#if he had a partner and was ENTIRELY apathetic toward them he would get called an asshole and immediately broken up with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

libertybri · 2 years

Note

Fo4 companions realizing that soles ex partner was abusive through little hints and comments

*tw: mentions of abuse!

Companions-

Cait

She was livid upon finding out the truth of Sole’s dead spouse. To her, they were lucky they were dead now, otherwise they would have to deal with the fiery redhead and all of her hellbent rage set on protecting Sole. After all of her anger has passed, she is slightly upset, constantly passing around the words in her mind “how could anyone do that to Sole?” She would be set on just being close to her partner and making sure that sore subject of a spouse gets left behind in any future conversations.

Codsworth:

He already knew, unfortunately. Because Sole’s spouse had been the original programmer to Codsworth’s functions, he could never protect them from the damage their so-called lover had done. However, once he learns that the spouse is dead, he feels every right to curse their name for Sole and swear their full protection under him. He profusely apologizes for never being able to do so before and really never forgives himself, even if it was against his odds.

Curie

She pieced it together very early into their travels based on Sole’s behavior and disdain on the topic of their spouse. As a natural comforter, she would confront the issue with Sole and allow them to confide in her with any of their past trauma. She would become a personal vent for them whenever, being the perfect listener and overall, giving them kind and reassuring gestures to their comfort the entire time. Curie wants nothing more than for them to finally feel safe and at peace.

Danse

Once he realizes where Sole’s distant and strange behavior stems from, he is mostly just disappointed. He is upset that someone that is supposed to love the amazing person before him actually hurt them so much. He’s also upset that he wasn’t around then to stop it, or at least give their spouse a piece of his mind (maybe a good beating in turn, as well). From that point forward, he would try to be more sensitive to Sole and protect them twice as much as before.

Deacon

He pieced it together before meeting Sole upon watching them, their strange behavior and short responses of their spouse with a sour look always on their face. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to ever bring it up, making himself uncomfortable with just the thought of having that conversation, so unless Sole confided in him with that information he wouldn’t ever voice to them that he knew. With that being said, he would be more precautious with their well-being and even when having conversations with them, as to not be too insensitive.

Gage

He wouldn’t be able to figure it out unless Sole flat out told him so. Assuming they confide in him one day with this information, he would be absolutely enraged. If the fucker were still kicking he would have vowed to make them suffer for doing such a thing to Sole when they should have been devoting their life to them instead. He didn’t know much about love and marriage, but he knew damn well you never do that to a partner.

Hancock

Once he could piece together Sole’s strange behavior and disdain feelings towards their dead spouse, he felt nothing but rage. He wasn’t angry at Sole of course, but he was livid at the person who was supposed to love and cherish them the most actually being the one to hurt them. Hancock wouldn’t let them see his smile anytime someone brought up their abusive spouse, grinning because they were dead and could no longer harm Sole.

MacCready

Though Sole had never come out and told him, through every comment they made to flinching when he would lift his hand to adjust his hat, he understood what it all came back to. On one hand, it makes sense to him now why Sole wasn’t mourning their dead spouse as someone should and he was glad they weren’t just an apathetic freak. On the other, he wished he could march into that vault and spit at their ‘grave’ himself for doing such a thing to his kind Sole.

Nick

He knew from the moment they rescued him, their way of speech, their mannerisms; it was all too similar to cases he’s dealt with before and he had absolutely no tolerance for domestic abuse. He would immediately hate their spouse from before and secretly hope that the entire vault would just cave in on their resting spot. With all that said, he wouldn’t treat Sole any differently from another case, unless they told him about their spouse’s abuse, he then would take on the role of being their protective unit outside of the office.

Piper

She had picked up on it through hints in conversation and mentally noted every single detail to come to her conclusion. She would really just be upset. This person has already gone through so much trauma, and here the world is piling on so much more. Piper doesn’t bring it up with Sole personally, but constantly wishes she could take some of that trauma away from Sole, at least to give them some peace of mind. She believed they deserved it most out of anyone she knew.

Preston

While he could pick up on some details through their conversation and behavior, Preston couldn’t bring himself to make that conclusion about Sole’s spouse on his own assumption. He wasn’t sure if it was out of respect for Sole, or just because he didn’t want to believe it to be true. If they confided in him with the information, he would feel upset, frustrated, and disappointed. Preston would do everything in his power to make sure Sole felt comforted and safe after all of that.

X6-88

He knew through details Father had given him on his parents relationship. In his mind, he thought it was all in natural order for Sole to be the one to survive instead of their no-good spouse. He felt no need to ever bring it up with Sole, but always felt satisfaction in knowing that they were here and thriving while the other rotted away.

Extra NPCs-

Desdemona

She had no reaction on the surface, though deep down she was mad. Sole was one her most valued agents, and a valued friend to herself. She knew the kind of person they were and thought it was absolutely insane how anyone could hurt them in such a way.

Edward Deegan:

He felt the need to protect Sole. From what? He didn’t know. Just the sheer fact that someone who is supposed to love them actually hurt the amazing person he knows, hurts him. He wants to make sure that bad memory of a spouse stays in the past.

Glory

She felt rage. She wasn’t sure where to direct, whether to go down to that vault herself and take it out of their spouse’s corpse, or just punch something. But she was just angered at the thought of their spouse hurting Sole.

Jack Cabot

He felt pity for Sole. He wanted to comfort them and assure them that no more harm would come their way, as that part of their life was over with.

Magnolia

She immediately wanted to comfort Sole, whether it was sweet affirmations or taking them in her arms, she just wanted to make it known how much she cared for them and pitied their past.

Mags Black

She was confused on how a partner could do that. Of course raiders weren’t the most loving type, but they occasionally fulfilled relationships and most the time, even they didn’t take part in domestic abuse. That was just a foreign concept considering you don’t always get the chance to be happy with someone else.

Mason

He would care the least. Sole was a different person now. He thought they were weaker then, and he was glad they were stronger now. A part him thinks of how amusing it would be if their spouse could see them now.

Maxson

He was angry, absolutely fuming. He had no tolerance for domestic abuse and the fact that Sole had endured that in their past life and there was nothing he could do about it upset him greatly.

Nisha

She was shocked to say the least. On one hand, this was the Overboss- someone who is supposed to be feared, and the strongest person around- so she didn’t quite understand how they let their spouse do such a thing. On the other hand, she could realize that Sole was just in a bad situation at the time, and was an entirely different person too.

Sturges

He wishes he could have been around to give their spouse a piece of his mind. It was crazy to him how someone could hurt someone as kind as Sole, especially someone that was set on showing them nothing but love. The entire concept felt gross to him.

Tinker Tom

He assures Sole that no more harm could be done to them from their partner and offers great consolation, a person to vent to, and comfort if they were open to it. He overall just wanted to be there for them whenever they needed it.

Travis Miles:

He couldn’t quite see just how it was possible, not that he doubted them. Sole was just incredible, inside and out. They were one of the nicest people he’s ever met and really strong too. It was just crazy to him, and he wanted to make sure they knew their worth all of them time with reassurance and comfort from him.

William Black

He took pity on Sole. No matter their status as the Overboss, he could understand that they had a past life and was a completely different person than they are now. He wanted to make sure that their past stayed where it was.

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zevexsii · 3 years

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norton campbell sfw + nsfw hcs (gn s/o)

holy shit i love norton campbell

cut for length!

norton’s a very complicated guy. he’s seen some shit, done some shit, and quite frankly hates most of the world around him. not because he actually thinks it’s bad- he just pushes away everything and everyone he cares about as a defense mechanism.

he wouldn’t necessarily realize that he was developing feelings for his s/o right off the bat- he’d get closer and closer to them without actually thinking about the butterflies that your smile gave him or the protective urges that enveloped most of his critical thinking skills during matches.

it really depends on how easily you open up to him. especially if you’re emotionally available early on. i doubt he would entirely open up to you about the mining incident, or even about the root of any of his problems, but if you were there on norton’s bad days to calm him down or let him vent, he’ll fall head over heels for you even quicker.

not particularly talkative. norton doesn’t really know how to keep a conversation going and deflect too-personal questions at the same time, so most days he just enjoys sitting with you.

right before The ConfessionTM, norton begins to isolate himself more than usual. he does his best to avoid you at mealtimes, will ditch matches that you’re both playing in, paying no mind to the consequences. it’s hard for him to even look at you without losing his composure- either spacing out and making heart eyes in your direction or having graphic thoughts of your death at his hands. it would be accidental, of course. he’d lash out and hurt you; make a mistake in a match and leave you bloody.

if you seek him out, it might make it worse; he’ll probably snap at you, but he can’t hold up his apathetic front for long. he breaks down as you turn to leave, grabbing for your hand or your wrist. he hangs his head and asks you not to go in a low, hoarse whisper. he’s sniffling.

this is the first time norton would seek out physical comfort from you. his movements are shaky and apprehensive as he tugs you closer to him- depending on where you managed to corner him, norton’ll ask to sit down and be held by way of burying his face in the crook of your neck. he’s terrified you’re going to pull away the entire time.

indulge him. gently card your fingers through his messy, dark hair or rub gentle circles onto his back and he might cry. poor guy’s repressed to hell and back.

norton’s feelings for you are quite obvious at this point, but he needs to make sure to let you know, just in case. when he says that he’s in love with you, he’s breathless and the words are harried. if he’s able to look at you at all, his brown eyes are anxious and searching- begging for an answer, even if it’s one that would destroy him completely. he doesn’t really expect you to reciprocate his affections- he’s high maintenance at the very least in his own eyes.

when you tell him that you love him too, norton is awestruck. he has to verify that he heard you correctly- tell him again and he lets out a watery chuckle proceeded by a shit-eating grin.

hold onto him a little while longer. he needs it.

now that norton’s confessed and you’re officially together, his behavior towards you in public doesn’t change too much- in lobbies before matches or mealtimes he lingers by you, keeping up a low conversation about mundane things. he’s unsurprisingly uninterested in pda, except for special occasions.

in private, there are a lot of casual, domestic touches. norton’s inclined to come up and wrap his arms around you from behind, or rest a hand on the small of your back as you’re working away at a task.

adores forehead/cheek kisses. the simple things make him soft beyond belief. deep, passionate kisses are usually reserved for when things are getting hot n’ heavy, plus they trigger norton’s claustrophobia very easily. norton normally despises any sort of attention drawn to his scars- they’re a massive insecurity of his, not to mention the horrible reminder of his past that they bring up, but if you give him small smooches on his upper cheek, or the border between scarred flesh and his normal tan, he’ll melt.

can cook surprisingly well! norton’s been alone for the great majority of his life- not to mention he lived with a bunch of bachelors, so he knows the basics. however, anything you make will be devoured within seconds. really enjoys sweets!! uses excess frosting on your lips or cheek as an excuse to kiss you <33

is a pretty big eater!! norton’s a beefy guy and he tells you that he’s gotta keep himself strong in order to protect you <3 he’s also got a phat ass

norton’s a bit clueless when it comes to asking for cuddles; he’ll just sort of drape himself over you or mumble about being tired, hoping you’ll take the hint. on bad days, he doesn’t even want to get out of bed. everything’s just too much, he hopes you’ll understand.

let norton rest his head in your lap or hide his face in your shoulder. sometimes it’s humiliating for him to let you see him like this- hold him close and gently play with his hair or intertwine your fingers in his. actions like that help ground norton.

coo soft things in his ears. tell him you love him, that it isn’t his fault. that you’ll stay with him no matter what. these reassurances in particular help combat his overwhelming abandonment issues.

on regular days, norton’s favorite cuddle positions are probably those that involve you laying your head on his broad chest, or him holding you from behind.

very outdoorsy! go on walks with him and he’ll point out interesting rocks and the two of you will pocket geodes to take home and crack open. offer norton small things that you found on the way home, or gems that you pilfered from the golden cave map. it may not seem like a lot, but realizing that you care enough about norton to remember the small things that he enjoys makes him feel endlessly loved.

i can’t stress enough how much norton appreciates domesticity. dude’s had a rough life, at this point he just wants to settle down in a stable place with someone who loves him, hopefully with a few kids, if his s/o is up for that!

nsfw

norton is practically a connoisseur of intense, rough sex. as mentioned above, he’s got a lot of repressed shit to deal with and most of his more ‘vulnerable’ emotions are turned into anger. unhealthy coping mechanisms go brrrrr.

needless to say, it’s best to use a safeword with norton.

that’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy slow, passionate stuff- most days he’s perfectly happy to bury himself inside you however you need.

during slow, soft sex, norton prefers to be ridden. it allows him to sit back and revel in the pleasure of being fucked by his lovely, lovely s/o.

his fear of abandonment also comes into play during sex. he’ll get you begging for his cock, whimpering uncontrollably about how badly you need him inside of you. deep down, norton yearns to be needed by someone.

not the most vocal partner, but lets loose a plethora of gasps and grunts once he’s got your tight hole stretched around him- most dirty talk consists of half-formed, growled curses that go straight south.

always preps you with oral. he doesn’t care how ready you are for his dick, he needs to finish you off with his mouth first. norton’s definition of finishing you off consists of bruising and biting all over your hips and upper thighs before moving on to rub a calloused finger over your clit or give light strokes to your cock, paying special attention to the vein running along the underside. by the time he’s done, you’ll have cum at least twice and that’s if norton’s rushing it.

unsurprisingly addicted to marking you. nothing riles norton up more than watching you interact with the other survivors while they frantically try to ignore the bruises and hickeys that have crawled up your neck and right under your jawline. if said survivor glances to norton afterward, he’ll toss a sleazy smirk in their direction. you’re fucking him and everyone knows it.

not really a fan of missionary. norton’s partial to fucking you from behind and leaving small scratches and bruises from how tightly his massive hands grabbed your hips.

he’s a thigh and an ass guy. ‘nuff said. he doesn’t have anything against boobs, though!

won’t introduce choking or restraining you- norton wants to revel in every little twitch and movement you make while he shoves himself between your thighs. of course if you ask for either of those things, norton will indulge you. choking would probably do well with his size kink.

definitely has a breeding kink. all he wants is to completely fill you up with his seed- he’ll go as many rounds as he can, desperate to stuff you full of his cum. he’ll degrade you while he does this- calling you his little whore, going on and on about how desperate you are for his cum.

a fair bit into overstimulation. it feeds norton’s sorely battered pride that no one else can see you like this- flushed and nearly in tears, letting out strangled mewls of pleasure while his cock slams against your prostate/g-spot. don’t even think about hiding your face in a pillow, either. the noises and expressions you make are part of how norton is assured he’s doing a good job- he also thinks you’re damn beautiful, all unraveled for him like this.

as stated above, norton prefers to cum inside of you, but if you’re not up for that he’ll pull out and cum on your ass or in his hand.

pulls your hair quite a bit- he’s pulled strands out in the past and apologizes like hell afterward. it’s not his intention to hurt you.

aftercare!! soft. norton’ll offer to wash your hair and wash your back- his hands are strong and more often than not, he ends up massaging your shoulders. wash his hair and he’s in heaven. lots of mildly soapy forehead kisses and whispered “i love you”s as the two of you crawl into bed, your head tucked under norton’s.

#norton campbell x reader #norton campbell idv #prospector #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv x reader headcanons #prospector x reader #idv prospector #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader headcanons #identity v x reader headcanons #idv smut #identity v smut #norton campbell smut #i'm a bit unsatisfied with this but i can always post more #identity v prospector #norton simp hours

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thebadchoicemachine · 3 years

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Petting Party (pt 1)

Rundown of dimensions AU: Quackity’s from 1920s dimension called Prowa, Schlatt and Charlie are his business partners *cough found family cough* and they run a casino/speakeasy. Sapnap is a knight from a fantasy dimension called Quarry. Karl is like Dr.Who.

tw - Mentions of guns and alcohol (1920s mobster dimension)

This is really just the fluffiest full I have ever written.

•••

@thecatchat

•••

Quackity walked through his rooms, digging around drawers for his keys. He squawked a little in frustration as he rummaged. He felt so paranoid, like he was already short on time even though he was about half an hour early and it’s not like Sapnap or Karl would mind waiting. He just wanted this to go perfectly. They’d had dates in his world before, they’d even had proper ones where they weren’t running from cops or mobsters or some other guns/knife/bat-wielding foes. Heh, foes. He was starting to think like Sapnap… and he was starting to feel like Karl— where was his damn key? Karl had literal worlds full of stuff to keep track of, it only made sense he got turned around and mixed up, what was Quackity’s excuse?

Finally, a glint caught his eye and he snatched up the silver piece of metal, stuffing it into his sleeve and practically skipping to the front. Their home was really just the back half of the casino so he just walked through into the back room. Schlatt and Charlie were sitting at a table, various game pieces scattered across the top, counting cards, chips, and cash. Charlie seemed to be in the middle of a failed game of solitaire and was stacking up a house of cards while Schlatt was just old-fashioned sorting, looking rather bored. It was a quiet night for them. Probably a few drinks and catching up till bed after they double-check the games for cheating. Quackity would usually join them but it wasn’t strange for him not to show. He gave them a wave as he walked past, motion enough for them to look up and acknowledge him.

Schlatt only glanced up before returning to his work. “What’s with the getup?”

“I told youse, I’m going out tonight.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m going out to meet my partners.” Quackity struck a joking pose. “No harm in good impressions.”

“Hey,” Charlie frowned childishly, “aren’t we your partners?”

Quackity chuckled, rolling his eyes, “Of course. My new partners, then. Actually, lemme see a cut of that doe, I wanna butter ‘em up tonight.” He snatched a few bills from the table and turned to make his exit.

“Wait,” Schlatt commanded, still barely looking up from his work. “Partners like you’re out for coffee to discuss getting new tables?” He took a sharp bite of his apple, eyes lazily growing dark. “Or do youse mean partners like I outta trail behind... y’know, keep you from gettin’ lead poisoning.”

“Uh...” Quackity blinked. “Partners like I’m off to a petting party.”

Schlatt choked. Charlie laughed while he coughed, moving to pat his back and smiled at Quackity. “Well, good luck.”

Quackity narrowed his eyes as he was almost certain he caught a ‘all knows you need it’ under Charlie’s breath. He played it cool and simply snapped, “Hey, I don’t need no luck. Certainly not from you.”

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to offend.” Charlie held his hands up, grin still plastering his face. “Was just wishing you the best.”

“Yeah... yeah,” Schlatt nodded, coming out of his state but still red-faced. Whether it was from embarrassment or lack of air Quackity couldn’t tell. He rolled his eyes again, smiling but waving goodbye without giving them a chance to drag him onto another conversation.

He stepped into the front, waiting patiently by the front of the door. Karl had said they’d meet him at the Vidrio, but should he wait inside or out? He paced, routinely adjusting his feathered headband and combing the actual feathers on his wings. He still worried he was overdressing a little but when he tried to lessen his look he panicked about underdressing. He wanted to look good for his boyfriends, a bit of makeup wouldn’t hurt that... would it? In the end, he’d settled on a simple pale blue dress, eyeliner, and a small headband. Nothing too gaudy but he still looked good. He looked good in everything, of course, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. So why was he all jittery? What, was he suddenly a dud? It didn’t matter. It was probably just because of the surprise factor.

He’d assumed they would come and get outfits at his place (no offense to them, they just really couldn’t go the way they usually dressed) but Karl had insisted they pick him up like a “proper date.” He didn’t know what Karl knew about proper dates or when he’d started to care about them, most of their dates involved some form of running for their lives. Quackity wasn’t complaining but he’d be lying if he said the idea of just being a snuggle pup for a change wasn’t wildly appealing, especially if it meant getting to have Sapnap and Karl got to hang out in his world and not just flee and sneak. There were some nice things here he felt he never got to show them.

He sunk into himself, suddenly feeling ashamed. It was bad manners, it was. Combining his work and love life to the point he may as well have made chumps out of his own boyfriends. He knew they didn’t mind, it was all new and fun for them and he was pretty sure Sapnap did the same thing. (He wasn’t entirely sure what his job was, like a knight sure but where was the line between work and just regular old Quarrian life?) Still. He should take them dancing more or something. Technically, that’s what he was doing here but he’d like to make a better habit of it, it really sounded like the bees-

A bright, impossible, but familiar, swirl interrupted his thoughts. He straightened himself, quickly fixing his headband one last time. His heart was pounding out of his chest— but not because he was nervous, because he was excited. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a giddy sap as out from the portal stepped Karl and Sapnap. His breath was caught in his throat as he got a good look at them. He wasn’t sure what he expected, nothing bad, but he mentally made a note to give them an apology for being SO wrong. Whatever he’d imagined, they looked a million times better.

Sapnap was in a white dress shirt. He had on a maroon vest and black tie he clearly didn’t know how to wear but wore well nonetheless. He had his hair slicked back, completely showing his pretty silvery, misty, eyes. Quackity noted the headband he usually wore in his hair was tied in a ribbon around his neck. Sapnap just couldn’t be without it, he warmly mused.

Karl had on something with colors in patterns like Quackity had never seen before, not in his world at least, which— of course, it was Karl. Beautiful, strange, mysterious, adorable Karl. The top of the pantsuit was made of several pale shades of green. They washed over it like waves of seafoam, a strip of pale purple lace swirled around it, almost mimicking a deconstructed form of his usual crazy attire. A herringbone cap was pulled over his head, shaping brown curls.

Quackity stared, absolutely gobsmacked, until his brain caught up to his eyes. Sapnap was saying something and waving his hand a little. Quackity blinked, shaking himself out of it. Egad, he was goofy for them. Luckily, Karl and Sapnap didn’t seem to mind his zoning out. In fact, Karl seemed to find it tickling, he clearly held in a giggle as Quackity snapped to. Quackity guessed this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself stunned. It certainly wouldn’t be the last either.

“Hey, jackpot,” Sapnap gently flicked his forehead. “I asked how you think we look.”

“You... good. You look good. Mmhmm,” he managed to squeak out, finally remembering to close his mouth. Slick. He was slick.

“I’m glad you like it,” Karl chuckled. “I know you don’t really trust me to dress myself for nice places in Prowa.”

“Hey, I never said I didn’t trust you!”

“You never said it, no.”

Quackity gave Karl a small punch in the shoulder. He flinched way more than was warranted, stumbling dramatically, but a broad smile settled on both their faces.

“Aw, sugar! Did I hurt you?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey! Sir,” Sapnap stepped between them, also joking. “What is wrong with you, daring to assault my beloved in front of me?” He threateningly toward over Quackity, grabbing his shoulders and backing him up against the wall. His eyes flickered with playful malice. He leaned in close, expression caught between a smirk and a snarl, completely aware of the growing blush on Quackity’s face. “I’ve half a mind to challenge you, and another half to crush you right here for your audacity.”

“Aw, my knight in shining armor,” Karl sarcastically patted Sapnap’s shoulder, thoroughly less impressed by the display than Quackity. “Whatever would I do without you here to defend me from this sweet, cuddly, small, duckling?”

“Hey!” Quackity snapped defensively. “I could fuck you up if I-“

“Ey, Q! Have you seen-“ Schlatt stopped upon seeing the scene, turning on his heel and walking right back into the back. “Nevermind. Not my business. None of my business. Absolutely not my business…”

“I-“ Sapnap dropped his boyfriend (who crumpled onto the floor in laughter), instantly turning a shade twelve times redder than Quackity had been. “I am so sorry.”

“Ah- Schlatt?” Karl called over Quackity’s wheezing. “Schlatt, it’s fine-“

“NONE OF MY BUSINESS!” A shout came from the backroom.

Quackity dropped his face into his hands, his chortling turned to full hysterics as he sat curled up against the wall. His dress, which he had been so unreasonable nervous about moments before, creased and probably picked up some grime from the floor. He didn’t care at all. Now that his boyfriends were actually beside him he could care less if he was painted green and orange. He had no one to impress, at least no one who would let anything bad happen over a stupid look. “Oh,” he snickered, the burst dying down. “Oh wow.” He wiped his eyes as jubilant tears stung, apathetic as he’d become he hoped his makeup didn’t run. It wasn’t necessary but he’d still like to look nice for the occasion. He pulled himself to his feet, brushing off his outfit and sighing. “Ah. He’s got a point though, really should be saving that for the party.”

“Speaking of which—“ Karl snapped his fingers in a jazzy rhythm. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yes, let’s!” Sapnap turned with Karl as all three of them began to speed out the door.

Quackity made sure to bump in front of them before they made it out, he was not letting Karl anywhere near the wheel.

The car ride was bright and lively although quiet. Quackity couldn’t help but grin just being next to these goons, one could practically feel Karl vibrating with excitement in the back, even Sapnap seemed to be enjoying the drive (he’d never quite gotten over the time Karl had offered to drive... Quackity could barely blame him for remaining he cautious and paranoid around automobiles). The blanched twilight hummed overhead as they made their way through the streets. It was relatively empty this time of night, too late for errands but just before everything started to swing. They pulled into the end of the road and all stepped out.

“It’s a bit of a walk the rest of the way,” Quackity explained. “Especially cause ‘s considered… ‘impolite’ to pull attention.”

“Hmm…” Sapnap nodded, glancing behind them.

“What’s up?” Karl put a hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“It’s fine, I just-“

“Just what?”

“Uh, maybewecouldgoseeSchlattandCharlie?”

“Huh?” Karl blinked.

“Is… Schlatt and Charlie coming? Could we go get them?”

“N-no?” Quackity stammered, surprised to say the least. “This— uh- ain’t exactly the kind of party you bring your family to. Not ‘less they got dates of their own... and you know Charlie ain’t keen on that stuff.”

“Okay, well, maybe we could spend some time with them for a while at the casino? Before we commit here. The night is young!”

“I means, I’m pumped for your sudden urge to hang out with them and all, but I kind of wanted to spend time with the two of you.”

“Ah-“ Sapnap shrunk into himself. “Of course, I- me as well, I’m so sorry to imply otherwise. I was just thinking Charlie may like to hear about the slimes...” He trailed off, fiddling with the headband around his neck, just the slightest hint of panic on his face. He was very good at hiding it but Quackity and Karl knew him better than that. They shared a glance, this had nothing to do with Charlie.

“Spice, are youse nervous?”

“N-no!”

“You sure? We don’t gots to do nothing you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, it’s just-“

“Chivalry and all that?” Karl chimed in, sympathetic. “I know our courting isn’t exactly conventional.”

“No. Well, not exactly. Ah... think I’m merely... flustered?”

“Flustered?” They spoke at once.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… romance in my world is so different. Much more complicated. It involves a lot of the other’s family and specific sets or roles for meetings, it changes depending on how long you’ve been together and what kingdoms you hail from, so such and so forth. I’ve never been a martinet for the rules but, the way you describe these kinds of parties, I- I- find myself… lost.”

Karl blinked. “So, you’re used to having a bunch of guidelines and, while you don’t miss them, are floundering without the stencil?” Sapnap nodded at the ground. He took a breath and shook his head, clearing his mind before bowing slightly. He held his left arm over his chest, middle knuckle up with his pinky and thumb slightly out, keeping the rest of his hand balled in a fist. Quackity recognized the symbol by now as something like a salute of the Nether kingdom. It was used to show respect while speaking. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes, remembering the formality was only habit.

“I apologize for my trepidation,” Sapnap held a bashful tone. “I am just not used to courti-“ he paused, searching for the word, “dates being so… open. I don’t mean that as an insult to your world! I only-.”

“Okay, buddy,” Quackity pushed Sapnap upright by his shoulders. He seemed confused but obliged. “I get it’s polite and nice for you but, if you really love me, please never do this again.”

“Do... what?”

“You have a habit of getting all formal when you’re worried you’re messing up with us.” Karl shrugged.

“I do?”

“I don’t know.” Quackity tapped his chin. “Let’s see.” Without warning, he grabbed Sapnap by the shoulders and takes him downward, planting a firm kiss right on his lips. He tensed a little as he felt a sudden wave of hotness wash over him (that was to be expected from surprising a demon) but stayed in the moment. As he pulled away, Sapnap blinked a few times, stunned although the faintest hint of a smile shone through. His gelled hair fell just a little messy.

“What the fuck, Quackity?”

“There we go! Back to normal! You see the difference?”

“I- I guess so!” He nodded, a look of mild surprise mixing his comprehension as if he’d just realized what color his own eyes were.

“Now, did youse like that?”

“Yes?”

“You want more?”

“Yes...”

“You wanna go inside?”

“Yeah.” Sapnap energetically nodded, slamming the car door shut, slicking back his hair again, and holding out his arms. “Yes, I do.”

Karl jumped between them, linking arms on his side before Quackity had the chance, and holding out his own instead. Quackity shot him a look but took it, joined by Sapnap in confusion at the sudden demand to be in the middle. Karl only smiled as they made their way down the street, nearly skipping at the attention until he lowly murmured, “So… do I get a kiss?” Quackity opened his mouth, smiling, but was cut off by Sapnap swiftly swooping in and planting one on Karl’s cheek.

“Oh- you-!” Quackity squawked, envy and agitation peaking his tone. “I was gonna-!”

“Well, I did.”

“Boys, boys, I do have two hands… and two cheeks,” Karl half-sang, leaning over to Quackity awaiting his kiss.

“Oh, no. Fuck you. You’re gonna have to wait for it now,” Quackity pouted. Sapnap let out a taunting laugh as Karl gasped in mock offense. Well, probably mock. Regardless, Quackity only smirked and turned to face a door in the wall next to them. “Besides, we’re here!” He unlinked his arm, rattling out a little pattern into the door. It opened slowly, revealing a dapperly dressed serpentine blocking the view inside. He smiled wildly as the warm smells and colors hit him regardless, it had been a while since he’d been to one of these, long before he ever met them and certainly not while they were dating, but he missed them.

He couldn’t wait to share this.

#karlnapity dimensions #ksq dimensions content #karlnapity fluff #woah those are words I wrote

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dilfbane · 3 years

Text

Your Weeping(Your Need For His Touch)

Summary: When things go south on a mission, you have to confront more than just the sketchy town, cartoon villains, and one-bed hotel room you’re forced to share with Loki. You have to come to terms with not only the consequences of being captured, but also the God of Mischief’s feelings for you - Because for all that he might be an asshole, sometimes, he really does have a heart. Written for the Picture Is Worth A 1,000 Words 6k Follower Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard

Pairing: Loki/(Female)Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and medical treatment, as well as discussions of the inevitable mindset around sacrificing oneself for the mission that I feel like being part of the Avengers would entail. Also swearing, because at its core, this story started out as a bit of a crack! fic.

Word Count: 7.8k.

A/N: So apparently when I have mental breakdowns they result in me writing crack-fic that takes a 180 veer into angst and fluff for absolutely no reason. For the sake of the crack-fic, in this timeline Loki was forced to help the Avengers take down bad guys directly after the end of the first Avengers movie, so… Is that a confusing plot hole I didn’t know how to account for except by making this AU? Maybe. Did I do it anyway?…. Yeah. This really was meant to be a crack-fic about Loki and the reader confessing their feelings set in the bizarre world of meme culture, I didn’t realize there were going to be feels in it until it was three in the morning and all of a sudden this happened. That being said, your girl went there, so enjoy!

“Oh, shit,” You say, as you take in the grimy hotel room. The walls all smeared in what looks like dried blood, the putrid smell of rotten eggs, a crack-screened television with a fine dusting of some suspiciously white powder. And, of course, “There’s one bed.”

“Hmm?” Asks Loki, turning towards you, briefly, from unpacking. He had dumped his suitcase(Magically plucked out of a chaotic liminal space) unceremoniously on the bed’s scratching, pilling coverlet without so much as a second glance at the rest of the room. And why do you need a suitcase, anyways?? You wonder. It isn’t like we’re planning to be here that long. In fact, you hoped with every fiber of your being that you’d be here for as little time as possible, because this town might actually be the sketchiest place you’ve ever seen in your life; no small feat, for a bona-fide member of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You’ve kicked alien ass on a mutated purple Mongolian death-worm three thousand feet over New York City. You’ve run reconnaissance to rescue debatably-magical items sequestered away in an ancient cave labyrinth plastered in paintings and untranslatable runes, gunfire and what could only be described as the baying of hellhounds in the near distance. You’ve fist-fought a gigantic hive-mind robot in a field of artificially sentient feral steel suits - You’ve even survived Tony’s parties.

Yet none of those scenarios hold a candle to this fucking town.

And Loki, the asshat, seems utterly, competently - no, maniacally - unfazed.

“There’s one bed,” You repeat, into the air.

“Ah,” Says Loki, straightening.

“You don’t see that problem with that?!”

“Should I?” He asks you, walking across the room in long, graceful strides to stand in front of you. He wears the same expression he always wears, amused and indifferent, but this time with the addition of a single, elegantly-arched eyebrow. You drop your head, refusing to meet his somewhat-curious gaze. It physically hurts, how attractive Loki is. Not for the first time, you curse whatever god decided that you and him would once again be mission partners - in this case, you belatedly realize, and choke back a thick laugh, said god is, unsurprisingly, Thor.

If you survive this, you make a note to beat his head in with Mjolnir. As it is, you are here in this room with Loki, with perhaps twenty IPP agents and a reckless poisoner dogging your every move, and there’s a high chance that you won’t live long enough to navigate whatever the hell sleeping with your crush-who-has-murdered-men. Ok, so ‘murdered men’ isn’t entirely accurate. More like ‘caused the murder of men inadvertently through his schemes’. It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, right now.

And what about Loki? He is still staring you down, like you’re some wind up toy moments away from going off. Funny, that, you think. If ever there were a time to not have a mental breakdown, it would be here, with him. You’ve crossed a lot of moral lines in your life, but you will be damned if you let Loki Laufeysson see you cry. Loki is graceful. Composed. Sarcastic. Lithe. Rolls his eyes at almost every statement that comes out of somebody’s mouth. But he is, also, beautiful. Shockingly comforting, in his own nihilistic way. You don’t know what it says about you that you find comfort in statements like, Try not to die, you know that I hate funerals. Part of you - most of you - doesn’t want to. But it gives you strength, somehow, to shrug off the day and ground your flailing mind in evading Loki’s calculated manipulation. I won’t show you my weakness, you think to yourself. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

“No,” You tell him - too quickly, he’ll pick up on that - “You’re right, you shouldn’t. It’s fine. We have - a lot to deal with, is all.”

Loki nods, seemingly accepting your answer, but his eyes are still narrowed, watching you like he’s calling your bluff. You talk right past that look - have to, to keep yourself sane, to not think about the one bed that looms large over this entire conversation. It doesn’t even look like a comfortable bed.

“We have two days,” You say, to stop yourself thinking of it. And, also, to talk your way through your disarmingly disjointed thoughts. Loki nods. It would really help if you said something, you think. Swallow the thought, hot and thick, down your throat. What’s the point of a mission partner if you can’t even soundboard off them? “The Pink Cobra could strike anyone, anytime. The IPP is planning something in New York - “

“Isn’t everyone, these days, planning something in New York?”

He sounds regretful, and for half a second you want to offer him the reassurance that his very presence offers you. But you are sure he doesn’t know what he does to you - with his words, with the sidelong glances that you’ve felt linger on your form far too long in the heat of a fight. If you didn’t know any better, you would say Loki worries about you.

“We have to shut him down,” You say. Focus on the Pink Cobra, because honestly, that’s easier. “Find out where he manufactures. Not get poisoned,” You add, at the end.

“Yes,” Loki says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “We should certainly try not to get ourselves killed. Failing that, I suppose, we can at least request that no one in H.Y.D.R.A gets autopsy access.”

“Loki?” You ask. Rhetorically. “You’re not helping.”

He smirks at you, then. He knows.

“What do you propose that we do then?” He asks, taking a step towards you, getting so close that you can feel his hot breath. “About the Pink Cobra?”

“Find him.” You say, fumbling, blush rising high on your cheeks.

Tonight?

One bed?

You are screwed.

***

When you were a kid - think really little, Capri Sun pouches and still believing that true love wasn’t complicated - your father told you that every story needed a good supervillain. You aren’t sure if the Pink Cobra counts as a good supervillain, but he’s the least confusing one that you have to deal with - and, as far as villains go, a fine enough challenge to face. He’s like a madman out of some high fantasy novel, with dark eyes and a sable-sewn cloak and a penchant for poisoning. He is adept in all the arts of the woman’s murder; he has a keen grasp on the side-effects of arsenic and camphor and tansy and cyanide and strychnine. He’s been found to have dropped crystal phials filled with belladonna and ricin while fleeing a scene. If all else fails, he’s more than practiced with daggers.

In other words, he’s the kind of villain that none of you, with your flying suits and telekinesis and super-strength, are anywhere near prepared to waylay.

The plan, as far as team Avengers is concerned, is easy:

You and Loki. This town, where the webs of his manufacturing production and the few glimpses of information that Thor has totally legally excavated out of his captured minions has led to. Two days until some undefined grand attack bears down on the city you live in. Two days to find the Pink Cobra and kill him. The more time passes with no headway, the more you think that this is an impossible task, but you know what Tony would say. We have our best minds on it.

The thing is, you aren’t sure that that’s true. The minds that have been set to this task are you and the God of Lies. It’s hardly the best they could have come up with, considering your track records. Actually, you take that back - Loki was a good choice for this mission, because, not three hours after arriving in this hellhole of a city, he seems to have somehow developed the ability to read minds. More specifically, yours. And that could prove stunningly useful.

The scene, as it stands: Loki, sprawled across the lumpy bed, three pairs of crisp white shirts, a plaid scarf, and a full set of Asgardian battle armor neatly hung in the mothball-infested closet, flicking through channels on the grain, cracked television with an apathetic expression and one arm thrown haphazardly over bent leg. Propped up in such a way that he could jump or spin or parry at a moment’s notice, yet perfectly, devastatingly languid, leafing through Nick Fury’s dossier on the Pink Cobra. He looks at you like a god, you think, and then remember. He is one.

You, on the floor, because on top of all the other things this hotel doesn’t have, like two beds, there isn’t anything even resembling a desk, shifting through a glowing, holographed file archive from headquarters that barely runs on your severely outdated laptop. It’s a point of pride to you, keeping the laptop - not because it’s good, but because it’s survived five years of being an Avenger, which is something not even all the Avengers can claim to have done. You’re also fairly certain that Tony’s attempts to update the firmware had infested it with some sort of renegade virus. Elevated above your screen, the files are split into two groups, the sum total of everything that you know about both of the groups that are avidly trying to kill you.

There’s the wealth of information containing the Pink Cobra’s poisoning sprees, but those aren’t the files that interest you, and you know that Loki’s not much interested in them either. That honor falls to the fanatics at the IPP, the Imminently Predictable Psyops organization, which you know even less about than you do about the Pink Cobra, chief among which the fact that they need a new name. Imminently Predictable Psyops?, Tony had said, when you’d finally apprehended one of their proxies. What do they think this is? Some type of ARG?

What you’ve gleaned, from months worth of studying the network, is that they operate as a sort of cringe-oriented death cult intent on ‘reshaping the universe through meme agents’. They’d been on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar for a long time - upwards of a year - before anyone at team base learned they existed - which, you can almost hear Loki saying, was a failure in the extreme. Currently, it was your job to obsessively worry over whether they were going to send ‘meme agents’ to bust through the door of your seedy hotel room and off you both. You hated - truly loathed - how casually Loki was taking it all.

He’s acting like nothing was wrong with this situation, when, in fact, you’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that this night will end up with one or both of you dead. It is, to say the least, disconcerting.

Kill switch, the holograph files read. Cross-referential Neil Cicierega acoustic weaponry. Your mind sees the words, but doesn’t comprehend them, and you run a hand up to rub at your bleary eyes with annoyance. You risk a glance upwards; on the bed, Loki scans page after page after page with disinterested nonchalance, punctuating the flipping over of each document with a noncommittal hum; as if to say, I understand you. As it to say, This could be worse. You try to slip into that mindset. Certainly, things could be worse.

Actually, though? Not really.

Because, for all the world, the holo-file in front of you just said ‘Pepe The Frog Chaos Banking Laser Initiative’.

“What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“Sorry?”

You whip your head around. Loki, raising an eyebrow. Damn that - perfect - eyebrow.

“Sorry,” You echo back at him, rubbing your eyes again, perversely glad for the break, even if it is this awkward. “I … said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Marginally,” He tells you. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” You - well, it’s not a whine, not exactly. You’re tired, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep tonight, so you feel like your tone’s justified. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I’m just - this is. Completely nonsensical.”

“Show me?” He asks, and you snort. He could totally just look up, but -

“Do you have a P.h.d in memes?” You ask him, and, before he can answer, “Because unless you have a P.h.d in memes, I don’t think you’ll be able to help.”

“You’d be surprised,” Loki says. Vaults over the bed with the speed and grace of a panther, filling the air with a cringing wheeze as the rusty springs bend underneath him, and landing in front of the holo-file, pushing you aside slightly to get a better view. When his fingers brush against your side, cool and firm, you flinch.

“Tired,” You offer, when he shoots you a momentarily concerned look. “Just. Need to sleep, later, I think.”

But Loki is already scanning the file, and when he looks up, not five seconds later, you want to hit somebody. Preferably, you think, him.

“I would assume,” Loki says, “That they’re using time travel in order to obtain and store monetary value by way of a Pepe-the-frog inspired laser array.”

“Oh,” You say. You blink once. Blink twice. Still have no idea what that means. “Right.”

“Do you not know your memes, love?” He asks you, smirking. And oh, if you don’t feel things.

“I don’t go on the internet, much,” You tell him. “Too busy, you know, trying not to get killed.”

Loki shrugs. Sidles away from the file. The groan and squeak of those springs tells you he’s back on the bed, giving you some well-needed space, but you can’t bring yourself to look.

“You can sleep,” He says, “If you want.”

“Ha!” You yelp/choke/embarrassingly bleat out into the room’s stale silence. Underneath the rotten eggs, you catch a whiff of bong-water. “No.”

“There’s a bed,” Loki says, cocking his head pointedly and patting the lumpy covers.

“Yeah, that’s - kind of the problem.”

“Why?” He asks you.

“You - really?”

“I was only asking,” Says Loki, re-focusing his attention on whichever Pink Cobra document’s next in the folder. “If you aren’t comfortable telling me - I merely thought, seeing as you were tired, you might take this opportunity to rest.”

“Yeah,” You tell him, “Of course, that’s - nice of you.”

It comes out stilted. Patently off. If he notices, he doesn’t say.

“Are you going to - um. Do you need help, with the rest? The ones I have seem kind of hopeless. I mean,” You say, when he doesn’t look up, “I don’t think that we have to worry about getting demolished by trans-dimensional Agarthian wormholes.”

“Of course not,”” Loki says, scoffing and incredulous, gaze, you are sure, on his page. “If they wanted to kill us, they’d send someone with a gun.”

In reality, it’s several someones.

***

“You jinxed it,” Is the first thing you tell him, when the men leave you. They’ve thrown you into a one-room warehouse, rickety shelves stacked with cartoonish tubs of green goop and mildewing boxes filled with grenades and machine guns and what appears, at second-glance, to be twelve-fingered latex gloves. You’re tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, and your throat feels uncharacteristically parched. Fear, you tell yourself. Apprehension. “Can’t you just - use your seidr to magic us out of this?”

If you could see him - which you can’t, because you’ve been tied back to back - you’d swear that Loki was glaring.

“Do you - do you have a plan?” You ask, after a moment.

“I’m working on it,” He says.

“That’s all?” You say. “We were dragged out of our drug-dealer’s hotel room by a bunch of robed men with guns and the only thing you have to say is ‘I’m working on it?’”

“I’d get it done faster,” Says Loki, “If you wouldn’t interrupt me.”

“Ok,” You tell him, “No interrupting you. Got it. That’s - Alright.”

Unfortunately, not interrupting him is easier said than done, because without the sound of your voice, you are left to your thoughts.

The men had broken in nearly immediately after Loki’s glib, sardonic retort to your worries, shooting the glass out of the room’s already half-smashed-in window and kicking the door in simultaneously. A bit much, isn’t it?, Loki’d asked, and you had wanted to smack yourself on the forehead. Really not the time, you had hissed, but Loki hadn’t seemed to hear you. Do you do this with everyone they send you to assassinate?, he had asked, instead. The men had been dressed in long, billowing cloaks of bright red, embroidered with orange snakes framing a picture of Beaker from the muppets with early 2000’s emo hair. Chaotic meme agents, you had thought to yourself. So that’s what they’re supposed to look like.

You hadn’t picked up, until now, on the snakes.

“They’re working together,” You say, when you can’t stand the playback of Loki being disarmed after spinning and tossing his silver daggers at the men, of the men kneeing him in the balls and twisting your arms behind your back, holding a gun to your head to stop you from trying to fight. Waking up in the back of a van that smelled like microwaved fish. Being tossed like garbage onto the floor of the warehouse, painted in bruises and cuts from the small pieces of glass that had dug their way into your skin. “The IPP and the Pink Cobra.”

“Obviously,” Loki says. Sharply.

“Did Tony not -“

“Stark,” Loki practically growls, and, ok, you’re not losing it but that did make you jump in your skin, “Is an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to connect the dots if they were presented to him in a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode.”

“That’s - You had that on Asgard?” You ask him, momentarily distracted. You wish that you could see Loki’s face, and are very glad that you can’t.

“That isn’t the point,” Loki says.

“I know,” You tell him. You’re scared that your voice is trembling. Scared that he can tell, even though he’s not facing you, how badly your fingers are shaking. Scared that he knows your worst, biggest secret -

That, despite being an Avenger, you are anxious. That, despite him being Loki, despite him being here, and wonderfully, infuriatingly himself, he cannot help you, this time.

You are going to die, covered in cuts and abrasions, on the floor of a meme network’s headquarters, at three a.m in the morning. They are going to come in with umbrellas that shoot poison darts or the ex-presidents Point Break masks and mow you down, and Loki has no fucking plan. You feel the ropes tighten where they’re knotted, itchy and fierce, and you have to fight to keep yourself from whining in terror and nerves. Whining isn’t what Loki needs right now. Whining’s not going to save you.

What is going to save you, you try and remind yourself, is Loki. If you can shut up. If you can let him decipher what needs to be done. If he can figure out some way to do it before the blowtorch-wielding robed vigilantes or some disincarnate meme god comes back and draws their electronically-sharpened fingernails across your throat hard enough to split skin and sinew, send waves of blood down the front of your shirt like a river of sweet, thick red honey and toss your corpse in a ditch by a highway and -

“Y/N?” It is foggy, barely-heard. Posh. “Y/N!” Louder, this time. There are fingers on your wrist, bent backwards to grip you. Squeezing, insistent and there. “Breathe.”

Fuck, you think. You’d started to hyperventilate. To shake, with a full-body tremor that forecasts a great, unstoppable wave of sobbing panic. And Loki had noticed. “I need you to trust me,” He says. “Trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that for me, darling?”

He has never called you darling before, but God how you’ve wanted him to. You feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart - because there is no way he means it, no way that this is anything other than a desperate and cruel attempt to get you to calm down. Something that belies how obvious you are. How needy you are. How pathetic. And yet -

And yet, he doesn’t say it meanly. He speaks like he cares about you, and in the face of your impending death, you want to think Loki cares. You’d let him say anything, do anything to you, right now. More than that, though, more than any of that - as you think back to meeting him, to your blossoming late-night friendship and twitchy banter and the quiet moments you’ve shared with him in-between battles -

“I trust you, Loki,” You tell him, and feel your breath quiet in you. Feel yourself growing still and calm with the certainty that Loki will do as he’s said.

That you will survive this.

That -

“Good,” Loki says. Not relieved, but determined. Leaving you no room to argue.

“So what do we do?” You ask him.

“Nothing,” Says Loki, and you can hear his wide grin.

“Nothing?” You ask him, gawking.

“Nothing,” Says Loki. He gives your hand a tight squeeze.

And then the Pink Cobra walks in.

***

This will end badly, you think. It’s about the only thing that you can think, preoccupied as you are with -

It might be easier not to -

Fuck.

The thing is - and you really do try not to move, not to groan, not to scream - the thing is, you thought that when Loki said he had a plan, that said plan wouldn’t involve you being collateral damage for a LARP-er who’d most likely broken out of an asylum. I wish that we could be back in that shitty one-bed hotel room, you think to yourself, and - alright, not the best timing, but it rips a laugh out of you, spiraling and unhinged, before you feel the Pink Cobra, resplendent in coral cloak and villainous swagger, slug you one in the jaw. It hurts worse than you’d thought it would - you’ve never really gotten injured on missions, you’re usually good at talking yourself out of things, which is why the Avengers keep you around. You can speak any language, as long as you’ve heard it once, and your customary daily awkwardness can shift into persuasion like flicking a light-switch on.

Usually, though, you had an opportunity to speak, and weren’t rendered speechless by -

Loki, if you’re being honest. How much you want to kiss him. How much of an asshole he is. Trust me, he’d asked you. Can you do that for me? The Pink Cobra’s grip is sharp and bruising on your side; he’s slipped his fingers up your shirt and is pressing the point on your side that threatens to make your knees buckle, making bile rise up in your throat, driving you wild with the aching need to flee. He has one hand clasped over your mouth, now that you’ve quieted, and you can feel something - pain, and a pill - pressed snugly into his palm. He will force it down you, you know, if Loki so much as sighs wrong.

You’ll never trust him again.

You wish that you knew what the time was. If you end up dying at 4:20, you’re going to throw fists with somebody in hell.

You wish, also, for aspirin. Avengers training has left you woefully unprepared for the reality of getting punched in the face. You can already feel your jaw starting to swell, taste an egregious amount of blood. You’re pretty sure that the force of the blow knocked a tooth out.

What strikes fear into you, though - a fear somehow deeper than the absolutely bone-chilling, blood-curdling knowledge of what the Pink Cobra might do to you - is the look you’d seen on Loki’s face in the seconds after he’d grabbed you, before it fell into practiced, amused apathy. He’d gone white, and his eyes had blown wide. His fingers had spasmed with anger.

He’d looked as scared as you feel.

And you have no idea why.

It isn’t like you’re anyone special. Not any more than the rest of the team. Less so than most of them. You aren’t a god, like Loki and Thor are. You don’t have stealth-assassin training, like Bucky, or super-strength like Steve. You can’t seamlessly pilot mechanical suits over the New York skyline like Tony, or use a crossbow like Clint, or beat thirty people in single-hand combat like Nat, or change into a nitro-fueled rage machine like Bruce.

You can’t do anything, much.

Except, apparently, die.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not letting yourself look at him. You won’t let Loki’s disinterested face be the last thing that you see. It makes the Pink Cobra’s words all the worse, when he speaks. His voice is dark and sick and timbered, and you feel maggots crawling over your skin as he slots you closer to his body, tightening his already painful grip on you so that you can’t move even an inch away from his tensed, coiled muscles.

“So,” He says, “You are superheroes? How long did it take me, to apprehend you? Ah - three and a half hours? Tell your boss-man, do better next time.”

“I’ll pass it along,” Loki says. His voice sounds different. You can’t place why. Still won’t look.

“You won’t,” The Pink Cobra says. You can feel his shoulders rise, then fall. Feel him smirk. You love Loki’s smirk - secretly delight in drawing it from him, sometimes - but the Pink Cobra’s only fills you with yet more terror. You’ve pursed your lips tightly shut against the intrusion of his hand, but when Loki speaks he forces your bruised, bleeding jaw open and shoves the pill into your mouth. The pain of your injury tears through you like white lightning and you thrash, trying to escape. A keening sound claws its way out of you, fevered and anguished, and you feel your hands, still bound up in ropes, trying in vain to push off and away. The man behind you sighs, and then aims a swift kick at the back of your knees, which sends you down before you can so much as yelp. Your knees hit the floor, and he’s holding you by your hair now, twisting it so hard that you’re almost sure he’ll scalp you. He’s pulled something - too big to be be a knife, some kind of shortsword?! - Out from beneath his cloak, and is pressing it up against the column of your throat. You feel the weight of the capsule between your teeth heavily now, and realize what it means in the split-second before the Pink Cobra bends and whispers, Your choice; stale and rancid into the shell of your ear.

Next, he addresses Loki.

“You’ll be wanting to know what our plan is,” He says. Our, you think. We were right. “Hmm? I know how you people are. Always wanting to know. Tell me this, Mischief Man. What will I get, if I tell you? What price are you willing to pay?”

You know what this is. You know it like the ache in your heart when Loki brushes you off. Like the safety you feel in his arms. You open your eyes. Take in Loki’s face - he’s trying to hide, but you know, you know how he feels. You know what he’s going to choose.

And you know that you can’t let him choose it.

“You’ll let her go,” Loki asks, “If we let you leave here?”

“The thing could be managed.”

No, you think. No, Loki, don’t! Whatever the Pink Cobra’s going to do, whatever the IPP’s planning, knowing’s worth more than your life.

“One thing I want to know,” Loki says. He’s twirling a knife of his own, a slim silver number he keeps on him at all times, and you feel the blade on your own throat start to dig in - not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to feel it. The threat of it. The promise of it, and the coldness of the gleaming metal. “You and the IPP? How does it fit?”

“You want information from me?” The Pink Cobra asks. Lets his blade bite you, just barely, and the strength it takes for you not to scream is more strength then you’d known you possess.

“Yes,” Says Loki. “It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

He meets your gaze. You meet his. You hope that he cannot read it. His eyes are so worried, so desperate, you nearly break down.

“I suppose,” The Pink Cobra says, “That you’ve earned it. Getting here - getting this far - it must have been no easy task. Fine. There is no Imminently Predictable Psyops organization. They were a - what do you call it? Red herring? A scent of blood for the shark.”

“You fabricated them,” Loki says. “Why would you fabricate them?”

He is losing his composure, you can tell. You will never be ready for this. He will never be ready for this. You hope that he will forgive you, and you know that he never will, and you swallow the pill in your mouth.

“Because it was fun,” The Pink Cobra says.

And then your body knows pain.

***

“He didn’t think I would do it,” You say. Your mouth feels thick, clotted with blood and shock, and your body is one raw, gaping wound, but the giddy feeling of victory has begun to course through your veins. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline. You had waited for the moment of death to come, and it hadn’t. The pill is fake, your mind had screamed. But there’d been one thing left, that might work. You had breathed as slowly as you possibly could, forced every muscle of your scared, writhing body into single-minded limpness, rolled your eyes backwards into your head, drew one last breath in, and fallen. Twitched, for a few seconds, like a rag-doll. Then made yourself still.

Loki had slit the Pink Cobra ear to ear, beaten him within an inch of his life as he bled out, screaming like a man deranged. He’d left him a wet, bloody mess on the floor, and the blood had run down the not-quite-steady plane of it, pooling around you and mixing with the blood from your jaw, from the evening’s earlier glass cuts, from the deep, burning stab wound the Cobra had got on your arm.

You breathe, and your body knows pain.

You look at Loki, and your body knows pain.

He is shaking. Visibly shaking. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and he looks as pale as bleached bones. His eyes are shot red - he had sobbed, when you fell, and a howl had torn through his body. You don’t know what to do, what it means, what the hell even to say to him. His cheeks are tear-stained, his breaths ragged.

You blink, and your body feels pain.

“We won,” You croak out. “Loki, we won.” It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. “I think he broke one of my ribs.”

You don’t mean to say that last part, but you do, and you are the one crying now, because it feels like he probably has, and you can barely even stay awake through this pain. It feels like the Hulk is pulling you limb from limb. Like all of those nightmares you’ve had where Loki decided to leave you - to go back to Asgard, and never speak to you again.

Stupid, you think. He won’t, again. Not after this.

Loki still hasn’t spoken. He’s looking at you, and his eyes are wild. Desperately, jaggedly roaming your body. His fists twitch with every new part of your body they land on.

“That bad, huh - Oh, fuck.”

And just like that, the tension leaves Loki’s body. The dam that had held him firmly in place is broken, and he’s running towards you with none of his usual grace. Dropping down by your side. He hoists you, and you hiss, and the tears won’t stop coming, so you bury your face in his shirt, nose pressed at the crisply ironed collar. Don’t care that it’s bleeding, because Loki’s here now. Holding you. Keeping you real. He’s got one hand stroking your hair and his touch feels right, nothing like the Pink Cobra’s, and he’s whispering: You brave, precious, idiot, how dare you, how dare you throw your life away like that?!

“It worked,” You exhale - it’s the most you can manage. You would laugh, if it wouldn’t shred you to pieces. Loki cradles you fiercely, hands grasping at the sweat-and-blood soaked fabric of your shirt, running over you as if he doesn’t believe you’re alive. “It - hurts,” You get out. Barely. “Loki, it - I can’t -“

“Don’t,” He tells you. His voice has gone brittle, choked with thorns. “Don’t talk. Don’t - Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me? You will never do that again.”

If I need to, I will, you think. And you wonder if that’s why you’re here. Wonder if that’s why you’re strong. You wonder, and hurt, and believe. Feel the strength of him, clutching you like you’re the only thing in the world, taking in greedy lungfuls of your weeping, your need for his touch.

You can’t talk, anymore. It hurts too badly. But you surge, upwards, up into where he’s holding the back of your head, pressing your forehead into the dark, warm space under his jaw that smells like smoke and peppermint. Loki is taller than you are - you fit right into the curve of his neck, and his long curls curtain you in a bubble of warmth and content.

“Promise,” You say, but it comes out unintelligible, and Loki’s hands are running, so gently, over your skin.

“What was your plan?” You ask him, forcing it out of your body.

“Hush,” Loki says, “Later.”

There might not be any later, you think. Not like this.

***

In the hotel room, an ocean of scattered pages and ceiling mold and blessed privacy, you balance, cross-legged, on the bed. The wind blows wet and cold from an earlier rain through the busted out window. You have managed this out of sheer stubborn-ness, because it is the most that Loki allowed you to do. You’d passed out, twice, on the journey back - he had magicked you there, though it had taken a considerable amount of effort that you weren’t sure you really deserved - and had immediately propped you up on the pillows and stooped to ruffle through his suitcase, emerging not long after with binding tape, cat-gut thread, and a needle so sharp you could feel it slicing your flesh. You had opened your mouth to protest, but Loki had silenced you with a glare that could fell Director Fury. So you had gone quiet, and caved, letting him kneel over you on the distinctly lumpy mattress and begin inspecting your wounds. It had taken a few tries and a Please to convince him to let you sit on your own, and it hurt much more than the manner in which he’d arranged you. You were starting to, slightly, regret it.

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, pulling it from bleeding lips. He shushes you with a harsh, stern tut. “You’re not my mother,” You tell him.

“You could have died,” Loki says. There’s a snarling undercurrent to it that you can’t even start dissecting. “What were you thinking?” He asks. It is easier, though still painful, for you to answer him - he had used nearly half of his Thor-limited magic reserve to perform a basic stasis spell on your injuries, but the spell wouldn’t last forever. You’ll need stitches, he’d said, choking it out like he was the hurt one when he’d seen the number the Cobra’s blade had done to your arm.

“I’ve had worse,” You say, grinning weakly.

“Are you lying to me?” He asks you, with the tone of someone who’s distinctly not in the mood for joking.

“I thought,” You say. Steel yourself. “I thought you weren’t going to do what needed to be done. So I - Did it myself.”

“What needed to be done.” Loki says, enunciating every word.

“We couldn’t let him walk away,” You say, meeting his eyes. Emerald, clouded with fury. You don’t let yourself flinch from that anger. You don’t let yourself run from your choice. “You know what he would have done.”

“I don’t,” Loki says. “I know nothing. I know - I know that you think that your life means so little I wouldn’t care if you were gone. That I could - Live, without you.”

That’s… different.

“And I know,” Loki continues, “That I told you to trust me, and I meant it.”

“I do,” You say. There is no hesitation. “I trust you - Loki. Of course I trust you. It’s not - it wasn’t -“

“Stop talking,” He snaps. Gentles, when you jerk your head away, blink back a fresh wave of tears. “You need rest,” He says. “And - This is. This is going to hurt.”

You nod.

“Best get it over with, then.”

“You should keep your eyes closed,” He says.

“No! I want - I need to look.” You bring your eyes up to your arm, which he’s settled onto bed’s chewed, scratchy quilt without you realizing, but Loki tilts your head up with a barely-there graze of his fingers, achingly gentle to avoid aggravating your swollen jaw. He holds your gaze for a long time. Doesn’t look mad, anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asks you. Like all of this could be over with, if you wanted.

“How bad it could it be?” You ask back.

The injury is horrendous. You’d thought - honest-to-God, you’d thought the pain was terrible, but you weren’t ready for what your arm has become. The line of the wound runs in a craggy jigsaw from just under your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Small wonder you can’t move it, can barely think through it at all.

“Y/N?” Loki asks, “Are you -“

“Fine,” You say. Blink, and your body knows pain. Try not to let how scared you are show, when you look back up at Loki. The Pink Cobra’s dead. You shouldn’t be scared, anymore. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

Loki sighs. Long and low and sad.

“Will I have to - “

“Bite,” Loki says, and shoves something - the sleeve of his shirt, crusted in blood which you realize, sickeningly, is yours - into your mouth. “It’ll help.”

It doesn’t, but he holds your hand through it, hushing you through the pain with furrowed eyebrows, thread and needle flying deftly through skin, air, skin again. His fingers move precisely, deliberate, quick, and when, on one stitch, you audibly whimper, he pauses to lean down and press a soft, utterly unexpected kiss to your hairline. You are unable to fully express how much it means to you, so you do the next best thing and kiss him yourself, pressing him back once he’s finished the last of his stitches and breathing all the the words you can’t say into him. You press every fear and gratitude and lingering nerve into the warmth of his lips, wending your fingers through his dark hair despite the pangs of agony still thrumming through every inch of your body. Your face hurts, but the kiss is all you’ve ever needed and more, and Loki is so, so gentle with you, pulling away with creased eyebrows and a look of genuine concern.

“I wanted to,” You tell him, mustering all of your strength. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Stop,” He tells you, voice cracking, “Stop lying.”

“I’m not,” You say. “I wanted to, Loki, I did.”

“And you wanted to -“

“No.” You are vehement about it, for a broken-ribbed, broken-jawed, freshly-stitched person coming off the high of his teeth and his tongue. “Not that, I swear, never that.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Loki asks. He has steepled his fingers under his chin, and his narrowed eyes pierce through you to the soul. You couldn’t lie to this man, you think, if your life depended on it.

You know that you have to tell him, this time. Really tell him. You don’t.

“”Why didn’t you use your magic?”

“You know why,” He says, and you do. You’d remembered it as the white pill turned to white powder in your gums, as the Pink Cobra’s knife had carved its way into your flesh. Thor had put a set limit on it, as condition of Loki’s release - Proof, he had said, We can trust you. Loki had thought to save it for later, that you wouldn’t need him right then. He had thought you’d talk them out, to safety.

You’d failed him.

“You didn’t,” He tells you, voice raw. He goes to grip your chin, to force you to listen to him, but with a glance and ill-concealed wince at your purpled jaw he thinks better of it. “You think that you failed me? You let yourself be - be beaten and stabbed - just so people you’ve never met in your life wouldn’t die, and you call that a failure?” He runs a hand through his hair. Bites back a snarl. Drops your arm. “I need you to listen to me,” Loki says, “Very, very carefully. You’re going to tell me why now, love. And then we’re going to fix it.”

You raise an eyebrow. Worse than he does, you’re aware.

“Sleep,” He amends, with a pointed look at the bed underneath you, “And then we’re going to fix it.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, “And I feel like I just got run over by a truck.”

Loki huffs, a puff of warm air that you feel, from how close he still is. A grin twitches at the edge of his lips. It sets off sparks inside you.

“I thought -“ You say. Shake your head, and restart. “You would have let the Pink Cobra attack. You would have let him just walk away, and I couldn’t just - let that happen.”

“Enlightening.”

“No,” You tell him, “I mean it. I couldn’t - I’m not - I’m not worth more than anyone else. We’re the Avengers. It’s our job to save people, Loki.”

He’s regarding you carefully, eyes still narrowed, all vestiges of softness gone from his face. When he opens his mouth, it’s to close it. Form thoughts. Discard them. Exhale.

“My mother once told me,” He finally says, “That I would never know what it meant to be human until I found the person who made me want to bleed the world dry. Take all of its’ suffering, all of its’ cruelty, and leech it out of the very fabric of time, just to keep that person from anguish, from harm.”

“I don’t -“

He holds a hand up. You still.

“She never said they would infuriate me,” Loki says. “She never said they would make me laugh, or smile, or question my sanity on a regular basis. She never said that they’d try and get themselves killed, and that I’d have to watch, and that I would feel like my heart was being ripped from my body and torn to a bloody pulp; that I would make the sky rain blood and fire at the sight of it alone. But she was right about one thing - Many things, but also this. She told me that it wouldn’t matter. That I would - love you - anyway.”

“You don’t,” You say, not daring to hope. It’s an automatic retort.

“Foolish girl,” Loki chides, and you blink back fresh, stinging tears. How long have you wanted to hear Loki say that to you? How many sneaky looks have you stolen in the heat of your missions, just to see his smart mind and tricky magic at work? How many nights have you sat up together, sequestered from your insomnia in a bubble of hard-earned banter and peppermint tea, fighting the tight, coiling urge to push aside your steaming mugs and pull him into your needing?

He could not - he can’t - feel the same.

“Loki,” You say, stumbling over the words, “You can’t - This is - This is me we’re talking about.”

“Is there anyone else here,” Loki asks you, “That I could be talking about?” He seems nonchalant, now, as if this - this cruel fucking joke, when you already feel you’re on fire - is merely a fact of his life. “We’re going to leave this excuse of a town, and get you - proper care. Fix it. Because I will not, on my honor, watch you suffer in pain. But first, you’re going to sleep.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, and feel your resolve as it shatters. You cling to the statement like it’s the last remnant of the girl you were and the woman that you’ll never be, “And the shower doesn’t work. And I’m covered in blood.”

But when you look at Loki, his eyes twinkle, mischievous.

“Will you stay with me?,” You ask him, biting your lip.

“You astound me,” He tells you, and rolls his eyes, and it feels - it feels normal. Good. A tender heat unfurls in your heart like orchid petals in the sun, numbing the persistent ache in your ribcage. “To even think that I would do anything else.”

Later, you will ask him why. Why do you love me?, you will ask, and Loki will hum, low in his throat, curled around you just like this first night; your back pressed into his chest, your legs tangled up hopelessly, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns onto your spine in the dawn-light’s syrupy gold. Because, he will tell you, trailing a line of soft kisses up the scar on your arm - an ugly thing, but it functions, mostly, and only ever seems to hurt on the days when he isn’t there - I was given no choice.

But if you’d had one?”, You will ask, and spin around, propping yourself on your elbow.

You tempt me, He’ll tell you, baring his sharp teeth. Shouldn’t you know better than that?

You will lie there, next to each other, not needing a single word. Because you will know. Because he will have told you, a thousand times, a thousand ways, exactly how he feels about you.

Tonight, though, isn’t that night. It takes a moment to get settled in his hold, and the rain spits and drums against what glass remains in your window, slicking the carpet with dark, greasy splotches. It figures, you think, that even the rain in this city has the smell and the texture of oil. You feel like a bag of bones, stretched too thin. But safe, in his arms, in a way that you’ve never felt, before now. Loki is with you, you realize. Wrapped around you like a traveler’s cloak, the comforting weight of a slim, balanced blade at your side in a fight. He is cool, around your afraid. Warm, where his clever fingers whine and needle their way through your skin to your heart.

“I hate you,” You tell him, “You know that?”

Loki laughs, a deep, rumbling purr.

“Go to sleep.”

#picture1000wordswc #pic 4 #loki/reader #female reader #crack #so much crack #just a lot of references to bad memes and cringe movies that turns into all the angst #because for some reason i’m like this #guess which character from another popular franchise i based my crack villain off #soundtrack to this was 800 percent mouth moods #in all seriousness though huge congrats to @startrekkingaroundasgard #you deserve all the love #unfortunately i showed my love by writing insane crack fic but HEY #loki is in it so hopefully that makes up for the c r i n g e

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

pirate king (2) || atz

“All the dried fruit has been accounted for.”

You fight down the yelp that had almost left your mouth, trying to quieten your breathing as much as possible. Two men, from the sound of their voices, are inspecting the food stocks. You’re going to be found.

“How much salted fish?” The deeper, lower voice you heard giving commands earlier asks his partner, and you pick up the sound of a pen scratching across paper.

“Enough to last us two weeks, if Jongho doesn’t eat them all by the first.” The second voice, softer and gentler, quips and they both share a laugh.

“That kind smile hides a darker mind beneath, Seonghwa-hyung.” The speaker with the deeper voice comments with a rolling chuckle. You’re still frozen in fear as they continue to take inventory, but them finding you is inevitable.

“How much alcohol did we get?” The person she assumes to be Seonghwa asks and you hear the sound of barrels shifting. “San needs some of it to treat the wounded.”

“Enough rum to last us till Tortuga and some wine and beer on the side.” His partner replied, writing some more things down. “I’m sure we can spare a barrel or two, not many of them got injured.”

“That’s a relief.” You can hear the worry leave Seonghwa’s voice, but your panic levels are jumping as you hear them move ever closer to you. “I heard Yunho didn’t have a scratch on him.”

“Neither did Jongho.” The other man snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already down here, chomping his way through the apples. Look, the sacking fell. I’ll get it.”

And suddenly the sackcloth is pulled away from your head.

You don’t have time to think. Lunging forward, you headbutt the man who removed the sackcloth from you in the face and you hear him let out a howl of pain, letting go of the sacking to clutch his bleeding nose. Your eyes dart around desperately for an escape route, but before you can move, someone slams you against the wall, the tip of a razor sharp knife pressed to your throat.

“Don’t move.” It’s the softer man, Seonghwa, although his grey eyes are hard as stone now. You can’t look away, transfixed, and he continues to speak, eyes never leaving yours. “Mingi, you alright?”

The man he addresses has a long, face with strong, defined features and narrowed eyes, tiny braids done in his cerulean blue hair. He’s tall, taller than you by about a head. He gives you a resentful scowl. “I think he broke my nose.” The words come out thickly as the man you now know to be Mingi cups both hands over his face, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Then it hits you.

He?

It’s true you’re not especially curvy and your chest has been bound by strips of cloth, but you didn’t expect to fool people so easily.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to choke out. Seonghwa and Mingi exchange surreptitious glances.

“You should get San to look at that, Mingi.” Seonghwa advises, worry written all over his face. Mingi nods wearily, blood falling through the cracks in his fingers and staining the ground.

“Let’s get this kid to Hongjoong-hyung first.” The taller man sighs, grabbing you by the shoulder with a bloody hand and pushing you towards the stairs you had tumbled down from. Pain lances up your ankle, but you steel yourself and step on it anyway.

It’s excruciating, but you don’t dare to show any weakness. They might toss you overboard. Or feed you to the sharks. You don’t know and you really don’t want to find out.

You bite on the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood, but you manage to make it onto the main deck. Many faces turn and look upon you with surprise, then they see Mingi bleeding from the nose and their expressions turn threatening. One even draws his sword.

You flinch back into Seonghwa, who steadies you by the shoulders, while Mingi addresses the crew.

“I’m fine!” He shouts through his bloody nose, which obviously isn’t fine. “Everyone back to work, please.”

There’s a disconcerting silence as if they’re still planning on how to kill you in every way possible, but they eventually turn back to their work cleaning the cannons and securing the sheets. Mingi turns back to you.

“This way.” He says gruffly, pulling you up another flight of stairs, Seonghwa at the rear. You bite back another whimper of pain, but Seonghwa hears it.

On the quarter deck, you catch sight of a man at the wheel. He’s young, almost your age, dressed all in red with patchwork black pants. His ash blonde hair falls into his eyes and the back is done in a neat mullet. But the most eye catching thing about him is the black eye patch he has over his right eye, the confidence he stands with despite his age and how he’s steering the ship as if the oceans bow at his feet.

Something in him calls out to you.

“Hongjoong-ah, we found a stowaway in the cargo hold.” Seonghwa calls over you shoulder as Mingi forces you to your knees. The man at the wheel doesn’t take his eye off the sea for a moment, pulling a length of rope from around his waist and lashing the wheel in position. Only then does he turn around.

“Mingi, take the helm- What happened to you, Mingi?” The helmsman’s voice is almost an entire octave higher than Mingi’s, almost too cute to be a pirate’s. His eyes rake over the bloody nose on Mingi’s face, before his expression settles into a frown.

“Got headbutted by our stowaway here.” Mingi jerks a thumb at your face and Hongjoong’s one eye follows it down, coming to rest on you. His fingers dance on the hilt of one of the two cutlasses hanging at his hip.

You gulp. “I said I was sorry.” You mutter under your breath.

Hongjoong’s eye drills into you, a calm, unbothered smile on his face that terrifies you more than if he were furious. “Well, I guess I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I?” The side of his lips pull up in a smirk. “This ship is the Treasure and we’re the pirate band ATEEZ. I’m Kim Hongjoong, the helmsman and captain of this ship.”

At that, your mouth falls open. This man can’t be any more than twenty two, but he’s the captain? Hongjoong nods at the dumbstruck expression on your face, the chilling smile never leaving his face. “What about you, Royal Navy scum?”

Seonghwa and Mingi’s expressions change to shock in seconds and Seonghwa even begins to draw that wicked long kitchen knife from his belt.

You pause at that. “Royal Navy?” Your lips pull downwards in a frown. What is the Royal Navy?

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Hongjoong’s not smiling now and you feel the air drop several degrees. Your teeth want to start chattering but you force a terrified smile on your face. Hongjoong’s eyebrows lower into a frown.

“The coat you are wearing is of Royal Navy make. An officer’s, I might add. It may be beaten and torn up, but I’d recognize that rose insignia anywhere.” He jerks his chin at the red patches on the shoulders. Sure enough, you can see the rose stitched into the fabric. “So what is your purpose here? If you answer truthfully I might simply shoot you instead of having you flogged to death.”

He doesn't sound like he's joking.

Goosebumps race along your skin and you know that your face has drained of colour. You don’t even remember your own name, how are you supposed to remember where you got this stupid coat? So you start rambling.

“Okay actually I just woke up this morning in the prison of the town you guys just looted like a while ago and I kind of don’t remember how I got there so like they were talking about bringing me to the gallows for some kind of public hanging and I don’t really know why they wanted to hang me so when you attacked I just tried to escape and ended up in the harbor so I ran up the first ship I saw which was your ship and tried to get away from the fighting so I went into the cargo hold and fell asleep there so yeah.”

There's a pause.

“What?” Mingi blinks. You open your mouth to repeat it when Hongjoong holds up a hand. You close your mouth with a clop.

“Seonghwa, go help San take care of the wounded.” He orders and Mingi stiffens as if they’ve breached some kind of taboo conversation topic. The other man visibly relaxes and exhales shakily, nodding. “Yes, captain.” Then he turns around and makes his way down to the main deck.

Hongjoong turns back to you with a calm gaze. “So, according to you, you can’t remember why they would throw a Royal navy officer such as yourself into prison?”

“I’m not a Royal Navy officer.” You retort with a scowl, meeting his gaze angrily. When he raises an eyebrow, you catch yourself, swallow and lower your head. “I’m sorry.”

“Well this is certainly the most interesting story we’ve heard from a captured Royal Navy officer, haven’t we, Mingi?” Hongjoong muses to himself, running his tongue across his lips. Mingi nods apathetically.

“He’s also the youngest.” The quartermaster adds on to the back unhelpfully.

“Tell me, what exactly did you intend to do after escaping onto my ship?” He leans back with a smile, as if expecting some silly answer. You don’t have any smart ones, so you answer honestly.

“I really wasn’t thinking that far.”

Sighing dramatically at your lackluster answer, Hongjoong nods again. His one eye is a vivid green, like a poisonous snake’s that could sink its fangs into you at any moment. He seems to be contemplating something. Then he lifts your chin with a finger so that you meet his eyes even as you try to squirm away.

“Well then, Mister I’m-Not- A-Royal-Navy-Officer.” The young captain wears that same chilling smile again, and it doesn’t make you feel any better. “How about this? We’ll tie you to the mainmast so everyone can keep watch over you and we’ll feed you enough to survive, but the moment we stop at Tortuga, I’m tossing you onto shore. If I find out that you’re one of the Royal Navy swine at any moment...”

There’s a click and suddenly there’s a musket pointed at your temple. Your body seizes up in rapid panic, blood freezing over in your veins. You hadn’t even seen him move.

“I’ll gut you like a stuck pig.” His voice is warm and smooth, right next to your ear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until he steps back, holstering the musket in his belt with an amused smile on his face. “I’d shoot you for breaking Mingi’s nose like that, but I suppose that it won’t matter if I’m going to kill you in the end anyway. Mingi, secure the boy to the mainmast and make sure not a single man on board touches him, then get San to look at your nose.”

“I got it.” Mingi sounds almost annoyed at being babied with the repeated advice, but Hongjoong just laughs.

“I’m interested to see how long you can keep this facade up, pretty boy. Don’t worry about anything.” Hongjoong’s grin is terrifying, wild like the raging sea as he strides back to the wheel, boots clicking on the deck.

“When it finally breaks, I’ll be the one to end it all for you.”

That’s the last thing you hear before Mingi marches you down to the main deck.

You’re still freezing from the chilling encounter with the young pirate captain as Mingi pushes you towards the main mast. Even the pain in your ankle doesn’t seem to compare with the numbing terror of Hongjoong’s threat. You slump in shock against the main mast as Mingi looks upwards into the rigging.

“Yunho-ah, toss me some rope!”

Seconds later, a coil of rope slithers down the mast and Mingi wraps it around your upper torso securing your arms and torso to the mast. It’s loose enough not to cut off the circulation in your arms, but tight enough to ensure you won’t be going anywhere. And honestly, where can you go? As far as the eye can see, it’s all ocean.

You thought that escaping the gallows had been a smart move. Now it seems like you threw yourself from the frying pan into the flames.

Go home, the voice in your head whispers. You tell it to shut up savagely.

Mingi finally announces to everyone that they are not to make eye contact with you, speak to you, or have any form of interaction with you as he finishes off with several skillful knots at the back.

“That includes physical contact like beating or throwing things at him.” Mingi adds on and there’s a collective sigh of disappointment from the crew.

“You sure, quartermaster?” One of the men at the cannons pulls out his musket. “An eye for an eye, he did make you bleed!”

The rest of the crew shouts agreement, but Mingi shakes his head firmly.

“We’re pirates, not barbarians.” He chides, wiping his nose once more. The blood flow seems to have slowed to a steady trickle at least. “It’s my fault for being unprepared. Besides, these are Hongjoong’s orders. Any of you want to answer to captain?”

“Absolutely not!” The crewman declares and the deck breaks out in carefree laughter. Mingi gives a tiny smile as he straightens up from tying your bonds.

Something in your chest tugs painfully.

“Well then, don’t get me into trouble with captain.” He waves them back to their work and they do so cheerfully, all the tension in the air gone. Then Mingi turns back to you with a stern scowl.

“From what you can see, the crew isn’t exactly happy with you.” He gestures at the deck with one of his long arms. “I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut if you want to make it to Tortuga alive.”

And then he turns and leaves you alone with your thoughts, a lonely stranger on a foreign ship.

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asian-hero · 4 years

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Aizawa x Reader, where Aizawa's a full-on gentleman to his S/O? I can't see him actually being a 100% gentleman but the thought is wholesome- Please and thank you!

A/N: Hi I made this slightly more as a doting partner rather than a gentleman, I hope that’s alright! I feel like I took a few liberties with this one, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless

Also, he’s literally a reincarnation of Kakashi Hatake, aka the love of my life, so it’s safe to say that I love this man with all of my heart

Summary: Aizawa Shouta was not, by any stretch, a gentleman. All of his coworkers knew it, his students knew it, and he didn’t try to deny it. That’s why, when you stop in to drop off your forgetful husband’s lunch, the entirety of U.A. is shocked to see their scruffy, irritable teacher, turn into the worlds largest sap

Words: 1,651

If you were to ask anyone to describe Aizawa Shouta in one word, the most common answers you’d get would be sleepy, apathetic, reserved, or stern. But, there was no way, that any student, staff member, or civilian, would describe him as a gentleman.

They weren’t wrong, per se. After all, Shouta was a rather gruff man, a little rough around the edges, and certainly unkempt. To an outsiders perspective, it almost seemed that he was unfit to teach, with how many hopeful students he’d expelled in the past. It also didn’t help that he seemed more like that hung over uncle at a family gathering that no one wanted to invite, but felt obligated to and didn’t think would show up. Though, to his students, they could see a bit of his softer side, no where near what you saw on a daily basis, but they saw that he wasn’t the man that everyone said he was. Even they could see how the seemingly grumpy man had a paternal instinct when it came to his students, albeit a little begrudgingly, but still, there were times where he acted more so like a father than a teacher.

Despite this, if you asked Shouta’s students about whether or not they believed the man could be a typical doting partner, it’d be a hard no from all of them. It just, didn’t look right when they imagined it. How could their typically cold and abrasive teacher be a loving and doting partner when it came to his romantic relationships. Actually, how could their teacher get into a relationship in the first place? It didn’t seem possible to them.

So, you can imagine the looks on the entirety of the U.A. faculty and students when you stepped onto school grounds, Eri’s little hand in one of yours, and a lunch box in the other. While walking onto the campus, you could feel the stares of everyone burning into the back of your skull, as if trying to figure out who you were. It wasn’t surprising, of course, as you and Shouta had never been too flashy and open about your relationship. Not only because it would put a rather large target on your back, but also because it was just the way the two of you were. You were okay with keeping your relationship quiet. However, just because the two of you kept your relationship quiet, didn’t mean that you were going to let your husband leave his lunch at home for what seemed like the twentieth time. No, if he was going to be forgetful, then you were going to deal with it like any loving wife would, by bringing it to him. Besides, he did say that he wanted you to come in at some point to talk more about rescue missions, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

A small tug on your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking down at the small girl, you squeezed her hand gently.

“What’s up?”

“It’s Deku!” She stated, pointing towards a green haired kid.

Following her line of sight, you saw a face you recognized very well. It was the kid that Shouta would always talk about. The “problem child,” he called him. The one who broke all of his fingers in a fight during the sports festival. He seemed to notice the two of you, as he broke out into a smile, waving at Eri while walking towards the two of you.

“Eri!” He exclaimed, kneeling down to her height, “It’s nice to see you!”

While the little girl ecstatically greeted the boy, even pulling her hand out of your own grasp, you couldn’t help the small giggle that came out of you. It seemed to cause the boy, Deku, to finally look up at you. Standing up, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Ah, sorry about that! I didn’t realize you were with her,”

You shook your head, your smile still playing on your lips. “No need to worry,” Extending your hand, you introduced yourself, “I’m (Y/N), it’s a pleasure to meet the hero Eri’s always talking about.”

He seemed to grow even more embarrassed, if that were even possible. Shaking your hand, he introduced himself as Midoriya Izuku, though he said that Deku was just as fine. Grabbing Eri’s hand once more, you pursed your lips, looking towards the gigantic school that seemed to dwarf the three of you. Looking back at the boy, you smiled.

“Hey, you’re in class 1-A, right?” It was merely a formality, you knew he was in 1-A.

When he nodded his head, you spoke once more, “Could you show me where it is? I need to speak with your teacher,”

It didn’t take much from you to get Deku to agree with you. After all, since you were already on campus, and had a guest pass, he figured that you were safe enough. As the three of you walked down the halls, you made small talk, asking about how his classes were, how difficult his teacher is, and many other school related things. You even heard from him about how he made candy apples for Eri one time, and although you already knew that story, it was nice to hear about how hard he worked to make the school festival enjoyable for her.

By the time you had reached the classroom, it was nearly time for class to start. As you entered the classroom, you were taken aback by how noisy the class was. All of the students seemed to get along fairly well, with the exception of a few individuals, but even then, they seemed to be dragged into some conversations. When Deku went to take his seat, you saw as he was bombarded by two girls, most likely curious as to who he just walked in with. You decided that, rather than to stand in the middle of the doorway, you’d take a seat next to Shouta’s desk. Pulling Eri into your lap, the two of you waited for the man to come in, though it didn’t take long for him to enter.

About five minutes after your arrival, the door to 1-A had opened once more, revealing your tired-looking husband. The entire class went silent, and it took him about ten seconds to realize that no, he wasn’t dreaming, and yes, you really were here, in his classroom. Walking towards you, he kneeled down, checking you over.

“Are you alright?”

You tilted your head to the side, a confused look on your face. “Of course I am, why do you ask?”

Starring at you for a few seconds, he sighed, placing his hands on your knees. “You never come here, I got worried.”

Letting out a noise of realization, you grinned. Pulling out the lunch box from underneath your chair, you held it out towards him. “You forgot your lunch, again,” As he took the box, you frowned in mock annoyance, which Eri copied, “This is like, the twentieth time, Shouta. You need to take better care of yourself.”

He rolled his eyes, but an uncharacteristic smile appeared. “You’re one to talk. It’s supposed to be cold today, yet here you are, no coat, and in a short sleeved shirt.”

Before you could even rebut what he said, you felt his scarf fall over your shoulders. Looking back at him, you raised an eyebrow. He took a few more seconds to make sure that you were covered before he spoke.

“Can’t have you getting sick now, then I’d have to do all the work.”

You scoffed, waving a hand at him, dismissing him. He let out a laugh, before standing back up and rubbing your shoulder.

“You can stay, maybe do a lecture a little later. Oh, and if you need anything, just ask me, okay?”

When you agreed, he looked towards his class, getting ready to begin the day.

“Alright, let’s get started—“ He stopped himself, letting out a long and tired sigh, “What is it, Kaminari?”

“Who’s the lady?”

The rest of the class seemed to perk up at the question, looking both at you and Shouta. Deciding to poke fun at your husband, you stood up, made sure that Eri was comfortable sitting, and then stood next to him.

Waving your hand, you introduced yourself once again. “Hello, I’m (Y/H/N), but as a civilian I go by Aizawa (Y/N),” You paused as gasps of disbelief filled the air, “I came to bring my husband’s lunch and to talk to you about rescue missions.”

As the class began to get progressively louder, questioning why this was the first time hearing of you, and how no one recognized such a popular hero, you turned towards your now embarrassed husband. Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a small peck on the cheek.

“Sorry about that, I just can’t help myself.”

Once again, he rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seemed to be mad, so you supposed that was a good sign. Before going back to settle his class, he rubbed his hands along your waist, something he did when he wanted to be near you, but also wanted to be subtle about it.

“Thank you for lunch. Why don’t we share it during break later?”

When you smiled, he felt as if there were a million butterflies that were bursting from his heart. As you went back to sitting down, Shouta offered you his sleeping bag, zipping up you and Eri before shutting up his class.

Yes, Aizawa Shouta was by no means, a gentleman. It was an indisputable fact about the U.A. teacher and pro hero. However, if you were to ask his class, they’d tell you that not only was he a great teacher, but he was a doting partner as well.

#bnha #mha #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta

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reinerispretty · 4 years

Text

beneath the moon. (sokka x f!reader) pt13

hi hi :) i hope you guys are doing well!! thank u for your patience ily all!!

pt1

pt12

“Wow, Azula, you were right!” Exclaimed Ty Lee. “It is the Avatar!” She looked down at Sokka, a flirtatious smirk appearing on her lips. “And friends.”

Sokka waved back up at her and said hello, which only frustrated (Y/N) more. She took the water that she, Aang, and Katara had been bending with and sent ice daggers flying toward the three girls.

(Y/N) had always thought that the Northern Water Tribe was an impressive architectural feat. The intricate designs and layout of the city had always impressed her when she had the time to admire them. And as Princess of the North, she had had a lot of time. As much as she hated being trapped within its walls, she learned to appreciate it. But as she stood at the top of the Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se, she realized just how tiny her tribe was in comparison to the largest city in the Earth Kingdom.

She leaned just over the edge, watching as the Fire Nation drill pounded into the stone wall. Toph groaned, slumping herself against (Y/N). “It’s kind of hard to see with all this drilling. I can feel every little thing they do!”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/N) muttered, but her mind was elsewhere. Just a few steps away from her, Sokka, Katara, and Aang were trying to formulate a plan on how to take down the drill. (Y/N) had stepped away from the conversation. Ever since the night on the Serpent’s Pass, she had become hyperaware of Sokka’s presence near her. Every step closer, every friendly smile, had her heart practically beating out of her chest.

She had realized it the next morning, after she had dreamt of Sokka. The sadness she had felt when she had walked out of her tent and saw Sokka smiling at Suki the way he had smiled at (Y/N) in her dream was a confirmation. (Y/N) liked Sokka, in a more than friends way, and she was jealous of Suki. Both feelings made her feel sick to her stomach, so she had resolved to shove them down as far into herself as possible and try her best never to acknowledge them again. If she thought too much about it, she’d realize how horrible she was for liking the same boy her very own sister was in love with.

(Y/N) clenched her hands so tightly against the wall that the stone dug rivets into her skin. Had been in love with. Sokka had been Yue’s. Now he was Suki’s. And (Y/N) would respect that and keep herself as far away from him as possible.

Members of the Terra Team that had attempted to attack the drill were being brought back up the Outer Wall by the dozens, each one moaning and groaning on stretchers and as their comrades carried them. (Y/N) cast a glance at Katara, who gave her a nod, and the both of them went to work to heal the men. (Y/N) liked the relationship that she and Katara had developed over the last few months. Very few words needed to be exchanged between them in order to understand how the other was feeling. It was similar to the relationship she had had with Yue, and it made her heart swell and ache at the same time.

Where Katara was gentle and kind as she healed, (Y/N) preferred to remain silent. It allowed her to focus all of her energy on healing their bodies. She left each man that she healed with a tight-lipped smile before moving onto the next.

“You’re really a Master Healer, huh?” Sokka asked, kneeling down beside her. Despite herself, (Y/N) jumped, becoming increasingly aware of just how close the two of them were. She felt like she could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“I’ve done it all my life.” She tried to inflect her tone in a way that signaled that she didn’t want to talk, but Sokka was not very good at taking hints.

“I remember Katara mentioning that, when we were back at your tribe. She said you taught her some of what she knows.” (Y/N) ignored him and stood, moving on to the next man. He groaned in protest as she began healing, but eventually relaxed into slumber. “Yue used to say that you were the most talented healer in your tribe.”

At the mention of her sister’s name, she flinched. Yue was someone she rarely talked about anymore. She resided in (Y/N’s) mind constantly, sitting beside her thoughts of Sokka. “Yue wasn’t a bender, she didn’t know what she was talking about.” (Y/N) moved again and was grateful to find that Sokka didn’t follow her.

Their team reconvened when Katara called them over to a soldier. “His chi was blocked,” She said, her eyebrow raised. She turned back to the soldier. “The girl who did this to you, her name is Ty Lee. She doesn’t look very dangerous, but she knows the human body and its weak points. It’s like she takes you down from the inside.”

“That’s it!” Sokka exclaimed. “That’s how we’re going to take down the drill.”

“By hitting its pressure points!” The excited smile on Toph’s face spread to (Y/N). Finally, they had a means of attack. They traveled down to the base of the wall, where Toph earthbended a hole. One by one, they dropped down, until they were completely encased in darkness. (Y/N) felt her heartbeat race, both from the adrenaline coursing through her body and the nervousness of being trapped in such a confined space. She felt Katara’s hand reach back and give hers a tight squeeze, and for a moment, (Y/N) felt calm.

Light opened up around them and Sokka noticed an opening in the underbelly of the drill. “There!” He shouted, and Aang airbended his way into the hole before grabbing Katara, (Y/N), and Sokka. “Toph, come on!”

“No way, I can’t see in that thing!” Toph shouted back. “I’ll try to stop it from out here.” Satisfied with her answer, the group of four stood to formulate their plan.

“I need to see the schematics of this machine,” Sokka said. “That way we’ll know what areas we need to target first.”

“Where will we get those? I doubt they just have a huge map lying around with circles drawn around the pressure points,” (Y/N) said. Sokka shook his head.

“You’re right, but...” He moved to the wall and knocked one of the pipes loose with his boomerang. The other three stared at him in shock as mist started to fill the room.

“What are you doing! You’re gonna get us caught!”

“Exactly! When something breaks on the machine--” Sokka started.

“Then someone who knows what to do will come to fix it!” His sister finished.

Taking down the mechanic was easy work. Katara froze him, while Sokka stole his plans and then they all ran. They reached the part of the drill where the inner and outer shell met. It was held together by thick, metal beams. “I really wish metal could be bent,” (Y/N) said sadly as they stared up at the towering braces.

“It’s going to take us a while to cut through these.” Sokka stared at the plans once more.

“Who’s ‘us’?” Katara asked. “We’re going to have to do all the work.” She gestured to herself, Aang, and (Y/N).

“You three are the waterbending guys, I’m the making plans guy,” Sokka said, turning his nose up into the air.

Despite having three waterbenders, cutting through the metal was proving to be more difficult than they expected. Eventually, they decided to only weaken the beams and Aang would go outside to deliver the final blow. Everything was going to plan until Katara was narrowly stabbed by a small dagger.

Exasperated, (Y/N) looked above to find the culprits. The team of three girls that had chased them through the night and had driven them all nearly insane balanced on the supports above them. Fire Nation Princess Azula looked menacing as she stared down at their group, but her partner Mai looked apathetic and Ty Lee looked genuinely excited to see them.

“Wow, Azula, you were right!” Exclaimed Ty Lee. “It is the Avatar!” She looked down at Sokka, a flirtatious smirk appearing on her lips. “And friends.”

Sokka waved back up at her and said hello, which only frustrated (Y/N) more. She took the water that she, Aang, and Katara had been bending with and sent ice daggers flying toward the three girls. Ty Lee jumped to the side just in time, and used her acrobatic skills to launch herself at Aang. He blew her away with a gust of air, giving him and his friends enough time to escape.

They ran down the halls, not entirely sure which way they were going but knowing they needed to put as much distance between them and their enemies as quickly as possible. They stopped at an intersection. “You guys get out of here,” Aang instructed. “I know what I need to do!”

“Wait, you’ll need this more than I do!” Katara tossed Aang her satchel of water. (Y/N) thought for a split second of giving her own water supply to Aang, but decided against it. Their group parted ways, and the three Water Tribe children searched for an exit.

As (Y/N) rounded the corner, the sleeve of her dress caught on the wall. Confused, she turned around and found that one of Mai’s daggers had planted her sleeve deep into the wall. Prying it out would take too much time and the fabric was far too thick for it to tear away easily, but she could hear the increasing footsteps of the two Fire Nation girls and the decreasing footsteps of her friends.

She gripped the dagger and yanked hard on it. Since her dominant hand was caught, she struggled immensely to loosen it. She could see Mai and Ty Lee at the end of the hallway now, running toward her. (Y/N) had to think and she had to think quickly.

Looking up, she saw the exposed pipes that ran throughout the ship. She wasn’t sure if she could do it, but for only a moment, she closed her eyes and focused. With one hand, she opened her palm up to the ceiling, then curled her fingers into a fist.

The pipes exploded with a sharp hiss! and filled the hall with hot steam. (Y/N) felt the water droplets burn her skin, but she bit her lip to keep herself quiet. Mai and Ty Lee were Fire Nation, they should be able to handle the heat, but there was no way they would be able to see until the steam dissipated. (Y/N) finally freed herself from Mai’s dagger and threw it back at the two girls before shielding her face with her arms and running headfirst into the dark steam.

Sokka and Katara had completely disappeared, most likely not noticing she wasn’t at their side. (Y/N) stopped for a moment and looked down at the vast halls of the drill to see if she found any familiarity at all. She couldn’t recognize anything, but she did see a ladder leading up to a hatch. With no other options other than getting caught, she climbed up and found herself standing on top of the drill.

Dust kicked up around the drill, interrupting her sight once again. She wasn’t quite sure which end was the right one, but she took a chance and ran ahead of herself. When she reached the end of the drill farthest from the Outer Wall and saw the mixture of water and earth pouring out onto the ground underneath them. For her own sake, she hoped it was something she could bend.

She ran off the edge and plummeted down into the sludge. She was able to waterbend it just enough to slide down it and jump safely to the ground. Her landing was less than satisfactory, as she skidded directly into a giant puddle of sludge.

“(Y/N)!” Katara exclaimed, wiping her own sludge off of her body. “Thank goodness you’re okay! We didn’t know where you went!”

“One of Mai’s daggers caught my clothes,” She explained, rising to her feet. Sokka stared at her, concern apparent on his tanned face. (Y/N) felt her face flush and she turned away.

“I need your help waterbending this slime back into the drill. If we build up enough pressure, it’ll blow.” (Y/N) nodded. She and Katara took the exact same stance, and their bodies moved as one as they waterbended. Toph joined them later to aid on the earth front, and eventually the team successfully disabled the drill.

After the retreat of the Fire Nation, (Y/N) and her friends returned to the wall, all in desperate need of a long bath. “The Earth King is making arrangements for your stay,” one of the soldiers informed them. “It should be ready before nightfall.”

“Thank goodness,” (Y/N) breathed. “I feel like a walking pile of dirt.”

“That’s how I feel all the time!” Toph said, nudging her with her elbow. “Doesn’t it feel nice?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and took a seat on the cool stone as they waited for their amenities to be taken care of.

Sokka sat beside her, his own body caked with a layer of mud. It stuck to his clothes and arms, traveling up his neck and onto his face. (Y/N) resisted the urge to wipe the mud from his cheek. “I’m sorry we left you,” Sokka said. “We didn’t notice until Mai and Ty Lee were gaining on us.”

“It’s alright,” (Y/N) said. What she wanted to say was that it wasn’t alright. She hated being forgotten about, even during life-threatening circumstances. She felt like she had back in the Northern Water Tribe. Like no one cared about her as much as she did about them.

Sokka grabbed her hand in hers, causing (Y/N’s) eyes to flutter to his accusingly. “I really am sorry,” He said with such gentleness that she worried that she had said everything she was thinking out loud. “You’re a member of this team and our friend. It’s not like us to leave friends behind. I’m sorry we got separated.”

(Y/N) stared at him for a moment, at the blue eyes that were burned into the backs of her eyelids every time she tried to sleep. She snatched her hand away from his, the skin he touched buzzing intensely. “It’s fine,” She insisted, before walking away to join Katara and Aang in their conversation. She knew she wasn’t being fair to Sokka, but life had never been fair.

---

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#writing #fanfiction #atla #sokka x reader #sokka #aang x reader #aang #katara #toph #suki #zuko x reader #zuko #iroh #azula #azula x reader #avatar #the last airbender

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justanotherexlover · 4 years

Text

Anonymous said:

Can you please make another chapter of "The Metal Clan" the first one is so good and I was so happy to see a Lin x reader!

Anonymous said:

when are you gonna update the metal clan?

The Metal Clan (2/3) (Lin Beifong x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, language

Word count: 2,900+

Notes: Apologies for the title formatting, I’m without a computer and Tumblr mobile sucks. I’ll fix it when I get a chance!

You watched as Lin and Suyin went back and forth once Korra confronted Lin, and you felt like your head was spinning. You’d seen Lin upset before, but she seemed utterly impossible to reason with at this moment.

“You’re the one who tore our family apart,” Lin said, pointing a finger at her sister.

“Yeah, and you’ve done a bang-up job of keeping it that way!” Su shot back, looking every bit as fierce.

“Shut up!” You exclaimed, looking at both of them. Your wife looked shocked, and Suyin seemed slightly smug as you continued, your words aimed at your wife, “Let it go. For now, at least. We came here with a goal in mind.”

“Thank you,” Suyin asid politely, raising her eyebrows at her sister, then turning to Korra, “My daughter is thrilled to meet you.”

“Your niece--our niece--is the new Airbender,” You told Lin, sending her a look of warning to be nice.

“Terrific,” Lin said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

You glared at her, and Bolin leaned over to whisper to you, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up Bolin,” You muttered.

---

You basically had to drag Lin out of the airship. Even though she’d been found out, she didn’t see the point in going around Zafou. You insisted, however, and she gave in eventually(although still grumbled about it).

“Those are my two youngest, Wei and Wing. They’re playing a game called power disc. They invented it all on their own,” Su said, her voice thick with pride for her twin sons.

A metal disk was being hit back and forth between the brothers, and hitting metal posts in the middle. You weren’t sure if you entirely understood the rules, but it looked like they were having fun.

They twins were both very talented benders, and you glanced at your wife to see if she noticed. Lin seemed so cold and apathetic, and it was beginning to bother you more and more with each passing moment. You knew bits and pieces of what had happened between her and her sister--how Su had left home at 16 after a fight, leaving their family essentially in pieces.

But what could she have done that would justify this behavior?

“I’m so proud of them,” Suyin said, her hands clasped together. She had a small smile on her face.

“You should be,” You spoke up, smiling at her. She placed one hand over her heart, looking bashful.

The team walked on, and you could hear Korra and Asami marveling over the metalwork of the mansion. It was a sight to behold, for sure.

You fell a little behind the group to stand next to Lin, and you looked at her, “You could at least pretend to care.”

She glanced at you, her face stiff, “Why would I do that?”

You let out a scoff. Lin had always been an opinionated woman, and you loved her for that, but you had never seen her so uncaring before. You wanted to ask her for an explanation, but knew that now wasn’t the time.

Your attention was soon taken by the sound of metal creaking and you searched for the source of the noise, your eyes landing on a man who was frowning at a statute he was attempting to bend.

“Huan, I want you to meet the Avatar and her friends,” Suyin said brightly, gesturing to the group, “And your Aunt Lin and her partner, your Aunt (y/n).”

It felt weird to be referred to as someone’s aunt, since before today you didn’t even know that Suyin had children. But a feeling of fondness spread through you, feeling fully embraced by Su.

“Nice to meet you,” Korra said.

“Hey,” Huan said, not looking away from his statue. He, like Lin, didn’t seem to care much about what was going on. You wondered if Lin had the introspection to see that Huan was similar to her, but again, she wasn’t even paying attention.

“Wow, that’s a really nice…” Bolin started, squinting at the statute. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, and his answer sounded more like a question, “Banana?”

You snorted, and Huan turned around and angrily exclaimed, “It’s not a banana! I was inspired by Harmonic Convergence. It represents the dawning of a new age, obviously.”

Bolin seemed embarrassed, but was squinting at the statue in an attempt to see what Huan was talking about. You figured you should probably help him out.

“Each side is supposed to be the opposite ends of Harmonic Convergence, right? And the middle piece rises above both, which is the new age dawning,” You guessed, and he turned toward you, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Huan said, his voice never straying from its monotone state as he pursed his lips, “Finally someone with an artistic eye.”

You smiled at him, and noticed Suyin give you an appreciative smile as you moved closer to her as the group began walking again. Bolin was rambling on about understanding the artwork, and attempting to make a frame with his hands from which to view it. So much for your attempts at helping him out.

“Nice job,” Suyin said, smiling at you, “Huan is such a great artist, but to be honest I don’t understand his art until he explains it most of the time.”

You waved her off, flushing slightly, “It seemed obvious, I suppose.”

“Nonsense. You have the eye of an artist,” She praised you, and you noticed Lin’s shoulders set in the back of the group. She was obviously listening in on the conversation.

You began walking up the stairs with Lin, each step making a slight creaking noise, “I didn’t get to say it before, Zafou is absolutely beautiful. I’ve always wanted to visit, but… It’s more than I could’ve imagined.”

Now it was Su’s turn to blush, and she spread her arms in front of herself, “It’s my pride and joy, after my husband and children, of course… I wish you two would’ve visited sooner.

“Me too,” You said quietly, “It hasn’t been for lack of trying on my part.”

Su hummed, nodding in understanding, “I know how stubborn my sister can be. But at least you’re here now.”

Suyin was nothing like what Lin had described her as--your wife had said she was selfish and irresponsible, but the woman next to you seemed smart and kind. She’d changed a lot over the last 30 years it seemed, but Lin didn’t want to see that.

You arrived at the top of the stairs and followed Suyin as she walked up to a sweet looking girl and began speaking, “This is my daughter Opal.”

Upon hearing her name, the girl looked over and closed her book, her eyes instantly landing on Korra as she said, “Wow, Avatar Korra. I can’t believe you’re really here. You’re amazing.”

Opal had a soft voice and a delicate demeanor, and you were sure that she would do well as an Airbender.

“It’s great to meet you, Opal,” Korra said kindly.

“Opal? That’s a beautiful name,” Bolin said, holding out his hand. She smiled bashfully and pushed her hair behind her ear. You raised your eyebrow, watching the exchange carefully.

“Thanks,” She said.

“I’m Bolin,” He introduced himself, and she shook his hand.

“Opal,” She responded instantly. A blush took over her face, and you smiled as she rushed to recover, “But, uh, you already knew that.”

Lin walked over to you, and you hoped that Lin saw how sweet her niece was and would feel more sociable. But instead she said, “Great, we found the Airbender. Let’s take her back to the airship and get out of here.”

You rolled your eyes, giving her a scathing look. She ignored it easily.

“And the woman apparently trying to abduct you is your Aunt Lin, and her spouse (y/n),” Suyin explained to her daughter, slightly amused.

Opal looked between you and Lin, and a large smile come onto her face, “Really? I didn’t know Aunt Lin was married. I’ve always wanted to meet you!”

Lin’s face didn’t change, but you reached forward and took Opal’s hand, “It’s great to meet you, Opal. You seem like a nice girl.”

She blushed again, and said, “Thank you.” After shaking your hand, Opal turned her attention to Lin and said, “My mom’s told me so many stories about you.”

“I’m sure she has,” Lin said coldly, crossing her arms. Opal’s face fell, and you looked at her apologetically. Regardless of Lin’s feelings towards her sister, she had no right to speak to Opal that way.

Suyin, thankfully, moved past the tension with ease, “So I’ve set all of you up in the guest houses while Korra trains Opal.”

“Oh…” Korra started, sounding slightly unsure, “I’m sorry, but I was hoping that Opal could train with the rest of the airbenders at the Northern Air Temple.”

“That sounds amazing,” Opal said dreamily, clasping her hands together. She was such a sweet girl, and you found it funny considering that most Beifong women were known for being harsh.

“Nonsense,” Suyin said, and her daughter’s face fell as she continued, “This is where Opal’s home and family are. You can train her here.”

“I guess I could help her get started,” Korra said, shrugging.

You wanted to point out that Opal obviously wanted to train at the temple, but Lin was already speaking.

“Absolutely not. We’re leaving,” She said, leaving no room for argument.

“I have to agree with Lin,” You said, and Suyin seemed surprised as you added, “There are assassins after Korra, and even then… I think it would be nice for Opal to be around other airbenders.”

You wanted to stay in Zaofu, but even you could recognize that it would be safer to leave and keep moving.

“If you’re concerned about safety, don’t be. This is the safest city in the world,” Suyin said confidently. She then went on to invite you and everyone else to dinner, but your eyes were on Lin the whole time.

“Five kids, what a nightmare,” Lin said when Suyin introduced her oldest, and you kicked her shin under the table. She sent you a scathing look, but you ignored it and just rolled your eyes.

“No, no, my children are a blessing,” Suyin said graciously, bowing her head. You smiled at her.

“Yeah, mom used to say that too but she never meant it,” Lin shot back. You looked down at your plate, suddenly feeling very awkward and out of place.

You reached a hand forward to brush Lin’s hand, but she pulled away, crossing her arms. You tried to hide the hurt expression on your face, but Suyin noticed and sent you a sympathetic look.

Lin made a few more comments to her sister, but you largely ignored them, feeling overwhelmed with trying to reign in Lin’s attitude.

Most of the conversation was lost on you(you even ignored Varrick’s arrival, deciding that you had too much on your plate to deal with him), as you contemplated what could’ve happened between Lin and Suyin.

Suyin left home at 16, which would’ve made Lin not much older at just 22. But she was definitely an officer by then, so maybe it was some encounter there?

Or maybe Lin was upset that her sister didn’t want to become an officer? Or did Toph favor Suyin? You didn’t know much about Lin’s mother and had never met her, but nothing you knew from Lin was positive.

Your mind was reeling with possibilities and it was starting to make you feel on edge. It was made worse when the sound of a chair being thrown back caught you off guard, and you jumped.

“All right, enough!” Lin yelled, throwing up her arms, “I’m trying to keep the Avatar safe and you’re harboring a criminal?”

Your eyes widened at your wife’s outburst, and you thought about intervening but decided not yet.

“Ease up, Lin,” Suyin said, “Sure, Varrick’s made a few mistakes in his past, but that doesn’t mean he should pay for it the rest of his life. My chef was a pirate but now he’s a culinary master. People change.”

“You haven’t!” Lin yelled, pointing at her sister. She looked like she wanted to say more but you interrupted her.

“That’s enough,” You said, your voice level. Your hands were in fists at your sides, and you felt utterly humiliated. Lin turned to look at you, and you held her gaze steadily.

She growled and stomped off, slamming the door shut behind her.

“I’m sorry,” You said, feeling your lip begin to tremble. You needed to get out of here, now, and take some time to think. You stood up and followed your wife’s path, ignoring the calls to come back.

After a little while wandering through Huan’s statue garden, you decided to return to your room. You’d managed to mostly calm yourself, but you were beginning to wonder if maybe there was a lot more to the story than you thought.

You knocked hesitantly, then opened the door to the guest room you two were sharing.

Lin was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper, wearing just her pants and typical white tank top.

You walked forward and put a hand on her arm and gently said, “Look, we won’t be here for more than a few days… Even then, I want to be here. I wish you did too.”

Lin looked at you, her eyes narrowed. If you were anyone else then you would’ve likely been intimidated, but after being with her for so long you could read her like a book.

“Doesn’t what I want matter?” She asked, her tone venomous. You reeled back, holding a hand in front of yourself defensively.

“Of course it does!” You exclaimed defensively, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, that’s why you keep sucking up to my sister,” She muttered, turning away from you.

“I…” You trailed off, your mind beginning to cloud with anger, “I am not! I’m trying to get my wife’s family to like me, so what? It’s normal!”

“But they aren’t my family!” She responded, looking fierce, “You are! I made that decision a long time ago.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it again. What she said was touching, and it made you hesitate to argue with her any longer.

“Lin…” You trailed off, looking at her. It seemed like she hadn’t meant to reveal that so readily, but she was holding her head high. You raised a hand to her face, caressing her scarred cheek softly, “I just want you to talk to me. Explain why you feel like this.”

She looked at you with narrowed eyes, but still leaned into your touch, obviously finding comfort in it. Lin seemed to be thinking of the right words when someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Lin asked loudly, and you pulled away, looking at the door as it opened.

“Hey, it’s me” Korra said, peeking her head in. She glanced at your wife, then you, and you shook your head, trying to tell her that it wasn’t a good time. Your warning went ignored as she continued, “I brought someone who wants to talk to you.”

Korra opened the door wider to reveal Opal, who you offered a soft smile too. She seemed nervous.

“You wanna talk, then talk,” Lin said, sitting back and crossing her arms. You stood next to her, one hand on her shoulder.

Opal stepped forward and took a breath, then began speaking as if she’d practiced, “I’m sorry being here is hard for you.”

She walked forward, and you stepped back, watching the situation carefully as Opal kept going, “When you showed up, I was so excited to get to know you. I’d heard so many grea things about you from mom and Grandma Toph. So… I guess I was kind of sad that you didn’t want to get to know me… Believe me, I know my family can be a little crazy and overwhelming sometimes, but I would love it so much if you and (y/n) would be a part of it.”

Opal casted you a glanced towards the end, her hands clasped together. She sounded so sincere and sweet. You wanted to hug her, but decided to wait to see what Lin said.

“Get out,” Lin said quietly.

“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” Opal asked, her voice quaking.

“Get out!” Lin yelled. Opal’s eye filled with tears and you reached forward to try to comfort her, but she turned and ran out of the room crying. Korra followed her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked, stepping forward to glare at your wife, “Opal is your niece, and a sweet girl who didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Maybe you should reconsider whose side you’re on!” Lin yelled back, and you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“There are no sides, Lin!” You yelled, finally fully losing your cool. You pointed a finger at your wife, “You’ve been nothing but rude since we got here, and I would stand by your side if I knew why! But you’re so closed off that I can’t seem to understand you.”

Lin turned away, brushing you off. You scoffed, feeling your rage pushing you forward.

“You know what? Fine. You wanna be alone, then be alone. I’m leaving,” You said, turning on your heel and walking out the door. You didn’t know where you were gonna go, but you were sure that Su could find space for you somewhere.

#lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong/reader #lin beifong simp club #angst

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 4.5 OR Chapter 5

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You miss Seokjin. You know that you shouldn’t, but in the middle of the night while you’re unable to sleep, you pick up your phone again. And you send him a text. 2:03 am. Y/N: hey The bright screen stares back at you, illuminating your face and blinding your vision in the darkness of your quiet dorm room. Your messages are lined up in a row, the same exact text left unanswered. Ones you sent from a week ago to two days ago. The radio silence makes the realization sink in — he broke it off. Jin really has no plans of communicating with you again, of giving you an explanation other than telling you that it’s run its course and that you’re not the one at fault. It doesn’t sit well with you, so your thumb moves, quicker than you can list the consequences for. You call his number. It dials. But instead of hearing the tone ring, you hear an automated message. Seokjin changed his number. // It’s morning while on the way to class with you hiding beneath the hood of Jin’s sweater that you end up catching sight of someone familiar walking towards your direction. It’s your only strand of hope, but you step forward before the opportunity is lost. “Hani?” “Y/N?” Hani stops and greets you with a smile. She’s a friend — well, Seokjin’s friend. But she still regards you with the same warmth as she gave to you for the past two years, albeit the atmosphere is awkward. The both of you know what happened, know it’s looming over your heads. But no one speaks about it, no one dares to broach the subject. “Hey, how are you?” And her question is asked at a higher pitch, cautious as if you were a wounded animal that she was afraid of scaring. “I’m...fine, how are you?” “I’m okay.” Hani nods and gathers the courage to approach the issue that you’re skirting around. “I...heard about what happened. It’s a real shame. I hope you’re holding up well.” “Trying.” You muster a smile, shrugging your shoulders. Yet in spite of her friendliness, you can still feel it — the distance. Like you thought, they sided with him. They’ve chosen him with no plans of getting between you two and involving themselves in the conflict. “Well, I should go. I might be late. I’ll see you around, Y/N.” You nod and she brushes past you. But then you twist on your heel. “Hani?” “Yeah?” She spins around. “Did,” you hesitate, “Jin say anything about me?” “No, he didn’t,” she says, quietly and sadly. You bob your head again, meeting her eye. “How is he?” “He’s okay.” You wonder what that means — if he never really cared, if he’s already over this. But you’re also glad that he’s okay. You’ll never have any ill wishes against Jin. You still love him.

Jungkook and his friends have a system, if one could call it that — a shitty system of crashing each other’s dorms. Sometimes they’re crowding around Taehyung’s gaming consoles, other times it’s Jimin’s computer. Or Jungkook’s flat screen that he spent his entire summer job’s savings for. Or even going to Hoseok and Yoongi’s apartment to raid the fridge and be as loud as they want without getting noise complaints. Hoseok and Yoongi didn’t like the dorm life, so they were willing to raise their living expenses and pool their money together for an apartment off campus. And that’s where Jungkook finds himself this evening. They’re watching a soccer game, but the only person invested is Taehyung who actually knows the teams and who is who. Hoseok is preoccupied pigging out on the snacks, Yoongi sipping his drink, and Jimin is playing a game on his phone. “Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks out of the blue, smacking his lips after taking a swig of the beer. He can’t wait till Taehyung gets curious and drinks some — he’d probably gag from the taste. Yoongi looks up. “What?” “It’s not about me, but I have a friend of a friend and this friend of theirs was...dumped pretty badly and now they’re depressed and not talking...at all….and they don’t really have friends anymore because all their friends were my friend’s friends, so it really sucks for them.” “Uh-huh.” “So what would you hypothetically say to my friend’s friend to make them feel better or like what would you do?” “Well, for one, I’d take Y/N out,” Hoseok pipes up while chuckling. Jimin lifts his head and Taehyung looks over. The two of them exchange expressions and burst out laughing. Jungkook sighs in irritation. “Who said this was about Y/N?!” “We’re not total idiots, dude.” Jimin grins. “Sometimes.” In the meanwhile, Taehyung leans down to give a punch to Jungkook’s arm and winks. “Trying to slide into her DMs now that she’s single, huh? I see you, Kook. Still got game. Can’t say I’m not impressed. Go get that puss—” “As if.” Jungkook scoffs. “I just feel bad, alright? Forget I asked. Whatever.” But Yoongi isn’t ready to drop the subject quite yet. His cat-like eyes narrow in on him as he sips on his drink. He puts the bottle down on the coffee table with a clank. “Since when did you start caring about her?” “I don’t—” “You don’t have to get defensive,” Yoongi deadpans boredly. He isn’t that interested, merely stating a fact. “I’m just surprised.” “She’s going to be my internship partner whether I like it or not in a few months.” The youngest sighs. “I don’t want to make it awkward. And I thought it would be better in the long run if we become friends now. It would be nice to have each other’s backs. Or at least be civil enough where she’s not trying to rip my head off every other second.” Yoongi appears mildly understanding and nods. “So it’s a diplomatic thing.” “Yeah.” “Invite her to our game night,” Hoseok says from the kitchen. “Don’t do that.” Yoongi scoffs, expression wrinkled like he bit into a lemon. “It’s our thing.” “Are we ten? Boys only?” Hoseok argues, “We already have our thing every single night anyway. Plus, it might be a nice change since Jungkook always wins.” “Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Do whatever you want.” “That actually sounds kind of fun!” Taehyung grins, tearing his eyes away from the soccer game. Jungkook’s amazed that he had half a mind to pay attention to the conversation. “But I wonder if Y/N is any good at board games or if she even plays.” “Is everyone cool with me asking?” Jungkook looks around — Hoseok and Taehyung are enthusiastic about the prospect while Yoongi is passive aggressive at worst and apathetic at best. It’s Jimin who looks uncertain. “She’s….intimidating,” he mutters. “But….I think you’re right. Y/N looks like she’s having a tough time and if we can help, then we should. At least then we know we tried.” He nods. There’s only one issue left. “I don’t even know if she’ll even accept…” Knowing you, you might just laugh in his face and then spit at him for even making such a suggestion. Then again, with how you’ve been acting lately, you might just start crying from gratefulness and freak him out. Both scenarios are equally horrible.

The pair of you bake alongside each other as the teacher watches for technique and the order of the procedures done. Jungkook works on the dough while you focus on the custard filling. It’s surprisingly perfect teamwork — you’re in sync with one another and assemble the final cake together. And when the teacher returns to eat it, he’s astounded that it’s been exactly replicated. From the taste to the presentation. You leave the room with a ninety percent grade, having absolutely aced the midterm. “That was pretty good, huh?!” Jungkook grins, putting his hand out. You muster a small smile, and high-five him back. “Yeah.” “Man, all our hard work paid off! Did you see the look on Mr. Chu’s face?” He was over the moon, especially considering that napoleon cake isn’t all that easy to make under strict time constraints. But when Jungkook glances at you, you don’t seem very happy over it. Your eyes are on the floor with your downcast head. “Hey.” The doe-eyed boy pokes your shoulder until you look up at him. “Do you wanna…” “Pardon?” Your brows furrow. His voice became so quiet, you couldn’t hear him. Jungkook clears his throat noisily. “I asked how you were holding up?” You shrug. “Fine. I don’t know. Do you really want to hear about it?” You doubt he would trouble himself with your problem, but what catches you off guard is that he stops in the middle of the hallway and nods. You stop with him too. “Sure. Shoot.” “Really?” “Yeah, I don’t see why not. It’s not like I have anything better to do.” You inhale a deep breath. It catches in your throat. Your fist tightens, nails digging into your skin. You swear you wouldn’t cry again. “I texted Jin, even though I know it wasn’t a good idea and yeah, it wasn’t. He changed his number.” “Oh….shit.” “And I talked to one of his friends yesterday and she said he’s doing fine. He hasn’t really talked about me. And I don’t really know what any of that means. I haven’t seen him around either. I think he’s avoiding me and I can’t help thinking about what I did that was so wrong for me to be treated this way. I don’t….I don’t think I deserve this.” You exhale a shallow breath, eyes stinging painfully. Jungkook suddenly plops his hand on the top of your head. You frown at him and he realizes what he’s doing and withdraws his hand awkwardly. “That really...sucks.” “Yeah, thanks, I know.” “Sorry, I don’t really know what to say.” “You don’t have to say anything,” you tell. “Thanks for not laughing, I guess.” “Why would I laugh?” Jungkook asks, genuinely confused. You shrug. You always thought Jungkook would be the first to applaud your misery — he’d goad you and cheer you when you’d cry. You guess you severely misjudged him. “Are you free tonight?” “Why?” “My friends and I are doing this thing.” Jungkook scratches the back of his neck and diverts his vision elsewhere. “We meet up to play games sometimes. It’s really Taehyung’s thing cause he’s the one who likes games, but if you’re free, then you should come along. We’re in need of new players actually, cause it gets boring when it’s the same people over and over again….” “Would they mind?” He swallows hard, taking in the way your head is quirked to the side, your eyes big and glimmering with hope. It seems like you’re taking him up on the offer or at least considering it and he’s pleasantly surprised. “No, no, they wouldn’t.” “I don’t want to make it weird or anything…” “No, you wouldn’t. Trust me. They’re just a bunch of lame dorks, and you kind of already know Taehyung and Jimin. They’re nice guys. So if you wanna come, you should. No pressure whatsoever though.” “Sure.” The corners of your mouth lifts. “Really?” “Yeah. That’s….okay, right?” “Totally. Yep. I’ll text you where and what time.” You never knew one day you’d be going off campus to some random apartment for a night of game boards, much less with Jeon Jungkook. Part of you is skeptical about his offer, envisioning that he’s catfishing you somehow, that there isn’t actually anything happening and he’ll text you ‘sike’ after making you wait hours. But then you remind yourself that he hasn’t been exactly an asshole lately and that you’re not in the cruel world of High School anymore. Jungkook would have to be sick to prank you in this state. You can already hear the boisterous noise on the other side of the door before you even knock. But after some hesitation, the sounds taper off when you do. The door swings open and Jungkook greets you with his doe eyes and messy dark hair flopping in different directions. He’s in a black shirt and loose, gray sweatpants, casual unlike how he usually dresses for class and the kitchen. “Hey!” He reaches in to give you a quick hug. You stiffen and he lets go. “Come in!” “Finally, she’s here!” Hoseok stands from the couch with his beer and moves to the table Taehyung’s setting up. “Sorry, am I late?” “Right on time actually,” Jimin says with a gentle smile. “Beer or cooler or wine?” Yoongi suddenly asks, twisting around from the fridge. “A-Any.” It’s fast paced, but they’re welcoming. There’s not a moment for awkwardness to settle in. Yoongi comes over with a beer can, tosses it, and you catch it with both hands. “Thanks.” “We usually start with a game of good ol’ Janga.” Taehyung grins from his spot at the table. “Usually the person who goes before the loser gets to pick the next game, but since you’re our guest of honour, you can pick. There’s a whole shelf of them over there.” He gestures towards the living room and you head over to look at the boxes that are accumulating. There’s a ton of boxes stack on each other on the shelf — The Game of Life, Risk, Twister, Battleship, Monopoly, Connect Four, Snakes and Ladders, and even CandyLand. “What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the bottom shelf with a huge bin. There seems to be small bags inside, place mats, and books too. “It’s stuff for D&D,” Jungkook clarifies with a sigh, popping a can of beer open to drink. “Dungeons and Dragons.” “Taehyung’s been wanting to get us to play,” Jimin tells with a smile. “I’m a great DM,” Taehyung chirps, “It would be so much fun, but we don’t really have time for a whole campaign. Otherwise I’d pull together official content and stuff from Unearthed Arcana and run a module from Wizards of the Coast—” “Alright, nerd.” Yoongi sighs after a swig. “I’m not trying to re-virgin myself and remain abstinent for the rest of my life, alright? You can do that by yourself.” “Don’t hate on my game, bitch,” Taehyung spits as Jimin and Jungkook laugh. A smile comes to your face and it isn’t one you have to muster for once. “Wait till the day you come to me and ask me advice on what kind of spells a halfling bard should have at level six.” “Over my dead body.” “Okay, can we not argue for once? We have a guest.” Hoseok intercepts with his hands out, literally standing between them. “Let’s try to not scare her off?” You go back to looking, but you can’t seem to decide what game to play. “There’s a lot.” “It’s not ours,” Yoongi pipes up again, wearing a friendly smile that is more like a smirk. “This is Hoseok and I’s place. Taehyung just always finds a way to put his shit here too.” “Hey! That’s cause no one else has a big table like this at their dorm, plus my place is too messy to store my precious games there. They’re expensive, you know.” “All I know is that somehow I always come home to furniture and clothes on my bed that I swear I didn’t purchase….” “Alright, alright.” Hoseok intervenes for the second time, having enough of this nonsense. “Is the game done being set up or what? Y/N come sit, you can choose the game later.” You gather around the table with Jungkook beside you. He leans in while the others are figuring out who gets to start and what direction to go in. “Sorry about that.” “No, it’s okay,” you say and mean it too. “Your friends are a lot of fun.” Yet the moment the game begins, there’s a shift in the atmosphere. It goes quieter, less fooling around as it intensely dials down. There are half-lidded stares across the table, snarky remarks exchanged. They’re a competitive group and you feel a lot of pressure to perform well. Jimin seems to go for the easy blocks. Hoseok tries to make it more difficult for the next person. Yoongi is the designated asshole, going for the second top layer while Taehyung argues that it isn’t even allowed. On the other hand, Jungkook somehow flicks the Jenga block with his middle finger and thumb. He’s cocky about his technique, leaning back as his arm drapes over the back of your chair. He runs his tongue on the inside of his cheek with his brow lifted. You remember why you fucking hated him now. He’s so unbearable sometimes. “What?” He looks at you when he finds you staring. You frown at him. And for a second Jungkook gets a glimpse of the bitch he remembers — the one he misses. “Why do you have to be so extra about it? Who are you trying to impress?” “Right?!” Taehyung stands up and the entire stack of blocks nearly topples over. “I keep trying to tell him that! It’s so goddamn annoying! You won’t even believe it!” “Watch it,” Hoseok shouts, “You’re going to make it tip over.” That’s when you become fired up. You’ve never felt this kind of motivation surging between your veins before. But it’s not a thirst to win — it’s a ravenous hunger to beat Jeon Jungkook. And you do. After playing to Hoseok’s tactic and being an asshole, you risk it all to remove an important block and it collapses on Jungkook right as he tries to remove another. Then there are screams — hoots, hollers, like your country won the damn world cup. You stand up and everyone cheers. Hoseok chest bumps you. Taehyung lifts you up and spins you in a circle. Jimin starts to record the moment on his phone and even Yoongi pats you on the back. “God, why are you guys making such a big deal,” Jungkook moans, still seated at the table, embarrassed from all the teasing. “Maybe because you’ve never lost anything in your life!” Taehyung laughs in his face, rubbing his loss where it hurts. “Say something for the camera.” Jimin sticks his phone right between Jungkook’s eyes, and dodges with giggles when Jungkook tries to slap it away. “Hey, send me that.” Yoongi points. “I’m going to post it on facebook for my grandma to see.” “Has Jungkook really not lost any game we’ve played before?” Hoseok questions, the realization finally hitting him and the gravity of the situation sinking down onto his shoulders. “I don’t think so,” Jimin says after sincerely contemplating for a long moment. “Oh shit. You’re our lucky charm!” Hoseok slings his arm over your shoulder, giving you finger guns and winking. It’s ridiculous but you’re beginning to believe it too — especially when the game you pick is Uno and it ends up with a similar outcome. Somehow, someway, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi finish their cards and the only people who are left are you and Jungkook. The tensions are high and you see the sweat accumulating at his hairline. It’s apparent that he’s never even been second last in a game before. You’re so close to victory, you can taste it. You’re down to a single card while he has three more. Jungkook slowly places down a wild card. “What colour do you want, Y/N?” “Hmmmm.” You rest your chin in your palm, arm propped up on the table. You glance at your card before looking straight at him, locking your gaze together. “Would you even choose the colour I pick?” “I just want to hear what you want.” “Fine. I want yellow. Please?” You bat your lashes. “Pretty please, JK?” The ass smirks. “Red.” “I knew you’d say that,” you sigh. Your fingers reach down to the pile to grab another card, but then your other hand slaps down — slamming a red four onto the pile. Your arms shoot in the air. Again, it triggers cheers. “I win!” Jungkook throws back his head and groans. He tosses his one red and one blue card left onto the table. What’s worse is the way you gather with all his friends — the five of you huddled together with arms around one another, like you’re preparing for a football game. But instead, you’re all hopping and cheering while belting out the national anthem. You’ve stolen his own friends from right under his nose. But despite how the loss is rubbed in his face, Jungkook’s happy that it seems like for a moment, you’ve returned to yourself again. Eventually, the games go so much into the night that you have to bid your goodbyes. You didn’t know Jungkook’s group of friends were so easy to get along and get comfortable with. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the time passed so quickly and you’re sad to leave. Hoseok and Taehyung hug you until Yoongi has to help you pry them off. “I’ll miss you so much,” Taehyung fake cries. “You and the way you absolutely demolish Jungkook.” “Oh please.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’ll come back...if you’ll have me again.” “Are you kidding? Of course!” “You have to come back,” Jimin insists with a sheepish smile like it should be obvious. “You’re good at Monopoly, right?” You shrug. “I’ve been told I’m decent.” “You better be.” Yoongi grins. “I’ll expect you to win against Kook.” “I’ll try my best.” “Let me walk you back,” Jungkook says as you grab your coat. You look at him and he elaborates, “It’s a long way back to the dorm and I’m tired too. Gonna call it an early night.” “Oh, okay.” The two of you get ready to leave, and at the doorway, you turn around one last time. “Thanks for having me.” “No problem.” Hoseok smiles. “Come back soon.” You think this is the longest time you’ve been without crying for the past month. It went by too quickly — you wish you could do it all over again. But you consider how lucky Jungkook is. He has great friends and surrounds himself with great people. You’re jealous. The night is silent except for the sound of your shoes against the cement of the sidewalk. You’re illuminated by the lamp posts above you and you watch your shadows alongside Jungkook’s. The air is cold enough that you can see your breath as you exhale. Jungkook’s own hands are dug into his pockets, but the chill makes you feel alive. “Sorry about them. I know they can get a bit much.” “It’s okay. They’re really nice actually.” “Yeah, they are.” “I had a lot of fun.” You steal a glance at him. Jungkook’s doe eyes widen, the corners of his mouth quirking. “Really? I’m glad.” “It was a lot of fun destroying you.” “Wow.” He laughs. “Okay.” It makes you giggle too. You know what he’s been doing. From him listening to everything you have to say and doing more than necessary during the midterms. From that time he called you over in the dining hall to sit with him to tonight, bringing you over to play games with his friends…. “Thanks, Jungkook.” “Hm?” “Thanks,” you repeat, looking at him, and he meets your eye. “For helping me. I don’t think I’ve said it yet. But I really appreciate it.” “Yeah, it’s not a big deal, really.” “It’s a big deal to me.” Your gaze softens. At the moment you had no one, he was there. You didn’t know you would find such an unlikely friendship during such a hard time, but you don’t mind at all. Jeon Jungkook is your friend.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook baking AU #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook reader insert

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Text

Dear Sister Part 2 ||Alec Volturi x Female Reader||

Dear Sister Part 1

Words: 5451 Warnings: A lot more swearing than I intended, and a fair bit of angst

So this took a lot longer to put up than I had intended it to but unfortunately real life got in the way, but I’m back and ready to get my writing on beautiful humans! Keep your eyes peeled for more requests and some more random crap from the inner workings of my mind :D

Request for @tiger-khans-blog: Hey there I am really amused by your style of writing stories.Can I ask you another request for Alec Volturi? The thing is Demetri's younger younger Sister the reader fled from her family.As they had the tradition to get the girls married in a early age.And the reader is a Creator gifted Vampire.The Volturi gets to her.She is asked to join them.She recognizes Demetri immediately.She goes and hugs him.Demetri recognizes her.And she finds out that Alec and her mate bond.That's why she decides to torment Alec.So that he doesn't want her.But everything goes opposite.Alec falls for her head to heels.Then her Casanova image gets revealed that she is no less than her brother. Alec tries to convince her to give him a chance.Then Alec tries all the ways to make her fall in love with him too. Then she lastly agrees.Demetri gets against of this relationship.Then he tries to make them separated.But he becomes unsuccessful. As Jane is his mate.

How on Earth did they get here?

Alec could only blink as she slammed him into the wall of his room. He felt the stone crumble around his shoulders as she pushed him further into the rubble. He grit his teeth, a sharp sting running over his skin as the venom sealed the small cracks breaking apart his flesh.

“You did this!” she snarled. It was such sweet agony feeling the heat of her body so close to his, her skin sending sparks flying across his own. He wished it were under better circumstances.

“Actually, you were the one who invaded my room.” Alec pointed out, a hint of the bitterness he felt creeping into his voice. He was certain he was in the right; he’d not been sleeping around knowing his mate was in the same building as him after all. He had tried to get to know her, learned to love everything about her, and she’d just…thrown it all back in his face.

“What gave you the right to talk about me like that in front of all of those people? You do not even know me! You ruined everything between Santiago and me! My own brother thinks me a whore! You disgraced me in front of everyone we work with.” she was so close, her lips a hairs breadth from his own and spitting venom his way. Alec hissed, his vision flaring red briefly, but even though he was more furious than he had ever thought he could be he couldn’t bring himself to put his hands on her, to push her away. Once she stepped back he knew she’d be out of his reach forever. He could feel it deep down in his bones that this was a violent, permanent goodbye.

“Santiago should never have been with you in the first place, you belong with me! Fate has said so!” he snapped. Alec balled his fists at his sides, feeling the sweet numbness on his fingertips and knowing he would unleash it if he wasn’t careful enough. He glared her down, her own black eyes swallowing him whole. How was any of this fair? Her anger was unjustified! His was not! He had every right to be furious with her obvious disregard for their bond.

“Fuck fate! I belong to no one! How dare you assume you have ownership of me because you felt your dick twitch when you first saw me!” she spat, shoving away from him. He felt his shoulder crack unpleasantly but ignored the sting of it healing, too busy seething and trembling as he fought back the urge to lunge at her, trap her against the door she was walking towards so she couldn’t leave him. Had all those days spent in the library been wasted? Did she really feel nothing for him? Did she not see he that he would do anything for her?

“Y/N-“

“Keep my name out of your mouth, you have no right to speak it,” she hissed, turning in the doorway to send daggers his way with her eyes one last time. “Keep far away from me Alec Volturi. For the eternity I have left on this Earth I do not ever want to see it again.” She slammed the door shut behind her and Alec crumpled. Venom stung his eyes for the first time in years, and a horrible heaving noise echoed through his room. He didn’t realise it was him until Jane rushed to his side and pulled him close.

Alec hadn’t cried the way he did right then since the day they’d burned.

Y/N wasn’t around for a very long time after that. Months passed without her presence and Alec grew entirely numb to it all. He went to trials, stood in the background on missions, but nothing changed, he didn’t change. Alec had become utterly mute, not even Jane could get him to speak a word anymore and he spent all of his free time sitting in front of the fireplace in his room, stroking the worn cover of a copy of Private Berlin. Y/N had introduced him to the series and this was his favourite one; she’d bought all of the books for him and in his rage this was the only book he hadn’t destroyed. Every passing moment of his day felt like a fight against quick-sand that was trying to drag him down, and he was so, so close to giving up. What was the point? Y/N had taken half of him with her when she left and there was no good reason to continue unless he could become whole again.

Demetri often received post cards from her, and he had heard whispers of what these postcards contained. Clearly, she was having a wonderful time. She was travelling the world and sampling all the types of people each continent had to offer. It made Alec’s very soul ache whenever he had to hear about it. Given his empty state of being it wasn’t hard to understand why nobody really came to check on him anymore – he was hardly offering the most scintillating conversation - which was partially why he was so confused to see Demetri sitting in front of him on his sofa. The tracker looked sombre, forearms resting on his knees as he glanced down at the book in his hands before looking up to meet his eyes again.

“Alec you have to stop this. We are all worried about you.” Demetri sighed. If he had the capacity to feel anything at all, Alec would be angry at him too right now. How was it fair that he could insult his sister and exchange cruel words with her, yet it was Demetri she would still stay in contact with? Alec had made one mistake! He had made plenty more. Demetri waited patiently for him to say something, anything, but Alec wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. What was there left to say after all? His mate had walked right out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Just leave Alec thought. The very bones of him were tired.

“Jane worries for you, and I cannot stand to see her beside herself over you.” He continued.

Then Jane can tell me as much herself Alec mentally groaned, though his face remained apathetic. Demetri would never guess his head was actually full to bursting with a host of negative thoughts when his face suggested his mind was painfully blank. He traced the images on the cover of his book, heart aching sharply like it was just yesterday she had left all over again.

“When I lost my sister the first time my heart ached in ways I had never known it could ache before. I know the feeling of loss-“

“My sister holds you every night like to let you go would be the death of her. What do you know of the way my heart aches?” Alec couldn’t stop the sharp words escaping him, his tongue whipping the tracker into submission. For the first time in a long time he felt the frustration Demetri brought out in him so strongly it was able to overwhelm the numbness in his soul. Alec was somewhat to be able to feel something for once, but it brought with it the undeniable heartache already nagging in the background, threatening to drown him once more. Demetri was quiet for a long while, staring down at his hands as he thought over his words.

“Alec, I-“

“Do not lecture me on affairs of the heart Demetri, how many did you have to break before you finally found one you felt was worth keeping intact?” Alec huffed, unfurling from the curled-up position he’d been sat in to plant his feet on the floor. He ran his hands up into his hair and scrubbed at his scalps with a sigh. As angry as he wanted to be with Demetri maybe he was struggling to feel it for more than just the perpetual numbness. Maybe he couldn’t be angry because deep down, he knew Demetri didn’t deserve it. The man had lost his sister twice over. He was grieving her absence as much as Alec was.

“The first time my sister left, she was betrothed to an older man in the village who was a shoe in to become a partner in a cloth merchants firm. This merchant was one of the wealthiest men in town and her husband to be would soon have been amongst the upper echelons of society. Our family would have been propelled into wealth, status…these were the things my mother cared about. Not Y/N, though.” Demetri smiled, a wan and wistful thing that radiated hurt so intense it made Alec pause.

“What did she care about?” he asked finally. Demetri’s expression softened.

“The people she loved. She cared about the people she loved. One of them was a girl called Erato, a whore.” He told him. Alec’s brows furrowed. In a fraction of a second he had recalled every conversation they had ever had, the words imprinted on his mind and held dear in his heart as the only reminder she had ever once been with him. He understood almost immediately what had driven her away.

“He was said to have beaten all the whores in the brothel.” He quoted Y/N. Alec could remember the fire in her eyes, recall the sharpness of her tone. The anger she felt at her engagement had been obvious and the hurt had been strong enough to last a millenia. Demetri nodded solemnly.

“Erato was beside herself the night she came to Y/N, but mother would not call off the wedding. She would not trust the word of a whore and ruin our family’s chance at social success. Y/N ran away the very same night and was lost to me for a thousand years until she chose to find us. Do you not see, Alec?” he asked with a sigh. Alec’s brows furrowed, and then he settled back in his seat with a sigh.

“I see the wrong person sitting in front of me. I am tired Demetri, I don’t want riddles, if you’re here to tell me something profound then get on with it please.”

“Y/N has never been quiet about injustice! If she perceives anything that is happening to herself or others to be wrong or detrimental to wellbeing, she fights back. Bloody hell Alec! You stood from afar and never made a move to claim her as your mate!” Demetri sounded exasperated at this point and Alec couldn’t stop the hysterically choked laugh from escaping.

“She’s made it pretty clear I’m not intended to have her as my mate. She’s so powerful she can laugh in the face of fate.” He pointed out. Demetri groaned.

“But she isn’t!” he insisted, pushing to his feet and dropping a stack of colourful looking postcards on the coffee table, “Read them Alec. As loath as I am to admit it, she is miserable without you.” He shook his head as he left, the door closing a little harder than necessary. Part of Alec was satisfied because Demetri finally knew the sheer struggle of letting your sister be with someone you intensely wished they weren’t with. The other part was terrified of the small stack of cards on his tabletop. The loopy handwriting was a familiar scrawl, something that tried to be elegant but was close to illegible because she never had time to write things down, too busy experiencing the moment in real time. He could faintly smell her scent lingering on the surface of each one, and his mouth felt very dry as he reached for the stack.

Demetrius,

Paris remains lovely as ever, but the lights seem dimmer than they were my last visit. Monsieur Ardoin is as hospitable as ever. Give my regards to our mutual friends.

Love, Y/N

So she’d been to Paris had she? He tried to ignore the bitter hatred that roiled in his gut at the mention of this Monsieur Ardoin but it was hard to stop, and the next three were the same. More names, more cities. Alec scowled, slapping down the card and leaning back in his chair. His hand ran over his face, as if he could somehow scrub the words from where they’d been imprinted on his eyeballs. The colourful little cards were taunting him though, the weakest trace of her scent caressing his nose and muddling his mind.

“Damn it all to hell.” He growled, reaching for the next one. They were addictive. A fresh and recent part of her for him to treasure, but the pain in him seared deeper with every word…or not? His brows furrowed, his body leaning forward as if being as physically close to the paper as possible might bring him some relief. If his heart still beat, it might have stopped.

Demetrius,

How am I to believe your words are true? I might have once loved him, but Alec made it clear he never felt the same. How can I believe he held any sort of affection for me when he treated me no differently to any other person in the guard? I will not come back, I could not face any of them. That does not mean you could not visit me, you will always know where to find me after all, brother.

All my love, Y/N

Alec felt his eyes widen. It was…his fault? He did this? He ruined his own chance of happiness? He thought back to all those bittersweet memories he had (the only thing left of her now) where they had wiled away evenings reading in the library. They had always been opposite ends of the sofa, as was proper, never crossing that boundary, and whenever he risked glances at her she never seemed to be looking his way but the distinct tinkling of jewellery…had that meant she was looking at him and turning away before he could notice? The day they met her smirk had dropped for that briefest second, like the freight-train of emotion he’d been contending with had hit her to. Oh…oh how could he be so stupid!

He was out of the door and hammering on Demetri’s in the next second, the tracker opening the door with a deep frown.

“Alec you need to-“

“Where?” he demanded. Demetri blinked, his face going blank for a second. Alec felt every extremity twitch, the urgent need to move move move eating away at him.

“London.” He said finally, his tone obviously reluctant. Alec turned on his heel, ready to leave immediately, the consequences be damned.

“I have to-“

“Find her,” Demetri finished for him, though his face looked like he’d sucked a lemon, “I may not like it, but I suppose you have never liked it either have you? You have to find her. bring my sister home Alec…we’ll see about the rest after.” Alec very nearly laughed but the moment was too serious for that. Demetri’s acceptance of his bond with Y/N, however grudging, only made him more determined to find her.

“Tell me when you have a more precise location!” Alec called over his shoulder, already two floors down and headed for the door. Maybe the masters needed to know of his departure, maybe they didn’t, but if he was certain of anything it was his position in the guard. He was too valuable for them to lose and if he returned home with his mate…well Aro would probably be so pleased that his running away would most likely be forgotten about. Y/N had to accept him after all of this, didn’t she? What was more romantic than running across a continent and through a bloody ocean after your love? By the time Demetri called him back Alec was forced to hide in some rundown warehouse on the outskirts of a city he knew very little given its constant evolution – forgetting his credit cards was a double wounder.

The minute the sun went down he moved.

He was sure the Savile Row tailors wouldn’t miss just one Gucci suit, right? Even if it was worth over £1500. He was fairly sure that ridiculously pruned flowerbed in front of her hotel wouldn’t miss those flowers either. She had already opened the door before he had chance to knock.

“I am going to have Demetrius’s head on a stick.”

“I know you are angry but please, Y/N, give me time to explain.” He wedged his foot in the doorway, surprised when she didn’t attempt to close it. Her expression was devoid of emotion but she wasn’t turning him away just yet. Alec took it as a good sign, even if she wasn’t seemingly willing to let him in just yet.

“Your time is dwindling away Alec. Why are you here?” she asked. Alec looked her over, clearly dressed to go out and enjoy a night on the town. He held out the flowers.

“I want – no I need you to know, that every moment of your absence has been abysmal for me. I need you to know I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, endure any trial, overcome any obstacle, if it means you will understand how necessary you are to my very existence. I made the mistake of not letting you know that before, let me rectify that here, now. Give me a chance to prove to you Y/N that I cannot leave here without you.” He kept his voice firm, bold, but inside he crumbled. Here was this headstrong, independent woman who had survived the world just fine before she met him and could do so again if she made him leave. He had nothing left to do but pray she would accept him. Her eyes fell to the flowers.

“You do know I hate tulips, right?” Alec’s heart fell, chest tightening.

“I do now.” He said.

“I have dinner plans, Alec.” She sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“Then let me take you to dinner.” He insisted.

“They are not the kind of plans that require a partner or a chaperone,” She retorted, “Maybe your life is abysmal but I happen to be doing just fine without you. Whatever Demetrius has told you in some desperate attempt to bring me home is false. You have my apologies for the inconvenience the journey must have caused.” She reached behind the door and pulled on a denim jacket, bringing some shades out of the pocket and slipping them over dark, burgundy eyes. Alec grit his teeth, watching as she locked her door.

“Demetri didn’t have to tell me anything, I read your postcards. You’re not happy, Y/N, and neither am I, so what is the sense of-“

“Opening someone else’s mail is considered a federal crime in some places. I would have thought a man devoted to upholding such laws would know that.” She snapped, still walking away from him. Alec hurried after her.

“I am not leaving until you give me a chance. Just one, Y/N, just one.” He hissed, reaching for her arm. His hand went straight through her and he stopped dead, his heart breaking all over again as she strode into the lift without breaking stride and pressed a button on the panel. She turned on her heel, pulling her shades down her nose to peer sharply at him over the black plastic rim.

“Just no, Alec, just no.” she retorted. The doors slid closed between them and Alec was left alone, jaw tight and fingers clenching into fists at his sides. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, letting the waves of pain and frustration overtake him. He really didn’t enjoy the way a warm hand clasped his shoulder, because it wasn’t hers. Alec had whirled before the man even had chance to turn away, his teeth sinking into his windpipe and hands viciously tightening around his biceps. Bones cracked and veins burst, but it wasn’t enough to quell all of his anger. Not until the man and his wife were mangled beyond repair as well as the security guard who was guarding the CCTV tape that could have outed his very existence, did Alec manage to start thinking clearly again.

As a fire consumed their bodies in the dumpster in the next borough over, he fixed his shirt sleeves and refastened his cufflinks. He drew in a deep breath, smelling the oncoming storm in the air and simply listening to the sounds of the city. If Y/N wasn’t going to give him a chance he was simply going to have to create one, and that meant getting imaginative. What did you do for the girl that could have it all? She was powerful enough to create any gift. If she wanted something she easily got it, so how was Alec supposed to get what he wanted? Hell, she had probably already created foresight and was watching his every decision like that Cullen woman could so nothing would be a good enough surprise.

Maybe he didn’t have to surprise her though.

She was still out when he got back to her room, some stolen hotel stationary allowing him to leave a note he hoped she would read on her bed. Maybe flowers weren’t the way to her heart but another type of gift would do better? She was always wearing jewellery of some sort, so maybe some new jewellery was the way to her heart?

She never showed up at the time he had requested to meet with her.

Alec left another note a few days later, tracking her to a new hotel this time, but she didn’t show up so he could take her to the theatre either. He had hoped that a slew of invitations to various date-themed evenings would maybe make her understand he knew what he had done wrong now. He understood that by not making a move beforehand he had damaged her self-esteem and hurt her feelings, but if he could reverse that mistake now…He ran a hand over his face with a sigh, pen poised to write the latest in a long line of invitations to spend the evening with him exploring the Kew gardens. It was closed of course but that didn’t mean they couldn’t sneak in. A soft sizzling noise made him turn swiftly, fangs bared at the intruder until he realised the lingering wisps of red slowly dissipating in the air revealed the one person he wanted to see the most.

Violently red eyes glared back at him, her face set in the ugliest scowl she still somehow made beautiful. Y/N had her arms folded across her chest, her stance defensive.

“I detest flowers.” She hissed. Alec frowned.

“Then talk to me and tell me what you would like to do! I am trying Y/N and I will keep true to my vow. I will try for the rest of eternity to win you back if it’s what has to be done!” Alec said fiercely. He pushed to his feet, feeling frustration give way to hysteria as a short, mirthless laugh escaped him. “For the love of all that’s holy how can you not see the depths of my devotion to you!”

“Because your devotion is not to me!” she cried, “It never is for anybody! Your devotion is and always will be to my power! So many have sought to own me and what I can do and all have come using words and gifts as a way to try and trap me, as if I am so shallow as to be lured in by shiny things.” Alec blinked, taken aback by her tone. He had expected bitter anger, he was ready to welcome her fury and instead she simply sounded broken.

“You think I care for your gift? Y/N, my place in the guard is secure by what I can do. No threat or bribe to get you back brought me here, merely my need to have you by my side.” He murmured, frowning now. She took a step back when he stepped closer, her eyes pleading with him to stay put.

“Then why did you leave me to wonder what I did wrong?” she demanded. He had no doubt now that if she could cry she would have been. “If you felt so deeply for me why did you never say as such? I sat for months on the opposite end of the sofa to you, wishing you might feel the same for me, and when you finally decide to declare your feelings it is not to me whom you declare them but an entire room of strangers who then think of me as a whore for ignoring the very bond you were the first to neglect!”

Alec was quiet for a moment, digesting this information. His mind came up blank. There was no easy answer to it, no way to right the wrong that would ever erase the monumental amount of hurt between them.

“We’ve really made such a mess of this, haven’t we?” he said finally, lowering his gaze.

“How your sister and Demetrius make it look so easy I do not know…it is sickening.” She admitted with a huff. Alec couldn’t help but laugh, the smallest of smiles twitching his lips upward.

“I’ve been telling them so for almost three years now. I suppose that was another thing I did wrong really wasn’t it? I detest that he’s with my sister and yet I threw it in his face that I was supposed to be with his.” He shook his head. There was a pregnant pause.

“I like that better,” She said softly. Alec looked back at her, head tilting as he tried to figure out what she meant. “Be with. I like you saying be with rather than to have.” She clarified.

“That might be the first thing I’ve ever managed to make you happy with then…I truly am sorry, Y/N, for everything,” he said sincerely. She didn’t stop him this time when he stepped forward into her space, taking her hands in his owns and bringing her fingers to his lips. Her breath hitched at the delicate kiss he placed against her knuckles. “I realise now nothing I can do will ever make up for the hurt I’ve caused you, but we’ve both suffered enough haven’t we? If I can’t fix this mistake, give me the chance to start fresh with you, to make sure I don’t make anymore. I love you far, far too much to give up on you entirely, but if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you truly do not want me then…then I’ll leave now and not bother you again.”

The mere thought he might have to just leave her behind was so painful. He knew exactly what he would do if she chose to send him away now, knew exactly where he could go – the Romanians were always looking for a chance to get one up on them after all. Y/N seemed to sense the despair he was feeling. She had rejected all of his advances thus far so why would this one be any different? Her grip on his hands tightened.

“I am so tired of running from you.” She whispered. Alec exhaled sharply, disbelief showing on his face briefly before he composed himself. He tenderly cupped her cheek.

“Then stop running from me, and if you can’t bring yourself to stop running, let me run beside you.” He implored. For once when she locked eyes with him, Alec didn’t feel his stomach drop in anticipation or overcome with nerves. Everything finally felt how it should be when he was with his mate. His spirit calmed, his entire being relaxing into the moment. He didn’t even notice they had teleported anywhere until he was pushed backward and his eyes stopped zeroing in on her. He frowned, glancing about at his bookcase, his bed, all the things he was familiar with.

“Y/N…please-“

“Shhhh, if you’re not quiet enough they’ll hear you packing a bag.” She hissed, giving him a shove towards his closet. Alec blinked in shock, frozen for a minute before he broke into a wide smile, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He had never moved so fast in all of his life.

“Would you pair please find a room?” Demetri grumbled. Jane glanced at him, her amusement obvious while she cuddled closer to his side. Alec however had no intention as stopping anytime soon. She tasted far too good and stealing kisses from her as they watched a movie was his new favourite pastime. It was only very reluctantly after another complaint that Alec pulled back from his mate, amused by her scowl. She caught his jaw before he could turn away from him.

“Ignore him, he’s jealous Jane doesn’t like the taste of brunette on his tongue.” She quipped. She pulled him back to her with a smirk and Alec grinned a bit, claiming her mouth with a more passionate kiss than before. He didn’t want to push his luck however and parted from her fairly quickly, brushing her pout with his thumb and a twinkle in his eye that promised her patience would be rewarded soon enough. With her legs slung across his lap the group had settled to watch a movie a little over an hour ago, and Alec had been distracted ever since she’d settled against her side. He still found it incredible that they had spent months roaming the world together and still needed to be near each other almost constantly to be even remotely happy. It was unhealthy perhaps, but where else would they be?

The masters had not been happy with his disappearance as predicted, but his position had, as he had predicted meant little punishment. As soon as Y/N had spoken out and told Aro less than eloquently they could easily ‘fuck off’ again, Caius was left to stew in his rage while they resumed normal duties without any severe punishment. They simply didn’t get time off for a while but that was easily worked around, easily endured knowing they were in the same place and not to be separated again.

“Fine, if I cannot kiss you I will not torment myself sitting here and take a shower instead.” Y/N rolled her eyes, kissed his lips lightly and disappeared from his side in a flash of red. Alec smiled slightly, shaking his head a bit as Demetri sighed.

“I understand it now. I understand why you hate me. I detest you Alec, I truly and thoroughly detest you.” He admitted.

“Demetri!” Jane scowled. Alec simply laughed.

“Hate me as much as you like, your sister doesn’t.” he teased. Demetri groaned a little.

“Just…she seems happy. Keep her that way, will you?” he requested. Alec turned serious then, nodding his head as Jane rolled her eyes, protesting he was being a hypocrite.

“If you agree to do the same for Jane.” He promised. Demetri nodded once, both of them quickly diverting their attention back to the TV. It had taken him over a thousand years to find his mate and Alec had no intention of messing it up now. Though their story had begun with hurt, they were both determined to write a better ending, and they had an eternity ahead of them to make it as perfect as could be.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #alec volturi #alec volturi x female reader #request #jane volturi #demetri volturi #jane x demetri #aro volturi #caius volturi #so much angst in this at the start #but a fluffy end #alec is a clueless boyo and I cannot be convinced otherwise

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softowlhours · 4 years

Text

paperclip chains

akaashi keiji (officeAU!)

a collection of scenarios following you and akaashi as you try and finesse the art of navigating life as working adults.

genre: a bit sad at times, but hopefully fluffier in the future.

a/n: my first piece of writing and this is pure self indulgent because work is hard and nothing makes sense sometimes. hope you all enjoy and find some comfort in it.

word count: 3500~

pt. one 🦋 blank like a sheet of paper. 🦋

[friday. 3:00 p.m.]

someone had cracked open the window. the air inside the office had been much too oppressive, stale with the smell of the murky, insipid coffee you could get from the cafeteria. for free. staff privileges, they call it. late afternoon sun pours in through the large square windows. it ignites the office, dying it in the shades of an inferno. however, the warmth of it does not reach akaashi’s heart. the way the rays set everything aglow was in contrast to the chill crisp autumn air. akaashi could hear the leaves rustle, clinging to the branches waiting for that particular gust of wind, strong enough to blow them off. the leaves would then twirl and twirl until they’d softly land on the damp earth becoming one with it again. he wishes he were a leaf.

He tries to focus on nature’s gentle melody, but the hubbub of the office is overbearing. the incessant clicking of alphabets on the keyboards, the murmur of pages being turned, someone sneezes loudly and it is immediately followed by lazy ‘bless you’s’. his ears are attuned to the low electric groan of the printer, and he hopes someone would get up and unclog the jam of papers before the white noise drives him insane. he ends up doing it himself, almost losing a finger in the process as he tries to pull out a badly stuck paper from the printers’ rollers. today had been one of those days where nothing had gone right, a domino of disasters triggered the moment he’d opened his eyes. these days had been coming by way too often lately for his taste. he felt tired.

none of these turmoils showed on his exterior though, he wore a calm, unbothered mask. despite his depressing inner monologue, he diligently read through the manuscript highlighting bits he’d like to go over with the author at their next meeting.

it wasn’t like akaashi hated his job, infact, this was his dream job. he loved what he did but sometimes his love for his work was eclipsed by the politics the workplace was entrenched in. the naivety from when he had first joined almost a year ago had worn off quickly. it took him a mere week in the workforce to understand that a job demanded more than the list of skills and tasks specified in the job description. in any office, beneath the veneer of civility, there always remains an undercurrent of competition, jealousy, idle minds looking for entertainment at the expense of each other. there were people who did not love their job, the free loaders who somehow never did their share but managed to take home their bag of coins. they would slack and slack some more until the burden of their neglect would be shifted upon the shoulders of the new comers. too timid to resist. he pulls out his leather bound planner, a gift from his friend to celebrate him landing the role of an assistant editor all those months ago. it is almost filled from start to finish with his scribbles and the leather is soft with constant handling. his eyes scan past all the work he had wrapped up for the day, until one of his seniors had dumped an endless stack of files containing short stories that had been sent in for the monthly writing contests. they’re not short anymore when you have a hundred of them to read at once. apparently, the senior had a date he’d forgotten about and had to leave early. akaashi couldn’t report this to the boss, he knew how offices worked. its venomous hierarchies slithered like snakes ready to diss whoever defied them. rookies must act like rookies. akaashi quickly jots down in his planner a list of things he must get done over the weekend and the bulleted list slowly fills up two entire pages.

when he wasn’t picking up after someone’s mess akaashi did enjoy what he did. he enjoyed being on top of his work, found an euphoric satisfaction in duties well done. while his colleagues took it easy during the day and whined as they worked overtime in the evenings to meet deadlines, akaashi was most probably done for the day by then and already at home; fresh out of the shower and lighting his favourite candles that made his bedroom smell like cinnamon. he’d curl up under his soft comforter letting the tension of a busy day dissipate from his body. he kept his favorite books on the nightstand and would read them as he waited for sleep to come.

“akaashi-chan,” he hears the soothing voice of his supervisor, an old well natured man in his sixties who had worked here for almost thirty years. he walks upto akaashi’s desk, his eyes crinkling with a gentle smile as he takes in the mess that was his desk. “its difficult being a rookie, huh?” hatori-san says. “i would’ve just let you gone home, but the design and printing departments are an anxious bunch. they’re breathing down our necks for the final draft of the magazine two weeks before the release date.”

“please don’t apologise, hatori-san. It’s always like this towards the end of the month.” you aren’t the one who should be apologising.

“hmm...” the elderly muses, “maybe you should dilly dally like your colleagues, afterall, who is to blame you? the youth are meant to be reckless. ”

“but hatori-san if i did that not even a quarter of our magazine will be ready by the end of this month!” akaashi’s voice is filled with amusement, and mild terror.

hatori-san chuckles. “yes, yes i’m aware. i’ll rely on you then akaashi-chan. i do have a bit of good news for you though.” a bonus-

“we’re getting another assistant editor on monday, hopefully your workload can be halved from then on and a be little more manageable. i’m worried you’re starting to look older than me akaashi-chan.” he jokes. “i’ll leave her in your care.”

❀ ✿ ✿ ❀

[friday. 8:20 p.m.]

he stays in the office until late that night, finishing as much of his work he can before the words on the screen begin to blur and he can feel his brain churn in his head. he packs the documents he needed to read over the weekend, putting them neatly in his black briefcase. the temperatures have dropped quite low and with his tan coat on and a scarf wrapped around his neck, he steps out into the world. outside, tokyo is buzzing with life, the lights twinkle and a bubbly atmosphere engulfs even this usually grim and dull part of the city; where most companies found their home. salary men and women chatter excitedly as they pour into the office district from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass. groups of people stand on the sidewalk chatting amicably, smoke rises from cigarettes, plans to go hangout at karaokes, bars and restaurants float in the air.

it wasn’t that akaashi did not have friends, or ever had trouble making any. he was easy going, attentive and though not the loudest in the room, he was enigmatic. people were drawn to him. especially the weird and loud ones. not that he minded. not that he ever judged. which is what made people open up their hearts to him so easily. they knew he’d take them for who they were. but, like earlier today he couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease that clawed at him. he had his dream job but the hours he spent on his desk day after day, the endless exchange of apathetic emails, the unlimited cups of coffee, had all amalgamated into a kind of hollowness. he felt empty instead of fulfilled. he idly wonders if bokuto-san ever felt this way, or knowing him, did he charge straight ahead without any inhibitions? if you asked bokuto whether he could see himself playing volleyball for the next twenty or fifty years, bokuto would say ‘yes, ofcourse!!!’ in a heartbeat. and akaashi knew bokuto would mean it.

he wonders how hatori-san had spent his entire life in that office. could i do the same?

akaashi considers hanging out with some of his friends from university, maybe take hatori-san’s advice and just let go and forget everything for a while. he could be your typical 20 something, going to the bars with his 20 something friends where they’d shit talk their rude colleagues. He could console that one friend who wouldn’t stop crying over his ex-girlfriend who left him 3 years ago, every time he’s drunk. he could go home with that girl at the opposite end of the bar who wouldn’t stop looking his way, and who in his drunken haze, he thinks to be pretty. but eventually akaashi decides he is too tired to do any of that.

much later, when he settles into bed, he mindlessly picks up a book from his nightstand. he starts reading from where he had left off the night before but his eyes don’t really register a single word. for all he knew, he could’ve been staring at a blank sheet of paper. after a few more minutes of seeing nothing, he puts the book away and buries himself deep underneath the covers.

he feels the tears fall.

❀ ✿ ✿ ❀

[monday, 9:45 a.m.]

its odd. akaashi feels well rested. very very well rested.

his eyes fly open, and the first thing he sees is the blue sky peeking from the gap between his curtains. he’s afraid to look at the time.

9:45 A.M. well, shit.

akaashi feels winded by the time he makes it to the floor where his office was.from the door he sees hatori-san standing next to akaashi’s chair, his back towards him. akaashi’s heart is in his throat, an apology that sounds fake dances on his tongue. he then hears hatori-san chuckle. a soft female voice says something he cannot catch. ah, the new assistant editor.

“good morning” he calls hoarsely, as he approaches them.

“Ah, hello akaashi-san,” his supervisor beams, “meet y/n. hopefully, your new partner in crime.”

“i was told i’m supposed to help slow down your aging process.” her voice is soft, and despite the shyness there is a mischievous lilt to her tone. “i’ll do my best. please do guide me.”

hatori-san excuses himself. she’s practically buzzing with excitement, akaashi notices. before he can say anything, she pulls out a brand-new notepad from her bag, pen clicking open. she looks ready to take on the world.

he has to bite back a smile. she’s cute, cheeks flush and lips in a pout as she jots down something on it. he genuinely wonders what it is she writes, considering he hasn’t even spoken yet. her hair is neatly tied away from her face but a few stray tendrils fall and delicately frame her face.

he wonders if this is how he had looked on his first day at work. face pink and eyes bright. probably not as cute though, oh no, definitely not cute. he internally cringes at the memory of his awkwardness.

but you miss it. that excitement.

“it’s fine.” he says, “please just sit down and relax, i’ll guide you as we go through our daily routine.” he gives her a small smile.

they spend the morning, going through the basics of the trade, she's a fast learner, he notes. and later during the lunch hour he divulges to her the little ‘how to survive in this office 101s’. he tells her how how she mustn’t drink the free coffee they hand out at the cafeteria (even though he’s come to accept it himself, for he welcomes caffeine in any state and form). he suspects they reuse the coffee grounds more times than considered acceptable. how if you ever jammed the printer, try and leave before anyone realises it was you if you don’t want to be the recipient of death glares from colleagues all day long. He tells her which restrooms are the best and which elevators reach their destinations the fastest. the grimmer and more ruthless bits of working here can wait, he thinks.

passion was something he lost some time ago and hasn’t been able to find ever since.

“make sure to take it easy.” he mumbles to her as they are putting away their trays, “if work gets too much, you can always place the manuscripts and drafts on my desk when i’m not looking.”

she looks at him incredulously. laughter bubbles from her lips as she tells him with mock indignance that she’s better than that. she asks the cafeteria lady for two cups of the infamous coffee, offering him one.

“lets toast!” y/n proposes .

“to what?”

“to all the times we’ll be the the last two brain cells holding up this company. together.” she jokes, touching her paper cup to his.

he likes the sound of ‘together’.

❀ ✿ ✿ ❀

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #hq!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #reader insert #hq akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi keiji fluff

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jjungkookislife · 4 years

Text

Last Chance

pairing: jungkook x oc

genre: detective au

wc: 2.6k

warnings: cursing, mention of hazing in passing, jungkook and yoongi wear dresses and heels undercover, mention of prostitution, jungkook gets called a lady

a/n: I may continue this someday, but for now it’s in the rejects masterlist

date: August 1, 2020

“This is all your fault, Jeon!”

“Mine?! You’re the one who suggested The Rogue Hotel!” Jeon fires back angrily, folding his arms across his chest. The hard surface of the metal bench making him wish he were anywhere else but there.

“And who suggested we wear the dresses, huh?”

“Still you, Min!” Jeon scoffs, his eyes shooting daggers at his older partner sitting beside him in a black dress with black wedges on his feet. They can’t even sit far apart from each other because they’ve been handcuffed together.

“Oh, you’re right,” Min chuckles, his head lolling back to rest against the concrete wall, his eyes fluttering shut as he listens to the officers on the other side of their holding cell.

“What are we going to do now? Chief Kim is going to have our ass!” Jeon exclaims worriedly as he looks past the metal bars to see the officers of a nearby precinct huddled together waiting for the fingerprint results to come back.

“We need to call Namjoon,” Min sighs dejectedly knowing his ass will get chewed out once again and possibly get demoted.

“How could you not know The Rogue was a hotel known for ‘ladies of the night’?” Jeon is still fuming at his partner, his leg now bouncing up and down with anxiety. They would get into so much trouble once Chief Kim found out.

“Is that common knowledge?” How do you even know that, Jeon?”

“Ever had a conversation with Seokjin in booking? He loves the Rogue,” Jeon explains as he worries his lip between his teeth. His heart is pounding in his chest erratically, sweat running down the back of his neck to soak into the material of his emerald green dress. His silver heels are pinching his toes and all he can think about is trying to get out without his boss finding out.

“Seokjin and The Rogue? Huh, ain’t that something?” Min muses in his seat, already giving up on the idea that he’d be getting out unscathed from this failed operation.

“Can you fucking focus? In a few minutes they’re going to realize who we are and call Namjoon!” Jeon hisses, making Min roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Isn’t it better to just get it over with?”

“You’re giving up already?” Jeon questions his partner, who shrugs in response without giving a verbal answer.

“Jeon! Min!” Both men turn to see their arresting officer standing in front of them with a wide, knowing grin on his face.

“My girlfriend is going to leave me after this!” Min groans as he drags Jeon’s hand upwards to rub at his face in frustration. His world was collapsing in seconds after another failed mission, and his girlfriend had made it clear she would leave him if he lost his job. Min had nothing left to give, so he waited to be reprimanded.

“What? Why?” Jeon asks, his head whipping to turn to his partner, ignoring the arresting officer.

“She wants a baby and if I lose my job, then she’ll leave me. She’s tired of waiting,” Min shrugs, turning his head to the annoyed officer struggling with the lock on the cell, Jeon noticing the name Jung on his badge.

“Chief Kim is here... and he’s not happy,” Officer Jung smirks as the two men see their chief walk into the room, eyes in slits with rage, his jaw taut as he storms towards their cell. Officer Jung opens the cell, motioning for the two detectives to come towards him, his key undoing the handcuffs.

“Thank you, Officer Jung. I’ll take it from here,” Chief Namjoon states, his eyes not leaving his incompetent subordinates. Both men look at their feet, faces burning with embarrassment as the entire squad room laughs at them before Chief Namjoon is turning on his heel and walking towards the exit.

Jeon and Min push each other, avoiding the gaze of the squad room as they follow their Chief. Jeon’s heels clicking on the tile floor, his face scarlet with humiliation. He’s never been more humiliated in his life, not even during hazing at the academy.

Chief Kim doesn’t speak as he opens the squad car, motioning for Min and Jeon to get in the back, he’s too enraged to have one of them in the front seat. They’re not deserving.

The whole drive back to their precinct is silent, Jeon focuses his attention on the passing buildings while Min is trying to accept his fate of being unemployed and single.

When the car finally stops in front of the precinct, Chief Kim is too mortified to have them walk in with him through the door. He types in the code to allow himself in, opening the door to his office to quickly escort Min and Jeon inside.

The two subordinates take a seat in front of Chief Kim’s desk, the door slamming shut behind Chief Kim as he stomps to his desk to sit on his chair. Nothing is said as he places his elbows on his desk, his head falling into his hands as he rubs his face over and over in frustration.

“Jeon, tell me what the fuck happened? Why are you wearing dresses? Why The Rogue? And why the hell where you both arrested for solicitation?” Chief Kim questions his youngest detective, wondering if his previous precinct had sent him over to his precinct as a joke.

“We were under cover and things got dicey,” Jeon starts, making Min nod in agreement next to him.

“We went to find Choi, and we got a tip saying he operated out of The Rogue but the only way to see him was if we dressed like we wanted to work for him... which explains the dresses,” Jeon motions to his sparkling dress with a shy smile before cowering under Chief Kim’s glowering face.

“The solicitation charge? Which of you idiots did that?” Chief Kim sighs, leaning back into his chair. He can feel his blood pressure spiking and he knows damn well he needs to get rid of these two detectives to have his stress reduced.

“That was my fault, Chief. I was talking to one of Choi’s guards and when the police came in to do their raid, they assumed that’s what I was doing,” Min mumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Why do you two always do this? I’ve tried putting you with different partners, different assignments, even loaned you out to other precincts and you can’t get your act together? How did you make it this far?” Chief Kim is exasperated, fueled with anger, but he knows slamming his fist on his desk can only do so much for him.

“Please, don’t fire Min. His entire life is depending on this job,” Jeon pleads for his partner, surprising him and Chief Kim.

“Is that so?”

“Please, you can fire me if you want, but not Detective Min,” Jeon pleads again, his eyes widening to look more fragile and innocent. When Chief Kim gives a dejected sigh, Jeon knows he’s won.

“Min, you’re suspended for two weeks with pay. Go now. Jeon, we need to talk,” Chief Kim states, waving Min out of the room.

Min hesitates, looking at his partner before Jeon sends him a weak smile. Min bites his lip, not knowing what to say or do before he’s out the door.

Once the door closes shut, Chief Kim looks at Jeon in disappointment. He had thought he would go far in the department, but now he knew there was no hope for him.

“I’ve given you so many chances, Jeon. Tell me why I shouldn’t send you out on your ass right now?” Chief Kim demands while Jeon just stares back apathetically. He didn’t have a reason.

A knock on the door interrupts the two men, Chief Kim’s eyes turning to the door as he hollers out a ‘yes?’

“Chief Han from the Royal precinct is here to see you. He claims it’s urgent,” An officer states poking his head in and out after they relay the message. Chief Kim’s dark, furious eyes land on Jeon, “this isn’t over yet.”

Jeon swallows harshly, knowing he’s in deep now. He straightens out his dress, tugging on the hem to bring it down lower on his thighs. A second later the door opens and Chief Han walks in, looking at Jeon and chuckling.

“I see he’s still here. Good,” Chief Han states looking at Chief Kim before shutting the door after him and sitting on the empty chair beside Jeon.

“What can I help you with, Han?” Namjoon turns his attention to the man who had released his subordinates to him earlier that evening.

“Need a favor is all; an eye for an eye, so to speak,” Chief Han smiles widely, his eyes meeting Namjoon’s.

“What kind of favor? Must be important if you made it all the way here,” Namjoon’s voice is clipped, knowing better than to be too trusting of the man before him.

“I’ve got a case I’d like to pass on is all,” Chief Han shrugs, placing a thick folder onto the desk and sliding it to Namjoon. Namjoon takes it, eyeing it suspiciously as he looks through its content.

“Why do you want to pass this on?” Namjoon asks, Jeon remains silent in his seat knowing it’s better to keep quiet than open his mouth and get into even deeper trouble.

“My officers and detectives refuse to watch the brat. I’ve had several threaten to leave the force over her. I can’t run a department with no officers,” Chief Han says sullenly, feeling mortified at having to admit that.

“What makes you think my officers will do better?”

“I don’t think they’ll do better, but you do owe me a favor... over the lady here,” Chief Han smirks, pointing his thumb at Jeon’s burning red face.

Chief Kim groans in frustration. Of course, Jeon and Min would add another problem to this eventful night.

“I’ll call you with the details,” Chief Kim tells Chief Han, who stands from his seat and walks towards the door, his hand on the doorknob.

“Don’t, she’s your case now. Have fun!” With that said, Chief Han cackles as he leaves the office, the room growing with tension as Namjoon looks back at Jeon.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just fire you and end this for us both? Do you see what problems you cause? The only thing you have going for you is your loyalty, Jeon. What am I going to do with you?” Jeon listens as his Chief talks, but all he can focus on is the folder on the desk.

“Let me do the case,” Jeon speaks, baffling his superior officer.

“What?”

“Let me do the case,” Jeon says again, more firmly than before.

“Why would I let you do that? Didn’t you hear what Chief Han said? Are you that dumb?” Jeon takes Namjoon’s talking down, but he’s determined to prove his worth.

“I can do it, let me. Keep your more competent detectives here and send me out.”

Chief Kim takes a moment to consider it, weighing out the pros and cons. He’d be able to keep his best detectives on the force while getting Jeon out of his hair for a while.

“You don’t even know the case, you’ll need to be debriefed,”. Chief Kim says trying to give Jeon an out, but he just nods in understanding.

“Okay then, get out of my sight. Take the folder with you and I’ll get you debriefed in the morning. I don’t want to see you in that ugly dress in my office again,” Chief Kim scoffs looking at the ugly green dress that somehow flatters Jeon’s body, anyway.

Jeon stands from his seat, gaining his balance on his high heels before taking the folder off his commander’s desk. His earrings dangle side to side as he straightens up and heads to the door, knowing the whole precinct will see him walking to the locker room to change.

He’s been humiliated enough for one day. As his hand reaches for the doorknob, he hears Chief Kim one last time, “This is your last chance, Jeon.”

The next morning, Jeon shows up at the precinct, his heart sinking when he walks past Min’s empty desk on the way to Chief Kim’s office. With a hesitant knock on the door, Jeon lets himself into his chief’s office, greeting him as he takes a seat.

The previous night he had gone over the contents of the folder he had taken home. Most of it was information about the daughter of a retired police chief named Y/n. She was a junior at the local university, majoring in education with a minor in psychology. Jungkook didn’t understand why she needed a bodyguard in the first place, but he was assuming the debriefing would fill in the rest of the details.

“Nice of you to join us,” Chief Kim gets detective Jeon as he apologizes for being a minute late. Chief Kim is itching to fire him on the spot, but he resists the urge as he allows his subordinate to take over. The projector displays a slideshow for detective Jeon, showing him a picture of his assignment. He is to go undercover as her bodyguard to keep her safe, but also to gather information on her father.

“Isn’t her father Chief Y/L/N? Why do we need to gather information on him?” Jeon asks confused as his hand continues to move across his yellow notepad. Chief Kim sighs heavily, a large hand running through his hair as he looks at Jungkook.

“We need to find out whom is after his daughter and why. There’s no reason for her to have a member of the police force as her bodyguard unless there’s something sketchy going on. The files indicate nothing more than information on her and to be honest, all this information could be found on her social media making it useless. I’m counting on you to solve this or you’re off the force for good. Am I understood, Jeon?”

“Clearly,” Jungkook mumbles as he rises from his seat, taking his notebook with him as he leaves the office to go down the hall to meet his undercover unit.

“Nice to see you again, Jeon,” he’s greeted by the man in charge, none other than Park Jimin.

“I thought you transferred to another district?” Jeon questions as he takes a seat on the spare desk chair, rolling it over to Jimin’s side to look at the laptop that sat on his desk.

“No, I tried though, but it didn’t work out. Let’s talk about your case. The danger level seems rather low, but with these things you can never be too sure. We’ll be sending another officer in with you to pose as your dorm mate for backup,” Jungkook nods, wondering who will get chosen as his backup.

“You will report to me to ensure your safety. I will give you an alias along with a school schedule mirroring Y/n’s. We want you to befriend her to keep her close, but she knows how to weed out her bodyguards, which is why we are trying this alternative approach. If you need to disclose your true identity, do so only if it is your last resort. Let’s try to go about this mission with everyone unharmed,” Jimin explains as he types something on the laptop before the printer next to his desk pops out a simple white sheet with the name of the university on the header. Jungkook looks over his schedule, not enthused to be going back to college, but he knows it beats standing at the unemployment line.

#rejects masterlist #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #detective!jungkook

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howlingmedic · 4 years

Text

Coming Home

A/N: First of all, this is my first fic in about a year. It’s all the first multi chapter fic I’ve ever written. On top of that, it’s un-betaed, so it very well may suck. Let me know if it’s worth continuing. I’ve got 13 chapters in some form of completion, so there’s more if you want it!

Synopsis: what happens when the person who finally made their world make sense is taken from them? What happens when the people who were supposed find her can’t?

Warnings: angst in this chapter, possible later smut

Chapter 1: Just A Phone Call

Some pieces of news you expect and can brace yourself for ahead of time, but some come out of left field and hit you a ton of bricks. Then there’s some that, no matter how long you’ve seen them coming, hurt like hell and knock the air of your lungs. This call was one Steve had been expecting. One he and Bucky had seen coming after there was no trace a week into the search. After two weeks, Steve had started flinching ever so slightly when his phone rang. After three weeks, he almost wished they would just get it over with. Not like it would change what he was doing, it would finally get the inevitable out of the way. Now, 37 days into the search, the team assembled by Nick Fury to search for The Nightingale was calling the mission a failure, and she was being declared Missing In Action and presumed to be dead or a Prisoner of War. Somehow this piece of news being delivered so officially and professionally, instead of how he had expected Fury to - like a goddamned friend, which was how Steve had come to view him - made it harder to stomach. His shoulders sagged as the air was ripped from his lungs. His hand holding the phone dropped from his face, and he stopped pacing the exterior of the facility. His head turned and stole a glance over his shoulder towards the spot he had so often lain with Allie before, where Bucky was now doing what he did in most of his free time - meditating. Steve expected it was the brunette’s only way to escape the sheer terror that he himself had begun to feel numb to these days.

With a hard swallow, Steve brought the phone back up to his face. “Yeah, I’m here, Fury. I just needed a second,” he said in response to the muffled sound he had heard while he had the phone away from his ear. “This is my fiancée you’re talking about, after all, not some agent I’ve barely met. It’s a little different,” he added far more apathetically than he had expected the words to come out. He sounded more like the Captain Allie had worked so hard to get him to leave at work than himself, and Steve suddenly realized that he wasn’t sure the last time he had let that persona go, at least not when he wasn’t having yet another ‘bad night.’ Another night he spent with his face tucked into Bucky’s chest and breaking down, or another night spent chain-smoking on the patio, or, the worst of them, the nights spent screaming in his sleep. Those always ended in him breaking another dozen punching bags in the gym.

Steve blew out a long, slightly unsteady breath through his nose, compartmentalized his realization, and tried to put his thoughts into some kind of useful order. “Look, you know what we’re both going to have to do. Just - we’ll be back. One way or another, we’ll come home. I’m just not sure when, but we will.”

“Christ,” was all Fury answered him with for a moment, and Steve could hear the rustling of papers on his desk before the older man continued, “we can’t afford to lose all three of you, Rogers.”

“Respectfully, sir, we can’t afford to lose her, and you gave up on her. We haven’t. We won’t tie up any additional resources until we have something concrete, but we also won’t be available for missions,” Steve answered as levelly as possible, but the frustration and anguish couldn’t be extricated entirely from his tone. He was about to continue when Fury cut across him.

“Rogers, I can hear you starting to put together some long-winded explanation, and I’m going to stop you there. I don’t officially know shit about this. You’re going to be declared MIA, as is Barnes. I’ll keep any authorities off your asses, but don’t do anything else that’ll bring them down on you and try to leave me out of this, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve muttered. “Look, I gotta go tell Buck… let me notify the team, and then we’ll be gone. I gotta do this.”

“Understood. Do what you must.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t fucking thank me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Click. The line went dead, and somehow the few-hundred-meter walk to Bucky felt like miles. The reality of their situation began closing in around him. It stole the air from his lungs as the phone call had. It was the same feeling as a swift punch to his side. The same as when Allie forgot her strength and threw him onto the mats, but somehow that was different. Maybe it was the giant grin that winning a sparring session would leave on her face or the gleeful laughter dancing through the air shortly thereafter that made landing on his back at her hand so much less painful. Left his brain supplied, and Steve cursed under his breath. He couldn’t give up before he even started.

With a sigh, he knelt beside Bucky and lightly clapped a hand over his left shoulder. “Baby, can you open your eyes? We gotta talk,” Steve whispered as lightly as his constricted throat would allow him, and he hoped his fear and heartache didn’t reach his voice too clearly, at least not yet.

“Don’t say it,” Bucky mumbled as his eyes slowly peeled open, squinting against the midday sun.

“They haven’t found anything concrete,” Steve started gently in a desperate attempt to quell the most immediate fears before sitting down and taking the other man’s hands in his own, “But they’re declaring the mission a failure. Allie is being listed as MIA and a possible POW who was likely killed in action. They’re bringing the agents home to move onto other projects.”

“Fuck.” It was a one-word answer that sounded like it had been punched from his lungs much as the air had escaped his own far too many times in the last few minutes. It also encapsulated most of Steve’s feelings on the matter. He couldn’t quite grasp the reality of it all either. The fact that the organization they had entrusted their lives with was just abandoning her felt surreal to him.

“We’re not gonna accept this? I mean, we’re going after our girl, right?” Bucky’s words sounded so hopeful yet hesitant that Steve felt his heart crumble. The mere fact he felt the need to verify they would find her hurt every fiber of Steve’s being.

“Yeah, babe. We’re going after her. We just gotta let the team know what’s happening and that we’re leaving off the record,” Steve explained and then set into explaining the agreement to which he and Fury had come.

“So, we’re on our own?”

“Yeah, we gotta do this on our own.”

“No team?”

“No team.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Pretty much.”

“We can’t technically stop them…” Bucky trailed off, and, for the first time, Steve saw hope in the other’s eyes.

“No, not technically,” Steve mused, drawing the words out, and his brows furrowed as he took a moment to ponder the logistics of how they could help without breaking their terms with Fury. “But they can’t refuse any mission they’re assigned to, so it’s gotta be off the books,” Steve added, and he held his breath until he saw that the hope shining in Bucky’s eyes didn’t die.

“And when have any of them backed away from going off the books, Stevie?” He asked with an honest to god smile, and Steve smiled back at him. Bucky had a point. Steve shook his head and laughed in disbelief.

He pulled out his StarkPhone. “Friday, call a team meeting on the roof in 10 minutes. Mark it a Code 1 Emergency. Tell everyone to make sure there are no transmitting devices on them that can be tapped.”

“Copy, Captain. I’ll transmit the message.”

“No, Friday. Make sure they know this is Steve asking, not Captain America. I can’t carry that mantle for what I’m about to do.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure to tell them it’s Steve requesting their presence. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, actually, ask Tony if he’s got a jet we can borrow?”

“I’ll be sure to add that to his notification. Anything else?”

“I think I’m alright, Friday, thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

Steve let out a deep breath, laying his head on his partner’s metal shoulder. “Well, I guess we better go pack,” Steve mumbled as the numbness settled back into his soul. The rush of realizing they wouldn’t be alone was short-lived. It meant he had a whole new set of plans had to draw up in his mind and new factors he had to consider. He was already becoming the Captain again, even if he knew that was precisely the kind of behavior Allie would yell at him for most if she were there. As much as he knew he needed to let himself feel the fear and anguish from Fury declaring the mission a failure, numbness was the far easier option.

“Doll, we’ve been packed for the last 30 days - soon as we knew we were probably gonna have to do this on our own,” Bucky pointed out as his metal hand reached up to stroke Steve’s hair gently, the sound of his voice pulling Steve back from his thoughts. “We just gotta put on our uniforms and commandeer a jet, but I don’t think Tony will mind much, no matter how much Allie frustrated him by making tools disappear from his lab.”

Steve barked out a startled laugh and shook his head. He had almost forgotten about the times he would come home to find Allie lying on the couch, idly flipping a screwdriver in her hand and the way she would just flash him a smile and shrug. She would laugh and throw out some offhand comment about how she needed to slow Tony down to make him think about what he was doing. It would always be a bit too nonchalant to comment on, and he had learned to accept it and her mischief she wreaked about the tower. It was also easier than running the tool back downstairs and then coming back to the apartment simply to find it back in Allie’s hand as a smirk graced her features, though hearing that tinkling giggle fill the air did have its bonuses. She would always explain that it was for Tony’s own good, forcing him to sleep and the like, but he always suspected there was more to it than that. Something to which he wasn’t privy. That had never bothered him, though. He knew there were likely always going to be things he didn’t know about Allie’s life, just like there were things he couldn’t share with either her or Bucky. They all always understood the essential pieces, which was all that mattered at the end of the day. Maybe that one had simply been because she enjoyed messing with both him and Tony. Steve decided he would have to ask her when they found her.

“You wanna brief them in or out of uniform then?” Steve asked and lifted his head to face Bucky.

“Out. We’re only taking our uniforms cause they’re body armor, right?”

“Yeah, basically,” Steve mumbled with a noncommittal shrug.

“Hey now,” Bucky said gently and cupped Steve’s cheek in his right hand, “where ya goin’ on me?”

“Just… scared, Buck. We finally found our girl. The person that made the world make sense, and now she’s gone. She helped us figure out how to leave work at work, and now we’re suiting up when we’re not going to work, not really anyways.”

“Yeah, but we’re suiting up to go get her back. She won’t be upset with us for that. She’ll understand so long as when we make it home, we leave the walls we’ve put up behind, alright?” Bucky explained so tenderly and simply that Steve was stunned he hadn’t seen it himself.

“Let’s go tell the others what’s up, and then let’s go get our girl.”

“Alright, Stevie. Alright,” Bucky chuckled and hauled them both up off the grass. Somehow being held by his partner, the task at hand felt more manageable - both immediate and long term - than it did when faced with the prospects alone. This was something Steve knew they could do. Then again, there was no option to fail.

#Bucky x reader #Bucky x Angel!Reader #Steve x reader #Steve x Angel!reader #stucky x reader #Stucky x Angel!reader #hurt and comfort #angst #eventual fluff

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kyria-nico · 4 years

Text

Fair Game Valentine’s Fluff

Everyone at Beacon High thinks that Qrow despises Valentine’s Day due to a misunderstanding from his freshman year. Every year, the student council hosts a Valentine’s Day event where students can buy Valentine’s cards and flowers for other students. Every year, Qrow gets none.

Until one year, he does.

Qrow hated Valentine’s Day.

Or, at least, everyone thought he did. Every year, the school council ran a Valentine’s Day event where students could send their friends and partners Valentine’s cards with a candy and a rose attached. In his freshman year, Qrow had received one. He had been happy at first, as he didn’t really have any friends beyond his sister, until he opened it and found that it only read “cheer up emo kid”.

He had ripped it up and thrown it out, and forgotten about it. Until the next year, when the morning announcements mentioned that orders for the valentines would be opening up soon.

“Don’t send one to Qrow! He’ll just rip it up and throw it out!” Tyrian had called from the back of the room, prompting giggles from the rest of the class. Qrow had just rolled his eyes, but the rest of the day he had people asking him why he had ripped up the valentine from last year. Too embarrassed to admit the real reason, he had just shrugged it off. Until Tai and Summer had started badgering him about it.

When they wouldn’t drop it, Qrow had turned on them, practically shouting, “I just hate Valentine’s Day, okay!?”

Unfortunately for him, that had happened in the middle of a crowded hallway. The din from the other students had stopped for one terrifying moment, before exploding in laughter and gossip. Qrow had just turned on his heel and walked out of school, completely skipping last period and resolving to forget about it. He had figured no one would remember it.

He had figured wrong.

It was his senior year now, and his “hatred” of Valentine’s Day was legendary. The story of him ripping up a single Valentine had morphed into him burning a massive pile of Valentines while ranting about how Valentine’s Day was just a bullshit corporate holiday designed to sell chocolate and greeting cards.

Now, anyone who looked at Qrow would have no reason to assume that he would feel differently. He dressed mostly in black, with ripped jeans and heavy boots that wouldn’t look out of place at a punk concert, and he had a sarcastic sense of humor that led most to think he was apathetic or cynical. Nothing about his style or demeanor really screamed “romantic at heart”.

The problem, though, was that Qrow actually liked Valentine’s Day.

Sure, he wouldn’t deny that there were plenty of companies trying to make money off it, but that was the case with most things. He had always thought it was sweet that humans had decided it was important to have an entire day just to tell other humans that they were important to them. He had always enjoyed watching people get Valentine’s cards, liked watching the way their eyes would soften or light up as they read the messages their friends or partners wrote for them.

Not that he could really admit to it at this point. The only one who knew was Raven. And she, unfortunately, was not sentimental enough about Valentine’s Day to try and correct people’s misconceptions.

“At least you’re graduating this year,” Raven said when he complained about the story circulating again. “It’s not like this’ll follow you after high school.”

->—

It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and the torture had already started. Qrow stood at his locker, watching from afar as a flustered Tai shoved a gift into Raven’s hands. Raven was staring at it with her customary disdain, but Qrow could tell she was secretly pleased by it.

“It’s sweet, isn’t it?” A voice came from the locker next to him, and Qrow turned in surprise. Qrow recognized the guy as Clover, a junior that was quite popular among students from every grade. Everyone called him the good luck charm of the school, and credited him for leading their famously bad baseball team to the state finals. Qrow had long admired him from afar, not just because he was good looking (although he was), but because he seemed to be the opposite of everything Qrow was. A “lucky clover”, indeed.

He realized he was staring. “Uh, yeah. Sweet,” he said, trying to sound noncommittal, wondering if Clover was gearing up to ask him about ‘the incident’.

“Do you like Valentine’s Day?” Clover asked, and Qrow raised an eyebrow. Didn’t he know the story?

He was so surprised by the question, which sounded genuine, that he answered honestly. “Yeah. It’s not bad, as far as holidays go,” Qrow said, inwardly bracing himself for the inevitable follow-up about him using a flamethrower on a thousand roses in the parking lot, or whatever the current rumor was.

“Do you have one?” Clover asked.

Qrow found himself off balance again from the unexpected question. “Have what?”

Clover grinned, a hint of pink blooming in his cheeks. “A Valentine.”

It was Qrow’s turn to flush at that. He shook his head. “No. I — uh, well, no one’s ever asked me. Guess maybe the universe is trying to tell me I’m better off alone,” Qrow said, letting out a little self-deprecating laugh to try and play the uncharacteristically honest words off as a joke.

“That’s a shame.” Clover had clearly finished with his locker, and yet he was still standing there, his bag slung over one shoulder, a slightly crooked grin on his face. “I don’t think there’s anyone that’s better off alone. Well, I’ll see you around.”

Qrow watched his kelly green backpack disappear into the crowd of students with wide eyes, wondering what the hell had just happened. Had he really just admitted his existential crisis about loneliness to a complete stranger? He rubbed a hand over his face, as if he could wipe the whole interaction from his mind, and threw his books back into his locker. He knew he would catch hell from Summer for skipping bio, but he didn’t really care.

After that, there was no fucking way he would be able to focus anyway.

->—

“Come on, Summer, I promise this is the last time!” Qrow was reduced to begging, clasping his hands together and trying to move into Summer’s line of sight. She kept stubbornly turning her nose up at him. She was trying to look stern, but she really only managed something close to haughty.

“That’s what you said last time,” she said, turning away from him again. “And I told you then that if you skipped bio again, I wouldn’t give you my notes!”

Qrow deflated, grumbling and shoving his hands in his pockets. Tai clapped a hand on his shoulder so hard that he almost fell over. “I suppose you can borrow my notes,” Tai said, as if he were a magnanimous King granting a prisoner his clemency.

Qrow glared at him, brushing his hand off. “Your notes are unreadable.”

“If he even bothers to take them,” Summer added, and she and Qrow grinned at each other while Tai pretended to be hurt.

“So, you’ll let me copy your notes?” Qrow gave her his very best puppy dog eyes (which were pretty damn good, despite his sometimes edgy appearance), and Summer let out a long sigh.

“Fine,” she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out her notebook, handing it to him with a stern look (although it was somewhat diminished by her fond smile). “But this is definitely the last time!”

->—

Qrow was so absorbed in copying Summer’s immaculately organized biology notes, that he missed the entrance of the student council completely, not realizing what was happening until he heard the first squeals of happiness from the other side of the room. He looked up, surprised to see that Clover was there, standing next to Robyn and James. He had forgotten that Clover was on the student council, although he couldn’t remember what he was. Robyn was the President, James was the Vice President, and Clover was…walking towards him?

Qrow flicked his eyes to either side, trying to figure out why Clover could be approaching him. He intentionally sat in the very back corner of the room, and he always had a couple seat buffer around him in the classes he didn’t share with Tai or Summer. There was a pretty blonde sitting a couple seats in front of him. Surely Clover meant to approach her, not him.

But Clover wasn’t looking at her. He was looking directly at Qrow. Qrow swallowed nervously. What could the school’s lucky clover want with its resident bad luck charm?

“I have a Valentine here for Qrow Branwen.” Clover had stopped right in front of his desk, and was smiling down at Qrow with a gentle smile on his face. He reached into his basket, and the classroom had gone so quiet that Qrow could hear the sounds of Clover’s fingers brushing against the cards. He could feel the stares of the rest of the class on him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Clover as he placed the envelope on his desk, followed by a bag of chocolates and a single red rose.

Qrow thought he might actually prove the rumors true and set the Valentine on fire, but only because he was pretty sure he was so flushed that his skin was becoming a fire hazard. Even the tips of his ears burned, and his throat dried up, leaving him completely speechless.

Clover winked at him, and then he was gone, sweeping out of the room with James and Robyn following close behind. The room was still silent as Qrow picked up the envelope, sliding his fingers under the little heart shaped sticker and pulling out the card inside. It was decorated with a little cartoon crow sitting on a branch, with a speech bubble that read “Won’t you be mine? BeCAWS I think we’d go together like velCROW!”

Qrow could do nothing but smile like an idiot and bury his flaming face in his hands as the entire class erupted in shock.

->—

The story of Qrow’s sentimental reaction to Clover’s valentine spread through the school like wildfire, and it was the end of the day before Qrow could get away from the crowd of students clamoring to know why he had pretended to hate Valentine’s Day all these years. It had been a hard day. People he knew, even people he didn’t know, kept pressing chocolates and flowers into his hands all day, apologizing for never giving him anything.

Summer practically cried, clinging to his neck and wailing promises to make him a mountain of chocolate and let him copy her notes whenever he wanted to make up for all the years they’d missed. Raven had to step in and physically disengage Summer’s grip on Qrow. She gave him nothing more than a long look, but he understood exactly what it was she wanted to say anyway.

Go get him.

Qrow’s chest felt like it was filled with feathers and his knees felt unsteady and weak as he walked among the hallways, looking everywhere for a glimpse of Clover. He wasn’t even sure why he was looking. One valentine didn’t really mean anything. It could be Clover didn’t know the story, and just felt bad that Qrow never seemed to get any cards or flowers. He was a popular guy, and it would only make him look better to take pity on the weird goth kid. By the time Qrow had circled back to his classroom, he had convinced himself that the whole thing was nothing more than a nice gesture.

He pushed open the door to the classroom, and the leaden disappointment that had started building in his stomach evaporated instantly.

Clover was there. He was sitting in Qrow’s seat, and he stood up so fast he nearly knocked the desk over. Qrow felt frozen for a moment, suddenly completely unsure of how to proceed. “You know, you completely ruined my reputation,” he said, and inwardly berated himself for falling so quickly back to sarcasm.

Clover just grinned. “So you liked it?”

Qrow grinned back. “It was a little cheesy.” Clover’s smile fell a bit. “But, yeah. I liked it.”

“Everyone was so convinced that you’d hate it, I almost chickened out,” Clover said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Qrow tilted his head. “Why did you give it to me? I thought everyone believed those stupid rumors.”

Clover laughed, “I saw you. Last year. That Summer girl you always hang out with was giving everyone else but you a Valentine. You just looked…sad, I guess. I thought maybe you didn’t hate Valentine’s Day as much as everyone said.”

Qrow’s face got hot at the idea that Clover had been watching him closely enough to get a read on his emotions, his throat suddenly feeling dry again.

“So…what’s your answer?” Clover asked, and Qrow blinked in confusion at him.

“To what?”

Clover laughed again, and Qrow caught himself thinking that he really liked the way it sounded. Qrow swallowed as Clover walked across the classroom, coming to stand directly in front of him. His face was flushed too, and he looked nervous. “Will you be my Valentine?”

After what had happened freshman year, it was the last question Qrow had ever expected someone would ask him, and his stomach flipped at the words. He reached out, taking Clover’s hands in his own, and he smiled with a lot more confidence than he felt. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

Clover dropped his hands, moving forward and pulling Qrow into a hug so tight that Qrow almost felt his feet leave the ground. Clover was practically giggling, and Qrow found he was too, his whole body buzzing with frantic energy that made his chest feel like it was going to explode.

When they finally pulled apart, Clover rested his hands on Qrow’s waist, meeting his gaze with a fondness that made Qrow’s chest feel tight.

“Why me?” Qrow whispered, and Clover looked confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have everything. You’re popular, you’re handsome, you’re—you’re like a good luck charm.” Qrow couldn’t keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice, the rest of his feeling clear even if he didn’t say it out loud. Everything that I don’t have. Everything I��m not.

Clover shrugged. “I saw you on my first day,” he said, his fingers tightening a little on Qrow’s waist. “You were sitting up on the roof, feeding birds. You had this look on your face, like you were just completely at peace. I think—well, I just knew I wanted to get to know you better.”

Qrow laughed. “And you decided to wait until I was about to graduate to do it?”

“It took me a while to work up the courage,” he admitted, smiling wryly. “But I’m glad I finally did.”

Qrow wrapped his arms around Clover’s neck, pulling him in close and pressing a kiss to his cheek, enjoying the way Clover’s fair skin flushed as he did. “Lucky me,” he whispered in Clover’s ear, feeling his answering laugh as it vibrated in his chest.

“Lucky us.”

#fair game #rwby fair game #luckbirds #luckycharms #lucky charms #rwby #qrow branwen #clover ebi #qrover

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