course.

She picked up her pace, in spite of her sore feet, in spite of the damage she was doing to her shoes, to catch up to Sam. It was easier going downhill. "What do we still have to find?"

Sam extended the packet to her, pointing to one of the plants. "Just two left, lady fern and honeysuckle. They both like to grow near water, so I saved them for last. We can head down and check the creek on our way back." Oh thank god, we're almost done. Paulina leaned in to get a better look at the fern diagram. "You know, there's a spell I've been working on that uses ferns. Maybe we should grab a couple extra?"

Paulina squealed out loud this time, and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled through her fingers. "Solemn. Solemn goth witch." She folded her hands in front of her and tried to look composed. Sam laughed.

"Nah, you don't have the wardrobe for that. Go on, be as pink as you'd like." She stepped down a bank of tree roots and held a branch back for Paulina to follow in her wake. Paulina paused in surprise before accepting the gesture.

This will take some getting used to.

#dannymay2021 #phanniemay2021 #danny phantom #Paulina Sanchez #Sam Manson #my writing

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saquashing · 3 years

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I Love You So

Wilbur’s heart thundered in his chest, slamming against his ribcage, making it next to impossible for him to focus on what Karl was saying. They were all signed onto the server, huddled around the deep red stage.

He had no qualms about singing, he had done it plenty of times on his own streams, that wasn’t what made him nervous. No, what made him nervous was the man in the other room, logging onto the server himself.

They were so close, yet so far. Wilbur wanted nothing more than to leave his bedroom and wrap him in his arms and watch a movie. But George said it was last minute, that Karl needed some support on his streams, and god Wilbur just wanted George’s friends to like him.

It was stupid, especially since none of their friends knew they were together, except Phil because, of course. They were both private, George especially, and he asked to keep it a secret until they knew they were serious. Wilbur agreed, all he wanted was for George to be happy.

But still, Wilbur found himself interacting with the ‘feral crew’ more and more. It wasn’t that he needed their approval, he didn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought about his relationship, that was between him and George. But what he did know, was that George loved his friends, and he spent most of his time talking to at least one of them. He wanted to be a part of all of George’s life, not just the hidden touches behind closed doors and turned off web-cams.

He appreciated how much George was willing to do for his friends. He never sang, not even in front of him, and yet he was still willing to come onto Karl’s karaoke stream so he wouldn’t have to scramble to find someone else.

The idea of George singing made Wilbur’s stomach pool with warmth and anticipation. He heard the overly high-pitched falsetto, but even that showed his proper control of breath and knowledge of rhythm. Wilbur would do just about anything to hear him sing, genuinely, with all of his heart.

As the stream progressed, Wilbur tried to make George feel as comfortable as possible, trying to build his courage enough for a small duet. What could he say? Wilbur was a theatre nerd at heart. He was the definition of a hopeless romantic or an ‘old soul’. There’s nothing he wanted more than to have a duet with the man he was falling helplessly in love with.

He had already slipped up on Quackity’s stream, so he knew he needed to be careful about how he interacted with him. Pink painted his cheeks as he remembered the “George, my boy,” that had come seemingly out of nowhere, based on a meme he had shown him that morning. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from groaning in embarrassment.

Sitting up straight, Wilbur cleared his throat, waiting for the current song to end before speaking, “I have a proposition,” He licked his lips, inhaling deeply as he tried to rid the uncertainty from his voice, “For George.”

At his name, George’s attention piqued, letting out a soft, “huh?”

That small action was enough to make Wilbur’s stomach explode in a kaleidoscope of butterflies, his lips pulling into a grin against his own volition. He could clearly picture George, slumped in his chair, knees to his chest and half asleep. It was incredibly endearing.

“We’re the only two European left in the call, yeah?” He asked, checking the VC, though he already knew they were, “Well, as a fellow brit, there is one song you won’t be able to say no to.”

He heard the smallest of grunts from George, making Wilbur’s grin increase ten-fold. They both knew where this was going, as Wilbur constantly tortured his boyfriend with the song.

“Are you a fan of The Killers?” Wilbur asked, fondness dripping from his voice like honey. Though he was usually confident, especially in their relationship, Wilbur found his voice cracking and his anxiety pulsing.

George giggled, and the now almost silent VC waited for his response. It had been clear they had been trying to get him to sing all night, but he remained stubborn and resilient.

“I- I don’t know about that,” George replied, his own anxiety remarkably clear in his tone. Wilbur frowned, George wasn’t shy by any means, always willing to reach out. He remembered the day of the vlog when he went up to random people asking for ‘dog content’. But in the quiet VC, he sounded genuinely distraught.

Okay, that was an exaggeration, but he did sound nervous. Wilbur’s smile melted into a frown, concern replacing his excitement. Karl was trying to convince him to sing, but the last thing Wilbur wanted was to make George uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to hear him sing, his boundaries came first.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur interrupted, trying, and failing, to keep the disappointment from clouding the conversation, “You don’t want to sing with me, that’s fine. I don’t want to pressure you.”

They eventually settled on Sapnap joining him and George. Wilbur hoped it made him feel more at ease.

The song progressed, and beneath George’s falsetto, he swore he could hear the slightest bit of effort. He was trying. Wilbur almost died from the overwhelming burst of affection then and there.

Soon, the stream ended, and they bid their goodbyes. Wilbur stood from his chair, grabbing his guitar and getting ready to put it away when his door opened, George stepping inside.

___

George had heard Wilbur’s voice many times before, in the mornings while he cooked, in the shower, hell, he played Your City Gave Me Asthma on repeat while he edited. But there was something about sitting in Wilbur’s apartment, in his hoodie, with his soft voice and giggles echoing through both the hallway and his headset.

It was extraordinary comforting, wrapping him like a blanket and suffocating him with his warmth. Though he wasn’t complaining.

He knew how much Wilbur appreciated the smaller things, the more intimate sides that George tended to not show anyone else. He wanted to sing in front of Wilbur, he really did, but it was like an invisible border in his head, keeping him from doing so. Like when he did, there was no going back, and their relationship would be real.

George wasn’t afraid of commitment, he swore he wasn’t, but he could feel himself growing more attached to Wilbur with each kiss. Quite frankly, he knew he was falling fast, and it terrified him.

If he let go of his boundaries, there was nothing stopping him from giving every little part of himself to Wilbur. It scared him more than anything.

He knew Wilbur would never hurt him, he was far too kind for that, always doing what he felt was best. He brought George food when he was busy editing. After streams he would pull him into his embrace, his head burrowing into the crook of his neck, kissing away all of his troubles and making him feel like he was the most important person in the world.

George swallowed thickly, bracing himself for karaoke. Karl’s original group had some scheduling issues, and he needed last-minute fill-ins, hence his and Wilbur’s appearances. He knew Karl wouldn’t pressure him to sing, he was excellent about respecting his boundaries when he asked, but with Wilbur in the call, the small, prideful part of him wanted to do something that would keep his attention on him.

The songs passed by quickly, each one building anticipation within him that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. That’s when Wilbur called him out, directly, asking him to duet.

He wanted to, man did he want to. But it wasn’t just them, or even just their friends, there were almost 200k people eager to clip it and ship it. He would never live it down.

“I- I don’t know about that,” His breath shuddered as he chewed on his fingernails, an anxious tic he picked up accidentally a few months prior and hadn’t been able to shake. Whenever Wilbur noticed, he always enveloped his hands in his own, before kissing his knuckles. George’s lips pulled into a small smile as he thought about it, his hands settling in his lap.

That small smile died, however, when he heard Wilbur’s very audible disappointment. It rang through George’s head, making its way down his chest and settling in his stomach like acid. He fought the urge to go straight to Wilbur and make it clear that it wasn’t him, and that he was just nervous.

He brought his hand back to his mouth.

The stream ended fairly quickly, it going by in a blur as George was lost in his head, drowning under the weight of his thoughts. The very idea of Wilbur being upset by something he did hurt him far more than he liked to admit. As soon as Karl hosted Sapnap, he shot off a message saying he couldn’t make it and went to Wilbur’s room.

Opening the door, he saw Wilbur leaning down to put his guitar away, raising his eyes when he heard the door open and giving him a warm smile. George inhaled sharply, speaking before he could talk himself out of it.

“Don’t put that away,” He said sharply, sitting on the foot of Wilbur’s bed, his fingertips padding against the soft fabric of his duvet. Wilbur raised an eyebrow, but he picked his guitar back up and sat back in his chair, waiting for George’s next instruction.

“Play the song,” He mumbled, cheeks growing hot. He would hate to see his reflection right then, as he knew that he probably resembled the complexion of a glass of Pinot Noir, “The one you always sing to me when you think I’m asleep.”

Wilbur’s mouth fell open, his own cheeks growing pink as he realized George heard his serenades in the darkness of his room. He cleared his throat, readjusting his hold on the guitar and softly strumming the first few notes.

George coughed slightly, licking his lips and looking at the floor, refusing to make eye contact, “I just need someone in my life to give it structure-” He sang softly, closing his eyes, “To handle all the selfish ways I spend my time without her.”

His voice picked up volume as he sang, and he didn’t miss the way Wilbur gasped as he continued, “-But I love you, so,” He continued, forcing his eyes open and raising them to meet Wilbur's, who seemed breathless.

George swore he could see tears pooling in Wilbur’s warm eyes, and soon he joined him, his voice soft, letting George’s take over.

His own eyes felt hot with unshed tears, his chest felt warm, and he tried to convey with every note just how much he meant the words he was singing, “- I love you, so,” his voice broke slightly as they sang the last line of the chorus. Wilbur let the note die in the air, before standing suddenly, laying his guitar against his desk as he moved closer to George.

Large hands wrapped around George’s head, thumbs rubbing soft circles on his cheeks, wiping away his stray tears. Wilbur was staring down at him like he was the most important thing in his life, like he was the sun and the moon and all the constellations in the night sky.

That’s when he finally leaned in and kissed him, his soft lips pressing against his own, moving together in tandem. The contact left George breathless, his own hands flying to the back of Wilbur’s head, fingertips running through his hair as he pulled him impossibly closer.

When they finally broke away, panting and gasping for breath, George leaned his head against Wilbur’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Wilbur laid gentle kisses on the tops of his head, and for a moment, neither said a word.

Eventually, George looked back up, as nervous as he was, he needed Wilbur to know he was genuine, “I meant it,” he said, referring to the lyrics in the song’s chorus.

Wilbur smiled, running his hands over his back, his eyes shining with adoration George only dreamt of. He didn’t need George to tell him again, he knew.

“I did too.”

#Georgebur #georgenotfound #wilbur soot #songfic #kinda #2065 words #my writing #cross-posted on ao3 #ficlet #not edited #based of karaoke stream #i love you so - the walters

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mostly-mundane-atla · 3 years

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Hey, it's that bit of writing I started working on 800 followers ago! I genuinely appreciate everyone being so patient on this and also just being so respectful with talking culture in general. I'm still getting used to it. Hang tight on that glossary, I'll post it asap

Edit: here's the glossary

~-~-~

It was a challenge to live on the Tundra, but never as much as when the Ikunmiut claimed the Southern Water Tribe as their territory and demanded tribute from the locals.

The whaling captain of one village assigned his own son, Aasrivak, to bring food to the soldiers, as a show of good faith. Aasrivak's younger sister, Tulugak, insisted on going along.

"Tulugak, my own daughter," the captain pleaded, "your mother and grandmother need your help at home."

"But Papa," she insisted, "how can I stitch a straight line or shoo birds from the drying rack if I don't know if brother is safe?"

Knowing he could not deter his daughter, the captain instead turned to his son and said, "Keep her behind you."

"Kangiqsirunga," Aasrivak answered, nodding and bringing Tulugak in the back of the sled with him, between his arms so she wouldn't fall. "I will, Papa."

"Now hurry," their father said. "The only thing worse than an Ikunmiu is an angry Ikunmiu."

Aasrivak nodded and cracked his whip, signaling the musk-dogs to run, and they were off.

The air they rushed through bit at her face with stinging cold, but Tulugak did not regret her decision. Her brother was a shining example of what a young Water Tribe man ought to be. Generous and kind, serious when it was required, but good-natured and gentle with his words. When she was old enough to eat solid food, he shared his with her. When he learned to carve, he made her a doll. When she hurt her foot helping him check traps, he carried her home on his back like a mother with a baby. When loose teeth made it hurt to chew anything, he brought her broth and soft berries that she could crush between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, rather than between her jaws. She'd often teased him for his propriety and his need for his tools to be just so, but she loved him dearly and couldn't bear if something happened and she couldn't be there to protect him.

When they arrived at the iglu near the ship with the Ikunmiut banner, Aasrivak began to unload the sled.

"Utaqqinga," he told his sister.

"But--"

"I told Papa I'd keep you behind me," he said, stacking the crates of goods and lifting them up. "Stay here."

"Itsingitchunga," she said, crossing her arms defiantly, as her only argument.

Aasrivak chuckled. "If you don't fear them, little sister," he said, "then you are a fool and shouldn't have come with me to begin with."

Hating to feel so useless, Tulugak went about checking the musk-dogs' teeth for rot, their paws for wound and splinters, and their horns for cracks. She petted them and scratched behind their ears for being so good and patient, and wondered how they did it. The smell was all wrong, even for her human nose, and they must have been able to sense that Aasrivak was in danger among the invaders.

Tulugak jolted at the sound of someone crashing to the floor. The possibility that it wasn't her brother would not occur to her, and she was already close enough to touch the banner by the time she realized she left the sled. The taste of blood poured into her mouth, as she had bitten down hard on her tongue. She was sure if the Ikunmiu who did it could her her call him a "gnashing wolf conceived of two pups of the same litter" as she wanted to, his fingers would be around her throat in the time it took to blink.

It wasn't Aasrivak collapsed on the floor, he stood and shielded her with his arm the moment she entered, but it wasn't an Ikunmii soldier either. The figure there had her hand at her face, where she must have been struck. And in spite of the red smudged on her lips, the lampblack drawn about her eyes, the scant garment she was wrapped in, she had an air of ancient power and dignity. More notable and haunting than that, she seemed to be a Water Tribe girl. A young woman, close in age to Tulugak herself. Her skin was like the browned fossil ivory, her eyes black and shining as baleen beads, and her unbraided hair as thick and dark as the winter's night.

How dare anyone strike her? Tulugak thought.

Her focus was only taken off of the young lady at the sound of an unfamiliar voice cooing, "Oh, this one's almost pretty as ours."

Aasrivak pushed her further behind him.

"She's--" he started, trying to think of something, "she's to be married, sir."

"What a shame!" This voice was a different one still, and refusing to look at them, Tulugak couldn't put a face to it. "Kept in the ice and snow, carving fish and sewing skins and breeding like a dog. Wouldn't you rather come home with me, dear?"

"Enough!" snapped another. "It's bad enough we have one. You, boy," Aasrivak straightened at this address. "See to it your father doesn't forget tobacco next time."

"Kangiq--" the word stopped as if it had barbs in his throat. Aasrivak and his sister both heard what the Ikunmiut did to people who didn't speak properly. "I understand, sir." He bowed his head deeply, and pushed Tulugak out before turning to follow her, but she could still feel those baleen colored eyes on them, begging for help and protection.

Aasrivak nudged Tulugak onto the sled without a word. His gloved hands gripped the handles with almost enough force to break them and then they began to shake. Without warning, he stomped down on the brake and Tulugak hit her belly on the bar.

"You shouldn't have left the sled," he told her, trying to keep his voice from shaking as his hands were.

"I thought they struck you down," she explained. "I thought you were hurt, I--"

"If they struck me down I could have gotten up, but you-- they could have taken you away!" His hands could have bruised her arms with how tightly he held them. "Ilitchuģipich? If I was hurt I could have recovered, but if they took you away from us, Tulugak, there are things they could do to you that we could never undo."

Aasrivak so rarely cried, and seeing the tears well up in his eyes was all the proof Tulugak needed that he truly believed the worst could have happened.

"And niviaķsiaķ? What of their captive?" she asked once she found her voice again, though niviaķsiallautaķ was the word that danced in her mind. "We can't leave her there if she can face such things too."

"She's not one of ours," he answered cautiously.

"It shouldn't matter what village she's from."

"No, that's not what I mean. Those men, they told me that they found a fox pelt the night she appeared. That she wouldn't leave without it and gave a great cry when they held it over flame. They have her cooking and making their tea now, as she had brought meat with her."

"She wouldn't leave her pelt?" she asked. "You mean she's--"

"Kayuķtuķ, it would seem."

Of course she was a fox; one of those foxes that take off their skins to reveal a beautiful woman underneath. The ones that look after babies that couldn't be fed and keep house for hunters. She couldn't have been a person, she was too -- enchanting? -- otherworldly. And of course the Ikunmiut took her. They took everything that didn't belong to them

"So she is among strangers in a world that is not her own," Tulugak stated, carefully feeling the words come out of her mouth. They felt strange, even though they rang true. "Aasrivak, we can't leave her to them! She ought to have her skin and be far away."

"We need to be far away from them too."

"Is her soul not made the same as ours? Is her current form not proof of that?"

Aasrivak thought to himself for a moment before he spoke up again. "If I agree to help her with you, little sister, you must promise me you will not put yourself in harm's way again. Can you promise me that?"

Tulugak stretched her eyebrows up as high ad they would go, nodding solemnly.

He threw his arms around her and inhaled as if to breath her fully into his lungs. She returned the gesture, holding her brother so tight nothing could take him from her.

"We'll figure it out when you help me mend the traps and nets," he said.

She nodded again, knowing he wouldn't see but would still understand. They got back on the sled and made their way home.

Aasrivak told Papa that he kept his sister behind him but didn't mention the soldiers' spirit captive. As agreed upon, the brother and sister came up with a few ideas as she helped him mend his net outside. Mama and Aaka were inside, spinning the greyish brown musk-dog wool with spindles on waterbending-powered wheels, and Papa was away, helping some returning hunters butcher their catch of seal and taking what they didn't need to the widows and elders.

They had for their supper the mikigaq that had simmered with fireweed and sourdock. No rice, Mama and Aaka decided. Mama realized that with the occupation, there was no way to be sure when more would be imported, and Aaka was proud that such a woman married her son. Cartilage had been cut into tiny pieces and added near the end in its place.

As she lay on her ķaatchiaķ that night, Tulugak found herself thinking of her mother's sister. She had three husbands and enjoyed that very much. The three of them jumped to bring her water when she suggested she was thirsty, carved beautiful beads for her to wear, and every night each would kiss the calloused thumb and finger in which she held her needle. What a cruel mockery of that the fox girl's situation seemed to her. She remembered hearing that Ikunmii women weren't allowed more than one husband, and that only some of the men could take more than one wife. No wonder they couldn't share a girl between them without striking her, couldn't play the husbands as they expected her to play the wife. It's all they can do, she thought before drifting off to sleep, steal and mock.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #eskimo on main #water tribe

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

𝚁𝙴𝙽𝚃-𝙰-𝙱𝙾𝚈𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳 | Hinata

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚁𝙴𝙽𝚃-𝙰-𝙱𝙾𝚈𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳! 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑... 𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙰 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚈𝙾.

Anxiety was a fun thing to deal with sometimes. You know - like when you triple checked the details of the test date you had scheduled today. You pressed a hand to your chest as you woke your phone. Eyes were glued to the pin on the map that your date, Hinata Shoyo: Rental Boyfriend, put on it. You thought maybe, just maybe, he canceled last minute or after seeing your face IRL. A chill ran through you and you muttered to no one in particular, “God, how embarrassing would that be…”

As you swiped through the app, you pat all around your neck, your cheek, your collarbone in a few nervous motions. Sure, you knew the area. Sure, you went out a few times to sketch the roads for a comic or two. But as you stood, cool fingers drumming nervously along your skin, it all felt unfamiliar.

A voice cried your name out, jolting your attention away from insecurity for a moment. You squinted, thinking you misheard. The wind! That’s all it was. Just as you were about to check your phone for the nth time, you caught a glimpse of tangerine. Through the hoard of 9-5ers, five fingers raised in a wave until a broad shoulder shimmied its way through the crowd.

“H-Hinata?” His name came out a lot more hushed than you intended and you could feel the heat of your cheeks. Oh no. He’s cute. Duh. You knew he was. He had a profile picture and some extra pics that you and your friend scrolled through the night prior. One caught your eye in particular; it was with a dog that wasn’t his according to the caption (and the added note of ‘but imma get a big boi some day’’). There was another with a guy with short black hair. They all radiated a type of warmth and welcome to them even if those around him seemed ready to punch a wall - a trait not missed out on in person.

He beamed, taking your hand in his as though it were as natural as the sun shining, “Hey babe!”

The words put a bar in the cogs of your mind, stopping all rational thought. Babe. Babe?! Oh fuck. I’m babe! Oh wait. Yeah that’s right. You rented him to be your boyfriend. It’s supposed to be natural. You scolded yourself for forgetting that simple fact.

Hinata laced his fingers through yours and you could feel the slight dampness of his palm. The thought that he may be as nervous as you put you slightly at ease. It would make sense as he didn’t have any reviews or ratings or anything. He was new! A beta-boyfriend babe!

It took a moment or two for you to realize that not only was he guiding you down the sidewalk, but you had been staring at nothing but your shoes the entire way there. Shyly, you apologized.

“For what, babe? Oh! Wait! I didn’t get to mention yet,” Bright eyes burned with excitement as they tilted over his shoulder, “That’s a cute dress!” He genuinely thought so, too. Trying to act all coupl-y with a stranger was definitely weird, but, like anything he tried, he wanted to put his best effort in. Hinata wasn’t sure on what to expect, truthfully. When looking at your profile after the booking was made, he was caught off guard by how cute you were. In person seemed even worse. Better? Hell if he knew.

As a lanky waiter shuffled you both into a booth, you were off put by your boyfriend slipping in next to you. Right smack dab next to you. Thigh touching thigh and the heat of his sent a shiver up your spine. You placed a hand on your chest again and spent more time reading a menu than you thought you ever had before.

Hinata’s expression fell thoughtfully as he saw the slight shake in your slender digits and the way your teeth gnashed at your lower lip. He tilted his head with a small laugh and a nudge to your ribs with his elbow. The corners of his mouth piquing to such a point you could practically feel the mischievousness from it, “Play along, ‘kay? Kay?”

Suspiciously, you peaked over the top of the menu roof you made with a nod. As the waiter returned, a strong muscled arm wrapped around your shoulder and snuggled you close. Mouth falling into an ajar ‘o’, your confusion was as palpable as his joy, “It’s my girlfriend’s birthday today! You guys got some cake, maybe a candle or OOOH a song?”

“Hinata!” You smacked his head with the menu, “It’s n-“

He brought a finger to his lips to silent-shush you, lashes dipping in a wink. You smiled pleasantly, yet awkwardly at the waiter and in the least convincing tone, chimed, “It’s my birthday. Yaaay.”

“See! How could you deny that!” His sheer and pointed enthusiasm made up for your lack thereof.

The waiter, not buying any of it but needing the tips to pay his rent, congratulated you before excusing himself. Ten minutes later, two others trailed behind him singing a specialty birthday tune. In their hands rested the most delicious looking chocolate cake. To say you inhaled that thing would be an understatement. It was creamy, rich, everything you could’ve wanted in a cake.

“Take a bite!” You offered a forkful to your date, one hand below to catch the droppings. Obliging gleefully, he did.

“‘m pwetty bad wif dates but I saw you like fweets!” The words came between chews, and he gestured here and there as he swallowed, “Glad you liked it cause we got five more restaurants to try!”

“Excuse me?!”

And just like that, Hinata whisked you from one restaurant to another. Each one was slightly ritzier than the last and with each one, he could see the tense scrunch of your shoulders melt away.

He made you feel safe and you started to joke with him more openly, smile more frequently, and sarcastically quip at him. He liked the way you smacked his arm every time he called the waiters over too dramatically. He liked the way you acted surprised they’d come around the corner with cakes and songs. You managed to melt his heart with the cutest ‘Oh! Babe!’ whenever he tried to genuinely surprise you. He adored watching your eyes light up whenever you got a taste of each decadent sweet. It would be an outright lie to deny that you feeding him made his heart flutter, too.

You clung to Hinata’s arm, cheek resting heavily on bicep as your stomach decided to churn all the sugar you ate like it was a tilt-a-whirl. He patted your hand, thinking you were just trying to be cute, “So, what made you want to rent someone?”

The night sky took over the afternoon sun. Tiredly, you gazed up to your ‘boyfriend’, letting a moment of silence occupy the time it took to get over the small wave of nausea, “This is… embarrassing.” You chuckled softly, letting your fingers fall onto your neck, “I uh… never dated someone before. I have a date set up and got so anxious I almost canceled three times. I really want to put myself out there though and be more comfortable.“

“Is that why you were so red?! I thought I was meeting a cherry when I saw you! All like –“ His hands flew to his cheeks in a damn near perfect imitation of you and your voice, “-i-i-it’s n-n-ot m-my-“ before he could stutter the rest out, you interrupted with a loud and embarrassed groan. His laugh hissed passed teeth, “It was cute! You’re adorable, ya know?” The words slipped out so naturally and with such warmth that you wondered where the act was put down and where it was picked back up.

“As I was saying,” you jested with a light hearted eye roll, “My friend was really worried about me. I mean, it’s not often you’re a date-virgin in your twenties.”

Hinata pursed his lips, thinking about it, “Ya know, maybe it is weird - ” You felt your heart stop and your comfort crack just slightly. You probably would have laughed had it not been for the wave of heat then ice that swept over you, “- that someone as… as…” His lips pursed as he tried to find a word. Your anxiety built with each delayed second. In a grand gesture, his arms swang back, “WH’BAM as you never got asked out before!” Despite your death grip on him, the ginger still managed to hop on cue, “’sides! You got a pretty good friend looking after you!”

“Heh,” You laughed, “Guess you’re right, but wh’bam?”

“It just makes sense!” He slapped your hand a few times with the soft palm of his, “Okay okay! Now, we’re going to that one!” A finger pointed to a fancy black double door.

“Hinata I-“ You began to protest, feeling your palms dampen and your stomach curdle.

“Don’t worry about price! I got it!” He tugged at your arm.

“N-no, We need to-“

“You’ve been having such a good time! We can do one more!”

“Just come over h-here-“

“This one has the best cake from what I read! It’s not too expensiiiiiiive.”

The end of his sentence tumbled out of his mouth like the night’s worth of cake and frosting tumbled out of your gut. Directly onto the ground. And on the expensive nude heels your friend leant you. And on Hinata’s own pricy looking sneakers.

There was a moment of silence as you lit the coffin of your pride and watched it sail away into the ocean. (Goodbye sweet trait, it was nice while it lasted. Rest in Pieces.)

Hinata blinked. The event registered in his squirrel brain like a dial up modem. She just threw up. It’s on my shoe. It’s on her shoe. OH NO I MADE HER THROW UP! Red alerts blared as he whipped his head around, making the biggest display of ‘nothing to see here’ that could’ve been humanly possible. All too easily, he slid an arm under your knees and scurried around for a place to sit. It took about ten minutes for him to find a bench on an empty walkway. He sat you down and patted your head with long, sweet strokes. Each pat, while good natured, went unnoticed as your intestines tried to murder you in cold blood.

Hinata sprinted for the convenience store and bought the first couple of antacids he could find, along with some anti-nausea medication and water. A small bit of sweat broke out along his brow as he dashed back to you. Agile as a leaf in the wind, he squatted right in front of you, hurriedly dumped everything out of the double-bagged plastic bags to give to you. He stuttered out his menu of medications and you down some of them with water.

“Hey, heeey,” his gentle voice cooed to you, both hands rubbing your arms in soothing motions (a little roughly, but he’s trying), “It’s okay, you’re okay, you don’t need to cry!” You waved a hand, lips parted as you waited for another wave to hit which never came. You thought he’d make fun of you, laugh in your face about how pathetic this was, but it never came. For some reason that made you even more emotional. He was just a rental boyfriend. He didn’t need to deal with this. Instead of quitting then and there, Hinata took a seat right next to you and pulled you to his chest. Your back flinched reflexively as a calloused hand rubbed calming circles along it. He started talking about a time he was at a volleyball game and had the nervous-shits so bad he nearly had to sit out.

“That’s… disgusting,” The words came out as a half-laugh, half-cry. You wiped your eyes, ignoring the makeup now dripping down your face from sweat and tears.

“You’re telling me! Tanaka called me ‘little-shits’ for two months after that!” His laugh was contagious, spreading warmth through your fingertips and toes. It was rare to meet someone who had such a natural talent to make you feel so wholly accepted.

After about 10 minutes, the medication began to fully settle your stomach. The bag was tossed into a stray trash can. Hinata had barely even realized that his chin was perched on the crown of your head as he talked about other embarrassing stories (including the time he got pegged in the nuts during training camp). The warmth of you in his hold simply belonged and he didn’t want to let go just yet.

“Thank you,” you peered up at him with eyes so pretty and a smile so kind he wanted to kiss it then and there.

“For what?” His head tilted again. If he were a puppy, his ears would flop with each tilt.

“Being so sweet to me for my first trial date. Even if it’s your job, you really went above and beyond. And uh…you know-” You kicked your shoe to his.

The athlete ruffled his hair, feeling a blush creep to his cheeks and ears at the thought of being your first date, “Don’t need to thank me for it! I had a blast! You’re pretty warm too!”

“Thanks?” You sputtered a small laugh before checking your phone and the time. It was nearly up. As per request, a text of your location was sent to the friend who started it all.

For a while, you rested in Hinata’s hold, savoring the rich batter of comfort and calm it baked you in. He chattered on about this and that, exchanging a remark here and there when you poked fun.

Once you pulled away from him, he couldn’t help but miss the feel of your mold on the palm of his hand like a volleyball right at the precipice – right in his reach. You checked your violently buzzing phone, confirming the spot where you were sitting to your friend.

“Who was that?” Hinata asked, a boyish hint of pouting sad laced underneath his natural curiosity.

“My friend,” you answered, popping another antacid in your mouth, “our time is up, so she’ll be here soon.”

Those words were a bitter sound, one that reminded Hinata that this wasn’t real. This was a bet that he wanted to win. One that he secretly cursed. In all reality, he wanted to have fun and when he saw that you booked him, he didn’t know what to think. Dating wasn’t really his thing. He rarely had time to when it came to practice and had it not been for the bet, he probably wouldn’t have sought someone out at all, let alone someone as out of his league as you.

The headlights of your friend's car came into view. Just as you went to take a step forward, a strong hand circled around your wrist. In a swift movement, you turned to look at the culprit.

“Just make sure to rent me again if you have some time, yeah?” Hinata’s smile held a hint of something you couldn’t identify.

Nevertheless, you returned the sentiment, “Of course!”

You parted with a long hug.

As the car pulled away, Hinata flicked through his phone. Once the dates were done, each point of contact would be deleted automatically. A reasonable company policy that felt like a sour punch to the gut.. A small twinge of sadness came over him, but he knew that if it was meant to be, you’d find your way to each other again. In the mean time…

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚁𝙴𝙽𝚃-𝙰-𝙱𝙾𝚈𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎.... 𝟷 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐!

He was going to kick Atsumu’s pancake ass!

“Sooooo~ How was the ‘date’? Looks like you two got along!” Your friend’s voice rang as she shimmied in her seat in excitement, brows wiggling in expectation.

“Oh shut it!” You cried in false annoyance, “I threw up, can you believe that?!” Dramatically, she gasped, listening as you recounted the events of the boy who was the sun itself. Finalizing your long winded tale of cake-filled adventure, that same warmth spread across your chest, lapping small butterfly wings at your stomach, “I had a good time. I… definitely feel more comfortable with the idea of putting myself out there now.”

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#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo x you #hq hinata #msby hinata #🍯.hq #🌞.hinata #🌞.fic #🍯.vday2021 #hinata x you #hinata x reader

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farouchelyoptimistic · 4 years

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HyunJi: Visit

Soo Hyun hums as he punches in the security code of the door, pushing it open after the brief beep. The familiar scent of honey and vanilla fills his nose, making him erupt into a small smile.

The house was quiet as he entered, the cove lighting dim and warm-toned. The floor to ceiling glass windows reflected the lights from the city below. The silence doesn't bother him, he was used to it. It was always quiet in his girlfriend's abode, she enjoyed the tranquil serenity that comes with it.

The paper bag in his hand made soft noises that sounded louder in the vast space of her living room. Filming had been going on for quite a while, and it had been getting harder and harder to reach her every day. She had scenes back to back and a few ads to shoot in her spare time. That was the price of her growing popularity, the recognition he was terribly happy that she was getting.

She was a marvelous actress, excellent. Despite her prowess, she was fairly underrated and he hated it. He wanted people to see her beyond her elegant beauty, he wanted her to be seen by her undeniable talent. And now she was getting it, and it made him so proud of her. But along with that came fewer hours with her, fewer days to spend together.

Compared to the frequent visits and the well-planned secret dates here and there, this time he could even barely see her despite being in the same place every day. The only time he could see her was when they had scenes together. The fact that he had to corner her away on set to steal a few glances, a few touches, a few smiles made him fairly frustrated.

He used to have his girlfriend all to himself, and now he's sharing her with the entire world. He's not a selfish person, but when it comes to her, sometimes he wished he was.

This was one of the very few nights that they were both free. He doesn't waste the opportunity to buy her favorite meals to go, bringing it to her home to share with her.

"Hi, Manny!" He coos, squatting down to pat the dog's head, it's fur warm and soft to touch. It wags its tail, putting out its tongue as it welcomes the all too familiar visitor. Gone were the days when it used to bark at him endlessly, threatened of his presence, or probably even jealous that he'd take all of the attention. But now, they were best friends.

He chuckles as he stands up, making his way further into the living room, past the kitchen. He smiles widely at the sight of his woman sitting prettily on the couch, dressed in a light pink nightgown, her hair cascading elegantly over her shoulders.

"Yea Ji-ah!" He calls out to her in a joyful operatic voice, routinely skipping towards her with her a huge smile.

"Ya." Her low voice stops him in his tracks. It was chilling, cold. It almost sent shivers down his spine. When she looks at him, he shuddered, freezing him in his spot. Her eyes were sharp, lacking emotion altogether. Terrifying almost.

"You noisy little prick." His breath falters, shock starting to bloom all over him. He blinks once, twice, thrice. Trying to figure out what vile sin he had done to his girlfriend for him to get stabbed by the invisible daggers darted from her eyes.

It takes him a few seconds before he sights the script on her lap. Realization dawns over him, making himself let out a breath. Aaaah.

She had been rehearsing, which means his Yea Ji wasn't here tonight. Moon Young had paid a visit. That was the effect of her method acting. She had to be the character altogether, and sometimes it takes a while longer to let go of it. He understood that was what worked for her, and he could say she was doing a good job manifesting it.

He had been used to it as well. There were days when he visited only to find a timid Sang Mi sprawled on the living room floor. The other time it was the outspoken Hae Ji reading a book by yhe window. Tonight it was a very annoyed Ko Moon Young.

"Ko Moon Young, I didn't expect you would visit." He chuckled, the amusement in his voice ringing as she turned on his heel towards the kitchen counter. He knew she's still trying to snap out of it, so he prepared all the food quietly, bringing it over on the coffee table between them in the living room.

She quietly slides down from the couch into the warm carpet. She picks up her chopsticks and eats silently, chewing, and swallowing. He smiled watching her eat.

He had longed to hear her talk over dinner tonight, but by the looks of it, it wasn't going to be happening. He loved listening to her ramble about the most mundane things, her low pitched voice becoming music to his ears. The sultry, raspy tone of it making his heart come to a calm, bringing him serenity.

She was quiet, but he still enjoyed it. He was happy just by watching her eat, devouring everything in front of her. If there was one thing she and Moon Young had in common, it was the appetite. He had worried about her thin physique early in the relationship, but seeing the amount she manages to gobble down, he realized her eating dynamics had nothing to do with her figure. She was just natural beauty. Lucky him.

He made the kind effort if washing a few dishes, humming softly as the water gushes through the faucet. When he feels tiny arms wrap around his waist from the back, he smiles. He loved it when she did that.

"Is this Moon Young, or is my Yea Ji back?"

"I kicked Moon Young out. She tried to steal my boyfriend." He chuckles, turning the faucet off before he wipes his hands dry.

He wiggles in her hold, turning around so he was facing her. He lets out a smile, wrapping his arms around her small frame. She looks up at him with a smile, eyes curved into thin lines, and in an instant, he loses the capability to breathe. She continues to take his breath away, every single time.

He squeezes her tighter, pulling her impossibly closer.

"Did you enjoy the meal, hmm?" He tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear, marveling down at her. When she nods he smiles, cupping her small face in his large hand. When he leans in for a warm kiss she automatically closes her eyes, both of them smiling in between.

Her hands instinctively travel over his firm arms, around his nape, her fingers through his hair. He holds her tighter as if it was possible to have her any more closer. Their bodies were already pressed tightly against each other.

When he pulls back, he grins. He took pride in the idea that he was able to kiss her like this, hold her close. Touch her. Do things only others can imagine. He took pride in the fact that now she had freely allowed him to make her feel things, do things, to take the lead.

He couldn't forget that there was a time when even the slightest touch bothered her. Sent her blushing excessively, cowering under his stares and gentle brushes. He thought he was probably so despicable, she couldn't bear even the slightest intimacy.

But it wasn't him. It was her innocent values, blooming from her genuine wholesome perspectives of the world. He learned to ask for permission whenever he wanted to kiss her, to gradually inch his hand to hers so she doesn't get startled. It took her quite some time to get used to it until all the permissions became automatic. Instinctive.

He didn't need to work it out anymore. She could read it in the way he looked at her. And she learned to be confident around him as well. Initiating gentle touches, hugs, short kisses. They've come a long way, but she still had that innocence in her, the innocence he loved so much. He loved anything about her anyway.

"You stink." She mutters in a chuckle as she buries her head against his chest, inhaling his manly scent. He only laughs, swaying her side to side. She was the most honest person in the world, she was incapable of lying. So he really does stink.

"Hmm, really? I just came from the gym." She laughs.

"You should have showered." His laughter thunders, throwing his head back.

"I know. I was thinking I'd shower here instead. . . . . with you." She automatically unlinks her arms around him, playfully pushing his chest.

"Ande." She takes a step back, turning around with a laugh. It wasn't like she hated intimacy, she just can't help but feel uncontrollably shy. Even after all the nights they've spent together, she still couldn't help the warm blush that would creep up her cheeks.

He chuckles, holding on to her wrist to pull her back gently. He wraps her arms around her again, searching for her face. She couldn't look at him.

"Weh? It's not like I haven't seen y---" He gets cut off when she presses a hand against his mouth, sending both of them in light laughter.

"Stop it." She whines, furrowing her brows, pouting her lips.

"Stop what?" She lets out a gasp when he slightly lifts her up, setting her feet on top of his. He grins at her before he pulls her closer, pressing another kiss on her lips. He slowly walks them across the room, her feet on top of his, taking every step he was taking.

She held his arms tight, maintaining her balance as he leads her. She giggles in between the kiss.

"I know what you're trying to do."

He chuckles while he kisses her.

"Really? I'm just making my way to the shower." She shakes her head, smiling as she closed her eyes. Gone were the inhibitions when he starts to trail kisses on her jaw. She clears her throat at the growing heat that was starting to spread like wildfire all over her body. Her reaction to him was automatic.

A low moan erupts from the back of her throat when he trails hot, wet kisses down her long neck. She finally gives in to him as he makes his way inside the bedroom, straight to the bathroom. He was a little persistent than usual. He must've really missed her. But she couldn't deny it, he missed her too.

-end-

#psycho but its okay #its okay to not be okay #kim soo hyun #seo yea ji #hyunji #hyunjicouple

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

Promised Part Four (The Great Arranged Marriage AU mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: swearing, food, dogs, marriage, and mentions of sex and some steamier parts

Summary: When Emperor Peter visited your family, his behavior threatened the peaceful alliance between them and Russia. Now in order to fix it, you are betrothed to marry his best friend, the handsome and heartbroken Grigor.

Part One --- Part Two -- Part Three

The morning after the wedding there was a sealed letter placed on your mother’s table. She nearly dropped it in nervousness.

Something had happened. Something had already happened. The alliance may even be in danger and so was she. Everything was too new now. The blue bed that you slept on in the other room was now empty. Even little Sonya’s trotting and barking was gone as well. She had to face the morning alone. And you, her daughter, her dear child, was now a married woman.

She ripped it open to read the contents with wide eyes.

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Emperor Peter was about to take his morning as usual- sleeping in late. As was typical for a hangover. Peter laid out on his belly like a starfish, still in his clothes. Georgiana smirked as she entered the chambers. She heard him groaning even in his dreams. Already in her dark robes and nothing else on, she knew he would be groaning for different reasons in perhaps an hour. She knew that after a night of celebration Peter would call on her one way or another to cure the headache he had with her kisses. She might as well be ready. There were worse ways to start the day.

Her eyes trailed down to a sealed letter on the table on the other end.

It was Grigor’s seal.

Before she could stop herself, Georgiana grabbed a small letter opener and cut it open. She read its contents.

It was short. But enough. She put it down, sitting on the chair and taking in a deep breath. Her lovely ivory face turning red. Tears blurring her eyes as she breathed in the message it contained. As she sat down, she let the waves of grief flow out of her, glad that the emperor was too deep asleep to see it.

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Your brother and his wife were late risers. So, they were confused by the excited knocking on the doors of their salon while the sky was still pink.

The lodgings given to them were surprisingly beautiful. Large, plush beds that were the color of cream, vases full of roses, and purple canopies over their heads as they slept. And all expenses covered. Your brother gently padded his wife’s shoulder as she groaned at the sound.

“I’ll get it…”

“Thank god for this bed…” she nestled into the pillow to fall back asleep.

Your brother yawned and crawled out. He smiled and kissed his wife and she smiled before she returned to dreaming. His eyes were crusted with sleep as the door cracked open but shot awake at the sight of your father.

“Wha…what is it?” he asked.

“I have a letter…it’s from Grigor, Y/N’s husband.”

He tilted his head in astonishment.

“Already? Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know yet…I thought we both should find out…” he commented nervously. “’Sides, my eyes are bad. Can’t read a thing on it.”

Your father handed it to him, and your brother read it out loud.

“To the Y/L/N Family,

Last night under the sight of God, Y/F/N and I consummated our marriage.

The alliance is now completely secure and may nothing hinder it with our union. You may rest assured everything is now safe. Madame Y/L/N and the Emperor know of this as well.

Your Son-in-law, as of yesterday,

Grigor Dymov.”

Your father and brother let out a deep breath. Yet there was a knowing look between them. Your brother looked again at the letter.

“And…she’s his! I can hardly believe it…I barely even know the man myself!” your brother said.

“Well, it’s secure…it’s completely secure…our alliance with Russia is safe.”

As your brother returned to bed, worried thoughts entered his head. Grigor had a bit of vodka and was putting you on his lap and kissing you a lot. You looked so so timid with him. Not to mention Peter. If this man was close friends with Peter then that said enough. Your voice was trembling when you said your vows. You would only speak softly. And you only knew Grigor for so long. The moments before you were led to Grigor’s chambers you looked like a lamb led to the slaughter. And he could do nothing about it.

This alliance came at the price of your torture.

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As you put the envelope into the pocked of you gown, you heard a familiar yap.

Sonya trotted over. With her ears down, she wagged her tail and reached up for you on the skirt of your robe as far up as she could.

“Hello love…do you like the place?” you asked.

She placed her paws on your skirt as you gentle petted her head.

“Shhhh, be quiet. Please don’t wake pa…him…” you whispered.

Was Grigor now her papa? It felt odd to call him that yet.

Who knew when he would awaken, so you wandered through your new apartment. It was large- three rooms, all with large red walls. You especially liked the outer receiving room with a large, dark fireplace and a nice little brown table with two chairs. There was a tea set properly placed there. Sunlight was pouring in and you heard the chirps of a few robins. The redness looked less frightening. The bathtub gleamed when there was sunlight against it.

Quietly you placed Sonya into your arms and scratched her fur as you admired a few portraits on the wall of the guest room. Eventually she wiggled hard and freed herself onto the floor, shaking in a flurry and then prancing to sniff the place more.

You scurried back into the bedroom. It felt bad to leave Grigor alone once he awoke the morning after your wedding. Especially when you recalled what he said last night.

I used to wake up in the mornings and hate it…because I would be alone…

You poured yourself a cup of the coffee, relieved that it was still steaming hot. This Liza or Beth or whoever timed her gift right. You sipped on it and let Sonya wander by your feet. Whenever she trotted over to the bed, you would shoo her away. You would scold her for yapping, placing a gentle hand over her mouth and saying firmly “no bark…no bark…”

After a few minutes passed, his eyes opened. He groaned as he woke up. His hand began searching your side of the bed.

Breathing in quickly, you walked forward on cue.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry…I…” you mumbled.

“Nothing, nothing…did you sleep in? You’re not tired, are you?” he asked groggily.

“I…I woke up a little bit ago…” you answered. “I managed to fall back asleep. I think it’s late morning.”

“That’s good.” He said.

Placing yourself on the edge of the bed, you weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss his forehead or take his hand. You weren’t sure what quite to do at this stage.

“We have a…a gift for us…someone sent us a tray…”

He got up. You were still unused to the sight of his body now in only a simple shift. You looked at the floor. You saw his breeches were still on the floor abandoned. Noticing a black robe over one of the chairs, you went over and got it.

“Is…is this yours?”

“Yes, it is.”

Fetching it, you returned to his side of the bed. Standing on your toes to reach his tall height, you placed it over his shoulders and he slipped his arms through.

“Th-thank you, you’re very kind, Y/N. What are the pastries like?” he asked.

“I…I haven’t tried any of them yet…” you confessed.

“How come?”

“I…I wanted to wait for you…so we could eat them together…” you admitted.

He grinned as he joined you to try the tray. Pulling up the card, he let out a huff of laughter.

“Huh, already she calls us our aunt.”

“Is she your aunt?”

“No, Peters.”

“Oh.”

He smiled. You smiled back. As he sat down and began to eat a strawberry flavored one you noticed a slightly wicked gleam. You looked back and picked a chocolate pastry, biting into it with embarrassment.

You wondered if the intimate moment you had last night would be brought up. Or rather, how to bring it up. What did lovers, much less married couples say after these things? The thing that was unsaid between the two of you now.

“Oh your cock is pretty large.”

“Thanks for cleaning up the mess between my legs!”

“I thought I would kick your head off by accident last night-sorry! I’ll be on top next time!”

There were people who thought men weren’t men, women weren’t women, and children would stay children until they were bedded. You looked at your bare feet poking out from below. It was still your feet. Your hands were still your hands. And even the face in the mirror on the wall across from you was still your face. You were supposed to be a woman now. But you didn’t feel any different than yesterday.

“Th…thank you, Y/N. I appreciate you waiting for me for the food,” he said.

You nodded. “Of…of course…and…about last night…I…”

The words froze in your throat. You were always raised as more of a proper lady. You were able to control any urges you had for other men. Besides, you didn’t want to risk getting pregnant and the difficulties that would bring. Or die in an attempted abortion. Or get a disease. The world of sex had things you heard about. Whispers or a page or two from books that you would secretly read when your parents backs were turned. But actually, experiencing them was something new. Exciting. Frightening. Unknown.

“I…it was…it was nice…” you said. “You were very nice to me…you are very nice to me…and I…I don’t know anything…”

He smiled genuinely and said “I’m…I’m glad. I’m glad it was nice for you…damn, these are good.” He said, chewing on his bite.

You finished your pastry. Little Sonya raced around the room and perking her head at any new sound she heard of footsteps. It was silent between the two of you as Grigor finished his breakfast. His shift was still open to show a bit of the hairs on his chest and his eyes had the slightly dark quality of an hour too much of sleep than one was used to.

“I was so scared about yesterday, I didn’t sleep much the night before,” you commented.

“Y/N…yesterday was very long. Take it easy today, please. You don’t have to do anything today. You can stay in bed all day even, if you’d like….”

“That…that would be nice. My mother is still here, can she come over and visit?” you asked.

“Yes! And…Can I invite your family over…just on a small hunt in the woods. The Emperor won’t be there because that’s his required hours with Catherine…ah, attempting for an heir.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of him. So we can all be together. We’re all a family now.”

“Yes, that…that sounds nice.”

It was a quiet mid-morning after breakfast was cleared. You were grateful for screens to dress behind and as soon as you were ready, there was a serf saying Grigor was asked for.

“Velementov needs your insight on a statue raised for Peter the Great, at once.”

It was a little lonely after he left. You read the fairy tales by the fire, the palace was large enough and you lacked the energy from yesterday to explore it anymore. And interacting with the other ladies of court scared you from what Catherine warned. You decided you would deal with court on a day you were not tired and aching from preparing a long-awaited wedding. Enjoying the silence and nothingness than fitting for your dress or seeing millions of well-wishers or trying not to let your crown fall off your head.

Looking further at your lodgings, the walls and furniture had matching, co-coordinating fabrics. There was a small throw pillow in a chair right by your bed that was the same color and pattern of the walls. You stroked the little pillow and then the walls, feeling the smoothness and bumps of the decorative flowers.

You rang up for hot water and some soaps. The bath was too intriguing to not try. Besides you felt grimy.

It was large. It took several steaming buckets before it was filled and you were left alone to step into it. The soaps smelled like honey and vanilla. There was steam building up in the room from the warmth of the bath. You noticed a mirror on a vanity was fogging up, as well as an oval shaped area mark on the wall catching some condensation. It was odd. Lightly colored. But there were faint dark marks as if a portrait had been on there for a while.

Shrugging off the observation, you peeked over to the side to see a few jars. Opening the porcelain lids, you saw bath salts and poured them in on an indulgent whim to add more flowery scents. Exhaling deep, your aching feet and limbs thanked you.

The perks of being friends with the Emperor of Russia…

You took the sponge placed next to the salts, giggling as you rubbed the soap on it. The sponge seemed about the size of your head. It covered your arms and legs. You were scrubbing on your body, standing up on in the tub to do so, when Grigor entered suddenly.

With a slight scream, you dipped down into the water quickly.

Splash!

You backed into the corner, your arms covering your breasts and your knees together, pulling away. Retreating into a near corner of the bath, you turned your head towards him. He even looked a little pink himself and could not resist a smug smile. He was not in his wig but was in the dark green court dress perhaps for whatever business he had to take care of.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you?” he asked, half-meaning it.

Though he turned away after the quip and covered his eyes with his hand dutifully.

“N-no thank you! I…I’m sorry…I’m just not used…please don’t gape at me!” you begged.

“Y/N! It’s fine.”

He peeked over and you made sure to duck low enough in the tub. Sure enough, it was safe. The edge of the tub, the soapy water and your limbs could cover anything too private. Only your head, with your wet hair clinging to you was visible.

You placed your hands on your face in shame.

“It’s so silly- we’ve already made love, Grigor…but it’s you…and it’s my body I…and I still feel….” You mumbled out timidly.

“Y/N…it’s alright. I’m not used to having a wife bathing in my room! I should have knocked….”

A jealous image jolted in your brain. Maybe Georgiana bathed in this very place. Maybe that was why he said “wife” and not “woman.” Maybe he was out with her. But…he couldn’t. He just couldn’t…would he? You didn’t love him. You liked him. And he was your husband and you were his wife. That was enough.

He keeled to the floor, seeing you at eye level with the bathtub covering what needed to be hidden. Though when you turned your head around. Only your head, with wet hair clinging to your face, and your neck and shoulders were visible.

“I…I’ve visited your mother. She will be staying here for a week and so will the rest of your family. You aren’t a prisoner in here, Y/N. You can have her up or visit her apartments. Even today if you aren’t too tired…we can host a tea or dinner for her if I’m not busy. Whatever you would like to do today.”

A smile crept up on you that matched his. You noticed his ears sticking out childishly like a mouse’s ears.

“That does sound nice…I’d like it if she came over this afternoon,” you replied. “And…your-er-our apartments are very pretty. Comfortable. I don’t feel like I’m in prison at all…”

He placed his hand in the warm water and tested it, his fingers stroking it. You noticed how long and graceful his hands looked, swirling the soap as if it was some magic concoction.

“Did you know I have a couple manors…and more than one vineyard?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Gifts from Peter to me. If I could perhaps talk to him for a bit…. we would go there. Have a real honeymoon. There’s one near my vineyard in the country in the west. The sunsets are stunning. And the wine’s not bad either. We could watch the sun over a bottle and get away from court for a little while…wouldn’t that be nice?” he offered.

You nodded, “yes, I would love to go there with you.”

“Wonderful. I’ll leave you be.”

He stepped and turned to the next room so you could finish bathing and dress in privacy. Part of you prayed maybe the emperor would listen to sense. If possible. Even one day away in the country drinking wine would be nice. And you could have worse company than Grigor.

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That afternoon, right as you were dressed for company in a simple burgundy dress and invited your mother to have afternoon tea with her in your new home. She was walked in. Running from Grigor’s side, you embraced her as if you had not seen her in a year. In front of the fire there was a third chair and tea and a few sandwiches. Sonya even barked on her arrival and wagged her tail.

It was just like it was two days ago. Almost.

Until a serf brought in Orlo in a bit of a hurry, his wig disheveled, a slab of some sauce possibly thrown across his jacket. His glasses even looked a little dirty and his hair disheveled.

“The emperor requests your presence immediately,” he parroted, looking at Grigor.

He sighed lightly, but bowed to your mother, gave you a kiss on your hand, patted Sonya’s head, and left.

“Y/N…you seem…you seem to like him,” she said.

“If I was going to be sold for everyone’s sake, at least it’s to a decent man,” you commented. “So many others aren’t as lucky.”

She took a sip of her tea. Sonya kept trying to stick her snout into the sandwiches and you shooed her away. Your mother laughed a little at the puppy’s antics. She even hopped up and tried to eye her for a bit of biscuit.

“Y/N, I received word this morning concerning the…you know…” she began.

Your grip on your teacup went cold.

“That the alliance is secured.” You said firmly. “Totally.”

Your stomach squirmed.

“Yes.”

“I did what I had to for all of us. I knew if I didn’t sleep with him soon, then everyone I love would be in danger. Grigor told me. Besides, it was my duty as his wife…it is my duty,” you said.

She leaned over closer, glancing to make sure no one was listening. She then placed two hands on your shoulders.

“Did he…did he force himself on you, as you feared? We’re alone, you can be honest.”

“No, he waited until I said yes.”

Your mother released a breath.

“Thank heavens!”

Setting down your cup, the emotions came pouring out.

“But Mama…that’s just one night! And were bound until death! There’s going to be so many more! It’s all so new and I just…right before it happens, I get so nervous!”

Looking down, you glanced at your stayed-up stomach beneath your dress. It looked normal. But who knows? You could be pregnant this very minute. Were you even ready to be a mother yourself?

“What can you…tell me about it?” she asked.

“I was…I was relaxed after it was over and I…I don’t even know what to think. I get nervous whenever he looks at me. I was bathing when he walked in and it scared me that he could gaze all over me. It just…it unnerves me!” you confessed. “And I already did it! How can that be?”

“Well, now you’re married, we can be more candid about it. I can finally talk about it. I understand being nervous. The first few times your father and I made love…”

“Mama, please!”

“It’s thrilling and scary. You’re just new. Y/N, I’ll have to go back home, so we better make use of this time but… but…you have no reason to be ashamed of it. Or too emboldened yet. It can be a beautiful act. And it can also be an awkward one…. just tell me what it is that tortures you and what you like and let’s see if I can help…”

You smiled and spoke with deep honesty to her. She advised you. Discussing everything. Far more details than the bits and pieces after your betrothal was announced. Although your ears burned with details of your parents you never wanted to think about, you found yourself learning more and more about your body and a bit of his and what happens and what to do.

The discussion was had even long after the sandwiches were finished in crumbs for Sonya to sneak licks of.

“I will be here for a little bit, we can discuss plenty more…you can also write, my dear.”

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It was getting dark. Grigor was still not back yet since tea. You were thankful for the long talk with your mother, but she had been long gone and now you were awaiting his return.

The old man serf walked into the room with a tray of food.

“Monsieur Dymov sends his apologies. The emperor is keeping him long. He asked me to send you this,” he croaked kindly.

Thanking him, you accepted the tray. Dining alone as the night sky sparkled out of your window and the red walls grew from scarlet to garnet with the light’s dimming.

The clock from the hallway ticked with the hour as you wiped your mouth and ate the last bite of potato. Opening a cabinet in your bedroom, you found a familiar nightgown was pressed in there and changed into it.

You were knitting away on your bed as the fire crackled. Sonya sat up with you a while and tried to chew on the yarn and then contented herself with sitting at the edge of the bed sleepily. That scarf you were working on still wasn’t complete. You started the project not long before the Emperor called on your home and now…well, things were different now. It was halfway through though. It would take hours of work, but it was still there. Your fingers were still a little sore from being at the task for a while. It still helped you with your nerves of what your husband would be expecting of you.

The blankets over you were a dark green this time, changed so the dark ones could be cleaned. Sonya curled into a ball like a little brown decoration on the bed.

You reached for the brush on top of the chest next to you, placed away the scarf, and began to work on brushing your own hair when you heard footsteps and a few grunts. And it was none of the servants.

Part of you fretted it would be Peter. If you were alone with him who knew what would happen. But you saw Grigor walk inside. He had a white shirt that was open and darker pants with boots.

“I’m here! It too forever-we played tennis for hours! You can’t believe how many noses we could hit on the portraits!” he reported cheerily.

Taking off his boots. Sonya got up and greeted him. He bent down and began stroking her fur. It seemed comical to see such a large man with a squeaking puppy the size of his neck.

“Tennis? No meetings of state?” you asked.

“Not when he wants to complain! He was completely hungover, too. It was almost pitiful.” He added with a spark in his eye. Grinning, you recalled why he was hungover.

“Any vomiting with the tennis?”

“Had a bucket on the corner- poor fellow!”

You laughed a little bit at the image.

Though to your mixed delight and horror, he took off his shirt, pants, and breeches, climbing naked into bed. As beautiful and toned he was, you never slept next to any naked person. Much less a man. Keeping your eyes on only his face, you froze. Then you ducked to look at your hands. On one hand, this was your husband. Your anxieties wondered if any…part of him would awkwardly brush against you in the midst of sleep.

The bed shifted as he lifted the blanket and sat next to you.

“Yes, none at all, Y/N! Why I…oh…oh I….I’m sorry,” he apologized noticing your embarrassed face.

“It’s…it’s fine. I remembered you liked sleeping naked I’lll….I’ll just try to get used to it…”

“Let me…let me put on my breeches.”

He rushed out to shimmy it back on and then hopped back. Exhaling deep, you continued brushing a stubborn tangle in your hair. It till hadn’t recovered from the thousands of pins of yesterday. He paused, looking at you. You had sat up, holding your comb now with both hands and clutching it on your lap.

As you returned to brushing, he laid down on the pillow, watching you gently.

“What is it?”

He took a strand in his hand gently, playing with a wisp of your hair.

“Your hair is lovely. That’s a sight I could get used to- to see you just sit there and brush it.”

You bit your lip.

“Th-thank you, Grigor.”

As soon as you did, you pulled a strand away, revealing part of your neck. He went over to lean closer. You couldn’t help but stare at how attractive the hair on his chest made him. But your palms got sweaty and your heart was racing.

“Do…do you want to…I…” you felt yourself mumbling over as the sensation took over.

“Want to what?” he asked. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked.

“It’s just….I’m…nothing’s wrong!” you insisted.

You looked up at him with a little sigh.

“You must think I’m a nun, Grigor. I just…I know it’s my duty to…to please you…” you confessed, looking down at your shift, fingers clutched as if ready to pull it up and have it over with.

Besides, wasn’t it true that men were always rabbits in heat? And their wives were bound to lie down and let them at it?

“I…it doesn’t matter what I want, what do you want?” he said.

“You mean…I don’t have to make love to you tonight if I don’t want to?” you questioned, blinking.

“It’s simple as that…” he said with a shrug.

He took both of your hands, gently rubbing his thumb over yours.

“Remember yesterday? I promised you that you have my protection. You’ll always be safe with me, Y/N. Not just with last night. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.”

“Well, I…I’m really tired after yesterday and I…I just want to sleep…”

“May I at least kiss you goodnight?”

“Yes…”

You placed your hands on his face to guide yours and he kissed you sweetly. You could taste his dinner, but you didn’t mind. Though once you let go, he trailed a kiss down to your neck and you felt yourself let out a sound at it. It tickled a little and your stomach was churning again at the feeling of his lips there.

“Grigor…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you…thank you for the tray…I was hungry.”

“Thank you for being patient. He is my ruler, but you are my wife. We can have dinner tomorrow.”

“Alright, I command it,” you joked.

He leaned forward and kissed you chastely with a smile, cupping your face. You smiled into it and when you pulled away, you found you had held your breath during it.

“Alright, Y/N…good night.”

Blowing out the candles, your room was submerged in darkness.

But you fell asleep lying across from each other. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. And without being very aware of it, your hand wandered to his and held it right as you drifted away. But it was nice to feel him next to you and feel him nuzzle at you. Soon your exhaustion won, and you were asleep.

At one point when you woke up in the middle of the night and saw the outline of his bare chest rising and falling slowly. You nestled closer and placed your head on it, not minding the feeling of his body. His arm reached around for you. Accepting it, you fell back asleep.

The next afternoon was cool and the trees were orange and autumnal. You recognized the rest of your family in a party outside the palace. Everyone had their warmest coats and cornered hats. A couple of wigged serfs carried small brown bags right by their heels.

Grigor and you walked out to the start of the woods in outdoor coats and hats topped on your heads. You rushed over to embrace them at once. They called “Y/N! Hello,” and gave multiple hugs of greeting as Grigor stood aside to let you have a moment.

Though you noticed your brother frowned when he saw your husband. Giving him only a bob of his head.

As your family headed off where the palace ended and the woods began, you felt Grigor brush by you. You shook off a few leaves that fell on your dark blue skirt.

“Is it…is it safe?” you ask.

“I know every pathway. There are gardens and little buildings here and there. I’ve played here since I was a child-It’s more than safe.”

“I must confess I haven’t explored much on my own. The gardens are still confusing to me. I can’t imagine what the forest will be like…”

An idea struck you and you paused. In the distance you heard a few doves cooing in a tree in front of you.

“Do you think…” you began.

“Think what?”

“Maybe in the mornings, or the late afternoon, when Peter hasn’t called you, we can see more of the gardens and the palace. Even the woods. I’ll bring Sonya on a leash. We can all walk. Together,” you suggested.

He gave you a crinkled smile. Leaning forward so that his grey wig shifted to the side from his head.

“That…that’s a grand idea Y/N,” he replied. “So help me, you aren’t getting lost.”

Picking up your pace, you both caught up with the party. There were bits of conversation to catch up that felt like older times. And you were grateful for the lack of a certain brash emperor to stir feathers. The only feathers that would be stirring were that of the birds spotted in trees. Easy targets. The men reached for the guns near their thighs and began shooting.

Your father was surprisingly excited about it. He managed to get a small robin, and everyone clapped. Grigor was impressive but was better at brighter colored birds than something duller. The servants ran after the birds and stuffed them into the bags.

After some time of fetching, walking beneath crunching leaves, and some relaxed, light conversation concerning your friends back home, there was a yelp from your brother.

“Look there! A big one!” he cried.

You turned your head to look for this mighty bird. It was a crow, cawing in mockery above. Your father reaching up to aim.

“Arh! My blasted eyes! I can hardly see it!” he cursed, moving slowly as the bird hopped between trees.

You followed with your mother and sister-in-law, chin up to where the large back bird was headed. And then you heard a gruff sound behind you.

Urf!

Two figures were missing from the others chasing after the bird. Turning around, you could make out some angry whispers. Walking closer, you looked and saw where. Your brother had somehow grabbed Grigor by the collar and pinned him against a tree with his pistol. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes almost red with rage as he spat onto his face.

“I know you did, you bastard! Secured alliance my arse-you deserve to have your head chopped off!”

“What do you mean?” Grigor insisted, eyes large and his face white.

“You deranged pervert! My sister is one of the best women I know, and you torture her like that!”

“I’ve done nothing!”

“You’re a scoundrel among men! And I don’t know what is stopping me from the pleasure of blowing your brains out!” your brother hissed.

Heart leaping, you did not doubt he would pull the trigger on him.

“I know how you Russians are- And everyone knows how happy Catherine is with her husband, how will you be any better with Y/N! Much less, what you did to her!”

You cry out your brother’s name and he turned to see you. Picking up your skirts, you run in between them, placing yourself in front of Grigor. Your arms reach out to shield him. You feel his breath huffing quickly in nervousness and so does yours.

“Stop it! What did you think happened?”

“Y/N, we got a letter bragging about how he forced himself on you and expects us to congratulate him! I won’t stand for any man who treats you-“

“He did not rape me the other night, I consented!” you interrupted.

A few hairs flew free from your hat. You felt your hands ball into fists. Again your own privacy concerning your body was being tossed around and displayed publicly.

“What?”

“I consented to consummate the marriage. Grigor never forced himself on me. And he promised he would. I know you’re protecting me, but I won’t you let hurt him- stop being ridiculous!”

Glancing back, Grigor’s eyes were the size of robin’s eggs. His jaw was slack and he was frozen in place, but his posture softened from your protection.

“Sir…may I add, is this the way you thank your patron?” he asked.

Your brother blinked. His hand holding the gun relaxed in mid-air.

“P-patron?” he asked.

“Do you know who covered the fees for your travels? The bill for the hotel?”

“It…it was a gift. Anonymous. I thought it was from our tenets or from the Russian court so we could…” your brother responded.

“It was from the Russian court. Because I fucking sent it. I begged Peter to let you come to the wedding and be with Y/N the day we departed for Russia. I had to nag him every day for weeks and weeks. Can you imagine nagging your damn sovereign?! But he finally agreed. I paid every penny just to have you be taken here and have a roof over your head the whole time! It’s because of me you aren’t away at your home wondering if you’d even see her again!” he said in frustration.

It was your turn to drop your jaw and turn your head around.

“You…you did that? But…why anonymous!” he asked

“It was in case Peter fucking disagreed! And he would have if I didn’t spend out of my own damn pocket! If it were that, I would have sent Y/N to the hotel to see all of you.” Grigor explained.

Your brother was aghast, and you blinked in surprise.

“Why? Why all this…for me? For us?” you blurted.

“I didn’t want bad blood with my in-laws! And Y/N your face- the look you had when our carriage was pulling away after the contract was signed…it haunted me. How scared, and miserable you seemed…I had to do something about it. I was practically stealing you away from everyone you’ve loved and known…I thought it would at least make you happy. It would make everyone happy. So, I did it.”

He nodded, looking down at you with his anger flushed out and his features softening.

Ears burning, you nearly clutched his hand as you processed what he did. Your brother sheathed his pistol.

“Forgive me…. she’s my sister and I…I was scared that I failed to protect her…” he apologized.

You soon heard footsteps and the others following suit. You felt Grigor’s gloved hand clutching yours as you both walked up, your brother in front of them.

“Why, what is it?” your sister in law asked, arms akimbo as she reached him. “We’ve been looking for you for a while!”

“I…uh, saw a rabbit and we raced to catch it, honey…” your brother answered with a quiver in his lip.

She rolled her eyes but got his arm anyway.

“Well, at least you’re safe. I thought we heard a bit of fighting,” she added, kissing his forehead.

Looking up, you felt Grigor walk forward, suggesting.

“Sir… join me after dinner, I have a bottle from Kiev. Let’s crack it open and enjoy a little mano e mano chat…we only need to know each other better. Is that good?”

“Yes that…that’s good,” your brother nodded, allowing his wife to loop her arm around his and lead him away.

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There must have been a little magic stored in that bottle. You sensed that after dinner you should leave them alone for them to drink and talk it out, especially since guns would not be involved. Though you could not help but place your ear outside the door that led to your apartment.

Though as you sat outside the hall, listening through as Sonya panted in your arms, you heard a clearing of a throat. Turning, you saw Mariol holding a book.

“The Empress asked wanted me to know, have you ever read Rousseau?” she asked sharply.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then she wanted to give you this as a late wedding present. And for me to say that you’re free to visit her to talk about it. Count yourself lucky she likes you,” she added honestly.

Biting your lip, you thanked Mariol and accepted the thin book bound in red. Sonya sniffed at it in your other arm.

As much as you wanted to glance through the pages, you heard ridiculous laughs from your brother. Chuckling as Grigor chatted about a whistle that could summon an army of ducks from the back yard. But it was your brother’s silly, relaxed, happy laughter. The one of the happy boy you grew up with and not the man who almost killed your husband hours ago.

Poking in your head at the crack of the door shyly, you saw that they were enjoying a roasting fire next to them. Heads turned to acknowledge you. You shied away at first, but Grigor gestured you over.

“Ah! My darling Y/N…. come join us, please!”

“Isn’t this a man conversation?” you asked teasingly.

“I can make an exception!” he said, sipping his vodka.

Grinning you obliged, setting down the dog to be at your side and putting the book away. You allowed your husband to lean against you and clutch your hand. The sensation made you nearly feel a little dizzy. Even greeting him with a kiss on the cheek as a thanks for your cup of Kiev vodka. And your brother’s eyes didn’t redden this time. In fact, he gave you a toothy grin like the kind you shared when you ate sweets as children. When he fell asleep that night, you found yourself happy to see him smiling but secretly a touch disappointed. And you knew why.

That next night you waited for him to return from Peter’s request to dine and play who knows what games. Your heart was beating fast as you gave your hair a quick brush through, just as he liked it. Admiring the green laid on the walls in contrast to the red, you heard him mutter something to his servant. But you kept thinking of him- how he kept you safe on that night, how he shared the vodka with you, and the personal sacrifices he made to bring your family to you for the wedding. That and the image of his bare chest rising and falling in the middle of the night made you suddenly burn and ache for him when he left. And you wanted to do something about it.

There was the orange glow of the candles and the rest was taken care of by the night sky.

“Y/N? Y/N, where are…”

You wore your green robe and sat down on the bed at the end. Grigor walked into the room and then froze. Beneath your robe there was nothing else and he noticed.

“Hello, I’m here…”

“Hello…” he greeted. His pupils growing wide.

“I…I want to be yours tonight…if you’ll have me…And I’m just as nervous, but I want you too much for that…”

You walked up in front of him and touched his face gently.

“You…you want me? Do you want me?” he asked, almost in confusion.

“I want you. Now take me, husband,” you said.

He was on you in a heartbeat, his hands undid the knot holding your robe together. And though a jolt of nerves shot through you, you buried yourself in kissing him back too much to focus on it.

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There was a peaceful week following. Dinners, teas, and visits. Drinks between you, your brother, and Grigor as the alcohol burned your throat and the fire toasted your sides. Numerous visits and talks. And nights where you slowly got more comfortable with yourself and Grigor and connecting through your bodies and not being ashamed of it.

In a blink of an eye, it was a week done. And your mother’s apartment was filled with her luggage.

The other three met you and Grigor in front of the palace as their carriage together trotted up. You embraced your father and mother constantly. You felt yourself cry when at the sound of the hoofbeats. Your father kissed your forehead, “my darling girl, I’ll miss you so much.”

Your mother gave you an extra hug and said “your father and I will always love you, no matter what.”

Your sister-in-law made promises to write and you swore to include details of whatever mischief little Sonya got into with an attempted sketch.

While Grigor shook the hands of each of them he paused before your brother. Hesitantly.

“I didn’t know you well…I hope you will forgive me,” your brother confessed. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did…I love my sister and I was worried for her safety, her happiness.”

“I promise you- your sister will want for nothing under my care.”

“Even if the Emperor…?”

Both of you froze. You seemed to have overlooked it. But your brother’s gaze was serious.

“He’s my friend, she’ll be safe even with him,” he answered. Although a sad glimmer in his eye told you that there was a memory in his head that was saying otherwise.

Now you were truly alone, you thought. And with a ruler who was both a great help but could also be a great threat to you. You recalled the way he oogled you and suggested you come to his bedchamber that first night as a compliment to the royal guest and you felt yourself shrink once the carriage door closed.

Before you knew it, you were trembling, and you started to sob. Grigor took your shoulder and shushed you. He opened his mouth but stopped himself. What was there to even say?

There that coachmen and those horses were, taking your family further and further away. No more reading with your mother. No more eating with your father. No more discussing plays with your brother and his wife or anything. A part of your life. Your childhood. Your adolescence. Your youth. All you had known. All you had been raised with was leaving. That a part of you was dead and a new life with new, wild, frightening people was beginning. This time your mother wasn’t there to squeeze your hand and talk about anything. Your sister-in-law couldn’t make you laugh. Your father couldn’t put an arm around you when you cried. And your brother couldn’t rush a man into the woods with a loaded gun to protect you.

Grigor looked down at you and placed an arm around your shoulder. You leaned into him into a half embrace as the carriage holding your family disappeared in the distance like melting snow.

Taglist: @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee (thank you for your insight when I couldn’t decide the ending!) @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

[Finale] 10 | Illegirl

→ previous | next (second book of ly trilogy masterpost)

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, implied, CONSENTED & PROTECTED sex (these adults are role models), mentions of sexual activities

→ wordcount: 5.5k

"But what if they ask how we met?" you say, wiping your sweaty palms on the side of your modest skinny jeans. "What if they ask my age? Oh my god. What if they ask to meet my parents?"

"Relax, Y/N," your boyfriend soothes, taking you into a warm side hug as he guides you up the steps of his parents' rather large home. "You're 18 now, and you'll be in college next month. You're not so young anymore."

You huff, tucking in a strand of loose hair and fussing with the hem of your nicest blouse. "They're gonna hate me."

"It takes a lot for them to hate someone," Jimin laughs, rubbing your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down. "They're just... slightly judgmental. But it's not like they're going to interrogate you! It's just dinner."

"This was a bad idea."

"It won't be, trust me."

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Is this my late graduation present? Or perhaps an early entering college gift?"

"Kinda?" It sounds more like a question than a sure statement. "I just want them to meet the person I love as early as possible!" Jimin gives you the puppy dog eyes he knows you can't resist.

"Okay, okay! But what if they ask questions we don't fucking know the answer to?" you say, worry lines appearing on your forehead. "Like when we met and shit??"

Jimin hums, lips pulling out in a pout as he thinks hard. After a moment of silence, he grins as if an adequate idea popped up in his head. "We'll improv!"

"Oh, you son of a b—HELLO, Mr. and Mrs. Park!" you quickly say, heart beating violently in your chest. Damn. Off to a not-so-great start. You almost called Jimin a 'son of a bitch,' in front of his goddamn mother.

Thankfully it seems like Jimin's parents didn't hear you. They smile at both of you as they open their front door wider, and your boyfriend noticeably grips your shoulder tighter, in an attempt to remind you to release your inner tension.

"Y/N, is it?" Mrs. Park smiles, though she looks you over with scrutiny. "Don't you look young?"

You flinch as Jimin wraps his arm around you, then saves you from answering. "Yeah, she's 18, mom." He places a hand on the small of your back, ushering you into the house.

"18? 18?!" Mrs. Park gasps, putting a polite hand over her mouth in shock. "Goodness me. You never date anyone more than three years younger! Your exes all had a stable job with high income... she's barely in college!"

Already, you feel quite uncomfortable, especially with Jimin's mother spewing random facts about his past girlfriends and lowkey dissing you. Then you have Mr. Park who had seemed friendly at first but continues to sneak glances at his phone as if he was expecting an important call. You were getting rich businessman vibes from him. No wonder their home had one too many chandeliers and shining glass windows.

"Mom..." Jimin warns, his voice dipping low. "You're gonna make Y/N feel uncomfortable."

"Oh no, it's fine," you quickly say, faking a genuine smile. "Yes, I'm young, but I am pretty mature for my age."

Damn. You're getting good at this lying business if you do say so yourself.

Mrs. Park raises her eyebrow, turning to consult her husband but finding him engaged in a serious phone call. She sighs, shaking her head as she looks you over once more, a warm smile blossoming on her face. "It's fine, dear. Age is merely a number. Come, dinner's waiting."

Jimin's mother waves you and her son over, her inside-wear Louis Watton fur slippers clacking against the white marble floor as she marches over to an extravagant dining room. Even the gilded vase in the center of the mahogany dinner table looks like it could pay for your whole college tuition.

And speaking of college tuition, the moment a steaming hot meal is placed on the expensive table by a couple of servants, Mrs. Park turns to you, a false smile playing on her lips. "So, Y/N, what is your college major?"

You had been looking forward to dipping your spoon into that aromatic soup but you pause, looking up to make eye contact with the older woman. "Uh, I'm gonna major in statistics but minor in mathematics."

Jimin grins proudly next to you, already wolfing down a piece of savory white truffle garlic bread. You gulp next to him, wanting to take a piece of that dish yourself. But Mrs. Park interrupts your inner drooling.

"Really? That's quite interesting. My son is a high school mathematics teacher, you two must get along well, especially if you love arithmetic like him," Mrs. Park hums while taking a delicate sip from her intricate glass of red wine. "Would you like some?" she offers to you. "It's the finest we've got, slightly acidulated with a citrus finish."

There's an awkward silence as Jimin noticeably pauses his chewing and you completely freeze on the spot.

"Oh! That's right, you're underage," Mrs. Park chuckles. "My deepest apologies, Y/N. Jimin? Would you like a glass?"

You duck your head down to stare at your hands, wondering what the hell this woman was up to. Was she purposefully bringing up your age to make the dinner more awkward? Or was it just polite habit that got in the way?

To your surprise, Jimin refuses the drink. "It's fine, mom. I have to drive us home, so I'll pass."

Mrs. Park nods in approvement, sipping on her wine glass with a dainty hand. "Now I wonder what your father is taking so long with. He was surely excited to meet Y/N." She huffs. "Doesn't seem like it to me."

Again, you really don't know what to say or how to react. Conversations, er, socializing has never been your thing. Especially with adults (eXcEpT JiMiN).

"So, tell me about yourself, Y/N," Mrs. Park says, scooting her chair closer as her eyes seem to pierce into your soul. "I want to get to know the lovely lady my son loves so much."

You gulp, taking a nervous look at Jimin who's been sipping his glass of water for quite a long time. Now you're thinking of doing the same, just to avoid talking.

Your tongue is a limp mess in your mouth, and your brain refuses to make coherent sentences. But amidst your panic, you feel a warm hand wrap around yours underneath the table, out of sight. It's Jimin, wordlessly showing his support.

Somehow it helps.

"Well, I really do love mathematics," you start as Jimin squeezes your hand.

"She might love it more than me," your boyfriend adds, giving you a loving glance. You smile. "Oh, and did I mention? Y/N's never had a 'B' in her life! She's the most intelligent person I know!"

You blush, sticking a piece of marinated flank steak in your mouth.

"Oh? Goodness, you must be hardworking, Y/N!" Mrs. Park compliments.

"Hardworking? Did I hear hardworking?" Mr. Park calls as he settles down next to his wife, across from you and Jimin. "I've always wanted a hardworking daughter in law!"

Your eyes widen as you chew on your sauteed asparagus. Daughter in law? What the fuck???

Jimin lightly squeezes your hand. A gesture to try to calm you for sure, and lucky for him, it works.

"Dad, I've already told you we haven't dated for too long," Jimin says, chuckling. "If you keep saying that, Y/N will run away!"

Mr. Park throws his head back and laughs. "Sorry, it's just that I've heard so many amazing stories about you, Y/N," he tells you, a particular glint in his eye. "You're a special young lady, and my son is blessed to be with you."

You're stuttering again, trying to find the right words to thank Jimin's dad for all the flattery. "I-I... O-Oh, gosh. Thank you, but I'm sure I'm the one who's been blessed to have met someone like Jimin." They're true words, not a hint of a fib between the lines.

"Awww!" your boyfriend sings, nudging your shoulder with affection. It's honestly then when it becomes so clear to you. Just a small action, only a small nudge of the shoulder shows you that with Jimin's support, you won't ever have to be uncomfortable. He's the magical key to your safe haven, your very own utopia. Somehow his little actions can make you feel like the two of you are the only ones in the room.

"Y/N. Y/N??"

Jimin's voice breaks you from your thoughts as you perk up looking around to see what you missed.

"You kinda fazed out there, you okay?" he asks, rubbing small circles to the back of your hand.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, leaning against him. God. I am so fucking in love.

Mr. and Mrs. Park watch intently with interest as they witness intense love with their own eyes. Even they seem to realize you and Jimin are a match made in the heavens.

"Ahem," Mr. Park coughs, gaining you and Jimin's attention. He smiles warmly at you, then grins proudly at Jimin. "So, enlighten us. How did you two ever meet?"

You jerk your head towards Jimin as both of you erupt in nervous laughter. "Err... long story."

It's a goddamn sin to be stripped of sight. First off, you can't fucking see which is a whole problem of its own. Second off, Jimin's sweaty hands are pressing against your closed eyelids, and you can't help but wonder if they're clean.

You'll take one for the (figurative) team and assume that they are. Besides, you don't want to ruin the romantic night by grumbling your ass off.

"Hey, that wasn't so bad, right?" Jimin whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. He guides your body, pressing his broad chest against your back to god knows where.

"Interrogation from your parents? No, it was fucking glorious," you say, voice dripping with nothing but sarcasm. Jimin chuckles, leaving a light kiss on the back of your neck, but you pout. "Where are you taking me, Jiminie?"

"It's a surprise." He nuzzles you from behind as if that display of affection would placate you. Normally it would, but you're just not having it today. Something about being temporarily blind sucked all the patience out of you.

"Yeah, well, I hate you and your surprises," you mutter underneath your breath.

"If you hate me so much, why are you holding onto me so tightly?" Jimin chuckles as you flush. He was right. You were gripping onto his tan, exposed arms, hoping they would somehow protect you from the never-ending darkness that seemingly enveloped you as a whole.

"They say one should keep one's enemies close," you say snarkily. You're not backing down.

Jimin chuckles, placing another chaste kiss on the back of your neck. "I'm your enemy now?"

"Yeah, there's a fucking reason why there's a 'my' in enemy. You're my enemy, gotcha?" you giggle, shaking your head at how cheesy you were sounding. How love made you say the cringiest things.

You can't see it, but you know Jimin's beaming... either that or he's considering ditching you. Both are plausible.

"I just think you don't like surprises," Jimin sings in your ear.

"That too," you murmur. "Are we there yet?"

"God, Y/N," your boyfriend laughs. "You're 18, act like it! Besides, you'll love this surprise, I know you will."

"Yeah right, how can you be so su—"

Jimin's hands fall from your face, interrupting you mid-sentence as your eyes flutter rapidly to adjust to sight. Your jaw drops. "Oh my god," you whisper. "Jimin..."

It's that beach house. The same exact one that you two had visited way back when. The embarrassing night (if you recall correctly) when Jimin had quite sweetly apologized for 'sexually harassing' you. Your face reddens at the thought, and you quickly force yourself to admire the rest of your surroundings.

From outside, you can see the hundreds of little candles placed inside the house, lighting up the premises and warming your heart. There are even scented candles leading the way up to the front door. It smells like mint, and a flowery aroma you can't recall the name of.

"I remembered you like this place," Jimin says in a husky voice dripping with rich honey. He takes your hand, guiding you over and unlocking the door to the charming vacation home.

"It was beautiful," you whisper, eyes trained on the hundreds of flickering candles in front of the dimly lit ocean waters. "Even more so now."

Jimin smiles, his pillowy lips stretching perfectly across his glowing face as he tugs you into the house. "Good," he says, "we're here to make even more beautiful memories."

"Memories of what?" You cock your head, staring into your boyfriend's eyes that reflected the dancing embers of the candlelight.

"You'll see." And with that, he pulls you away to one of the larger bedrooms, following the pathway that the candles had offered.

You gasp once you enter the room. With the lack of sophisticated description, you could say that a fucking rose threw up in there. There are scarlet petals sprinkled meticulously across the dimly lit bedroom. Some incense burns in the corner, welcoming you with a sweet, floral fragrance. An aureate bed rests in the middle of the commodious chamber—your favorite kind of bed too, you might add—fluffy-looking with clean, white sheets.

The space takes your breath away. It's nothing like anything you've ever imagined. Romance writers take this!

"Do you like it?" Jimin whispers, nuzzling you from behind.

"Like would definitely be an understatement," you breathe, eyes still glued to the overwhelming scenery. "You planned all of this?"

"More or less," he mutters, tenderly nudging you towards the grand bed. Taking the hint, you flop down on the soft mattress, immediately assuming your natural position of looking like a human starfish. The sheets feel too silky against your hands, almost as if you were undeserving of touching such a delicate object. But it's absolutely perfect.

"God, Jiminie, this is so romantic."

You giggle, reaching out for your boyfriend's hand to pull him onto the bed. He complies, lying right by your side with your hands intertwined. It's silent for a while as you drink in your surroundings, attempting to engrave everything into your memories.

Then: "I'm thinking..." Jimin murmurs, interrupting your own thoughts.

"Really?" you giggle. "Usually one thinks quietly," you tease, rubbing small circles on the back of Jimin's hand.

Your boyfriend pouts as he turns on his side to face you. "At least ask me what I was thinking about." How can you resist when he's looking at you like that?

"Alright, alright, what were you thinking about?"

"You."

"Well, I am the only one here, and—"

"How I want you," Jimin quickly interrupts, his voice low, husky and sultry.

You giggle, moving over to wrap your arms around your boyfriend and burying your face into his warm chest. "But I'm right here!" you protest.

"But Y/N, I need you..." Jimin whispers, slowly pushing you back while maintaining eye contact. His look reflects back to your perception, and you can see the burning desire in them. Your stomach drops low.

Oh.

That look, with all that burning desire. It's what most people would call bedroom eyes. You would've never thought you'd see them up close, in real life. But here you are.

"Do you want me too?" His voice brings chills down your spine, and you gulp.

"No... I need you," you answer softly.

Jimin grins, wrapping a secure arm around you as he moves in. You don't have a second to breathe as his lips engulf yours. He kisses you slowly and sensually, both of your lips pulling and pushing in sync.

It's just the right amount of love and lust.

And when his tongue finds its way into your mouth, the wet figure slightly grazing your lips, you let out a weak breath. Noticing, Jimin smiles against the kiss, pulling away slightly just to flip you over.

"Jimin!" you shriek as your back hits the soft mattress.

Your boyfriend just gives you a breathtaking smile before crawling on top of you. He waits until you impatiently tug on his collar, bringing him in for another intense kiss. In acknowledgment, Jimin lightly bites your bottom lip, then traces his tongue over the bitten mark to soothe it, leaving you writhing beneath him.

He seems to like your response, hand reaching up to tilt your chin slightly upwards, everso deepening the kiss. Your tongues battle for the long-desired dominance, but in your case, winning the competition (that even proceeds to continue in the bedroom).

But even so, everything's taken to leisure and behind every sensual action is love.

You don't want to pull away, you don't want it to stop. Yet you're human and you need some damn thing called oxygen. "Ah, fuck." You softly detach your mouth from Jimin's lips wet as you gasp for breath.

Jimin chuckles. "Already?"

Your face burns at the memory that had happened early senior year, back when you hadn't known you would fall in love with the man above you. But then it hits you. "Wait, really?!"

"No, Y/N," Jimin undertones, giving you a quick peck. "We're not fucking."

"Oh, good. 'Cause I—"

"We're making love."

"Oh." You pause. "Oh."

Jimin notices your hesitation, cupping your cheeks with his hands and he gazes lovingly into your eyes. "You can always tell me to stop."

"N-No. Don't stop. It's just... I'm... Well... Oh fuck it," you mumble the last part under your breath. "I'm a goddamn virgin, Jimin."

Your boyfriend nods. "I know, Y/N. We'll go slow. You know, with an extra side of immense love..." He pauses to see if you're comfortable, tucking in a strand of sweaty hair that clings onto your face behind your ear. "Make me stop when you want it to stop."

You can't help but nod, head reeling with all sorts of thoughts. Then, your legs turn to jelly as your boyfriend leans away to start unbuttoning his shirt. That little shit. He's doing it tantalizingly slow, making sure you get ever glimpse of his smooth, toned muscles. His eyes never leave yours, even when he's lingeringly inching his shirt down, revealing more and more skin.

You think you might go crazy.

"You've seen me shirtless before." Jimin has a proud grin etched on his face, seemingly proud that you're admiring his body in awe.

You sigh quickly, averting your eyes for your own innocence. "Yeah, but not in bed," you mutter.

Your boyfriend chuckles lowly, rushing in to meet your lips. "There's a first time for everything," he breathes heavily against your mouth. You'd normally nod your head in agreement but your thoughts are a bit occupied at the moment. Especially when Jimin's hands are tugging at the hem of your blouse. "Can I?" he murmurs.

Oh god.

You nod weakly, watching as Jimin carefully starts unbuttoning your blouse. He gingerly slides the silky material off of your shoulders, flinging it behind his back afterward. Instinctively, you cross your arms over your bare stomach, averting your eyes off to the dark ocean waters as Jimin's warm hands tenderly dance across your shoulders. It feels so embarrassing to be half-naked in front of someone—even if you're madly in love with the man.

Your boyfriend notices, smiling warmly at you as he pecks your cheek. "Hey, hey, don't be embarrassed. You're beautiful to me no matter what. Don't hide yourself."

"Sorry, I just..." you trail off as you make eye contact with Jimin, cheeks tinging pink. "I have no fucking idea what I'm doing."

Jimin laughs. "No one ever does when they're thinking too much of it. Just go with the flow, don't think. Your mind might not know, but your body does; let that guide you..." His sultry voice does wonders. You don't understand how it's possible to have become weaker than you were before.

Goddamn.

You shock yourself when you tug Jimin back in, his lips crashing down on yours. He groans against the contact, hands fluttering south to graze against his belt. Your stomach drops low. Damn. It's really happening.

"You good?" Jimin mutters against your lips. "Too fast?"

You shake your head. "No it's good," you breathe, gripping his arm as his fingers work to unbuckle the belt. Time seems to slow down as he slips the black band from his jeans, tossing it off the bed.

You can hear your own heavy pants, and gasp when you feel something hot graze against your jeans.

"Sorry, I—" Jimin stutters, shifting above you. But that only makes his (god forbid) boner dig into your inner thigh. Quite unholily.

"O-Oh my god," you stutter as Jimin buries his face into the crevice of your neck. "Park Jimin, your thing inflated." You giggle slightly, cheeks heating up as you feel it chafe against your jeans. "Just thought you ought to know."

Your boyfriend grunts, pouting against your neck. "I'm aware," he says softly, shifting weight from his right to his left, making you groan.

"Let's just... continue," you choke out as Jimin has a shit-eating grin on his face above you.

And just like that, Jimin helps you peel the remaining clothing off of each other. (Somehow he miraculously unhooks your bra faster than you ever could.)

You'd say it would be awkward, but it's anything but. Yet your face still burns red and your eyes keep trailing off to look at the ocean. It's not awkward but you feel so bare. You're not cold at all, especially not when Jimin's holding you so close. But you feel... shy. That's the word. You feel shy.

And it's almost as if Jimin can read your mind. "Hey, Y/N, you don't have to be so shy." He leans in, leaving a chaste kiss to the shell of your ear.

You let out a little whine, hands reaching up to cover up your face. "I'm not being shy," you argue. "I dunno. I'm just... I don't know. If you told me we were going to do the deed, I would've taken a longer shower." You pout behind your hands.

"Y/N!" Jimin laughs. "I love you, no matter how much you smell," he says, kissing your exposed forehead as he sniffles his nose to take in your scent. "And you only smell like a delicious meal to me."

You make a face, rolling your eyes from under your palms.

"Aw, c'mon, show me your beautiful face," Jimin coaxes, his sultry voice replaced with bubbly teasing as his warm hands attempt to separate yours from your face.

You huff. "I don't see where you see the beauty," you mutter, finally giving in and uncovering your face. Jimin immediately peppers your face with light kisses.

"What do you mean? I see beauty everywhere," Jimin chuckles, fingers grazing over your collarbone. "And by everywhere, I mean, everywhere," he whispers hotly in your ear, emphasizing the last word. You flush, suddenly feeling the urge to cover up your chest, but you remember you're in safe, loving hands. "Hey," Jimin calls, his fingers running through your hair, "you ready?"

"I... uh..." Your brain turns into mush at that absolute moment. It's a simple yes or no question, but your mind goes blank, and you utter something completely else. "Wait, is it going to hurt?"

Jimin chuckles, raising a cocky brow. "Well, that depends on how much you can take me."

Your eyes enlarge and you almost choke on your own breath. "Damn. I think I just got unaroused."

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, though a smile peeks out from his lips. You feel the heat of his body lift from you as he slightly pulls away to reach for something on the elegant nightstand. Looking at him with questioning eyes, you wordlessly ask what he was doing.

"Condom," he answers, hands fumbling with the wrapper. You quickly avert your eyes, almost feeling the need to give Jimin some privacy as he deals with the protection. When he's finished, he slowly crawls back onto you, legs on both sides of your body. "Hey," he breathes, running a soft finger over your cheek, "trust me, alright? Don't be nervous, Y/N. I'll be right here the whole time."

You nod, reaching for his hands. He gladly gives them to you, and the two of you interlock both of your hands by each side of your head. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath escaping from his lips and caressing your pink cheeks.

"I love you, Y/N," Jimin whispers.

If you thought you knew what love looked like before, you were wrong. This. This look is the embodiment of love. How his eyes are slightly hooded from sexual desire, but how they also glisten brightly with all the adoration in the world. It's the look that speaks a million words. A look to say, 'I can't tell you my love enough, so I must show you.'

It's not that he was going to make love. No, with that look, he wants to give love with you. And you're not one to oppose.

Your eyes can't leave Jimin's, savoring the intimate feeling with him and the last moments of what some people might say your purity. "You and me both," you finally manage to breathe.

Jimin gives you a tender smile, hands still tightly intertwined with yours. And with that, your bodies are one.

You gasp from the foreign feeling, toes curling and head throwing back. Your hands subconsciously grip onto Jimin's and he grunts. "Good?"

"O-Oh god, y-yeah," you breathe shakily, closing your eyes as your lips part involuntarily.

You've never been this physically close with another human being. No one's ever gotten permission from you to invade your space so literally, either. But it's this moment in time where you're in pure bliss. Every movement, every breath, every warm pant that falls from both of your lips is euphoric, making up the utopian world you live in every time you're with your love.

And once it all ends and you're cleaned up, Jimin takes you by his side, cuddling you like there's no tomorrow.

"You know," he whispers sleepily in your ear, breath tickling your baby hairs. He kisses the back of your neck as you snuggle up against him, naked back touching his warm chest. "It was my first time tonight too."

You turn your head in shock, then finding your lips inches away from his. "What?" you whisper back.

"Mhm," Jimin hums, pecking your lips and intertwining his bare legs with yours. "First time making love, that is."

It only takes one statement for your mind to flash back to the pleasurable moments you'd shared with your boyfriend. How the once quiet room had become a chamber blossoming with pants, moans and little whispers of endearment. You remember the eyes that Jimin had look at you throughout the night. They had reflected all of your love for him straight back to you. That was the moment when you had known. That was when you'd truly realized this form of unadulterated love was new to your boyfriend as well. Both of you would find your way through the twists and turns of the maze that follows any true relationship, together.

The thought keeps you at peace.

24 is an age you never thought you'd reach.

It's an age old enough to make important decisions. But also an age young enough to get away with doing dumb shit.

You've lived for 24 years. Okay well, 24 years and 220 days to be exact (that's counting 6 leap days). Which is approximately 295.26 months. About 1283 weeks and 5 days. Then 8986 days. Fuck, you're old.

24's the age Jimin was when he met you, therefore it was deemed a magical age and number. Some days you agree with that, some days you don't.

Today though, you full-heartedly agree.

Jimin intertwines his hand with yours, rubbing small circles on the back of it — just the way you like. His strides equal yours, making sure he's walking right next to you, never faster, never slower. He's also wearing an all-black outfit, something that you've mentioned your love for countless times.

And you had left the house together, deciding to walk to the theater to watch Jin's newest play. Your cousin had saved both of you a special seat "on the house," and you were honestly excited to be able to support your cousin (to repay back all the support he had given you in your angsty teen years).

"So, what do you think, Y/N?" Jimin asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Hm?"

"The proof I was talking about for the last ten minutes. Think it's alright to give to my students during winter break?"

"Oh god," you sigh. "I don't know... Nothing screams satanic hell than a five-page double-sided proof. Especially during winter vacation." You look at Jimin for support, squeezing his hand. "You and your students can use a break, you know. Besides, if you assign a five-page proof, you'll have to grade it, and I'm not helping you with that anymore."

"Yeah but —"

"Jiminie, they're college kids. They need to have time to go to parties as much as you need time to hang out with me!" you pout, leaning into your boyfriend convincingly. "Besides, college is stressful as hell."

"Damn." Jimin shakes his head, chuckling. "Ever since you got a job, you act like you have the answer to everything!"

"Oh yeah? Well ever since you became a college professor, you've been giving me less attention!" You swing your linked hands back and forth, grinning wildly. "And for the record, I've always acted like I had the answer to everything."

Jimin scoffs, a teasing smile spreading across his face. "Fine. Whatever, but ever since you turned 24, you think you need all the attention in the world!"

"Mhm, yes, sure. But you're just working way harder because you know I make more money than you." You stick out your tongue at your boyfriend. A childish play, but something you know for a fact that Jimin finds absolutely adorable. "Wanna know the exact math? Twenty-one thousand, three hundred and ten more bucks!"

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes. "Y/N, we've gone over this. We share a bank account, therefore we don't need to compete over our salaries."

You huff, slipping your hand away from Jimin's grip to cross your arms disapprovingly. "That's what the lesser money-maker always says but whatever, I gotchu."

"Y/N..." Jimin warns.

God. You know that voice. You know that voice very well. It's the "shut up right now or I'll punish you in the bedroom" voice. And you don't plan on being dominated today, thank you very much.

"Okay, okay," you sigh, playing with the ends of your hair. "I guess I went too far."

"You guess?"

You scoff. "Okay, fine. I know. Feel happy now, Professor?"

Dom-Jimin is replaced with the smiley boyfriend that you know well. "Just call me Jimin, Y/N... Unless you're okay with some role-playing when we get back home."

He whispers the last part in your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand tall. "Jimin!" you shriek, slapping your boyfriend's shoulder in shock. "You're not supposed to talk about that... that kind of stuff in public!"

But Jimin's all smiles as he links arms with you, marching you towards the theater.

"What the fuck??" you announce as you march out of the theater still dazed from what you had just witnessed.

"I know," Jimin agrees, shaking his head in disbelief. "Jin did us so fucking dirty."

"I just can't believe he made a whole ass play about us!" you exclaim, throwing up your hands. Passerbys are giving you strange looks but at age 24, you don't give a fuck. "Illegal Love my ass."

"But you've got to admit, people really digged the teacher-student romance," Jimin whispers in your ear, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Who wouldn't? It's the sexiest kink out there."

You flush red, swatting Jimin's arm away. "That's subjective, Professor," you mutter under your breath. "Besides, you and I both know you're only saying that to get in my pants tonight."

"I'd be lying if I said no, Miss Y/N."

Now you know it's gonna be a fun night. 24's the magical age alright.

At least you think it is.

—previous | next (second book of ly trilogy masterpost)

—masterlist

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin imagine #bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fluff #jimin angst #teacher au #jimin crack #jimin fanfic #illegirl

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missaudreyhorney · 4 years

Text

Little Magnum

Anon requested the idea of adopting a puppy with Jim Hopper and who am I to say no to something so fluffy and adorable? Major help was provided by chiefharbour here on Tumblr, plus harboursouce and hideloveaway on Instagram.

1.9k words of self-indulgent silliness and mentions of other ST characters.

Your friend’s dog escaped from her yard about 5 months ago and had herself a wild night on the town, getting pregnant with a litter of mixed-breed puppies. Most of them had been given out to different families but there was one pup left, a little boy with white patches on his honey-colored fur. El had subtly mentioned to you that she’d never had a pet before and you wanted so badly to get her one, as it would make her time alone at the cabin a lot less boring and isolating. There was just one last obstacle and his name was Jim Hopper.

Since he speaks very little about his childhood, you had no idea if Hopper ever had a dog before, or even any type of pet at all. Based upon the little he has told you, it was easy to assume that if he ever had a dog, it was strictly for hunting and probably slept outside or in a shed. That’s not the way you grew up though. You’ve always had pets and they’ve always been like family to you. You knew it was going to be hard to sell him on the idea of getting a puppy, but that’s why you had your strategy well planned out. All you had to do was tell Hop that the two of you were going to visit a friend of yours and once he saw the dog himself, he wouldn’t need much convincing.

On a Friday after work, he picked you up and drove you over to Jill’s house. As Hopper entered her living room, his eyes immediately went to the dog. He walked over to it and crouched down onto one knee. “What’s up, little guy?” he said, letting it smell his hand before he pet it. The puppy lavished the back of his hand with endless licks, causing Hopper to chuckle. This was easily the happiest you’d seen him in weeks, if not months. Within the first thirty seconds of him interacting with the dog, you could already sense a connection being made. He talked to it in a tone of voice that you’d never heard before. “You got sharp little teeth, don’t ya, boy?” The puppy rolled onto it’s back and Hopper rubbed its belly. “Yes, you do! Yes, you do.” You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. This was the first time you’d ever seen him act this way.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” you asked. “Yeah, he’s adorable. How old is he?” “Nine weeks,” Jill answered. “You’re just a baby, huh?” Hopper cooed at the dog while you and Jill exchanged a knowing look. “The vet said that’s a perfect age for them to find a new home.” He didn’t react, he just kept playing with the puppy. “You hear that, Hop?” “Yeah...” he answered slowly.

All the humor and happiness drained from his face as he connected the dots. “No,” he replied simply. “What do you mean? ‘No’ what?” you feigned ignorance. “Absolutely not,” he continued with a stern expression. You glanced over at Jill on the couch as she drank her Tab and minded her own business.

“Can you excuse us?’ Hopper asked in his most charming voice. “We’re just gonna go outside for a minute.” Jill nodded, “Sure thing, hon.” The two of you left and stood on her porch. Smiling up at him expectantly, you took one of his hands in yours. “We’re not getting a dog,” he told you flatly, “especially not a puppy.” Your shoulders drooped with disappointment. “Why not?” you whined. “Because I said so,” he stated calmly. “That’s not fair,” you whined again.

“I don’t care if it’s fair. I work long hours, and when I get home, I need to be able to relax. I don’t have time to be chasing after a little dog, making sure it’s not chewing everything up.”

“Come on, Hop,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll take care of it. You’ll still be able to relax.” You held both of his hands in yours. “Dogs are a man’s best friend, remember? You can do some male bonding together. He’ll be like the son you never had.” Hopper rolled his eyes at you dramatically, knowing you were laying it on extra thick to persuade him.

“What about El? I’ve never seen her interact with a dog, what if she’s scared of them?” “She’s fine with it,” you said matter of factly. “What do you mean ‘she’s fine with it’? How do you know?” his voice went up with a tinge of anger. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her we’re getting a dog. She just dropped a few hints to me before about not having a pet, so when Trixie got pregnant, I asked El what she thought about dogs and she told me she got along great with Will’s before it ran away.” You regretted saying those words as soon as they escaped your mouth. He wasn’t supposed to know that this was a setup.

Hopper took a step forward, his body closer to yours, his beautiful blue eyes glared down at you. “You little brat,” he scolded playfully, “you planned this all behind my back, didn’t you?” You pressed your top and bottom lips together tightly to suppress a smile. “You probably already have a name picked too.” You burst into a fit of giggles. “Magnum,” you declared. “Magnum,” he repeated with a chuckle and scrubbed his large hand over his face.

Determined and unfazed, you continued your pitch. “I wish you could have seen yourself in there. The way your face lit up. Can you imagine the look on El’s face if we bring home this puppy? Can you imagine how happy and surprised she’ll be?”

He gave a heavy sigh as a slow smile spread across his rugged features. “Alright,” Hopper said decisively. ”Let’s go back inside and get Magnum P-U-P.” You ignored his terrible dad joke like you often do. “Really? Are you sure?” you inquired as he opened the screen door. “I think my mind’s already been made up for me,” he replied. “You’re right. It has,” you stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek before you entered the house again.

As soon as the door opened, the dog ran to him and he scooped it up into his arms. “Guess what, little guy? You’re coming home with us.” The puppy licked Hopper’s face, almost appreciatively as if it understood what was going on. You couldn’t have been any happier if you tried. As the vigorous licking continued, he scrunched up his face. “Okay, that’s enough,” Hopper laughed then handed you the dog.

“I’m so glad you’re taking the little terror off my hands,” Jill joked as she gave half a bag of puppy food to Hop. He shot you a regretful look that you pretended to ignore. “We’re glad too, aren’t we?” you suggested and he rolled his eyes at you. “Yes,” he answered, his look of annoyance fading into a genuine smile. The three of you left in the Blazer and drove straight to the feed store to get a collar, leash, and new bag of puppy food.

In the month that has passed since then, things have been somewhat chaotic, with Magnum living up to his reputation as a terror. Every other word out of Hopper’s mouth seems to be “Magnum!” as he is constantly reprimanding the dog for something or other. Usually for tinkling in the house, as all puppies his age do. You’ve basically having to train them both; the dog to go outside, and Hop to take him out on the leash instead of letting him just roam around the woods by himself.

The puppy barks his tiny head off whenever Mike comes over, growling and even biting the boy if he tries to pet him. It’s the only bad behavior that Hopper actively encourages from the dog. Other than the unexplained animosity towards her boyfriend, El and Magnum get along swimmingly, with him being at his most calm when he’s around her, frequently sitting on her lap as they watch tv together. It’s probably because of the bacon you’ve caught her slipping to him during breakfast.

One of Magnum’s worst habits is that he’s a sock thief. Not just any socks though, they have to be Hopper’s. He ignores any that belong to you or El, as if he’s a sock connoisseur and those just aren’t up to snuff. You’ve found them hidden all over the cabin, though they’re most often under the bed or in between the couch cushions. While he is content with stealing them off the floor, his favorite method of theft is to take them directly off of Hopper’s feet. He bites the end and shakes his little head back and forth until they’re wiggled and yanked all the way off. Sometimes Hop gets mad, especially when the puppy accidentally nips his toes, but a lot of the time he allows it to happen because it’s just so stinking cute to watch.

For as much as Hopper complains about the dog, you know it’s just a facade. You keep finding empty bags of treats on the counter. On multiple occasions, you have arrived home to see that he’s been given a new chew toy. You’ve come across Polaroids not only of Magnum by himself, usually in those seemingly rare moments of slumber, but also of Hopper holding the puppy on his shoulder. The last time you were at the station, you caught him showing some of them to Flo as if they were baby pictures. The thing that truly cemented his love for the dog was the sight you discovered tonight.

You having to work on the weekend and El spending all day at the Wheeler’s house left Hop and Magnum alone by themselves. When your shift is over, you almost dread going back to the cabin, having no idea what type of disaster you’re going to be coming home to. As you unlock the front door, it’s eerily quiet inside, so quiet that it causes you to become concerned. There doesn’t appear to be any disaster at all when you walk in, which would be a relief if it wasn’t so far out of the ordinary.

“Hop?” you call out as you put your things down by the door. “Hopper?” you repeat a moment later and a bit louder when there’s no answer. A feeling of worry growing in your belly, you creep over to the bedroom and slowly move the curtain. Stealthily peeking your head inside, your mouth instantly curls into a smile. Sprawled on the bed is all six feet and three inches of Chief Jim Hopper snuggling with tiny little Magnum as they’re both fast asleep.

The sight not only puts your mind at ease but warms your heart. Up until now, Hopper hasn’t allowed Magnum to sleep on the bed, instead having him sleep on an area rug with a baby blanket on the floor. You almost want to take a picture, if not for your own sake, for the sake of hearing what Powell and Callahan would say. You refrain, however, knowing that the flash would likely disturb their rest. Instead, you slip into your pajamas and curl up in bed with your two favorite guys, feeling so grateful for the little family you have created.

#Jim Hopper drabble #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #Hopper x Reader #Hopper x You #jim hopper fluff #PURE FLUFF #soft Jim Hopper #jim hopper fanfiction #gender neutral reader #I did it #Little Magnum

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poisonedapples · 4 years

Text

The Dark Side of Christmas

Summary: Christmas is known as the happiest, most welcoming time of year. But when you’re Roman, that’s not always the case.

TRIGGERS: Roman has PTSD but it’s not stated by name in the fic, fighting, swearing, mentions of past shootings, mention of a car accident/explosion, blood. panic, past death and grieving, mental health problems, anxiety, dissociation and flashbacks, Christmas, tell me if you notice any more, cause this one has a lot

Note: HAPPY LATE HOLIDAY! This was supposed to be done by Christmas, but this month has Sucked so I’m using that as my excuse. My friend @theultimatemomfriend was my secret santa for something I did in the Powerless server, so here is your gift mixed with my own self indulgence! Hope you like it <3

But also , thank you to @romansleftshoulderpad and @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 for saving me some time and editing it for me. I appreciate you two

He was driving in a car.

She was screaming at him at the top of her lungs, all about how he was a failure, couldn’t do simple things, is only a disappointment to everyone that’s ever known him. The screaming was like a concert speaker right next to his ear; loud, loud, loud.

He couldn’t steer in these conditions. Not with a rocky road that bent in so many directions, a skinny single lane on a cliff with traffic cones instead of a protective railing. His foot was all the way on the brake, yet the car was speeding down the road faster than he’s ever driven before. The tires were screeching. She was still yelling.

It’s so loud.

She jumped on top of him suddenly, grabbing a hold of his neck with her long nails digging into his throat. Everything burned, he couldn’t breathe, and no one was steering the car anymore.

It’s so loud.

High pitched screeching echoed from nowhere. She was still screaming in his ear while his neck fell asleep, desperately trying to pull away her hand in order to breathe.

You’re going to die.

The car fell down the cliff. Completely on its side, such a smooth yet loud fall, the car came crashing into the woods under it, fire consuming his sight and all of his brain, the loud crash coming to a complete, deafening silence after an overwhelming boom.

Roman’s body jerked awake.

He scrunched up his shoulders to immediately cover the tingling part of his neck where he was being strangled in his dream. His mind was foggy while his body felt ready to run a marathon, heart beating fast and every inch of his skin shaking violently. Roman curled into a ball trying to calm down in the pitch black room, to no avail.

Phone. Phone. Phone has light, where’s my phone-

Roman’s Rapunzel figure on his bedside table crashed to the floor from his lack of coordination, pretty stones meant for healing and love moving out of their places and into undusted territory. Roman dropped his phone on his chest once he grabbed it but was only grateful it didn’t hit the floor this time, turning on the bright screen and blinding his eyes.

It was better than the darkness.

5:48 AM, his clock said, the lock screen blurry-looking because of Roman’s unfocused eyes and the tears pricking out certainly not helping. But he could tell there were no notifications over the night.

It’s always weird when he has to delete the Instagram app. His phone doesn’t buzz nearly as much without it.

He unlocked his phone and opened up one of his word puzzle game apps. Although it pained him to admit that Logan was right, lighthearted thinking games helped him on nights like these. Where all he needed was to calm down, but no people were around to help him with that.

As the game loaded and he was wondering what words to make with the letters F, I, G, U, E, and R, Roman clung tightly to his giant stuffed animal Magic Bitch the Queen, a rainbow pegacorn that was perfect for squishing. The name only made it better. Weirdly more calming.

Things were calming down. He definitely won’t be able to go back to sleep tonight, but given the date it was a miracle he felt as calm as he did—

“Virgil, quiet down-”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!”

“Virgil!”

...Nevermind.

Roman curled in on himself at the sound of the yelling. He hated fighting. He hated it with a burning passion, loud noises made him jump out of his skin and it was only worse when it was them yelling. They’re usually a lot more calm when Roman is around, but sometimes things just...got out of hand.

This was one of those times.

“This bitch thinks he can just walk in here and act like he owns the damn place! Well newsflash fucker, you’re not the only person who cares about Roman! Stop acting like you can fucking control him!”

“I’m not controlling him! Is it a crime for me to want to care about my own brother!? Last time I checked, you’re not family!”

“Remus-“

“Oh cram it, calculator watch!”

“Go fuck yourself, you walking STD!”

“Virgil Foster! If you end up waking Roman, I swear-”

Patton paused mid sentence when he saw the figure standing in the middle of the steps. Everyone looked over at Roman, his hand fiddling with the end of his sleeve and way too tired eyes. His posture a little too straight, smile so dead it was hardly a smile at all. “It’s alright, Pat. I was awake anyway.”

“I assume another nightmare?” Logan asked.

Roman went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Filling it with milk until it was overflowing, Roman smiled. “You know me so well.”

Patton’s face grew concerned while he chugged some of the milk, Remus crossing his arms and glaring at Virgil. “You wouldn’t be having these problems if you’d stayed at my place instead of this dump.”

“This dump is our home, trash panda. Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Ironic.” Remus towered over Virgil with his hands on his hips when he stepped closer, Virgil hissing when he got too close. “All I’m saying is that isn’t it better for Roman to be with family who can help, instead of stuck in the same place that caused all this in the first place? With people who don’t even understand?”

“You know that I’m here, right? That I can hear you talking about me? Cause I can hear you talking about me.”

“Or maybe he needs to be around family that actually cares instead of being around the same deadbeat bastard who only comes visit to be the same pile of dog shit he makes everyone step in!”

Patton sighed. “Virgil, please stop. Can we please just go back to bed? Without all the fighting?”

The looks on Remus’ face was too taunting. Blood boiled in Virgil’s veins from three weeks of dirty glares at each other while he watched his best friend curl around him for comfort instead of anyone else. The cockiness of him trying to take Roman off to Florida for the holiday, like he was the only one who cared. He hated his stupid gross smile and how Roman snickered at his dirty jokes, he hated how he was genuinely helping and how useless their help was.

How threatening this bitch actually made him feel. But Virgil refused to lose.

“I’ll go to bed when this bitch stops acting like he can walk into my fucking house and act like he owns the fucking place! Eat my food, use my water, and steal my fucking friend because apparently this human embodiment of the feeling you get right before you fucking projectile vomit is the reincarnation of Christ!”

“Virgil!”

“And I’ll go to bed when this ‘Roman’s my best friend’ wannabe stops getting in between my family because his self esteem’s so low in the ground that sharks can have sex on it!”

“Fuck you!”

“JUST SHUT UP!”

Everyone paused when Roman screamed, his hand too weak to hold onto his glass and his hands shaking too hard to fiddle with the end of his sleeve anymore. His eyes were glassy and his chest felt like it was caving in on itself, with evil butterflies chewing apart his ribs and leaving hollow discomfort. Patton’s eyes went soft as he slowly approached Roman, keeping a loose grip on his hand and saying something to him that Roman wasn’t listening to in order to calm him down. But he was just tired. So tired. Tired of the yelling and the fear and the everything that he just wanted to get away.

So he did.

“Roman?” It was all he’d heard from Pat even after all his talking, but Roman still decided to ignore it. He quickly slipped on some shoes and grabbed his coat from the closet, opening the front door without another word.

Patton’s eyes widened when he realized what was happening. “Roman, wait-“

But just like that, the door had slammed behind him and he was making his way down the street.

He could already see his therapist’s “I don’t get paid enough for the shit you put me through” face when he eventually talks about this, but that was future Roman’s problem.

...He still had no clue where he was going.

That was always the worst part about Roman’s “run away from your problems” habit. He never had any plan. He could end up three towns over, he could end up across the street. In one of the first incidents, he ended up at a McDonald’s right on the outskirts of the state and fell asleep in the bathroom stall. When he called Logan and told him where he was, it was an hour drive to come get him since they didn’t trust him to drive back in his state. That’s why they first started looking for a therapist for him.

He wished he had his car this time. Walking around in freezing weather with pajama pants is cold.

Roman made his way down the hill where the house was to head downtown, where a good handful of stores were open at every time of day. He needed the heat.

“Eileen, you will pay for making me lose my beauty sleep.”

“You’ll be okay. It wasn’t working for you anyway.”

“...Hey!”

...And the distraction.

It was at 11:30 when Ellie woke him up. Dragging him out of bed and making him help her “sneak” out—if you could call going through the front door sneaking—, they ended up in a supermarket at around midnight on Christmas Eve.

“I got Remus this giant ass octopus stuffed animal that was literally like ninety dollars, but I need a gag gift for him. Something completely and utterly stupid, and I need you to help me look for it. So I can go home sooner.”

“A giant octopus isn’t a gag gift to you?”

“He’ll love it and you know it.”

“...Touche. Maybe just get him toilet paper?”

“Too enjoyable. Too useful. He’ll set the rolls on fire in the backyard or something.”

“...Nevermind then!”

The first store Roman found with its lights still on was a small convenience store next to a gas station. His legs were starting to get slow from the cold, teeth chattering slightly with his arms tucked close to his body like a penguin.

Roman went inside.

“Oh my God, Roman, it’s perfect.”

“What is it?”

“‘Maybe you touched your balls’ hand sanitizer. I’m getting five.”

Roman tried not to laugh too hard, especially when the store was so quiet at this hour, but he couldn’t help it. With slight sleep deprivation and the look on his sister’s face, Roman burst out a laugh and gave Ellie a lazy push. Ellie took five of the hand sanitizers and piled them in her hands, making their way toward the checkout.

Alone in a store on the night of Christmas Eve.

Roman didn’t want to think about it, but then again, he never did. And every time he focused on one thing, half of his brain was still on his sister.

His throat felt weird.

“I’m dreaming of a white...christmas…”

Ellie was basically skipping on her way to the checkout. She loved old Christmas songs, and not being able to resist the temptation to perform must be another “Sanders Siblings” thing.

Roman was staring at the chip aisle when his chest started to expand, his hands growing weak and absolute fear taking over. Why was breathing so hard? What is it now?

His eyes became glassy again, his vision becoming more distant and distorted until he couldn’t tell what he was looking at. But his ears seemed to focus on something else. Something so distant but close at the same time, ringing in his ears while he felt like he was looking through a TV screen.

“And since we’ve no place to go...let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…”

Fuck. Shit. Roman started fumbling in his pockets for earbuds, but in his haste to leave the house, they were forgotten in his room. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He could hear the silence of the store, but in the back of his brain he could feel the sound of gunshots.

“He’s alive, but he’s been hit around five times. Get him in the ambulance.”

He knew there wasn’t hands on him. He knew there wasn’t any blood, his or otherwise, on the floor. But it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

“Duck!”

There was no figure that caught Roman’s eye as they made their way to checkout. There was no moment of adrenaline as he tried to cover his sister, ducking for cover while people walking down the street also screamed. There was no glass breaking. There was no shots of pain as he realized the blood on the floor was his. There was no noise. No screaming. No sirens or commands being shouted or deafening silence that made Roman want to scream. It didn’t exist.

But it didn’t feel like it.

He didn’t know how to work his limbs, his body felt fake and his vision was just a TV screen looking at a world that felt anything but real. His ribs felt like they should be in pain for more than just his shaky breaths and his back should be cold from the hard floor instead of being supported by a cooler door.

What was the pattern again? Three things you can hear—wait, no, fuck, what was it? What was it?

There was blood going through his jacket and blood on his fingers. His thumb was cut from a piece of glass and he couldn’t move off the floor. As tight as he could, he kept a grip on his older sister. The hand sanitizers had sprawled out across the floor, the hands that were holding them now lied lifeless in Roman’s grip.

Roman heard something. More than the music, that stupid fucking music, but he could focus. He wanted to cough until he could breathe again, he wanted to be here, without a single doubt that history can't repeat itself. But trauma doesn’t work that way.

Shooting down on Taft Avenue. Four injured, one dead.

“Roman, hey, it’s just me, it’s just Virgil—shit, hey, it’s alright, focus on me. Let me get you out of here, okay? God you’re heavy, okay-”

It’s Virgil. It’s just Virgil. No Ellie, Ellie’s dead, Ellie’s been dead, it’s just Virgil, he’s here.

Thank God.

“Here, just listen to this for a bit. You’re the reason I have a Disney playlist, I hope you know that.”

They were in a car now. Roman could feel the pressure of Virgil’s bulky headphones on his ears, as well as the start up to Tiana’s “Almost There”, even if his hands he was staring at still didn’t feel like his own. The explosion in his chest lessened some, even if his breaths were still short and it was a miracle he wasn’t sobbing yet.

Virgil moved one of the ends of the headphones to the side. “Feeling a little better?”

Talking took so much energy, way too much energy, but he’d worried Virgil enough for one day. “...Yeah…”

“Do you need the volume turned down?”

“...Maybe.”

The music got a little quieter, and Roman felt his body relax a little more. He didn’t even realize it was overwhelming him.

“Alright...now, five things you can see?”

“Virge-“

“Five things you can see, fucker, let me help you.”

Roman let out a huff of a laugh, but looked around anyway. “Uh...you, carseat, wheel...um...the thing…”

“Thing?” Virgil looked around. “...You mean glove compartment?”

“...Yeah, that.”

“Okay, one more.”

“...Coat?”

“Alright, four things you can hear?”

“Music, heater, uh...I don’t know…”

“Can you hear me?”

“...Now I can.”

Virgil laughed. “That’s good enough, I’ll take three. Three things you can touch?”

“...Headphones, coat, seat.”

“Alright, good...two things to smell?”

Blood. “Pat’s air freshener, and the fact that you haven’t showered.”

Virgil lightly punched him in the arm, Roman letting out a small laugh through a shaky smile. “And I bet what you’re tasting is the fact that you haven’t brushed your teeth.”

“...I did not come here to get roasted.”

Virgil shook his head in amused disappointment at him, but started the car and put it in reverse. Roman sighed, looking out the window at the soft snowflakes and lights on houses that made his stomach curl. He hated this holiday. All it did was bring back bad memories, every corner surrounded in his triggers and nightmares increasing tenfold with the stress. He wanted to go home. He didn’t know where home was.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Roman looked over at Virgil, with his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel as he tapped nervously. Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Do you want to? I heard you and Remus.”

“This isn’t about me, it’s fine.”

“You’re my best friend and he’s my brother. It involves me too.”

Virgil didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the road intently, and Roman wondered if he should just put the headphones back on his ear and let that be that. But he really didn’t want them to keep fighting, so it’s better to at least make an attempt, right?

Roman put the headphones around his neck. “We were buying his gift.”

“What?”

“The night Ellie died. Her and Remus had a little tradition of getting each other a gift and a gag gift. The older we got, the more inappropriate they became, which was very ‘them’, in all honesty. She had forgotten to get it earlier though, so she took me to the store at midnight on Christmas Eve so we could pick something out. And that’s when the shooting happened.

Virgil didn’t react, but Roman gave him a tired smile. “I’m fairly certain that’s why he gets so protective. He feels like he caused it somehow, so he tries to solve all my problems on his own. It’s sweet in its own way.”

Virgil hit the break roughly at a stop sign. “Well now I feel like an asshole.”

“...You were a little bit of a bitch. But I don’t blame you, since so was he.”

“I just wanna help you too, you know? I get it, he’s your brother and all that shit, but he’s not the only person who cares about you, so he can back the fuck off. Especially when he’s spending time in my fucking house.”

“You say that like three other people don’t pay rent.”

“It’s my house when it’s convienent to my argument, fuck off.”

Roman laughed, Virgil taking a turn to a stoplight and waiting. “I just want you two to work things out. We can talk once I go home, take my meds, and at least sleep for two hours.”

“Only two hours? You’re starting to become me, Princey.”

“It’s an anxiety disorder buddies thing.”

“Fuck yeah, anxiety disorder buddies. Who can’t wait for therapy to start up again.”

Roman pumped a fist up lazily. “Next thursday!”

“Next thursday mother fucker!”

They both started to laugh, the soft glow of the read light and the headlights of passing cars being strangely calming. Roman’s eyes felt so heavy, the glassy tears he still had sealing his eyelids together like glue. “Wake me up when we get there.” He mumbled.

“And if you have another nightmare?”

“We get there when we get there.”

Roman heard one last soft laugh before his body went still. He wasn’t completely peaceful, but at least he was sleeping. It would be enough for now.

Virgil didn’t wake him up when they got home. It took both him and Remus to be able to carry him inside, but they managed to do it without waking him up permanently. He moved, but at least he managed to sleep some.

When he wakes up, they’ll fuss at him for running away and Patton will hug him close for Roman’s comfort and his own. He’ll make Remus and Virgil talk peacefully about each other without too much complaining until they can at least stand to be in the same room as each other. Then when things are calm, the brothers will cry when they remember the date, and Patton will give them blankets and hugs while the other two stand around a little awkwardly until it’s lunch time. Neither of them will eat much, but leftovers exist for a reason. They’ll be taken care of.

But for now, Roman will sleep.

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j-hawthorn · 3 years

Text

Books and Bubble Baths: Chapter 3

(Find this chapter and my other work on AO3 here! )

It was so easy for Crowley to sow little seeds of evil in the world. And the fact they were able to do so while getting breakfast for their angel was an added bonus. They held an impeccably wrapped package in their arms – a package they had forced the shop staff wrap, then pull apart only to wrap again until it was perfect. It had to be, Crowley wouldn’t allow a half-arsed gift for their angel. You don’t get shown that GOOD of a time and NOT at least buy the person some pastries!

They’d woken up a tangled mess. Arms and legs and huge wings splayed and curled together with their angel. They’d never done that – woken up with the heat of another person. They also hadn’t seen their angel sleep in...forever. Crowley had stayed with him, watching the rise and fall of his soft tummy, his arms curled to his chest. His cheek had smushed against Crowley’s shoulder, giving him an off centre pout.

Crowley eventually crawled out of the bed, legs wobbling. Naked and still fizzing from the night before, they’d snuck into the ensuite. They showered, stole some of Angel’s perfume and examined themself in the mirror. They hadn’t looked any different. Part of them had wondered if there would be something new about them, but there wasn’t – aside from the marks along their neck from their angel’s hungry little mouth. Crowley touched one gently, and smirked. That had certainly been something. While they could easily alter their form and make the marks disappear, they didn’t. Keeping them made everything more real, they couldn’t pretend the night before was just a very realistic dirty dream – it was real, and their angel had claimed them as his.

They had dressed in a tight (and short) black dress, black stockings and black knee high snakeskin boots with dangerously thin heels. With a wispy red scarf tied at their throat (just because they wanted to keep the marks didn’t mean they wanted anyone else to look at their horny little secret) and hair pulled back into two messy buns on either side of their head they slunk out of the shop. Stiletto heels clicked menacingly on the stone street as if to say: watch out world, I’m newly sexed up! I’m mad, bad and mildly inconvenient to know!

Package in hand, they trotted back to the shop, bell tinkling sweetly. They placed the package on the table, stepping back to make sure it was perfectly arranged – the shop bell rang.

Head whipping round, Crowley hissed under their breath. There was a MAN. He smiled when they met his eye. Crowley curled their lip.

‘Hello-’

‘Go away,’ Crowley strode over, making shooing motions with their hands. The man was taller than them, and white with a mess of brown hair. He picked up a book, turning over uselessly in his hands, ‘I just want to look at some books...’

‘You can’t, shops closed. Piss off!’

The man smiled, then held out his hand, ‘Okay. You caught me, I actually saw you outside and wanted to meet you -’

‘- Ew, grosssss, ’ Crowley hissed – He was ruining their morning! Inside their head a 40 foot serpent was smashing its metaphorical fists on a table chanting “BITE! BITE! BITE! BITE!” Their teeth itched. When ever they felt a strong – and often negative – emotion Crowley’s internal bearings would stop pointing at “person” and start pointing towards “reticulated python” taking their corporal form with it.

‘- The names David.’

‘I don’t care!’ Crowley’s whole faced scrunched in disgust, ‘Do you often follow strangers into buildings? How are you not dead?’

‘There’s no need for that -’

‘Get out! Now! The shop is closed, and I have no desire what so-fucking-ever of knowing you!’

The human couldn’t see it, but Crowley could feel their fangs growing, their body gaining vertebra, lengthening, bones threatening to crack and warp -

‘Crowley?’ The most beautiful sound in the world was their name uttered by a puffy faced, bleary eyed angel in a tartan pyjama set and fluffy slippers. The man turned and blinked, ‘....oh.’

‘Who are you?’ The angel frowned catching sight of the man.

‘He followed me in!’ Crowley snarled, ‘Before I could lock the door.’

‘Why did you follow my love in here?’ Aziraphale walked slowly over, eyes fixed on the man.

‘We were just talking-’

Crowley backed away with a snarl. The snake inside was thirsting for a fight, and they were not going to give in – especially not when Aziraphale’s books were in the splash zone.

The angel stood with his hands behind his back, head cocked to one side. ‘We are closed, sir, you really do need to leave.’

‘Hey, she came in here too-’

‘Of course THEY did. THEY are my partner, you are a pillock,’ The angel gave a steely grin. ‘Vacate the premises on your own accord, before I have to force you out myself.’

Crowley barked a laugh, leaning forward to grip the edge of a shelf. Their ribs were on fire. As a defence mechanism, turning into a giant serpent was quite handy. A lot of creatures backed off from the sight of a skinny little person exploding in a cloud of viscera into a 650 pound mass of teeth and scales. But it did wreck havoc on the nerves.

‘She never said she was married...’ The man whined, slamming the door behind himself. Aziraphale clicked his fingers and the locks slammed into place.

‘Are you okay – oh... Oh dear!’ Aziraphale gasped.

Teeth. Crowley was all teeth now, arms limp and useless around their middle. ‘Gotta biiiite ssssssomething!’

‘Hang on, my love!’

Aziraphale trotted to his desk. He rummaged through the topmost drawer. With expert aim Aziraphale threw a large dog toy at Crowley, who’s body twisted and burst into heavy coils. They caught the toy in their huge jaw, sinking their fangs in deep. With each furious chomp the thing squeaked, lost in the rolling body of the serpent. Crush it! Crush it!

Somewhere in the background of their mind, Crowley heard their angel putting on the jug. The air was full of his scent – warm, tired, a little sweaty. It was calming. Their heavy body slowly unknotted itself. Aziraphale came back in, carrying two steaming mugs. He sat on the shop sofa with a sigh, ‘Goodness me, what a way to start the day.’

‘Bad man,’ Crowley rumbled, punctuating the sentence with a squeak of the chew toy.

‘Indeed!’

The chew toy dropped to the floor, Crowley’s head rising above their knots, ‘If I find who invented misogyny, I’ll give them such a dressing down!’

‘Hear, hear!’ Aziraphale held his drink aloft.

‘They’ll get such a bollocking like no one has ever been bollocked before!’

‘Hear, hear...?’

‘And I’ll constrict around their horrible, pitiful little body until their bastarding head pops off and flies into the sun!’

‘Oh, good lord...’ Aziraphale made a face, looking over at Crowley.

‘Bastards!’ The snake snarled at the world, head aloft, fangs bared. They sucked in a deep breath, then slithered over to the sofa. They looped their body around the entire thing a couple of times, large head placed softly on the angel’s knee. They sighed, ‘....bastards.’

‘I know, darling,’ Aziraphale stroked his finger down the centre of their face. ‘I am sorry.’

‘I’m not a girl...’ They sighed, ‘And I shouldn’t be upset that some wanker thought I was one! What even is a gender to a thing like me? I wear a body for fun, but it’s not...anything! I’m like a...a...a Muppet! A muppet with a snake instead of a hand up it!’

Aziraphale blew out a slow breath, ‘You’re very...descriptive today, my love.’

‘But that’s what it’s like! It’s all fake,’ Crowley wobbled their head. ‘So why am I upset!’

‘Because you were mistreated,’ The angel ran his thumb over the top of their snout. ‘He shouldn’t have said what he said. Or treated you like he did. You’re allowed to be upset, sweet one. Because you deserve the be treated with respect and to be seen how you wish to present yourself.’

Crowley nuzzled their snout into his hand, letting their forked tongue gently touch his wrist. He chuckled softly, and Crowley felt a little thrill at the sound. Comforting. Angel was always comforting and warm.

‘Got you a treat,’ They purred, pointing the tip of their tail at the package. Aziraphale gasped, grinning, ‘Oh! How thoughtful. You’re so kind, Crowley.’

‘Ew, stop it, haven’t I been through enough this morning,’ Crowley mumbled, eternally grateful that snakes couldn’t blush. ‘Are you going to have a snake day?’ Aziraphale asked, stroking his hand down the back of their head. They liked it when he petted them, not that they’d ever told him. But, they supposed, maybe he already knew. He had such a way of finding what made their little brain turn to goo.

‘Nah,’ They said, then pried themself away from Aziraphale’s warm, tender hands. ‘Look away while I switch.’ They slunk down behind the sofa, puling their large body tightly together.

‘Darling, I’ve seen you change a thousand times before, why must I avert my eyes now?’

Because you’ve seen me in ways no one else ever has, and maybe ever will, and I don’t know how to cope with the knowledge of being genuinely and wholly perceived in my true state – and to have that state of being be loved so fully. I feel like I’ve been pulled a part, and put back together piece by minute piece, all by your hand, and that isn’t something I have felt since the birth of creation.

Is what Crowley thought. What Crowley said was:

‘Cut me some fucking slack, Angel!’

Limbs restored, Crowley wriggled their little dress back down over their thighs, and gave their hair a quick pat down. Wrinkle free and fangs safely put away, they sat down beside Aziraphale, and smiled. He didn’t return it.

'So...' Aziraphale said, staring into the depths of his tea. 'We need to talk about last night, yes?'

'Do we, though?' Crowley sat on their hands to hide the shaking. Nerves made their stomach gurgle. There was no point trying to hide it, that man-shaped force of love and light beside them could see through them in an instant. He was their best friend. He'd seen them at some of their lowest points, he knew them probably better than they knew themself. And that put him at an unfair advantage.

'Yes, Crowley, we do,' He shifted in his seat, and looked at them. Crowley couldn't make eye contact, so they slouched, crossed their legs, hands folded on their stomach and stared up at the cobweb covered ceiling. Build a little wall, enough to peek over but enough to shelter, they thought. Just in case.

'Okay then, Angel,' they said. 'Fire away.'

Aziraphale sighed, 'You were gone when I woke up-'

'- To get you breakfast!'

'Crowley, let me talk. Please?' He sighed again, 'Waking up without you beside me was...a shock. I've never wondered what it would be like to wake up with you there, but I found I had been expecting that.'

'...Sorry.'

'Oh! No, please, you don't need to be,' He reached over and patted their knee. 'Dear boy, what I'm trying to say is when I awoke and you weren’t there I feared the worst. I was worried I had hurt you,’ Aziraphale said. ‘Or frightened you in some way. I’ve hurt you before, and I never want to do so again.’ ‘Ah...But I got over it, so no harm done,’ Crowley lied through their pointy little teeth. Sometimes, in the dead of night they replayed the rejection over and over in their head, or they dreamt it – often accompanied by the smell of smoke and lick of flame.

‘Hmm,’ Aziraphale sipped his tea, giving them a look. ‘Well I haven’t. So tell me, are you okay?’ Behind their glasses Crowley closed their eyes and silently cursed themself. Why now were they filled with nerves? They had so many years of quietly thirsting over the angel, of openly flirting and teasing, and now, NOW was when their palms grew sweaty and they wanted nothing more than the earth to open up and swallow them whole.

'I'm feelin' fine, Angel,' Crowley said with a lazy wave of their hand.

'You're feeling fine?'

'Yeah.'

'Just...fine?'

'Yeah?'

'Right-o, then,' Aziraphale said, crossing his legs. But something in the air told Crowley it was not right-o. Something wasn't right-o at all.

'I mean,' they started, leaning closer with their hands on their knees. 'More than fine, Angel. Really more than fine. I'm good, great even. Tingly.'

'Tingly?'

'All up my spine and my skin,' Crowley gave an awkward half smirk half grimace. 'It's nice. But also, real real weird.'

Aziraphale gave a warm chuckle, setting his tea aside, 'I know what you mean, my love.' Crowley's heart did a horrible little flip at that. They kneaded their chest. I'm never going to get used to that, they thought, this bastard is going to kill me with pet names.

'Why are you rubbing your breast, dear?'

'I'm not! You're making my chest hurt!'

'What? How?'

'By being all good,' Crowley frowned. 'And nice and pretty and soft. Why are you so soft?' Their chest was really starting to hurt now, like their heart was expanding and strangling their lungs.

'Sit down, Crowley, you’re having one of your moments.'

'What?' They were pacing – when did they get up? The room was too hot – why did the angel never open any bloody windows in the place-?

Cold hands. Cold hands at their throat. Instinct said to bite, to jump, to scuttle away into the dark. They stood stock still as Aziraphale delicately untied their scarf. Cool air washed over their skin, followed by a tender touch along the marks still present on their neck and throat. Strong arms wrapped around their middle, and soft curly hair settled under their chin. Crowley's arms hung limp by their side.

'I'm a numpty.'

'Yes you are, but a lovely one,' Aziraphale chuckled softly. He rubbed their back. Crowley pressed their cheek to the top of his head, eyes closed. He smelled like soap. Good soap. Fancy soap with roses in it. It was the most comforting thing they'd ever sniffed. They never wanted to not sniff those roses ever, ever again.

'You need to work on your emotional regulation, though, maybe get a stress ball? We could take a perambulation through the park later -'

'- I want to go home.'

Aziraphale pulled back, frowning deeply, 'Oh.'

Crowley picked up the box of pastries and strode towards the stairs.

'Where are you going?' Aziraphale asked. They could hear the frustration in his voice. Crowley ran, 'Upstairs! I think I live here now!’

'What the blazes are you on about?' Aziraphale thundered behind them but Crowley had already placed the box on the table and was sizing up the room.

'I wanna put my desk under that window-'

'Crowley!'

'What?'

'You can't just decide something like that! This is my home-'

'-I think you might be mine, though.'

Aziraphale heaved a huge sigh, ‘Oh, my heart. You sweet, beautiful fool.’ He rolled his eyes then smiled, ‘Crowley, I want to be with you and around you as much as possible. You don’t have to grip so tightly, I’m not going anywhere. I adore you. But you can’t just decide that you live here. Do you actually want to move in to the shop with me?’

‘No, it’s kind of ugly,’ They admitted. ‘And your interior decorating abilities are seriously lacking, Angel. I mean really, tartan curtains? Yellow wallpaper? It’d need a complete do over-’

‘Well, golly, thank you for that Crowley,’ Aziraphale laughed, untying the ribbon on the package. He flipped the lid and gasped. ‘Oh! So pretty! Is that almond paste?

‘And custard.’

The smile Crowley got could have lit up the whole world. They could do this. If they could get a smile like that every day, then fuck, maybe they’d be worth something. All they wanted was that smile. That warmth and bite.

‘Maybe,’ They said carefully, ‘We could have a trial run. Of living together.’

Aziraphale nodded, licking sugar powder off his fingers in such a manner that Crowley had to avert their eyes to keep their thoughts on track. ‘Would you move in here? I don’t know if I could move into your apartment-’

‘Nah nah,’ Crowley rocked on their heels. ‘Somewhere neutral.’

‘Neutral.’ Aziraphale hummed, looking out the window, ‘Like...a holiday?’

‘Yeah! Angel,’ Crowley smiled toothily, ‘Wanna go on holiday? Anywhere you like, you pick, I’ll drive!’

The angel leaned back in his dining chair, hands folded on the table. He grinned, ‘I’ll go pack.’

---

Thanks for reading! If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee here!

#good omens #goodomens #goodomens fanfic #crowleyxaziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #ao3 writer #also on ao3 #my fic

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killian-whump · 5 years

Text

I found this in my drafts just now...

A little vignette, because I’m reading this book that is giving me ~urges~ to rewrite the S6 finale with Killian in the asylum with Emma...

Emma watched the dark-haired man from her seat at the next table over. He was alone, as was she, both of them having opted not to pair up with other inmates patients and to stick to their own company.

Killian, she believed his name was. He rarely put in an appearance in the commons room, let alone in the dining hall, so his presence had caught Emma’s eye. What he was in for, she didn’t know. Undoubtedly, it was some manner of psychosis, like everyone else - though he looked sane enough to her.

But she knew better than most that looks could be deceiving. She, herself, looked sane... but if her history was anything to go by, she wasn’t. Or, rather, she hadn’t been. She was better now, or so she believed, but Mayor Fiona didn’t seem to believe she was well enough to be out of this place.

Killian seemed to be having an intense staring contest with his dinner, glaring at the slices of bologna he’d peeled out of his sandwich as if they’d personally offended him somehow.

Maybe they had, Emma mused to herself. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d met someone who thought their food was talking to them.

If the bologna had offended him, it seemed his macaroni and cheese was more interested in confounding him. He finally ate one noodle of it, then resumed his staring contest - this time with his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

On a whim, Emma picked up her tray and moved over to his table. “I think you’re safe with the mac and cheese,” she teased. “It’s the Mystery Meat on Thursdays that you really need to watch out for.”

Killian blinked and looked up at her in surprise, having been so engrossed in staring at his meal that he apparently hadn’t even noticed her coming over to sit with him.

“Emma Swan,” Emma said, offering him her hand to shake. Since he had a death grip on his fork with his right hand, she’d offered her left.

He stared at it, and for a moment, Emma wondered if he was going to stab her hand with his fork. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Killian Jones,” he said, not taking her hand.

She waited a moment more, not wanting to be rude and remove her hand if he was just a bit slow. After an awkward moment, she finally pulled it back. “I guess you’re not the hand-shaking type,” she dead-panned.

“Are you mocking me?”

The question caught Emma off-guard, both for its unexpectedness and the naked sincerity on Killian’s face as he asked it. “No,” she said. “I’m not mocking you. Why would you think I was?”

He shrugged, turning his eyes down to stare at his dinner tray once more. “You wouldn’t be the first.” He stabbed some more noodles with his fork and shoved them in his mouth. As he chewed, he brought his left arm up from under the table and laid it beside his tray.

Oh. He didn’t have a left hand to shake hers with. No wonder he’d thought she was mocking him. “I didn’t know,” she said.

“Hmm.” He returned his left arm to its spot in his lap, kept under the table and away from prying eyes.

“How did you lose it?” Emma regretted the words as soon as they popped out of her mouth, fearing that this would definitely shut Killian down the rest of the way and prevent any kind of friendship from ever developing between them. And, for some reason, that thought made her incredibly uneasy.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem perturbed by the question at all. “Crocodile ate it,” he said blithely.

“Seriously?”

Killian shrugged. “I don’t know anymore, to tell you the truth. Maybe I lost it in the Ogre Wars.”

“The Ogre Wars?” Emma asked, lifting an eyebrow. “That’s not a thing.” At least, it wasn’t a thing that anyone else should know about. It was a thing in the book of fairytales she and Henry had once believed in, but... “Are you mocking me now?” she demanded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

“Then how do you know about the Ogre Wars? Did Fiona put you up to this? To test me or something?”

He blinked, looking genuinely confused now. “Who is Fiona?”

“The Mayor.”

He huffed in slight offense. “As if someone so important would even deign to visit a worthless old sea dog like myself.”

“Then why did you mention the Ogre Wars?” Emma demanded.

“I honestly don’t know, love.”

Emma was surprised to realize that she didn’t discern a lie in his statement. She’d never admit it to anyone out loud, for fear they’d think she was even madder than they already thought she was, but she had a spotless record for spotting lies in other people’s statements. And Killian Jones was undoubtedly speaking the truth when he told her he didn’t know why he’d said what he’d said.

“I rarely know what I’m saying anymore.” He sighed. “I’m mad, you see. Mad as a hatter. Crazy as a loon. That’s what they tell me, so it must be true.”

“What’s your diagnosis?”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Diagnosis? Oh, love. They don’t need anything as fancy as that to condemn a man to hell. It appears that being an inconvenience is sufficient enough to earn one such honors.”

“An inconvenience?” Emma questioned. “To who?”

Killian closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “I don’t even know, love. I believe... I used to know, but where there was once knowledge, an answer to your question, perhaps... there’s now nothing. Emptiness. A black hole that grows blacker by the hour.”

Emma smirked. “That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps. You’re probably right, Swan. Perhaps I am as mad as they say.”

A pair of nurses approached then, flanked by two burly orderlies. “Mr. Jones!” one of the nurses said sternly. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. How did you get out of your room?”

“Centuries of practice,” Killian said simply.

The nurse shook her head, ignoring his words completely. “And what are you doing here, of all places? You already had dinner in your room.”

“I didn’t come for the food.” He frowned. “I came for... I wanted...” His frown grew as he tried to fill in the blanks of his own sentence. “There was something... missing... I need to find it. It’s important.”

“Well, whatever it is, you’ll have to look for it later, Mr. Jones.” The nurse nodded to the two orderlies, who each grabbed Killian by an arm and hauled him to his feet. “You’re late for your treatment now.”

Killian’s entire face paled. “No,” he said weakly.

“Come now,” the other nurse said, stepping forward as he spoke. “You need your treatments to help you think clearly.”

“No, no, no, no,” Killian said, shaking his head desperately. “They steal my thoughts. They take everything away and make it all black. I have to... There’s something I need to do. I have to... It’s important!”

Emma found herself getting to her feet. For all she knew, Killian Jones was a raving madman, one who clearly needed more help than she could even hope to understand. And yet... She didn’t like this. She didn’t like seeing him this way - scared and confused, desperately looking for help that wasn’t going to come. When one of the orderlies brought out a stun gun, she finally broke her silence. “Hey,” she said firmly. “He was calm just a second ago. There’s no need to hurt him. Just let him settle down.”

Killian’s eyes snapped to Emma’s and widened. “Emma,” he said breathlessly. “Emma, we need to go. We need to get out of here, before the blackness takes you, too. Please. You need to go! Find Henry. Take him with you. Get somewhere safe. Emma, please!”

“That’s enough of that,” the male nurse said, taking the stun gun from the orderly.

“You have to break the cur- AUGH!” The jolt of electricity from the stun gun obliterated the end of Killian’s plea, but Emma had heard enough. Killian slumped between the two orderlies, boneless and whimpering now, as they dragged him from the room for his ‘treatment’.

The male nurse left with Killian and the orderlies, but the female one stuck around. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Miss Swan,” she said ruefully. “He’s a very troubled man, Mr. Jones.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Emma asked. She wasn’t even sure she needed an answer to that question, but she was curious what the nurse would say.

“What isn’t?” She smiled sympathetically, as if her non-answer should be enough to ease Emma’s mind. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be feeling better as soon as he gets his treatment.”

“And what treatment is that?”

“You know I can’t discuss another patient’s treatment with you, Emma. Now finish eating. Your dinner hour’s almost up.” With that, the nurse headed out of the dining hall, following the same path the other staff members had gone with Killian in tow.

Emma slowly sat and looked down at her uneaten meal. Her appetite was gone. She wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite after what she’d just witnessed. She didn’t even understand why it had bothered her so profoundly... she just knew that it had.

“Electroshock.”

Emma looked up at the old man who had spoken from the next table over.

“That one’s always going into the electroshock room. First few times I saw him, he was screaming about curses and swans and black fairies. Now he just screams. They’ll keep at it until they’ve fried the madness out of his brain... along with whatever else is in there. Poor bastard.” The old man smiled sadly. “You’d be best off forgetting about him, dear. You’ll likely never see him again - and if you do, I doubt he’ll remember you at all.”

If the man’s words were intended to make her feel better, they utterly failed. Instead, they filled Emma with a profound sadness.

She didn’t know why, but being forgotten by Killian Jones suddenly felt like the worst possible thing that could ever happen to her.

#killian jones #captain swan #6x21 #fanfic #author: killian whump #cursed #mental hospital #bologna #confusion #electroshock therapy #bested by the black fairy #bested by bologna #and maybe the mac and cheese #jury is still out on that one #oc #kw fanfic

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jungxk · 6 years

Text

just one

filed under: the fuckboi saga. for @suga-kookiemonster who puts up with me gushing about jungkook on the daily and still hasn’t blocked me ily xoxo

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem...until he set his sights on you.

warnings: eventual smut, swearing, bad habits (mentions of drinking, smoking etc)

genre: humour, drama, romance, college!au

wordcount: 5.4k

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

"what did i tell you about calling before midday?" you grumble, but jimin is already pushing his way past you before you can finish the sentence. he takes a gulp of your coffee when he thinks you aren't looking, earning a hearty slap on the arm.

"i have a good reason, i promise," he says, hands raised guiltily. his tee is tucked into his jeans at the front, so unreasonably attractive even at this time in the morning. he flashes you a pleasant smile. "i ran out of milk and your place is closer than the store. also, come to my party tonight."

"fridge door, next to the juice. and no."

"come on, hear me out," jimin starts, but you're already padding back to your room. he uses your groggy state to snake an arm around your waist, yanking you back into him effectively. you've never been a morning person and this isn't the first time he's used that to his advantage. usually you'd be at least mildly aware that you don't even have a bra on, but you're so sleepy you can barely acknowledge how the underside of your breast brushes his forearm. you can only hope the same goes for jimin, who's snuggling into you cutely - the classic puppy dog tactic. "it's not even a party, just me and tae and a few others. bring the girls if you want, we'll order some takeout. super chill."

"that's what you always say," you rub your temples. "and the next thing i know jisoo is throwing up on the side of a car and seulgi's in a fist fight."

"i mean it this time," he smiles again, turning you around like a rag doll to face him. "you never come over anymore! it'll be fun."

"what are you talking about? i was literally there yesterday! we had dinner, remember?" the warmth of jimin's hand pushing you onto the sofa would've made you give in on any other day, but all it does now is make your eyes feel extra heavy, ready to go back to bed. it was always like that with jimin, teetering on the end of touches that could be flirty, could be friendly - you could never really tell. it had been so long now you learned not to question it. besides, jimin was a touchy guy. a social butterfly and all that. he'd grope anything with a heartbeat and you were no exception, best friend or not.

"first of all, eating cereal in my bed while i play fallout is not dinner," he says, carding a hand through his ashy hair as if to make sure you don't forget how handsome he is while he's convincing you. "i found a marshmallow chunk in my pillow case by the way, so thanks for that. but what i mean is, you always work so hard. you deserve a little fun and the last time you came to one of my things was, what? two months ago? it's like you don't like parties!"

"i don't like parties!" you say, folding your arms. "you know this, jimin. especially not the sticky, humid kind. i’m an introvert in disguise, remember?"

"what if i clean? like vacuum and everything?"

"do you even own a vacuum?"

"not the point," he presses his lips together so his cheeks puff out. "i miss you."

you hold back a shit eating grin. "you miss me?"

"yeah," he props his elbow on the back of the sofa to face you. "ever since senior year started, i hardly see you letting loose. and i get that it's not the same as before, i just," your eyes soften and he avoids them vehemently. "whatever. maybe i just miss seeing you all dolled up."

he isn't exactly lying. ironically, you found yourself becoming even more isolated nowadays, especially with graduation looming in the not-so-distant future. ever since you switched your science major to arts, your parents made it abundantly clear that there wasn't a chance in hell they'd support you. financially or otherwise. while not joining your family's long line of doctors and engineers had its perks - the main one being you weren't painfully miserable anymore - it also meant you had nothing and no one to fall back on if your career went tits up. and while overworking yourself with projects and internships in preparation wasn't such a loss since it was a subject you were actually passionate about, jimin was right. too much of anything wasn't good for anyone.

"dolled up, huh..." you say, and he perks up immediately at the resolve slipping in your voice.

"yeah. i forgot what you look like with lipstick on," he peers at you hopefully. because occasional bad habits and fickle personality aside, jimin really did care. and him coming all the way here just to make sure you didn't slip back into how you used to be was testament to that. "and not the skin colour ones, i mean like actual colours."

"they're called nudes."

"and not even the good kind," he huffs, shifting closer because he knows you're about to break. "so? what do you say?"

you look up at him one last time before sighing in defeat. "i'm not bringing jisoo," you say, but he still beams happily. "if she catches tae with his tongue down another girl's throat it's gonna be your birthday party all over again, and i don't have the strength for that. and i'm leaving before midnight. i have an early class tomorrow."

"that's fine!" jimin says with a grin that takes up almost his whole face, soft cheeks glowing. he leans in close enough for you to get a whiff of his comforting, intoxicating cologne. "as long as you can make it."

"just a few friends and takeout, right?" you poke his chest warningly. "nothing crazy?"

he nods. "nothing crazy."

"yeah, there's no way in hell i'm going," jisoo says around a mouthful of pasta. you're currently all curled up on your bed like always, even though there's a perfectly good living room, not that you mind. ever since your parents kicked you out, having the girls crowded in your room made you feel cosy. less alone. "i'm either gonna clock taehyung into next week or screw him on the porch. i'd rather avoid both instances."

"do you even remember what he did?" seulgi asks, genuinely curious. "i think i was breaking up a cat fight at the time."

"no, you joined in," you correct, but she ignores you.

jisoo chews her food thoughtfully. "i think it was something to do with another girl? julie? jennifer?" she takes another second to think. "to be honest, no not really. but the point is i remember how he made me feel and that's just as important! if not more! but that doesn't matter," she says, training her eyes back on you. she points her fork. "what we should be worrying about is ____."

"you're right," you sigh, burying your face into your koala plushie. "i haven't shaved my legs in like, centuries. i'm considering telling jimin i'm sick, that's how badly i don't wanna deal with it." you rub your scratchy knee against seulgi to prove a point. "see? i'm like a porcupine! getting even one leg bald by tonight is like, a three person job-"

"not that," jisoo says, waving your leg away when you stretch it to her. "i have wax strips in the bathroom, you're fine. what i'm talking about is jimin. i know i say this before every party, but i'm like, a thousand per cent certain he's gonna make a move on you."

even seulgi laughs at that. "here we go again. what are you gonna bet this time? that skirt you ordered came in the mail by the way."

"i'm calling dibs on her new lipstick," you point to the one on her vanity. "jimin broke my brown one! he put the cap on without rolling it down first. i thought it was an accident but after this morning i think maybe the fucker broke my favourite nude on purpose."

"ugh, typical," seulgi shakes her head in disgust. "men are so dumb. don't tell me it was the limited edition one that i got you?"

"it was!" you wail, covering your eyes at the memory. "i actually cried."

"hello!" jisoo claps her hands between the two of you. "can we focus for a second?"

"deciding which of your stuff to steal next is focusing," seulgi offers.

jisoo narrows her eyes. "stop acting like the pair of you won't take my stuff anyway." she turns back to you, her expression looking far more serious than what the conversation permits. "what are you gonna do when jimin confesses to you tonight, hm? should seulgi let him fuck you in the bathroom or do you wanna be cockblocked until he's sober enough to kiss you with no tongue?"

"how about neither?" you sigh. "babe, when are you gonna give all this up and just believe me? me and jimin are friends."

"i'll believe you when it sounds believable!" she huffs. "come on, coming all the way over here to get you to come to his party because he misses you? asking you to get dolled up for him? this is peak fuckboy crush culture, i don't know why you don't want to accept that!"

"because it's jimin!"

"exactly," jisoo looks at you carefully. "it's jimin...can you honestly say you've never thought about it?"

you don't say anything, because you both know the answer. but in your defence, so did everyone. park jimin was gorgeous and friendly and naturally touchy. he always knew the right thing to say and was charming to a fault without even having to try. everyone and their mother thought about him in a romantic context, even you put your hands up to that. you may have briefly entertained the idea back in the beginnings of your friendship but it was quick to pass. even though he was friends with literally everyone, not many people could say they were close to jimin like you, and that made you so happy. there was nothing else to want.

"well, if you ask me, whether he's in love with her or not is irrelevant," seulgi butts in. "i'm not letting that clown near her tonight or any other night until he buys her a new lipstick."

"wow, you're right," jisoo nods, sinking back into the pillows. "forget what i said. cockblock him until he at least coughs up a gift card."

"just a few friends and takeout, right? nothing crazy?"

"nothing crazy."

"this is crazy," seulgi hisses, hands wringing out your arm defensively when you both pass a couple dry humping on the front porch on the way in. "it's not even that late!" the gush of musky air that hits you both in the face when you walk in is enough to render her speechless after that.

it definitely took some getting used to after a few weeks being cooped up in an art studio or at your desk, but it wasn't something a few drinks couldn't fix. it's only after seulgi wanders off and leaves you to your own devices does taehyung find you in the corridor, with that smile that shows all his teeth, big arms wrapping around your neck so you have no choice but to squish your face into his shoulder.

"____! i thought jimin was lying when he said you'd show up!" he says, manoeuvring you round the corner where the music is a little more muffled. he keeps his hand around you even once he's steadied you, the contact going straight to your head. it didn't help that literally every one of jimin's friends were as beautiful as him. his dark eyes study you carefully, and you know that look. "is jisoo here?"

there it is, you smile to yourself. "not tonight, tae. sorry."

he pouts, fingers tapping patterns on your side. "did you tell her i was sorry? about jennie? it all happened really fast and i..."

"didn't you finger her in the garden?"

"yeah, but she blew me! what else was i supposed to do?"

"tae," you pat his chest soothingly. if it was any other guy you'd be talking in colourful expletives, but taehyung really was a puppy in a boy's body. he had the attention span of a peanut despite meaning well, and you were just a tad too nice to reprimand him for it. at least tonight. "i think you should consider that maybe the jisoo boat has officially sailed. reigning her back in will only do more harm than good, you know?"

"will it though?" he has a twinkle in his eye. which in your experience, is not a good sign.

"that wasn't a challenge, taehyung." you frown.

he winces. you only call him taehyung when you're super serious or super drunk. and since the drink he gave you is still half full it wasn't wise to bank on the latter. you were always sweet, friendly to a fault, but when it came to your girl friends even you had your limits. "okay okay, fine." and before barely a millisecond passes, "so...did you come with seulgi?"

"for the love of god," you mutter, passing him. you definitely needed another drink.

when jimin sees you across the sea of bodies in the living room, he can't hold in his giddiness. you look particularly pretty tonight, with your hair down and a attractive red stained lip colour (of his choice). watching you blossom into such a soft, captivating young woman over the last couple years made him so happy. maybe too happy. jimin had a tendency of breaking things closest to him when he got too invested, and it was a miracle you weren't one of them - yet. he does his best to handle you with care even though you aren't a fragile little thing anymore, his touch radiating that as he snakes an arm around your waist.

"oh!" you squeak, turning back to look up at him with wide eyes as he tugs you into his chest. you're so pretty. "jimin!"

"when did you get here?" he smiles, effectively pulling you away from the group of friends you chatted with. he lowers his mouth to your ear like he's sharing a secret, chest close against yours. you gulp. every little thing he does always feels so intimate, and it was harder to ignore that when you had a bit to drink. "if taehyung hadn't let me know you showed up i might've missed you."

you brace a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, your feet a little wobbly after that last shot. "wouldn't be the first time. do you even know half the people here?"

he shrugs playfully. "am i supposed to?"

you sigh. "jimin, what did i tell you about lending out your house and booze to people who don't know your last name?"

"hmm," he tips his chin up and pouts his mouth thoughtfully so that his cheek dimples, fingers interlocking behind your waist securely. the action is enough to make onlookers dubious of your ‘friendship’, and you don't blame them. but you quickly push the thought aside in favour of jimin's alluring eyes. "something about how its telling of my generous and lovable character?"

you pinch his chin until he squirms into laughter. "try again, hot shot."

"what was that?" seulgi hisses in your ear on one of your many trips to the bathroom. thankfully since its a house party you aren't crowding into a stall together like you would a club, giving her enough space to sit on the rim of the bathtub while you fix your hair. "like is it me, or is jimin extra touchy with you tonight?"

"not you too," you groan, ruffling the roots. "for the last time, jimin is just being jimin. can we please talk about something else?"

"okay, fine," she says, getting up to fix the back of your hair that you can't see. "while prince charming was sweet talking you downstairs, some guy came up to me asking about you. ever heard of jung hoseok?"

you pout thoughtfully. "red hair? kinda loud? i think so..."

she smacks you playfully. "what do you mean you think so? the guy is so pretty i started feeling insecure about myself! and i'm wearing my lucky underwear!" she says, making you laugh. "anyway, apparently he's in one of your political arts classes and hasn't had the chance to talk to you yet."

you wince in the mirror at her. "i don't like where you're going with this..."

"____, babe. just get his number. there's nothing wrong with just talking a little," seulgi says gently. she knows how close you keep your cards to your chest, and with good reason after all you'd been through. you only had a few close friends and sociable as you seemed, letting people in was difficult for you. but if anyone genuinely wanted more happiness for you, it was seulgi. you never dabbled with guys if she didn't give them the all-clear. "he seems like a nice guy, really. and you know i'd never just say that for the sake of it."

"i know," you smile, dipping in to hug her. "i'll think about it."

jimin, being the center of attention that he is - the walking social hub of any given five mile radius - considers himself pretty good at handling the unexpected, especially at house parties. the unexpected being a broken vase, vomit on the carpet, a fist fight in the kitchen. normal stuff. what he isn't prepared for, however, is jungkook rocking up well past one in the morning, already making eyes at some girls even when he's barely got the other foot in the door.

jeon jungkook doesn't usually turn up to these parties, because...well, he never usually turns up to anything. but everyone knew his name, of course, because jungkook's track record was the only one that trumped jimin's - to the point where it bordered on myth, and with good reason. the guy was built like a steakhouse and still had the handsome, innocent face of a boy that meant well even though he rarely ever meant well.

which in all honesty wasn't a problem. jimin loves jungkook like his own, really. he's known him since he was pre-pubescent and acne prone and lord knows he'd fight a losing battle for that boy because that's what brothers do. regardless, when jungkook all but lets his line of vision land somewhere near your pretty smile from across the garden, jimin smacks him upside the head. "no."

"the fuck," jungkook spits, rubbing his undercut. "i didn't do anything!"

"yet," jimin finishes, stony faced. "i'm just stopping you in your tracks so your bad habits can catch up." he entertains jungkook's sceptical expression before huffing. "____ isn't one of your play things. she's a good person and no offence, but she really doesn't need any of your shit in her life."

"she's your friend, not your girlfriend," jungkook clarifies, and jimin can see the way his eyes fight to peel away even with ten feet and thirty bodies between you.

maybe it's the alcohol but he can't help the way his gaze keeps naturally drawing back to you; it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to set his sights on a girl for the night, but you were so...different from his normal pickings. so...fresh. you didn't try hard and you didn't need to, kept to yourself and remembered every ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ - jungkook liked that. jungkook really liked that. "how is it i've never run into her before?"

jimin isn't stupid enough to use the words off limits because that's just fanning the flames with this kid. he's older than jungkook but he still resorts to puffing out his cheeks and lying through his teeth like a five year old. "she doesn't like you."

"she doesn't know me," jungkook flashes his glittering smile at him, the devil incarnate.

"everyone knows you, kookie," jimin says into his beer, too quiet to be banter but too loud for jungkook to ignore. he cards a hand through his ashy brown hair, doesn't look jungkook in the eye but may as well with how serious his voice goes. "please. just leave her out of it."

jungkook presses his mouth together, dimples pinching at the sides resolutely as he sways his gaze to some giggling redhead instead, because that's what brothers do.

somehow you always end up in this position - the drunk friend having to help the drunker friend. but the drunker friend isn't usually seulgi; in the intoxicated hierarchy on a night out you always fell snugly between jisoo and seulgi, but not this time. this time, you find yourself on the porch with seulgi's head cradled in your lap after she emptied her stomach out on the lawn, frantically tapping on your phone for an uber just as it dies.

"fuck," you grunt, throwing it back into your purse before rummaging through your roommate's. you visibly cringe at how sticky it feels, covered in god knows what and refusing to switch on. "this can't be happening..."

you're forced to prop seulgi up against the side of the house while you hurry inside to search for jimin. it was well passed late but the crowd was still hot and heavy, your short stature making it difficult for you to peer through the sea of bodies. you almost cry in relief when you finally locate taehyung in the kitchen, his hands instinctively grabbing your elbows to pull you out of the crowd and steady you when you teeter over to him.

"tae," you start, almost dipping straight into his chest if he didn't have a hold on you. "have you seen jimin? i need a ride home, seulgi's done for tonight."

"i'm pretty sure he's busy," he says apologetically, gesturing upstairs. "as in, took some girl up to his room an hour ago kind of busy."

"fuck," you sigh, head lolling back. "seulgi's still outside...”

"here," tae says, pulling you into his hip with one hand and reaching for his phone with the other. the contact is nice, warm. comfortable to the point where you find yourself snuggling your head into his shoulder. tae glances down at you against him with a pleased smirk. "easy there, princess. keep your head up while i call you an uber, okay?"

"i can take them," a sudden voice intervenes, your chin lifting up to peer over tae's chest. the boy beside taehyung offers you a small smile, so disarmingly attractive you lose your words. he's got round eyes that glitter even in the dim kitchen lighting, connecting with yours in a way that makes it impossible to look anywhere else. "i'm parked just outside. only had a few beers and even that was like, hours ago."

"are you sure, jungkook?" taehyung asks, still keeping a protective arm around you.

"'course," he turns his attention back to you, your skin prickling inadvertently under his gaze. he's so tall you have to look up at him a little. "and you said your friend's still outside, right? the quicker she gets home the better."

you nod. "thank you..."

"jungkook," he smiles, teeth glittering as he plucks you smoothly from taehyung's hold and into his. you're so focused on the weight of his hand around your back you forget to say bye to tae, letting jungkook guide you through the packed hallway and back outside. maybe it’s the booze but his jawline is amazing even from this angle. "i'm a friend of jimin's."

"yeah, i know," you giggle finally. "everyone knows you, jeon jungkook. you're just...different than i expected."

"different?" he pries softly, the quick lift of his brow making you giggle again. "different how?"

"just," your teeth sink into your bottom lip when you eye him up and down and jungkook swears he's got head rush just from that. you take him in, broad torso stuffed into a leather jacket that's straining at the seams, hair pushed back to reveal his handsome face. even the tattoos poking through the v of his t-shirt makes you splutter back a laugh, so picture-perfectly badboy. "...cute."

jungkook doubles takes. he wasn’t exactly expecting that adjective. "cute?"

"yeah," you say, but you're already turning your attention to seulgi now that you've reached her, slipping an arm around her to haul her up. you wobble a little since you're quite unsteady yourself, jungkook quickly ducking down to help you. "where's your car?"

"over there," he tilts his head in the direction of a jeep, propping seulgi's limp arm around his neck.

"who's this?" she slurs sleepily into your ear, but she's loud enough for everyone to hear. "he smells nice."

"your guardian angel," he answers. "with a truck."

"hm," seulgi considers carefully, even while you and jungkook bundle her up so she's lying across the backseat. she's already got her head nestled into your purse like a pillow by the time you manage to climb into the front. "ya seem nice. ____, give him a suck on my behalf when we get home."

jungkook discreetly grins to himself while you're busy with strapping in your belt. "he's not taking us home like that, babe."

"why not?" she grumbles, eyes barely open. "you waxed your legs!"

"here," jungkook says, his face suddenly close as he leans in to pull your seat belt over you. if you looked up you know you'd be millimetres apart, forcing you to stare dumbly down at your torso while he buckles you in, giving the stap a final tug so it settles comfortably between your breasts. it's such a quick action you barely register how practiced it is, like he's done it a thousand times. a more pressing matter is at hand anyway: seulgi was right. he does smell good. "there, all set."

your mumbled thanks barely carries over the sound of the engine starting, and thankfully you're not trashed enough to forget your address. jungkook rolls the windows down so the night air sobers you up a little anyway, finally free of that musky feeling of being in a room filled with too many people. "ah, i missed this...jimin hasn't taken me on a night drive in ages."

"you and hyung are close, right?" jungkook asks, arm up on the wheel in that way that makes boys look irresistible. "he talks about you a lot."

"oh yeah? funny, he never mentions you." you muse.

"really? not at all?"

"i think he called you chlamydia on a stick once," you ponder.

jungkook huffs, and you can't help but laugh at his pouty expression. he finds himself drawn to it, almost entranced by it; even with your messy hair and smudged makeup, your smile is so effortlessly beautiful. he can see why jimin hid you away from him for so long. "i don't blame hyung for wanting to keep you to himself, i guess. girls as beautiful as you don't come by often."

you smile to yourself and it doesn't go unnoticed by him. "very smooth. don't forget to ask for my number when you help me out."

jungkook tongues his cheek, exhilarated by the challenge. "you think i'm flirting with you, noona?"

you keep a calm demeanour but even he sees the way you eye the veins in his big hands while he drives. but watching the rough of his palms skirt smoothly over the leather is near hypnotic. "i think you're trying to flirt with me, jungkook."

"maybe," he admits with a shrug. "so would you give it to me?"

"what?"

"your number."

you regard him properly. "do you want me to?"

"yes," is his bold reply, calling your bluff without hesitation. jungkook's sheer confidence makes you falter for a moment, his attitude so relaxed you can't tell whether he was taking any of this seriously or not. he meets your eyes from across the console with a small smirk that renders you speechless yet again. "not that jimin hyung would approve. but you're a big girl who can decide for herself, right?"

you blink, before shaking your head with a laugh just as he pulls into your road. jungkook waits patiently for an answer while he parks up by the curb, relishing in the way you eye him oh so carefully. you're tip toeing that fine line between drunk enough to speak your mind but not drunk enough to forget in the morning, so there really wasn't a better time to put all his eggs in one basket. you wet your lips at him and he's sure he’s hit bullseye, but then you're grabbing his chin and pinching it like you would with jimin. "you're cute, jungkook. now help me get her inside."

he blinks, his brain taking a second to catch up before he has to manually tell himself to move. getting seulgi out the back of the car wasn't easy but he's just glad she didn't throw up on him. you call a quick thanks over your shoulder before dragging her in and kicking the front door shut behind you, jungkook finding himself back at his steering wheel more riveted than before.

"fuck," he swears to himself, pulling out his phone and getting up taehyung's chat. "i need her number."

you barely plug your phone into charge with both eyes open once you've put seulgi to bed, and even then jimin's contact is the first thing to appear on the lockscreen. even though you’re halfway in bed with a makeup wipe in one hand, you force yourself to reply.

[jimin 3:42am] you get home okay? tae said you needed a ride, sorry

[you 3:45am] np ur friendsh jungkook gave usf a lift

[jimin 3:45am] jungkook? like jeon jungkook?

[you 3:49am] well unless you know anyt othrer jungkooks yh

[jimin 3:49am] is he there right now?

[you 3:51am] wht no he just dropped us off

[jimin 3:52am] thats all???

you frown, like that was any of his business. but you're honestly too exhausted to pick a fight.

[you 3:53am] yh thats all u nosy fuck

[you 3:54am] anywyh im dead now so gn

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #bts x reader #bts scenario #bts au #jungkook college!au #jimin college!au #bts college!au #bts x you #bts fic #jungkook fic #jimin fic

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kaywinette · 6 years

Text

Dance with me

Takes place during the three day time skip. Clementine and Gabe just being teenagers having a fun time! This kinda sucks, but I'm trying to get used to writing as much as I can! Yes another Gabentine, sorry, I cant help it!

Its been two days of nonstop work for everyone. Work ranging from helping people with injuries, to cleaning the blood of the dead off of the streets. Clementine has stuck close to Gabe in the days since he lost his father since she knows the feeling of losing a parent or two. Clearly, she never brings it up, but she lets him know that she's here if he needs a shoulder to cry on. Thankfully, he seems to be doing considerably well. He still makes jokes and occasionally finds the time to flirt with her a bit, which Clementine cant complain about.

The two got done with their jobs at the same time today, so they headed back to the apartment together, making fun of one of the soldiers that Gabe claimed looked like an actual potato.

"No really! Have you ever seen an unwashed and uncooked potato? If you gave one a face, it would look exactly like John! I swear!" Gabe insists as Clementine shoves him, laughing too hard to respond for a moment.

"Gabe...Gabe stop, I can't breath." Clementine grips his shoulder with one hand, and her stomach with the other as she laughs.

"Tomorrow I'm going to ask Clint for a raw potato and you'll see." Gabe grins at the younger girl who laughs even harder before continuing on their walk. "Wait Clem shh here he comes," Gabe says suddenly as the man they were making fun of rounds the corner. Clem clasps her hand over her mouth, trying to keep her laughter in as the man passes them. Once he's out of sight, Clementine bursts back into laughter.

"Oh my fucking god, Gabe he totally does. That's incredible." She grins, wiping some tears from her eyes before pushing open the doors to the apartment building, Gabe then closes it behind them once their inside. The two walk next to each other on the stairs going up to their floor.

"Is Javi back yet?" Clementine asks, a playful smile still on her lips as they walk down the hallway.

"I don't think so, he's still working with the others to restore order and stuff," Gabe explains, pushing open the door to the apartment. As they expected, its empty. Clementine shuts the door and moves to drop her gun on the counter before taking a seat in one of the tall chairs, swinging her feet as she watches Gabe pull out two cans of fruit.

"So, do you want to continue to teach me how to read?" Clementine asks as she reaches for the can Gabe was holding out for her. When the Garcias learned Clementine only had the education of a first grader, they immediately insisted on teaching the girl how to read. Well, Clementine knows how to read, it's just hard and confusing. She can read signs and some maps, but books were a lost cause unless they were like Dr. Suess books. Gabe and she have been making slow progress through the Percy Jackson book series when they had free time, and it was nice.

"Maybe later, I have something else I want to do." Gabe shrugs, opening his can with a can opener before handing the said item to Clem so she could open her own.

"Oh? And whats that?" Clem asks, raising a brow, watching Gabe spoon some fruit into his mouth while moving across the apartment. She can't be bothered to grab a spoon, so instead, she brings the can carefully to her lips and pours as much fruit into her mouth as she can before actually starting to chew. Its ungraceful and her cheeks puff out in an awkward manner, but she doesn't feel embarrassed about it. It just feels natural to her to eat like that nowadays. To put as much food in your mouth before it's suddenly ripped out of your hands and you're left starving. She shakes herself out of her thoughts as Gabe starts to play with something in the corner of the room.

"You'll see. It'll be fun though, I can tell you that." Gabe explains, shooting her a smile that makes her stomach do flips. She swallows the fruit and rolls her eyes at him as he starts to shift through some thin squares. "See anything you like?" He asks, beckoning her over with a wave of his hand. She hops off the chair, leaving her can behind to look over the squares in curiosity before shrugging.

"Nothing looks familiar." She says and Gabe nods.

"Let's just pick something random then." He suggests and she agrees. Clem watches Gabe close his eyes and then reach down into the box that held all the squares, picking one up after a moment. "Alrighty then, let's listen!" He smiles, and Clementine raises a brow. How could they listen to this cardboard square? That didn't seem like fun. But Gabe reaches into the cardboard to slowly pull out a black circle with grooves around it and a hole in the middle. He seems to see her confusion and explains. "It's a vinyl. You can listen to music on it by using this thing. Its kinda hard to explain, so uh, just watch."

Clem watches Gabe place the vinyl onto the box thing he was playing with earlier. He then plays with it again for a few seconds, lowering this arm with a needle attached to it, placing that on the circle. Slowly, music starts to fill the room to Clementine's amazement.

"Woah, that's so cool!" Clementine grinned, stepping forward to look at it closer.

"I know right. My Yaya used to have one, me and Marianna would always listen to some dumb old songs and dance together when we were kids. Dad used to love it." His smile fades a bit at the memory, his gaze lowering to the hand he must have used to bash his fathers head in when he turned. Cautiously, Clementine took that hand in his own. Their eyes meet and she gives him a soft smile. Suddenly Gabe squeezes her hand before taking the other as well. "Hey, dance with me," He says passionately.

Clementine raises a brow at his suddenness and laughs a bit. "I...I don't know how to dance Gabe." And Gabe just rolls his eyes at her excuse.

"No one really knows how to dance. You just have fun with it. C'mon, let's just forget about this world for a bit." He pleads, bringing her hands up while giving her the puppy dog eyes. Clementine hesitates, looking between his hands and his eyes before sighing.

"Fine, but don't get upset when I step on your toes." She teases, making Gabe grin.

"Okay, help me clear the space," Gabe says, letting go of her hands to start to push the couch against the wall. In no time, the entire living room is clear and Gabe is changing the record to something that's easier for the pair to dance to. "Yaya put me and Mari into a dance class when we were younger for Kate and Dads wedding. The dance we learned is now permanently burned into my brain." Gabe jokes, waiting for the song to start before turning to Clementine.

"Okay, so you put your hand here, and I put my hand here, and we move our feet in like a square kind of motion." Gabe tries to explain as he guides Clementine's hand to his shoulder, while his goes to her waist. At first, the pair genuinely tries to teach and learn the dance, but at one point, Clementine tries to dip Gabe, and all sense of purpose goes out the window.

The two lock hands and start to do some form of the tango around the apartment, even though their steps don't match the music playing at all. Gabe takes his turn spinning and dipping Clementine, and Clementine takes her turn spinning and trying to dip Gabe. They were unable to keep their laughter to themselves, especially when Clementine dropped the slightly older boy. She pulls him up by his hands, and then their spinning in circles. They change the record to a more rock and roll type song, and things proceed to get out of hand. They start to jump on the couch and just jump around the room, singing along to lyrics that they don't know. Gabe serenades Clementine with his fruit spoon while Clementine rocks out on an air guitar.

Eventually, the two tired themselves out, and their dance time comes to an end with Clementine laying on the counter and Gabe laying on the floor. Both panting and sweaty as the music continues to play.

"Thanks, Clem," Gabe speaks up after a few minutes. Clementine slowly rolls over to look down at the boy with a smile.

"You're the one who said we should dance," She points out, resting her chin on the counter.

"I mean, thanks for being here for me. You're a great friend." He says, turning his head to look up at her with that damn smile. Clementine reaches a hand down towards him, and he lazily takes it.

"Anytime, dork."

#Gabentine #Gabe twdg #Clementine twdg #Clementine #The walking dead game #Telltales the walking dead #The walking dead fanfic #The walking dead game fanfic #The walking dead game fanfiction #twdg #Fanfiction

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phillystrega · 6 years

Note

prompt: sonny and rafael randomly run into each other somewhere on their day off and one of them asks the other eventually "are we ever gonna talk about that night?" (slow reveal that they had a drunk hook up before) + BONUS POINTS IF SONNY HAS A BLACK HENLEY AND HIS HAIR ISN'T GELLED AND ITS IN HIS EYES

A/N: Fuck me, this got long (DAMN IT LAMMII). I’m gonna stick all the prompts on AO3 when I’m done, FYI, so if reading fics longer than 500 words on tumblr bugs you, no worries, I got your back.

It’s a rainy Saturday and Rafael has a craving for pancakes and nothing even remotely related to a pancake mix ingredient in his apartment. He closes his kitchen cabinets and swears, for about the thirtieth time this year, to cook more at home.

He throws on a jacket, a pair of shoes he doesn’t care about getting wet, grabs an umbrella and makes his way down to the chain grocery store in his neighborhood. He supposes he could’ve gone to the bodega on his block but everyone knows the charm of bodegas is their ability to have cheap prepared food and snacks. If there’s a bag of flour or a box of pancake mix at the bodega Rafael bets it’s covered in a thin layer of dust and costs easily three times what it should.

He quickly gets distracted at the grocery store picking out stuff he doesn’t need but thinks looks nice. He’s being weekend-lazy and his fridge is empty, he figures he’s allowed to take his time, here.

He’s holding up an eggplant that looks good, but he’s not totally sure what he’d do with, when he hears someone clear their throat next to him. Assuming he’s standing in the way and someone just needs to get by, Rafael mutters out an apology and steps back. Then he looks up.

Sonny Carisi is in front of him, hair slightly damp, missing its usual gel finish, strands of it curling against his neck and flopping in front of his wide eyes. He’s all lank in dark jeans and a black henley top. Rafael feels a chill just looking at him. He feels a lot of things.

“Detective,” Rafael says dryly.

“Uh, hey,” Sonny says, offering up an awkward little wave of his hand. He looks like he doesn’t know what to make of Rafael in the middle of this brightly lit store. “Didn’t expect to see you…here.”

“Even former-ADAs need to eat,” Rafael says.

“No, yeah, I know,” Sonny babbles. “I just. I dunno. Grocery shopping seems…too mundane. For you.”

Rafael’s not sure if that’s a compliment or not so he just nods. He watches some water drip down from Sonny’s hair and his throat goes a little dry seeing it. He coughs. “Get caught in the rain?”

“Oh yeah, just a little.” Sonny shakes his head, like he’s a dog, and pushes his hair back out of his eyes. It just flops forward again.

“Do you live around here, now?” Rafael asks as he wonders how either of them will get out of this conversation with their pride intact.

“Yeah, just moved here a month ago,” Sonny says. He looks sheepish and scratches idly at the back of his neck. “I, ah. Forgot. You lived around here.”

Sonny has only been to Rafael’s apartment once. The week before everything that happened…happened. And Rafael left the DA’s office. Rafael didn’t really expect him to remember where Rafael lived. A lot of that night is blurred at the edges thanks to the alcohol they’d both slightly over indulged in at the bar. It hadn’t been enough for either of them to say the night was the direct cause of intoxication. Though Rafael would have to admit the scotch had loosened his tongue, may have helped Rafael move and reach out to Sonny, may have helped Sonny reach back to meet him.

Rafael doesn’t expect Sonny to remember the rushed car ride from the bar to Rafael’s place. But so much of that night is still carved into Rafael’s memory with a weight that will takes years to wash away that he can’t help but also feel a bit stung.

“Yes, same apartment,” Rafael says, a tad pointedly. “Not too far away.”

Sonny clears his throat and his eyes flutter around as if looking for a subject change to take physical form in front of him. “I heard you’re working legal aid, now.”

“Sometimes,” Rafael says, wondering who Sonny ‘heard’ that from. Probably Liv. “I’m also teaching.”

“Fordham?” Sonny asks, smirking.

“Columbia,” Rafael says and he returns the smile in spite of himself. “And I’m working with Bayard, a bit. Just every so often, when he needs help with Project Innocence.”

“Wow, that’s. That’s great,” Sonny says, sounding genuinely pleased for Rafael and impressed. “Bayard Ellis, man. He’s. Something.”

“I’ll ask him to autograph something for you,” Rafael says, then immediately wishes he hadn’t. It comes out more bitter than he’d meant and from the way Sonny’s smile slides off his face, he hears it too. “Sorry, that…” Rafael sighs. “Sorry.”

“No, hey, it’s okay.” Sonny shrugs. “This is. More than a little awkward.”

“Because I’m your former coworker who resigned in disgrace or because we fucked once?” Rafael asks and he watches as Sonny blushes and looks away. Rafael sighs and finally puts down the eggplant he’d been considering. He doesn’t even have it in him to make a joke about that. He looks at Sonny again and wonders if he’ll ever see him again. If this is it, than it’s as good a place as any, he figures. “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

Sonny’s cheeks are still pink but he recovers enough to snark back at Rafael, “Which one you wanna talk about? You resigning in disgrace or how we fucked once?”

Rafael nods as if to say, fair enough. “The second,” he clarifies.

“I don’t know,” Sonny says honestly. “I thought we would. I thought we’d have time.”

“Right,” Rafael says and he lets out a sad, low laugh. They’d both been awkward the day after–days after. They had both maybe needed some space. By the time Rafael had begun to feel ready to talk to Sonny about sleeping together he’d already started down the short path that would expel him from the DA’s office.

“I wanted to wait. After.” Sonny sighs and Rafael’s not sure if Sonny means after they slept together or after Rafael quit. Maybe it doesn’t really matter, in the long run. “And then the longer I waited, the more I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to call.”

“I did,” Rafael says.

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” Sonny says and Rafael can see the lingering anger layered underneath the sadness and the awkwardness on Sonny’s face. “You were just there one day and then gone.”

Rafael admits now that he hard pretty much cut off everyone at SVU once his trial started. Everyone except Liv, who didn’t listen when he told her to stay away, anyway.

“I distanced myself,” Rafael explains to Sonny. “I guess I thought it would make things easier.”

Sonny snorts in disbelief. “Did it?”

“Yes and no,” Rafael concedes.

“Well,” Sonny says, feigning as much cheer as he can muster, and it’s not much. “I should, uh, let you get back too–”

“Pancakes,” Rafael blurts out, apropos of little. “I was. I came here for stuff for. Pancakes.”

“Pancakes,” Sonny repeats, and he’s smiling now, something close to full and real. “Not seeing a whole lot of pancake stuff in your basket, there.”

“What are you the basket police, now?” Rafael rolls his eyes, at Sonny and his own poor retort. “Bisquick was my next stop.”

“Aw, come on,” Sonny whines. He looks a little pained, his hand coming up to clasp at his heart, like he’s suffering some serious slings and arrows. “Real pancake mix is so much better and not that hard to make.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start, there,” Rafael says.

Sonny shrugs and says, “I make great pancakes.”

It sounds like an offer. Rafael swallows and hopes he’s not reading more into that than he should. “You could…if you didn’t have any plans, that is. You could make me pancakes.”

“I could, huh?” Sonny huffs out a laugh. “How generous of me.”

“If you were interested,” Rafael says, making it Sonny’s choice.

Sonny looks genuinely torn, for about a second, and then he reaches out and takes Rafael’s grocery basket from him and looks further inside. “Yeah, okay, but we’re gonna need some more stuff that’s actually pancake-related, here.”

It takes work to appear nonplussed in that moment and Rafael just nods and hopes his hands aren’t shaking as he gestures to the rest of the store. “Lead on, then.”

When Sonny finally makes him pancakes, it’s Sunday morning. Sonny’s in his underwear and a borrowed Harvard Law t-shirt. His hair is a frightful mess–the end result of getting caught in the rain the day before, letting it air dry, and then letting Rafael run his fingers through it all night and all morning. His neck and cheeks are pink, and Rafael isn’t sure where his pleased flush at having cooked breakfast ends and the beard burn Rafael left behind begins.

“Alright,” Sonny says, a vision in rumpled domesticity and seduction that Rafael can’t believe he gets to have. He hands Rafael a fork and positions a large plate of pancakes between them, like he plans for them to share, Lady and the Tramp style. “Try that and tell me it’s not better than Bisquick.”

Rafael is still waking up and his eyes feel dry and puffy. He can’t remember if he cried at one point during last night’s talking-sex-talking-sex marathon and he thinks maybe it’s better than he can’t. And maybe it doesn’t matter, anyway, since Sonny is still here and that’s about all Rafael cares about in this moment.

He cuts himself a neat layered triangle of pancake with his fork and stuffs it into his mouth, doing a neat impression of a chipmunk as Sonny laughs. Rafael chews and swallows and looks at Sonny’s bright blue eyes. “It’s better,” he says.

#my fic #prompts #hahahahwhat #can I write fic without carbs?#signs point to no

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peachiejihoonie · 7 years

Text

park woojin - demigod!au; hermes

when he was younger, he was a master at pick pocketing

in middle school, he wouldn’t stand up for kid being bullied but rather go to the bully and pick pocket back the lunch money

he wouldn’t really hand back to them, he’d just put it on their desk, underneath their pencil bag or inside it

constantly transferred schools too, which meant constant new encounters, and he hated it

he was sick of change, he just wanted something permanent

one friend, one home, one school, one setting

he was always alone since he just kept leaving

so when he made it to camp half blood, he was shook

he wasn’t used to the atmosphere but he was immediately claimed by hermes

he was quickly engulfed by a crowd, his siblings and they were are all so jolly, happy, snarky but also welcoming

at first he was really reserved and shy but when head counselor taehyun introduced him to everyone, he was overjoyed

overtime he came out his shell

he was the master mind of plastic wrapping all the chariots together

is known for being very mischievous and silly

very bro

is the type to blame it on someone else

works half of time cause he’s good at playing innocent

“woojin it was you wasn’t it”

“what? me? why would i ever? no way!!!”

honestly, he does it for shits and giggles and never has intentions to ever hurt or anger someone

he’s really good at hand to hand combat (aka flipping people)

he carries around a simple celestial bronze knife but rarely uses it

is really talented

raps and dances he’s pretty cool my dude

the apollo cabin doesn’t really see him as all that talented though they’re to busy thinking they’re better than everyone else

you on the other hand, were constantly getting kicked out of schools because of your “problematic” behavior

it wasn’t your fault that people always listened to whatever you said

even if you had asked to cut in lines, get a’s or to skip class, it’s their fault for listening to you

at camp half blood, you were known to be quite fiery

it was hard for anyone to believe you were an aphrodite child honestly

you stand for what u believe in, you’re straight forward, and you have no problem with casting permanent make up on anyone

one time, at the dining hall, someone tried to mess with your sibling’s food by placing a magnetic force around it so the food can never sit on the plate

you immediately flung around to the giggling hermes cabin

and this time woojin was out of the loop he doesn’t commit such petty pranks uhm hello??

“okay who did it?” you glared at all of them, honestly this happens everyday and normally you’d ignore it but honestly it was gettin out of hand

“WOOJIN!” a hermes cabin kid screamed

and everyone snickered

he’s just there with a piece of bread of his mouth, puppy dog eyes, lost, looking up you

“huh?”

and you glared at the one who yelled his name and you casted the permanent make up on him and everyone else who laughed got ugly outfits with neon colors

and all the other tables are doing obnoxious ‘OOoooOOOOoooooOOOOOOOooooooOOoOOH shiTTTTTT”

the hermes kids now think you have a bratty princess attitude

but did you care????????

and the next time woojin sees you, he kinda wavers around you, and you don’t recognize him at first

as you’re setting up your weapons for capture the flag (i love ctp okay im sorry if your’e sick of it omg) he just opens his mouth

“sorry about my brothers and sisters yesterday…”

at first you were like ??? oooOOOOHHH

“hahahahHAHAHA no its no probleM!!”

are you nervous ?? is he that cute ?? is it just me omg

he’s a little flustered, mainly cause he just feels bad

may or may not have avoided playing pranks on you or just the entire aphordite cabin tbh

he was gonna say something again but chiron calls for the teams to shake hands and you two are on different teams

and so you had the found the flag, but your back up was taking forever

no one was on guard though, and the flag was just out and exposed in the creek

you wanted to go for it, seriously, your blood was chasing through your veins, it was getting hard to hold your back you impulsiveness.

and suddenly there was cheering behind you

and when you walked out of your hiding spot, you saw woojin being thrown in the air,

your team flag in his hand

and you were chill, i mean it wasn’t the first time you lost

but what really bugged you was when hermes cabin wouldn’t stop reminding you

this happened almost every time you lose

and when you’re in greek history class, they were just at and you were trying so hard not to explode

and just when you’re about to, woojin clears his through

“hyungs, please shut the fuck up, i’m trying to read here”

everyone is shooketh

cause he isn’t that straight forward and he’s normally a witness rather an unpstander

after class you thank him and he just shrugs it off like no big deal

inside he’s all squishy and warm cause aw you thanked him ?? you thank people ???

and you’re blushy because aw he cared ??

and tbh you guys stay in this weird phase for a while

very small talk, short glances

but nothing more

it was awkward for the both of you

it was the first time to feel this warm in the inside

you both knew there was something more there

there’s no way you two are just friends

ya’ll both squishes for each other

but you’re both convinced otherwise

all of woojin’s siblings tell him to not for fall an aphordite kid

they tried to convince him that he was just falling for your stupid but blessed love charms and looks

“they’re all heart breakers !! don’t know you know about their little game”

yea, your cabin loved doing this point system thing

each time they “won” a person, a point

and whoever got the least amount of points got the shoes of shame

you H A T E D it

you’re cabin was trying to explain to you that you weren’t falling for some “disgusting, annoying dumb, hermes kid”

“no way !!! you have to date one of the hot apollo kids, or the ares kids, but cMON, not a hermes kid. don’t be silly!”

and it just makes you want woojin more

he started getting bolder though

but hes still shy

your little talks became conversations, you glances became eye contact

then the conversations would last through the lunches and he would even walk you to your next activity or back to the cabin

his eyes not only lingered but he would also flash his cute little canine at you or even make silly faces when chiron is teaching

and you were complaining about your cabin with him one day during your shared free hour together

“i just don’t understand them at times, i really don’t think i fit in that cabin a at all”

“well i think you do”

you’re laughing as you look over at him but he aint laughin

“i think you fit in that cabin perfectly. you’re really genuine, kind to everyone but you’re definitely not a push over. you know that the inside personality is what is important, not the outside. everyone thinks that you’re just being mean, but i think it’s because you base your attitude on personality.”

and at first his explanation doesn’t make sense

he thought he was being weird and he freaks out

“oh my go-god,i-uh- i ig-ignore what i just said hah ha ha hahahah” he would utter out, redfaced and looking away

“no please explain what you mean woojin” and you place your hand on his shoulder

“i-it’s just like how your siblings are with looks! not to say that they’re aLL vain!! i-i i mean li-like if they’re ‘ugly’ they would kin-kinda isolate them ya know?? and when they’re pretty they date them. you’re kinda the same, but with per-personality.”

you’re speechless and his eyes are glued to the grass

“y-you just share beauty in a different way, that’s all, and i like that, a lot” he chuckles as he palms his neck nervously

“t-thanks” you mumbled out and he’s grinning to himself cause you’re so cute

and the feelings are just floating in the air

since he’s all shy and awkward and doesn’t know what to do

“i like you too” you smiled back

and yall slowly and slowly become more comfortable

you like watching him pick out the food you don’t like in your pasta

honestly he’s the cutest when he eats

his checks are puffed out and you can see the way he’s chewing and he’s just fluffy omg

and he would catch you staring and have his confused mouse face

how could you not want to feed him at that point

but slowly he would start getting flirtier and flirtier

he would run up to you and wrap his arms from behind

omg imagine his cabin is so surprised and they cannot believe he swooped an aphordite child

“brurhruhrhruhr you hella scored omg hooow???”

“well i mean, i just told them i liked them ?? and they happened to like me back ??” and he’s blushing, lookin down and a small grin on his face

they all watch you both in amazed

like you guys are laughing and smiling, arms linked, walking towards the mess hall and they’re just watching all wide eyed and jaws dropped

“that’s so unfair” they’d all pout

he secretly enjoys them being jealous

imagine him look all aggressive and hot while playing capture the flag

you can’t even play properly ???? how can you function ????

like you’re suppose to be his back up but you’re so distracted

you’re teammates know to never put you guys in the same team/group ever again

but he doesn’t realize you’re distracted by him,

he’s all sweaty and puppy like comin to you

“babe are you sick ?? are you tired ??? you don’t look okay ..”

“nO woojin i’m fine hahahha!!! don’t worry !!!” awkward laughter

“ookay..” is still slightly worried

the next day he comes by with cookies and he’s such a nervous mess cause omg your sibling opened the door

ya’ll exposed af, all you’re siblings are watching the gesture

and you slam the door on their face LOL

“woojin what are you doing ??”

“i was just worried, and i knew you liked jinyoung’s cookies so i got some for you cause you didn’t look well yesterday” and he’s all flustered

one hand in the pocket, the other palming the back of his neck nervously

he’s such a pup omg help the cutie out

but all you could do is stutter a thanks out

your siblings on the other side are just giggling

jihoon, your half brother thinks you two are disgusting

especially cause 2park is lyfe and you don’t in 2park

but overall, he’s very sweet and loving

he maybe shy at times even though he’s wild with his siblings

it’s just cause you make him nervous

you guys prove stereotypes wrong and people lOVE it

i’m so sorry this took so long lmao, thanks 4 waiting !!! esp the anon who asked for woojin a long long time ago

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