#like for fucks sake it's been... what 4 years? since I touched it? at least????
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why would I want to focus on work when I can instead look through my old pleasantview story and see what I can turn into short fanfic oneshots on AO3?
#my posts#I wish I was kidding but I simply cannot focus today. >_>#the oneshot thing is just something I recently thought to do because I'm honestly never going to do anything else with it at this point#like for fucks sake it's been... what 4 years? since I touched it? at least????#I have like#all these random scenes that no one has even seen based on it#or based on headcanons and shit#and a few older scenes reworked anyways.#so my brain said “well you could polish them up and post them somewhere they don't need to be in order?”#and here we are#potentially pleasantview
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Play the Song: Chapter 12: As we Breathe
Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.
Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, choking, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV
A/N: I know what you all want and I am here to give it to you. Enjoy my two, severely emotionally underdeveloped loves interacting in (somewhat) non-deadly scenarios.
Words: 6.7k
Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12
Tag list: @urfavsunkissedleo @butskii @abbiesxox @itsasecrets-things @thatonewriterthatnooneknows @copiasratscheese @Sheviro-blog
★Flash
“Will you just take the fucking applesauce?” Gaz’s voice is bordering a whine and Flash doesn’t feel the least bit guilty when she declines again. She is hungry, but her hunger doesn’t outweigh her need for entertainment. For something other than the dusty novel she’d snatched from Price weeks ago and the small window to her left.
For the last three days, she’s been stuck in her bed. Her only solace being short trips to the bathroom and the horrible nurse service being provided in shifts by Soap and Gaz. Both arrive either so guilt ridden or angry that their conversations are reduced to mumbled words.
After she’d passed out in the truck- passed out, not died, (a correction she’s had to make every time Soap decides to give her another rundown of what he likes to call her ‘Rick Grimes’ moment) the team was able to stop enough of the bleeding and get her to the nearest med bay before her heart stopped pumping.
She’d been kept sedated for the next four days, lulled into a hazy half conscious state by a concoction of epinephrine, morphine, and god knows what else. The magic drug- a more advanced and highly addictive form of a stim shot, had practically healed everything. By the third night, she’d been able to lay on her back without pain, and by the fourth, her injuries were reduced to bruising and two half healed and itching cuts on her shoulder blades and forehead. When the doctors had given her the order to ‘take it easy’ and ‘stay in bed for a few more days’ she’d nearly laughed in their faces. But after an awkward ride back to the base with Price, it was made clear that she’d be on her ass until the doctors cleared her.
Since then, she’s been rotting away in bed. With the fog of a rather severe concussion gone and only a slight wobble in her step, Flash felt confident enough to get back into training. Others, not so much.
“Stop coddling me and I just might.” Her words, although bitter, are spoken through a half smile. The joints of her legs ache with the need to move. She can’t remember the last time she’d gone longer than a day without some sort of physical exercise.
“Oh for fucks sake. Just take it.” Gaz lets out a frustrated groan and tosses the container and spoon at her blanketed legs. They land just shy of the unread paperback by her shin. A copy of ‘True Grit’ that Price had silently handed to her after she’d begged him to let her join their next raid. “Maybe Ghost will spoon feed it to you if you ask nicely enough.”
His hand freezes against the door handle and Flash’s eyes widen. That was the first Ghost had been mentioned since the incident. After his freak out. No one had spoken to her about it, so she didn’t bring it up. Other than foggy memories of him sleeping in a chair next to her bed at the med bay- his head lolled to the side in a way that made her knees weak. Ghost had been absent.
“Just eat the food.” Gaz says nothing more before slipping from her room and shutting the door gently behind him.
Guilt coils her stomach into a tight knot and the game that she’d been playing for the last few days loses its appeal.
The applesauce is dull and pasty, and when she swallows, it sticks in her throat like mud. The first night she’d woken up from her drugged sleep, she willed her memory to clear, to give her a picture of Ghost’s face that wasn’t blurred with tears and blood loss. But it was useless. After that, avoiding thinking about the last few moments in the truck had been easy. Until now.
Although every sense of hers had been compromised, her brain had no problem recalling every point of contact that Ghost had made. As if her body remembering the gentle way he held her hand against his cheek was more important than remembering to breathe. As if it still is. The healing drugs didn’t touch the burns left by his desperate hands.
The scraping of her spoon against the nearly empty plastic cup does nothing to drown out the now crashing waves of memories. Him grasping at her legs and shoulders to haul her to the truck, begging her to keep her eyes open, removing his mask. The last bite of her applesauce tastes of brine and copper and it gags her. When she coughs the skin of her hand comes back splattered with shining red. Stumbling to the bathroom, Flash drops to the blessedly cool tile in front of the toilet but the food weighs heavily in her stomach, refusing to move despite the foul taste in her mouth. When she looks down there’s a splatter of pureed apple across her right hand where the blood stained just moments ago.
Avoiding her two mirrors, Flash rinses her hands, ties her hair back, and changes her clothes for the first time in three days. She needs out, and god help anyone who tries to stop her.
_____
The hot Las Almas sun burns the sensitive skin of Flash’s scabbed and stitched shoulders and sends a steady stream of sweat gliding down her spine that drops to the dusty dirt road just a few minutes from their base. She’d found it while stalking Ghost on one of his runs after a dull morning of training. Now it serves as the perfect place for her to slip away unnoticed and run until her feet bleed.
She’d been going for about an hour already, entranced by the steady thump of her braid against her back as she let the hot afternoon sun dry the waves that so violently threatened to pull her under. An angry, clouding storm of failure covers every expanse of her mind. She’d failed the one chance she’d been given. Price had finally given her an in, a way to prove what she’d so desperately been trying to show them, and she’d blown it in less than an hour.
A familiar crunch of tires sounds from behind her and she moves to the edge of the rough dirt road, giving the truck room to pass, but it slows to match her pace. When she glances over, she nearly stumbles on a loose stone. Ghost is sat in the driver's seat, one arm steering at the base of the wheel and the other holding a bottle of water out the window.
“You don’t have to say anything, just take the water and I’ll leave.” His voice is withdrawn, quiet in a way that tells Flash that he understands her need for silence. And when she takes the bottle from his bare hand, the faded scars only prove her right.
He watches her drink and she pretends not to notice as the water wets her parched mouth and throat. When she finishes that one, he gently pulls it from her grasp and another is pressed into her empty hand. Flash sips this time, breathing deeply between swallows, catching the breath she hadn’t noticed she’d lost. His gaze falls to her shaking knees and the shivering of her strained thighs and she waits for him to admonish her, to order her back to the base and put a padlock on the door this time, but he only turns away to set the empty bottle somewhere in the back seat.
“Do you want to drive with me?”
The question catches her off guard. The softness with which its spoken, still detached and hesitant but sentimental nonetheless. She opens her mouth to deny, admit that she’s ran this far to be alone, but the aching in her chest tugs towards him like a magnet.
Silently, she rounds the car, slides into the passenger seat, and Ghost continues driving wordlessly down the path, at a leisurely unhurried speed. With the windows down, the hair that had fallen from her braid flutters around her face in the light wind, tickling the bare and damp skin of her neck. She licks the dry skin of her lips and tastes the salt beaded at the bow of her mouth.
The slow roll of sand dunes calms the racing of her heart and she syncs her breathing to their soft shapes, in with the incline and out with the descent. Her sweat slick legs stick uncomfortably to the warm leather seat but the relief of resting her strained muscles surpasses the discomfort.
Flash closes her eyes against the bright setting sun, oranges and yellows shine brightly in the sudden darkness and the knot in her stomach loosens enough that she can fill her lungs completely. Fresh air, spun with the sappy golden light spilling across the desert blows across her face and cools the twin trails trickling over the curves of her cheeks. Salt spreads across her tongue, but this time it carries something much heavier. They come faster now, rivulets running and turning into streams that course over her chin and down her neck, bleeding into the sweat soaked collar of her shirt. She doesn’t open her eyes as the crushing weight of the fear she’d felt sets in. So she cries. She cries for what could have happened, what would have happened if she hadn’t pulled herself from the water, and hates every second of it.
Then a warm hand is nudging her own. Ghost, in a silent mimic of her gesture from days before, wraps his smallest finger around her own and squeezes. The fear lessens, pulling back to a dull throb against her ribcage. She doesn’t open her eyes as she unwraps their pinkies and slides her hand into his to lock their fingers in a tight hold. His hand envelops her own, warm and comforting, and she fastens herself to him like a tether to a dock. Afraid that if she lets go she just might drift out of reach.
They say nothing as they cling to each other, and Flash doesn’t dare turn her now open eyes to Ghost, afraid that she’ll snap their tether by acknowledging it. So she keeps her gaze on the pinks and purples sprawled across the dimming sky and tries to ignore the burning disappointment when one final turn brings the familiar concrete building into view.
“Can we do one more loop, I can’t- I-” She begins to ask, faltering when Ghost obliges without hesitation. And a burning sense of endearment spreads so quickly through her that the stinging behind her eyes recedes. Blinking away the thick tears still lining her lids, Flash sniffs once and then sags further into her seat.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
His question is a formal invitation, an obligated question. One she’s been asked on multiple occasions and refused each time. She could ignore it now and it wouldn’t be brought back up, she knows that for a fact. But whether it's the burning need to confess or the lack of social interaction, Flash feels the confession loose from her mouth in a stream that she can’t seem to stop.
“I killed him with a rock.” Even though the words are spoken by her, the depravity of the statement makes her heart stutter. “When I missed with my knife I just smashed his head in with a rock.” The memory flashes through her mind, a stunted and bloody reel of pictures. “It was too easy.”
A long stretch of silence fills the space between them and Flash can’t help but worry he’ll slam on the breaks and shove her out, tell her just how damaged she must be to resort to something so animalistic, so beyond human norm. The weight of his hand in hers grows cold and she has the sudden urge to tuck herself into the small space at her feet, away from the heavy words floating between them and the piercing blue eyes at her side.
“When you know someone coming to kill you Flash, everything turns primal. It’s not something you learn through lectures. I’m sorry you had to learn so quickly.” His words are like a balm to her nerves. Petting back the raised hackles of her mind. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to stop it.”
“It’s the SAS Ghost. Things happen. I won't always have someone there to save the day.” She speaks firmly but turns to Ghost with a sad smile, the action has the dried tracks of her tears itching. When she brings her empty hand up to wipe her cheeks, the dirt lining her fingers has her squeezing it back under her thigh.
He lapses back into his familiar silence and Flash tries not to think about the dirt wiping from her hand onto his own clean skin where their palms meet. Then becomes increasingly aware of the dust clinging to her thighs and arms and how it rubs off onto the dark surfaces of the truck. Ghost doesn’t say anything. His unoccupied hand taps lightly against the steering wheel, another quirk that Flash quickly learned meant he was picking his words carefully.
“Knowing something is going to happen doesn’t make it any easier to cope with.” The tires crunch as dirt turns into gravel, they’re just minutes away from the base now.
His words, although validating in their own way, crack open a spot in her steeled mind that she is nowhere near ready to unravel. So instead of responding, she closes her eyes and lays back against the seat, focusing on holding the now cool night air in her lungs. She grips Ghost’s hand steadfastly. When they pull into the lot this time, her mind feels clearer and when she releases his hand to go inside, she feels a little less broken.
_____
★Ghost
Although her eyes are focused on Price, taking in every word he speaks with an endearing efficiency, Ghost still watches them. Searching for the voided, lost look that most recruits adopted after their first incident. The look that he’d seen hints of while driving with her hours before. But the blue remains sharp as they scan the layout of the next warehouse they’d be raiding. A dilapidated barn just a few miles from Alejandro’s ranch. They would leave tomorrow to spend the next two days planning their approach with Alejandro and his team. His bag, packed the moment he got back from their drive, waits next to his door. It was his desperate attempt to keep himself in his room. To keep himself busy so he didn’t cross through the bathroom and to Flash’s door to press his ear against the wood. Just to make sure she was still there, still breathing.
It was easy to brush off at first. The shaking was from strained muscles and elevated heart rate from his morning jog. But that day, when she’d come over the hill looking half dead, still clutching a bloodied rock, the fear, and dread that gagged him was undeniable. The anxiety that shook his experienced hands as he attempted to wrap unwilling bandages over a seemingly unending expanse of flowing blood was beyond uncharacteristic. Soap had taken the gauze from his hands and shoved him to the side, working with Gaz to stop the bleeding. Her clouded, half-lidded gaze had sent him into a shaking, gasping sort of fit and it was Soap who had ripped the pill bottle from Ghost’s pocket and shoved two of the pills into his palm with shaking, bloodied hands before returning to monitoring Flash’s heart rate.
After getting her to the med bay and stabilized, he’d remained at her side for the entire stay. The gentle flutter of her eyelashes was his only respite as she drifted in and out of a drugged sleep. The only time he left her side was to slip into the staff bathroom and to down another cup of the never-ending supply of dirt instant coffee the front office kept. Price had ordered him back to the base hours before she was to be taken off the sedative. It was a short exchange over the phone, gruff, tired, and ending in a snapped command.
When Price returned with her that night, Ghost had been waiting in the window. He wasn’t sure what his plan was, but when he saw the way Price had to practically lift her from the passenger seat and brace her as she limped to the door, he’d retreated back to his room, unable to look at the bandages at her temple, ones he wasn’t capable of tying. Instead choosing to curl against his headboard and choke on uneven breaths until a drug haze pulled him under.
Looking at her now, nothing like the small girl, pale skinned and drowned in hospital blankets, the beating of his heart doesn’t slow. Soap, next to him, is doodling small flowers on the mission summary and Gaz sitting beside Flash, is tugging at her sleeve. After one particularly harsh tug, she whips around in her chair and levels him with a harsh glare, when she goes to turn back, her eyes catch his. The irritation melts from her brow and Ghost struggles to keep his breath steady when his gaze drops to the blue-green bruise that still curves along her cheekbone. Flash catches his line of sight and lets the hair tucked behind her ear fall into her face, covering the bruising entirely when she turns back to Price. But the image remains, permanently branded against the large corner of his mind she’s always occupying.
They go on like that for the rest of the meeting. Eyes occasionally meeting only to hover for a moment before flitting away. Acting like he hadn’t just watched her shatter in the small cab of his truck an hour before. He knew better than to push though, the need to just forget was more familiar to him than it should be. So he watches her take notes instead, careful little words in the spaces between paragraphs with a pencil he now recognizes as his own. Stolen from the space next to his paper, he hadn’t even noticed. And despite everything, amusement flickers in his chest, and a familiar warmth tightens his ribs. Ghost dips his head down to level his eyes with Flash, glancing at the pencil in her hands and up to her waiting gaze. She smiles at him. It’s half done, morphed into a slight grimace from the split in her lip, but it still carries her usual air of mischief. And he thinks that maybe, things might be okay.
_____
★Flash
Flash is brushing her teeth when she sees Ghost again. Her hair still damp and curling from the shower she’d taken to scrub the dried sweat and dust from her skin. She’d also braved a look in the mirror. A small blue-purple bruise curves along her skin between her cheekbone and eye, a half healed split at her lower lip, and a stitched line at her temple were all that remained of her encounter. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but better than she’d been expecting. Her shower though, had run out of her allotted bathroom time and into Ghosts. It wasn’t the first time it happened, but when it did, he would politely apologize and leave her to finish.
But now, dressed in joggers and a delightfully worn shirt, he hovers in the open doorway. She wonders if he feels it. The pull.
He’s about to turn and leave when Flash finds herself mumbling through a mouthful of toothpaste, “Don’t leave I’m almost done.” She’s not quite sure why she asks him to stay, but she does.
Flash can’t help but smile at the way his socked feet shuffle awkwardly against the tile, not sure where to stand. It’s incredibly sweet, and the softness of the action only strengthens the pull that begs her to step forward and into him.
“So,” Flash starts, spitting her toothpaste into the sink before continuing to lazily brush in half circles, “do I get to see your face now? Or is that something you reserve for people who are near death?” In one smooth movement, she’s resting on the counter in front of him, hoping the toothbrush hanging from her lips hides the wince as her sore muscles strain. “Ya know, like a ‘I can show you but then I’d have to kill you’ type a’ situation?”
Ghost is silent, unresponsive to her prodding. Any other night he would have told her to drop it and go to bed. Maybe give her a snarky response if she’s lucky. But tonight he’s quiet, just as before. And then she sees it. The way his shoulders curve inward and the flickering of his eyes as they move to look at anything that isn’t her.
“You know it's not your fault right?” Flash’s voice is soft, the same one she’d use to coax a scared dog from a corner.
“What?” A whisper.
“It’s not your fault.” She slides from the counter, leaving her toothbrush next to the basin, she walks quietly towards him. Cautious, slow enough for him to back away, she reaches up to brush a hand against his face. It’s a daring move but he doesn’t pull away.
The cotton of the mask is warm from being so close to the heated skin of his cheeks. Golden lashes brush against them and their freckled surface as his lids shutter closed. Flash drinks in the rare moment of softness. Her mind drifts back to her last few moments in the truck, how warm the skin of his face had been and suddenly, she’s never wanted anything more in her life.
“Can I touch-” Her words breathe out into the empty space between them and Ghost’s eyes fly open, wide and searching her own.
“Blindfold, I - can you wear a blindfold?” His words are stuttered and rushed with a desperation she can’t even begin to understand. Flash offers him a silent nod and then the space in front of her is empty.
She lifts herself back onto the counter, just to busy herself as she listens to the opening of a drawer and the quiet whisper of him digging through clothes in his room. He returns with a beautifully patterned terracotta scarf. Like the one’s she’d seen at the market. He sets it gently in her lap but she pushes it back into his hands.
“Here, you can tie it. So you know I’m not peeking.”
He nods once before taking the brown fabric with shaking hands and folding it into a neat strip and leaning in close to wrap it gently around her eyes. Flash senses his hesitation as he pauses before tying the knot. Wary of the bruise beneath her eye. She gives her best reassuring smile and it seems to do the trick.
“Is that too tight?” He whispers and Flash shivers as his breath fans across her ear, light and warm.
“No. It’s perfect.”
There’s a gentle rustle of fabric and then his mask is resting on her lap. Nerves beat her heart up into her throat.
“Are you scared?” Her whisper is careful, spoken into the quiet space between them. A question spoken to him but a silent admission of her own.
“Yes.”
“It's only me.” She can’t help but smile at his honesty.
“That’s what I’m scared of.”
“Can I touch you?” She murmurs, and he hums a confirmation. It’s a quiet, broken noise.
A soft sigh breaks the silence when the pads of her searching fingers meet his cheek and draw upwards to a rather prominent cheekbone. She can’t help but smile at the heat she feels beneath her fingers, he’s blushing.
Quick breaths come from his nose, followed by two long exhales. Subtle enough that if she weren’t inches from his face would have gone unnoticed, but his warm breath falls against the small strip of her cheeks left uncovered by the scarf. Her heart swells in her chest when she realizes he’s attempting to calm himself.
“Why do you keep trying?”
His words catch her off guard and her exploring fingers come to a halt at his browbone. A displeased huff urges them on and to a soft brow. Flash takes a moment to think, but it doesn’t take her long to find a response.
“Because you deserve to heal.” Ghost turns his head into her hand, muffling a groan. It’s a noise unlike anything she’s ever heard before. An amalgamation of sadness and desperation that makes the blood in her veins slow to listen.
“Has no one ever told you that?”
“No.” He speaks into her palm, hiding his face as if she could see him through the scarf.
“Well, you do.” She smiles softly and flinches in surprise when his thumb brushes against the soft skin of her lower lip. He pulls back quickly,
“Sorry, I-”
“No, you’re fine.” Flash reaches down and grabs for his hand, bringing his thumb up to her lips again when she finds it. He takes a shuddering breath and she wishes for just a moment that she could pull the blindfold up from her eyes and look at him, see the way his body is reacting to her touch, rather than feeling, and hearing it.
“Your smile.” His thumb parts the plush of her lips, so gently she almost doesn’t feel it.
“What about it?” She can’t help but laugh at his odd remark.
His face under her hand moves, and a familiar divot forms under her ring finger.
“Oh good lord you have dimples?” She breathes against his hand.
“Just on the left.” His words are murmured, shy if she thought he was capable of such an innocent emotion. And in the warm darkness of the bathroom, without seeing the scars on his hands or the dazed look his eyes so often held, she realizes just how innocent he is. The boyish way he holds her face, similar to the way a child learning to write struggles to grip a pencil. Like the concept of touching someone without the intent of harm is as foreign to him as a new language. And the realization absolutely crushes her.
“Freckles, dimples, blue eyes. You must be a real stunner.” She teases, an awful attempt to fight the burning behind her eyes. The skin beneath her hand warms again and the overwhelming urge to throw herself into him is consuming, to wrap herself so tightly around him that their skin fuses and they become one. The thought is as terrifying as it is tempting.
“Far from it.”
She frowns at his words but the hand on her face smooths her brow in a gentle caress. Her next exhale comes shakily through her nose.
Braving the waters, Flash traces up the soft curve of his cheek and her fingers catch on slightly raised skin, silkier than the rest, a scar. It travels from his left cheekbone to his hairline just above his eyebrow.
“How did this happen?” Her imploring question is light and spoken without pressure. He could leave it unanswered if he wished.
“My father.” His response is quiet but it’s a scream to her ears. Images of him as a child, a defenseless teen screaming as he clutched his head in pain fill her mind in a rush. She quickly moves on. Feeling for more, battle-oriented scars, but she feels none.
“Do you have any more?”
A rumbling laugh vibrates down her arm and warms her chest.
“Plenty. Although the reconstructive surgeries helped, there’s always going to be a mark.”
“Where?”
A gentle hand reaches for hers and guides her fingers in an arc from the corner of his mouth to a point near his hairline. She traces the spot over on her own until she feels the slight change in texture, the jagged shape that whatever had cut him left behind. She didn’t dare ask its origin.
“Your scars make mine seem like papercuts.” A nervous laugh blows past her lips.
“And I hope it stays that way.” He glides warm fingers just inches from the stitches on her temple. “You already have enough.”
“Nothing near as cool as yours.” She protests, tracing his cheek once more to emphasize her point.
The room is silent, and for just a moment, she thinks she's ruined it and then he’s laughing again. Stuttered like he hasn’t had enough practice, and Flash wishes he’d never stop.
“What?” She asks, incredulous.
“I’ve never had someone call my scars cool.” The stuttered laughs come through his nose now, in gentle breaths of air that warm her own cheeks.
Another mostly nervous laugh looses from her parted lips at the absurdity of their situation. If someone told her a year ago, as she unabashedly stared at Ghost giving his lecture, that she’d be on the counter of their shared bathroom, blindfolded and committing his face to memory with her hands she’d probably laugh. And then file a report.
Flash smiles shyly before bringing her other hand up to gently cup his face, eager to change the topic. “Is this normal?” She breathes as he leans further into her, now pressing against the counter space between her legs. Heat radiates from him, warming her in a way she’s never felt before.
“Is what normal?”
“Wanting to touch you so badly my chest aches.” The admission makes her heart stutter in embarrassment and something warm and syrupy slows the muscles of her mouth.
“I don’t think so.” His answer is mumbled, and before she can feel the sting of rejection, he’s pressing his forehead to hers in an almost feline gesture.
Their lips are just inches away, all she’d have to do is tilt her head up and they’d be kissing. The thought sends her heart thumping so painfully that her stomach rolls with nerves. Enough that she just savors the closeness they have already.
“I feel like I’m going to puke.” She whispers to him with a nervous smile and instantly regrets it. There’s just something about his presence that loosens her tongue in ways it shouldn’t.
But then Ghost is laughing again and pressing his forehead harder against her own. “Me too.”
And the confession is orchestral.
Her arms reach from where they’re pinned between them and up into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. A muffled moan is pressed into the skin of her neck so she does it again, a gentle scrape through his hair. Tremors wrack his body in waves. Then he’s pulling away and her hands are slipping from his shoulders too soon.
“Off the counter, face the mirror.” Although his voice is still soft and shaken, it’s demanding enough that Flash doesn’t protest. She feels him reach around her for something on the counter, muscled chest pressing close to her shoulder.
“I’m getting some deja vu.” Ghost’s murmur is quiet and entirely self-indulgent.
“To what?” Flash’s brows furrow in confusion under the soft silk.
“Well uh-” His words stumble out, unprepared. “That night you took that pill?”
Flash’s stomach sinks and her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth when she responds. “Uh-huh.”
“You were struggling a bit with cleaning the scratches. You couldn’t even hold the cloth.”
“Oh god.” Even with the scarf on her face, Flash still has to drop her head in her hands. “I didn’t do anything weird? Did I?” She thinks back to the table that morning, Soap's laughing and Ghost's not so subtle smile.
“No.” Ghost runs a finger slick with a paste that she quickly recognizes as the salve the doctor had given her for sore joints over her skin. Far from the scratches and cuts on her shoulders. She practically purrs at his touch combined with the cooling effect of the paste. “But you’re very touchy.”
Embarrassment floods hot through her chest and she starts to apologize but Ghost interrupts her again.
“Don’t apologize.” Those fingers drift up and to an unblemished space just past her shoulder. “Just be quiet and let me make up for my mistake.”
“You don’t have to-” Her words end in a sharp moan when his fingers dig into a tender spot against her neck. “Holy shit.” His fingers fumble a bit but he regains his composure quickly, returning back to the spot and rubbing delightful small circles against the knot. “Jesus-” Her mumbling is cut off with a soft hush and she finally gives in, dropping her chin to the heated skin of her chest as he loosens the muscles that had grown stiff after days in bed. When he reaches a spot along the arch of her spine, smoothing deep half circles into the muscle there, a broken whine falls involuntarily from her mouth. It’s entirely pathetic but she’s too far gone to care. This last sound seems to signal him though and he’s stepping back, dropping those magic hands from her lower back.
“Okay.” His voice is breathy ghost of a whisper and despite never seeing his face, Flash knows that if she were to pull the blindfold from her eyes, he’d be shaking and casting his eyes to the floor, those precious strawberry blonde curls falling across his forehead, and cheeks ruddy with the warm blush she’d felt just minutes before. But she leaves it tied neatly against her damp hair, even though her fingers itch to slide the soft fabric from her eyes.
There’s a rustling, Ghost is reaching past her to grab something from the counter and she can practically smell the anxiety leaking from his skin, along with something else she hadn’t noticed until now.
“Is that citrus?” She tries not to sound too surprised, she shouldn’t be. It had been one of the first things she’d noticed when flopping herself onto his bedding. Something she did not want to think about.
“It’s uh- oranges?” He sounds unsure, Flash is about to point this out but he continues. “My mum wore it.” There’s another brief pause. She can practically hear his internal debate over whether or not he should continue. “It’s- It helps with- anxiety.”
“Oh.” She stands there for another moment, not wanting to leave quite yet, but not having anything to say. He doesn’t move either, just stands quietly in front of her. “I like it.”
“Me too.”
Gentle fingers slide the scarf from her eyes, the light of the bathroom is blinding and she has to blink several times to clear the dots from her vision. When her eyes finally focus, she cranes her head upward from the soft cotton of his chest. Ghost’s eyes are staring into the mirror above her, at himself. There’s a small strip of exposed skin between his shirt and balaclava. She can see the collarbone that she’d whispered to so many nights ago.
“I’m going to bed.” She says to the strip, and without looking back at his face, turns and walks as calmly as she can to her room. Even though the racing of her heart screams at her to run, to hide, to grab him by his stupid masked face and kiss him.
The last thought scares her enough that she shuts the bathroom door with a bit too much force. The sound makes her jump. It’s entirely pathetic but the creeping sickness from this morning is gone, replaced with something much much worse. Something deadly, something terrifying, something that makes her want to laugh and cry. So she does both.
It doesn’t help.
_____
Flash can’t wipe the love-sick smile off her face as she walks to their small kitchen. Her water bottle swinging in time with her steps.
“He won’t always be like that.”
The metal bottle clangs loudly against the concrete when her hand slackens in surprise.
“What?” She breathes, heart beating wildly in her chest.
“I said, he won't always be like that.” Soap says from the small couch in the ‘living room’. He’s draped himself lazily over the arm and is flicking through an old copy of the ‘New Yorker’. A cartoonish drawing of pointing Uncle Sam is printed on the front under bold red letters reading ‘I WANT YOU’.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says calmly, swiping her bottle from the floor and continuing towards the sink, averting her eyes from the dramatic cartoon.
“Oh don’t play coy. You’re smiling like a fuckin’ teenager in love Lass. I know.” His tone isn’t accusing, if anything it's bored. Like he couldn’t be bothered to finish the conversation he’d started. “He’s true to his name. He’ll be kissing you like he needs you to breathe, and then the next mornin’ float right by you. Stings like a bitch. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“How do you know?” She asks over the flowing tap. “Did you two...” Her half question drifts, waiting for him to pick up. It takes the metal burning into her palm for Flash to realize the water is steaming, she tips the bottle over and starts again.
“Were we together?” He flips another page, casual, like he’s not admitting to fucking his best friend. “I guess you could call it that.”
“He wasn’t interested in that... stuff?” She thinks back to the way his hands trembled the first time he’d touched her, and the way he practically vibrates when their bodies come within inches of each other.
“No,” a devilish chuckle comes from behind the paper “we didn’t have trouble in that department.”
“So you were a thing?” She asks and is blindsided by a sudden burning in her chest. It curls around to tense the line of her shoulders, bringing them closer to her ears like raised hackles.
He finally lowers the magazine and shakes his head at her reaction. “No need to get possessive. It lasted about two months before he realized that fucking every ten minutes wouldn’t fix his shit load of issues.” His words immediately drench her in a cool wave, and an embarrassing guilt flushes high in her cheeks, along with a biting sympathy at his confession. “My feelings were unrequited, unfortunately.” He gives her a sad smile. “He needs someone who isn’t broken. He needs someone who can guide him out of the shit storm he’s been led into.” The magazine is flipped back open and brought back up, his tone turns curious. “Someone like you.”
She starts to deny, to tell him that she is far from unbroken, but Soap waves another hand at her.
“Don’t bother, I don’t care.” A plain lie. “I just wanted to warn you. He can be-” a pregnant pause splits his words, “he can be challenging. He’s got a cargo container of shit that he hasn’t even begun to unpack. It can lead to some pretty rough mood swings.” Soap puts the magazine back down. “What I’m trying to say is he’s a real piece of work, but if anyone deserves the help, it’s him. I just hope you’re the right person.”
Flash can hear the unspoken words ring through the air between them.
‘Because I wasn’t’
When Flash reaches Ghost’s door in the bathroom, away from the prying eyes still pretending to read the old magazine, she knocks softly, waits a few moments, and then knocks again. There’s no response.
He’s blocked himself off again.
Disappointed and trying not to think of Soap’s words, Flash slinks dejectedly back to lie in her bed. Her IPod still lay on her nightstand, nestled in the center of a neatly swirled nest of wires. Right where Ghost had put it her first night there.
Then for some reason, imagining him taking the time to do something so unimportant with so much care, for her no less, sends a wave of something nearing homesickness through her. A brittle sort of feeling. And for the first time in over five years, Flash has the urge to call her sister.
“This is not good.”
A/N: AHHH MY AWKWARD LITTLE BABIES. I hoped you loved this as much as I loved writing it. God I love unhinged relationships, they’re just *chefs kiss*.
#Ghost x reader#Ghost x female oc#SImon riley#Cod fic#Simon Ghost Riley#Alejandro Vargas#Valeria#Modern Warfare 2#Ghost stories#Headcannons#John soap mactavish#John Price#MW2#Gaz Garrick
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No matter when
Chapter 6 - Longing
Summary: Katsuki’s and Izuku’s daily life at UA is disturbed by a younger Bakugou Katsuki suddenly showing up in their common room. While they’re trying to figure out what happened and how to return him to his own time, the younger blond’s behavior towards Izuku reminds them of their dark middle school-years. Both of them – older Katsuki and Izuku – are confronted with different feelings and are handling the middle schooler their own way.
Fandom: My Hero Academia / Boku no hero academia
Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Class A, fic-original character (Yamamori)
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: General / Teen
AO3-Link
Notes: Takes place after current events / Senior year at UA / I wanted to write a short one shot but it ended up to be a multi-chapter monster :D (:
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
______________________________
“It means, he will return soon”, the girl said, looking at middle school-Katsuki, “I’ve seen that kind of headache a bunch of times. It mostly happens a few hours before the person returns. It seems to grow stronger the more someone wishes to go back. But…”, she flashed a smile, “I’ve never seen anybody pass out from it.”
Katsuki scoffed, avoided to look at his younger self, laying in Izuku’s arms.
“Drama queen”, Katsuki hissed, feeling Izuku glaring at him.
Kirishima, who had been closest to middle school-Katsuki, had grabbed him before he could fall but although being unconscious, he had been whimpering, kicking around like some lunatic. Only when Izuku had reached out, wrapping his arms around him, had he finally stopped, loosening up.
That’s why Izuku was sitting on the couch, holding an unconscious middle school-Katsuki with such gentleness that Katsuki was baffled by his own jealousy. He wanted to grab his younger self and throw him on the ground, where he belonged.
But Izuku wouldn’t let him anyways. He wouldn’t even let go of him, smiling down on him.
Katsuki exhaled a long, deep breath, feeling his stomach churn.
For fuck’s sake! How could one look at that asshole with so much affection? How was Katsuki supposed to interpret the nerd’s looks now when he was even looking at that shitty bully with that much fondness.
“See”, he said to Izuku, forcing his mind to silence down, “And you want to put yourself in that situation?”
“It’s for training purposes! And Yamamori-san said passing out was rare, so-“
“So what? You want yourself to be the lab rat of someone who can’t control their quirk?”
Izuku’s mouth fell open for a while, looking offended. “Stop being so rude in front of Yamamori-san!”
“She said it herself, dumbass!”, now he was yelling and he knew he was overreacting. He knew this rage came from all those feelings that had built up in the last 24 hours and he knew he was directing his rage at the person who deserved it the least but Izuku was the only one daring to face him right now and he needed to let off some steam!
“Come, come”, Ponytail stepped in once again, clapping her hands gently.
Katsuki turned around, couldn’t stand to face the sight of his younger self laying his Izuku’s arms any longer.
For a while no one said a word.
“Excuse me”, eventually the quirk-girl spoke up, “but I have to go. I’m sorry to leave at a situation like that but I have another appointment today.”
“Of course!”, Izuku said, “Thank you for coming and answering all my question. I hope it wasn’t too unsettling!”
“No, no”, she said and Katsuki could hear the smile in her voice and he imagined them sincerely smiling at each other and he was again struck by sharp, piercing jealousy.
“It makes me actually quite happy when people are invested in my quirk. Maybe we can keep in touch? I’m too curious about Bakugou-san’s departure, to be honest.”
“Sure!”, Izuku promised, “I’ll text you.”
“Fine”, Katsuki turned around again, avoiding looking at Izuku, “I’ll see you out, since our quirk-fan is too busy cuddling that monster.”
“Don’t call him a monster!”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, ignoring Izuku’s comment and gestured the girl to go ahead. She waved at the rest, saying her goodbyes, wishing them the best of luck for their final exams and then they were finally at the veranda.
The guard was sitting on a bench, reading something on his phone. When he was about to stand up, Katsuki held up his hand, signaling him that they still needed a few moments.
The girl was looking at him curiously.
The wind was rustling through Katsuki’s hair and he was suddenly overcome by a deep melancholia.
“Are you scared?”, she asked after a while in which Katsuki hadn’t said anything.
Katsuki hissed, looked away and placed his hand on the back of his neck.
“To be honest – I’m kinda worried that”, he shrugged, “he’ll remember stuff after all and that our present will change.”
Maybe remembering this could end up changing the future for the better. But judging by the way his younger self despised Izuku having quirks and them being close again, it probably would affect it the other way around. His younger self would act even worse.
She exhaled, her shoulders lowering in the process. “I mean, I can’t promise you for sure but… its very unlikely, Bakugou-san.”
Katsuki grumbled. “Guess, that has to be enough, right?”
She smiled at him, nodding. “Try not to worry. And sorry for my remark earlier. I know you’re a good hero. One everyone can count on. Thank you for your hard work!”
He was quite surprised by that. He nodded. “Appreciate it”, he mumbled.
She bowed her head. “I’m leaving then”, she turned around, walking down the few steps. At the end she stopped. Looking over her shoulder, she said: “By the way, I’m a Dekudyna-shipper.”
Katsuki made a stunned sound, unable to respond to that. He felt himself blush.
He had only learned about a fandom rooting for him and Izuku to end up together a few months ago and it had amazed and terrified him at the same time. Was it really that easy to see right through him that even complete strangers were sensing that something was there?
Since he wasn’t saying anything, she flashed him a smile and started to move again.
After taking in a few breaths, he was able to call out for her.
“Wait!”
She stopped in her way and Katsuki jumped down the stairs, walking up to her. He briefly glanced at the guard, which made him take a few steps back. Katsuki nodded at him, trying to silently thank him.
“Would you… I mean, could you… like-”, Katsuki groaned in frustration at his own loss of words. He sighed and leaned his head back to look at the clouds and focused on the wind blowing in this face for a few seconds.
Eventually he was able to look back at her and said: “What I’m asking you is – could you image yourself ending up with one of the kids who were mean to you?”
That earned him a sympathetic look from her, and he hated to show her that insecurity, but he wanted to know the answer. He needed to. So bad.
He had to ask someone who wasn’t as pure, like they were made from light, just like the damn nerd inside, holding on to that cruel kid. He needed to ask someone normal.
“Maybe”, she finally said after thinking about it for a while, “If they were showing remorse. Like, truly regretting the things they said to me and the way they made me feel. When they”, she let out a shaky breath, suddenly tearing up and Katsuki could tell her lightheaded attitude earlier had been mostly for show, “When they would work hard to make it up to me, making me feel loved, then… then, yes, Bakugou-san. I can imagen myself ending up with someone like that.”
Katsuki swallowed hard, his own eyes burning too.
“Kay”, he whispered, stepping backwards away from them, “Thanks. And…”, he waved his hands around, “And sorry for bumping into you back then, I guess.”
At that she breathed out a laugh, nodding with a smile. “It’s alright. Be safe!”, she waved at him and he nodded, turning around, sniffing – but only a little.
~~~
Izuku was looking at the sleeping middle school-Katsuki, tightening his hold.
He had thought for a moment that he was about to return to his time. And as much as he wished for this Katsuki to get back safely, he had felt a striking grief. Probably because he wanted to part on good terms.
But Izuku probably should say goodbye to that idea.
The door opened and the older Katsuki reentered the common room, looking worked up.
“Kacchan!”, Izuku called out, wanting to clarify his words from earlier but his loud voice seemed to wake the other Katsuki.
“Kacchan?”, Izuku asked, now directed to the middle schooler.
The younger blond grumbled, shifting and cuddling into Izuku, which made Izuku’s heart flutter. Everyone else was giggling too. Well, almost everyone else. Katsuki was eyeing his younger self, distrust on his face.
“Are you alright, Kacchan?”, Izuku shook the younger Katsuki by the shoulder.
“Am I finally back?”, he muttered.
“If you’re asking that”, Mineta said, “you’re clearly not, since you wouldn’t remember it.”
“Fucking smartass”, younger Katsuki said back and tried to find a more comfortable position when he seemed to realize he wasn’t simply laying on the couch.
His eyes shot open, a bewildered look on his face before he jumped to his feet.
“Oh no”, Mina laughed, “Don’t blush, my dear, it’s been a delightful sight. I even took a picture”, she was holding up her phone, showing him how he had nestled himself into Izuku’s arms.
The middle school-Katsuki tried to say something, but he ended up just brabbling incoherent words, making everyone chuckle. Even the older Katsuki was smirking.
Izuku scratched the back of his head. “That was the only way of calming you down, sorry.”
That made the middle schooler even more speechless, his eyes lingering on Izuku’s face.
Izuku smiled, thinking about how unthinkable it was that middle school-Izuku would have been allowed to hug middle school-Katsuki. He kind of felt peace at the experience he just had.
“But the headache you felt”, Izuku started to explain, “seems to be a sign that you’ll be leaving soon.”
“Thank fuck”, the younger Katsuki had finally found his voice again, clearing his throat, “Can’t wait to leave you extras behind.”
“But it might be better…”, Izuku hesitated. He didn’t want younger Katsuki to think Izuku was telling him what to do, “Yamamori-san said that thinking about returning too hard, triggers those headaches. So… well, just so you know.”
He gruffly said something incomprehensible.
Mina suddenly stepped closer to him, grinning at him. “You can’t wait to leave us, huh?”
“Obviously.”
“Maybe”, she said teasingly, “you just miss your own Midoriya and that’s why you’ve been thinking so hard about retuning.”
Izuku lowered his gaze while the younger Katsuki went crazy, yelling at Mina to shut up, while she was laughing hard, brushing tears of laughter away.
Middle school-Katsuki missing middle school-Izuku? Unlikely.
Present Katsuki probably wouldn’t even miss him when they would be separated for only two days. He might not even miss him if they were not to see each other for longer than that.
Izuku’s heart clenched.
That would be his realty soon enough. They would graduate in no time and he and Katsuki would stop living under the same roof. Wouldn’t wake up to eat breakfast together, to go to class together, to spar after that and to just… spend time together.
He might be going days, weeks even, without seeing the blond and the thought made him ache so bad, he felt like passing out too.
When he started to have trouble breathing Katsuki slumped down on the couch next to him. It hit Izuku that he hadn’t explained to Katsuki how he had meant his words earlier.
“Kacchan! Listen, I didn’t-“
“A new hero action movie is playing next weekend. Wanna go?”, Katsuki looked at his phone.
“Sure, yes”, Izuku smiled, “But about earlier-“
“Thought so. I already bought the tickets.”
“Okay, thanks. But-“
“Saturday, 7 pm, write it in your nerd-calendar.”
“Kacchan, can you just lis-“
“Great. See you later.”
And with that Katsuki stood up again, calling out: “Oi, Dunce face! You better not be eating my snacks again!”
Izuku looked down on his hands, fidgeting with them. He had clearly upset Katsuki.
He pressed his lips together, blinking the tears away.
Oh no, he thought, That’s bad. I want to disappear.
“Deku-kun?”
Izuku looked up, meeting eyes with a worried looking Uraraka, Todoroki standing behind her.
“Do you want to see the swans at the beach?”
Izuku sighed, eyeing the younger Katsuki, still arguing with Mina and the rest of Katsuki’s friends.
He still wished to be there when he would return. But he was somehow sure that holding him in his arms would be the most he could hope for.
“Let’s go”, he picked himself up, looking around the room, “We’ll be down at the beach. Does anybody want to join in?”
Most of the girls agreed, running upstairs to fetch their things.
“Maybe you’ll be gone in the meantime”, he approached the younger Katsuki, wanting to tell him to take care of himself and to not burden himself too much with the need to be the best.
But the middle schooler just crossed his arms, turning away from Izuku.
“I fucking hope so. Got tired of seeing your face.”
“Right”, Izuku mumbled, shaking his head at Kirishima when he smacked the younger Katsuki on the back of his head.
Izuku’s whole body hurt.
Middle school-Katsuki wasn’t keen on speaking to him, which wasn’t surprising. But it still hurt though. And if that wasn’t bad enough, even the older Katsuki avoided him and Izuku had to blame himself for not being careful with his words.
He was in fact a Deku.
He turned around, ready to leave with the others. On his way out he looked over to Katsuki several times, but the older blond was just snarling at Kaminari for always eating and drinking his stuff.
I want to disappear, he thought once again, forcing a smile when Uraraka jumped up and down next to him, excited to finally see the swans.
#bkdk#bkdk fanfic#bkdk fluff#bakudeku#bakugou x deku#decchan#katsuki x izuku#katsuizu#katsudeku#bnha#bnha fanfiction#fluff and angst
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Once ya'll can call Genocide a Bad Thing no matter the circumstances, then I'll work with you.
I ain't working with anyone who approves of genocide. You want me to vote? Demand better. Don't Dear Leader fuckin Biden like MAGA does Dump.
Otherwise? All he's doing is what dems have been doing for decades. Setting us up for a republican president to send us a bit further down than last time.
It's boring. I'm bored. Mostly disheartened that none of you believe in anything but fuck that side. It's real pathetic, if Republicans said it was wrong to drink milk upside down, Dems would start doing it out of petty spite despite the flooded floors.
Be a group Normal People want to be apart of and associated with.
Ya lost that when most of ya decided Genocide Good if Blue Team Does It, and is only bad if Red team does it. That's pathetic. That's anti-intellectual, that's boring, that's childish, grow up, be respectable. I will not suck kidney stones out of Genocide Joe's dick. Sorry not actually and fuck off, I don't participate in Genocide, nor do I defend it or propagate for it, that is something Dems do.
Say anything ya want. If the best we have is Genocide? Then the world ain't worth it. It's already about to kill us all, why would I care what happens to ya'll anymore?
Ya'll want Palestinians dead, I don't want anyone dead, that there is the sheer chasmic difference between Blue No Matter Who and Normal People.
I ain't supporting a Genocide if someone is already defending one, in the world of politics, that is the only option, because you can work with the situation that way, and only, that way, and Dems decided VEHEMENTLY against it. Dems are Pro-Genocide.
There is no stopping the Genocide with Genociden Biden. Might as well allow Dump to bring a genocide here so ya'll can flip opinions only since it now affects you negatively to have a Genocide.
Sorry not sorry, have better standards, some self-respect, any amount of empathy, and for god's sake, stop treating politicians like gods that can't be criticised.
I honestly hate Biden supporters more than Biden. At least he's got his own reasons to lie (money, influence, corrupt) ya'll don't.
Ya'll don't have a reason to want a Genocide. Not a single one. Yet Biden does it and now it's neccessary?
Here we stand, where I'm telling you, Right Now, I will not vote if you think the best/worst Biden has to offer is Genocide. That is genuinely, insane. You are insane. You are touch starved, socially inept, and deplorable, evil, inhuman, and most importantly? Sub-Human. Incapable of critical thinking. Just emotional kneejerks.
Fuck off Pro-Genociders. I won't vote for your Genocider. Demand better than Genocide and I'll work with you, as is? You just told the only party we actually have that Genocide is Good Actually.
If a Genocide has to happen, let Dump bring it here so you learn to demand better next time. Eat shit. Die. Blame Biden AFTER you blame yourselves, you fucks are why we'll never get a decent living life.
If Genocide wasn't enough to make you critically think, nothing will. Enjoy the Genocide either way, Biden is setting us up for an R victory the next election anyways, ya get 4 more years, that's it, of things being Boring and not Positively Impactful. After that? Thank Biden for the R victory.
Genocide is bad. Once you get that through your head, I'll stop seeing the table filled with Nazis, and consider sitting there and working with ya'll. But as it stands? My god ya'll'd personally kill MLK if he was here today. Straight up. Grow up.
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Sake and Snow (pt. 1) || Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader || NSFW
(series prequel to Sleepy Sex)
Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3 || Pt. 4
You've been dating Katsuki Bakugou for a few weeks. You've known each other since high school, but you were too shy to ever flirt with him. It's just as well, you'd figured, since he probably would've just yelled at you and rejected you in the worst possible way. After graduating, you went to work at an agency several hundreds of miles away while he stayed in the same town. Work kept you incredibly busy and your family lived in a different city, so you never made it back to visit.
A couple of years later, however, your career path brought you back to the city you'd graduated in, and a couple of months later you ran into Katsuki and my my, how he had grown. You got back in touch with your mutual friends from high school and within a few months, you and Katsuki started dating. A few weeks into it he invited you to his place for dinner one evening, to which you happily obliged.
Word Count: 1.2k
When Katsuki's doorbell rang at 7:25, his heart jumped into his throat. Pull yourself together, Bakugou. Don’t let her get to you, he thought.
He opened the door to see you smiling up at him and all his self-pep talk was forgotten. Why did you get to him so much? You looked incredible and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone else was this happy to see him. “It’s freezing out there, come inside”, he ordered.
The aroma coming from his kitchen hit your nose like a wall and caused your mouth to start watering almost as much as the sight of the chef himself. He wore a well-fitting black dress shirt with the first couple of buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, showcasing his muscular forearms. Over that, he wore a black apron tied in the back and you noticed how slim his waist is in comparison to the rest of his torso. I bet I could wash my clothes on his abs, you thought before willing the visual distraction out of your mind.
You walked inside, already familiar with the clean lines and minimalist décor of his apartment’s open floor plan, surprisingly tidy for a bachelor’s place. “Damn, it feels really good in here. So warm!”, you said, rubbing your cold hands together.
Bakugou helped you out of your coat and nearly choked on his own spit when he saw what was beneath. The little black dress that you wore hugged your perfect hips and ended in a pencil line about halfway down your thighs. With your back facing him he licked his lips hungrily and thought, I can’t take this shit anymore. Her ass is mine tonight. When you bent over to take off your shoes he couldn’t help but imagine pushing the hem of your dress up around your waist before burying his cock deep inside that tight-
“Wow, Katsuki!” You didn’t notice him startle. “It smells so good in here! What are you making?”, you asked, following him into the kitchen.
He flipped the contents of the skillet, causing any moisture to hiss against the hot oil. “Stir-fried vegetables with garlic fried rice, konbu dashi-based miso soup, and tempura – shrimp and veggies, and a chilled bottle of Junmai Daiginjo to drink. Or...whatever”, he grumbled.
He almost jumped when you put a delicate hand on his back, such was the heightened state of his nerves. “This all looks so amazing, Katsuki”.
The male looked over his shoulder at you and that beautiful smile on your face. That smile slayed him. He turned and ran his thumb across your cheek as he lowered his mouth to yours. You closed your eyes as his lips brushed yours before placing a soft, chaste kiss on your lips.
“Not as amazing as you do”, he whispered before dipping his gaze down to take in the sight of you from head to toe before turning his attention back to his cooking. You felt like your knees would buckle, but you nonchalantly steadied yourself by leaning against the countertop. How in the world was this the same guy who yelled most of the time and threatened to kick people’s asses a few years ago? You chuckled slightly at the contrast of his current demeanor.
“What?”, he asked while looking at you from the side.
“I don’t know, you’re just…you’re so different than the guy I remember from high school”.
“You want me to start yelling at you, would that make you feel more comfortable?”
Propping your cheek on your palm you looked into his vermillion eyes and replied thoughtfully, “No, this is perfect”.
“Tch-” He smirked at you and turned back to his task hoping it would prevent you from seeing the blush that spread across his cheeks.
🍶❄🍶❄🍶❄🍶❄🍶❄🍶❄🍶❄🍶❄🍶
“Oh my fucking god, Katsuki, your tempura is delicious! (Type) is my favorite and you freaking nailed it! So light and crispy!”, you praised before moaning and taking another bite.
If that makes you moan, just wait until I get you in my bed. His dick twitched in his pants, threatening to get hard if he kept thinking like that.
After you finished eating, Bakugou offered you a cup of hot matcha.
“Yes, that would be great. I love matcha”.
“You’ve been saying that about a lot of things tonight. Is there anything you don’t love?”
“Hmm…headaches, too much work, not enough down time, toxic bullshit…there are plenty of things I don’t love. I guess I just prefer to focus on the things I do love”. After a beat, you asked him, “What about you? I hear a lot about what you hate. Is there anything you don’t hate?”
“Yeah, but if I tell you I’d have to kill you”.
“With kindness, right?”, you said playfully.
He rolled his eyes, trying and failing to stifle a smile. “You”.
“Me what?”
“I don’t hate you, genius. And if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill them too”.
The two of you talked for a while longer before you saw the time on your phone when it lit up with a text notification from Momo. You knew your best friend better than to open it and read it knowing Katsuki was watching you. She’d probably sent a gif of someone doing the tongue-between-the-fingers thing with a How’s it going 😉? text. You clicked your cheek against your teeth, “Looks like I need to get going, it’s getting pretty late”.
Katsuki felt a twinge of disappointment as he got up from the table with you. He helped you into your coat and opened the door while you dug in your purse for your keys. “Umm, (y/n)? Have you looked outside?”, silently thanking whatever gods were smiling down and bestowing upon him this sacred gift.
“Hm? No, why?”
“’Cause there’s at least a couple of inches of snow on the ground”.
"The forecast only called for a light dusting", you said peeking around him. “Oh no".
“You feel safe driving in that?”, Katsuki asked, a hint of preemptive disapproval in his tone.
“No way”. You looked up at that handsome face, cursing whatever gods were testing your resolve to keep your hands to yourself tonight, and said, “What about you? Can you drive me home?”
“I mean, I could, but I’ve got an even better solution”. You raised an eyebrow at him. “You stay here tonight and neither one of us has to get out in that shit”.
#katsuki bakugo imagine#katsuki#bakugou#katsuki bakugou#bakugou katsuki#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x f!reader#katsuki x you#katsuki imagine
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Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [3]
[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae
genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, smut *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.
word count: i genuinely don't fucking know i think it's at least 4k WHY THE FUCK IS IT GETTING LONG ERJSJSJSJDNAKD
taglist: @from-xero @taeyongandfree @ten-gift @louvyves @sweetutopia @yyyereum @jung-breadshop @sunwoowuvbot @mashedpotittiess
protip: links of BGM are linked~
{this is a work of fiction}
eric swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and drags his index finger over the tip of his nose, tongue still sucking on his teeth as if it hadn't already been a day.
he was sitting on the other side of the tutorial room and you just so happened sat in a spot where he was the first person in your view when you looked up.
stupid hexagonal tables.
the moisture in your mouth suddenly evaporates, leaving your tongue dry like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.
the lustful blanket over his eyes threaten to rip your mentality apart, and even without him touching you, the heat in your abdomen starts to clench and throb.
the thought crosses your mind, just so you can convince yourself: if eric can associate himself with sex within your primal instincts then the brain that got you here can associate him with a big, fucking, red flag.
you suck in a deep breath and hold it for awhile, eyes plastered to the ipad under your palms. crossing your legs tightly, your jeans hug your hips and waist all too perfectly.
yujeong had smacked one of her baseball friends earlier that day for staring at your legs.
after the likes of wooseok's party and the incident yesterday, you made it an effort not to show up in dresses or skirts anymore. call it ptsd, call it trauma, call it not wanting to get into trouble.
whatever it was, you didn't want eric anywhere near you.
well, despite how good he mad-
"can you stop eye-fucking him from across the room?" yujeong harshly whispers at you, glaring at you from the corner of her eyes.
"what?" throwing your tied-up hair to your other shoulder, you tilt your face to her.
"what do you mean 'what'?" yujeong hisses, nodding to the boy across the room. "y'all are fucking in your heads!"
"yes, broadcast it to the entire class, would you, please?" the sarcasm drips off your tongue with a frown.
"I'm just saying if you want him so bad then just go get a room. fucks' sake, go find a practice room or something."
"i think I'll go with 'or something'."
and in that second, your iPad lights up with a notification from the school email account.
yujeong parts her lips with a retort, but you quickly shush her by pressing a finger to your lips when the professor seemed to glance over at the two of you.
she inhales a deep breath, spotting the notification pop up on her laptop screen too.
to: all students
from: the college union
title: dance union winter getaway
dear students,
every year, more than 200 students apply for the dance union but only 20 are accepted. thus, it is of high regard that the members of the dance union utilise the annual winter getaway to bond.
this year's event will be held at lake white. all students in the dance union with leadership positions are expected to be present and those with valid reasons of absence are required to fill up the form attached to this email.
if you're interested in joining the dance union, please apply in the first week of the new academic year. applications open first week of the semester.
regards,
the student union
staring wide-eyed at the email with your apple pencil trembling in your fingers, you gulp.
fuck.
yujeong's lowly snicker sounds from next to you, and you look to her, only to watch a bright smile stretch across her face.
"what?" she snorts, tears in her eyes. "don't look at me. look at your captain."
your neck snaps to the boy across the room, who's got his phone lifted with the screen displaying the email page. he waves it around a little, raising a brow with a menacing shimmer flashing across his eyes.
your blood begins to boil without reason.
why were you suddenly stuck to him? it's like the planets and stars aligned just so he glue himself to you; so he could ruin your title and rip you apart, inch by inch.
your fists clench around the apple pencil, and you're only snapped out of your inner rage when the professor calls on you.
yujeong leans into the lockers with her books against her chest, mindlessly scrolling through her phone as you go on incessantly about the student union's decision to make it mandatory.
you swing the locker door so hard that it bounces off its limit and nearly comes back down onto your hands, but you stop it before it does.
"how does the fucking winter getaway improve our bonds?" you hurl a textbook into the locker. "it's not like we're gonna sit in a circle and sing hallelujah, right?"
"you went for that getaway last year-"
"yeah, and we did nothing besides getting shitfaced! fuck this stupid winter getaway."
"sis, say that any louder and your 'innocent heartbreaker' image is gonna change into something more like 'brutal heartbreaker'."
"don't fucking call me that," you hurl another book into your locker. "and why does everybody talk like that nowadays? 'say that any louder'? where was that from? a movie? a tiktok?"
"why are you so on edge?" yujeong pushes herself off the metal doors and frowns. "you've been on edge ever since wooseok's party."
"i am always on edge."
"what?" yujeong pulls her lips up into a slight wince as her eyes half into squints. "bullshit. what happened to your little 'innocent heartbr-"
"don't," you lift a finger, shutting your eyes and stopping her. "say another word."
yujeong raises both her brows, smirk plastered to her face as she readjusts her bag. "don't worry."
you look up at her, placing the last item in your locker.
"i don't have to."
"what?"
"so," then that godforsaken voice rings from behind you, and all your physical senses start to shut down one by one.
yujeong sees right past it, smirk turning into something less devious as she puffs her cheeks.
"about the winter getaway."
"i'll leave the two of you at it."
"what? no-"
"bye!"
"yujeong-"
she turns and strides off, short hair lathered around her neck. she waves with a bright grin, leaving you to back face the vicious heartbreaker.
you remain rooted to the ground, locker door wide open and bag slung around your right shoulder. eric waits until yujeong disappears down the hall, leaving a few other students within the vicinity to turn and stare at the two infamous dance captains.
eric walks to your side, reaching out and resting his palm on the outer edge of your locker.
"we're in open space," he smiles, gradually pushing the locker door inwards and closing it for you. then he rests his palm against the metal door, sandwiching you again. "there's not much i can do to you."
a few students turn to stare.
"unless you want me to."
"stop it."
"stop what?" he smirks and buckles his arms, forcing you to lay your back flat against the metal surface. "I'm not doing anything."
"then what are you doing now?" you frown and look up at him, knuckles whitening around your bag straps.
"having a conversation."
someone fishes a phone out, and the flashlight flickers.
eric whirls around, keeping his arm anchored to the locker.
"stand down, kid."
"sorry," he fumbles with the phone, and now you'll never know if he actually took a picture.
"anyway-"
"look, i don't know what kind of game you're playing but this isn't healthy for us if we are supposed to work together. especially with the winter getaway coming up."
eric licks his lips and lowers his head, smiling at the sudden cast of professionalism.
"it flatters me that you don't care too much about having fucked outside of wooseok's garage-"
"eric-"
"nor getting fucked out in the practice room-"
"eric-"
"or even the fact that you tied up your hair today-"
"i tie up my hair whenever i fucking want to."
"ooh," eric winces at the snap, his pearly whites glimmering under the lighting. "the 'innocent heartbreaker' is angry!"
"will you shut the fuck up?"
"aw," he coos, leaning into you and breathing down your philtrum. "make me."
your fists finally clench, jaws locked and temples tightened.
"I'll rip off your dick if you touch me again. now, back off."
you press your palms flat into his chest and shove him away, breaking him into light chuckles as he stumbles back.
you pull your bag back onto your shoulder, turning sharply and stomping off.
"hey! we still need to meet up to discuss the plans for lake white!"
the scent of half-painted canvases with acrylic paint washes through your nose when you enter your room.
it's definitely bigger than what a normal room should look like, but it's not your fault that both your parents work under Lee Enterprises, the country's telemarketing company.
the studio corner of your room is in a mess, and you're just halfway done painting the edges of your mirror.
which for specific reasons, you can't really look at it anymore.
the peculiar object you chose to decorate the glass surface hang idly on the corner of the frame, reflecting the afternoon sun spilling into the room.
eric son: so when do we discuss the plans for lake white?
eric son: i don't like to procrastinate
"'discuss the plans for lake white'," mumbling under your breath, you dump your bag into the corner of your room, huffing and resting your hands on your hips. "he's the damn captain, isn't he? he can do it on his own."
notification: acrylic paint to be delivered today
your phone automatically links up with the bluetooth speaker in the room, and you mindlessly tap on the shuffle button before pulling off your shoes.
eric son: okay so I'm thinking groups of four
you pull off your jacket and let the ends of your ponytail brush across your back where the camisole doesn't cover, cool air rushing across the hairs on your skin.
eric son: we can play truth or dare
the bass rumbles through the flooring as you pull off your jeans, throwing on one of those open-holed shorts that no one was ever going to see you in - not even yujeong.
the doorbell rings, yanking you out of your mental rage session over eric son.
acrylic paint.
picking up a cardigan and tying it around your waist, you jog down the stairs and pull open the door without hesitation.
She's just that type of girl
"what. in the world. are you doing here?"
eric tilts his head to the side, his eyes running the length of your body - all the way down to your feet and back up.
"you weren't replying my texts so i thought-" then he raises both hands from his sides, taking a step back and gesturing to your front porch like he owned it. "what better way to have your presence than to go to you?"
"how do you know where i live?" a frown befalls your brows, and your grip tightens on the door handle.
"it's in the school records for student leaders," he offers you a smug shrug, taking a step back to where he was previously standing.
your lips part in an attempt to challenge his explanation, but then he waves it off with a cheeky snicker. "I'm joking. yujeong told me."
"now, why the fuck would she give you my address?"
"hey, captain to captain! plus she knows i won't hurt you."
a scoff runs off your tongue. "you want me to believe that you won't hurt me?"
eric's tongue darts across his lips as he leans on the door frame. "not in your house. oh, i wouldn't dare, princess."
with a huff, you blink away the eye contact first, taking a step back and tugging on the door. "don't fucking call me that."
but his hand flies out and thuds against the wood, keeping the door open. he slowly steps forward, letting himself in.
"then what should i call you?"
"names exist," you step back and grip onto the empty arms of your cardigan around your waist. he closes the door, pulling the chain to lock it.
"then do you prefer y/n or 'innocent heartbreaker'?"
you squint at him, cocking your face at an angle as you back up again.
the answer settles in your head, but you can't say it out loud.
because he's already debunked it.
She's just that type of girl
"fun playlist," eric nods up the stairs, arm stretching out to you and snaking around your waist.
"don't fucking touch me-"
then his other hand circles you as well, his arms around you as he holds you to him, lowering his face into yours. an arching back tries to keep his face off yours, but any more and your spine would've snapped into two.
his nose presses into your cheek as he slots his lips between yours, and the world goes into a muffled silence for a few seconds.
or maybe that was just your playlist moving on.
your nails dig the inside of your clenched palm, fists against his chest as he pulls you up to deepen the kiss, lips moving with yours in some intricate dance of dominance.
on beat with the distant bass coming from your room.
he lets out the first groan, his hands gradually sliding down your back and groping the flesh of your rear that's poking out from under your shorts.
the harsh grip squeezes a whimper out from you, your entire body cringing forward into him and closing the gap between you. with one palm still holding onto your ass, the other comes back up in between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest plastered to his.
eric turns you around, holding you against the wall that leads up to the stairs. your back is flat against the surface, hair stuck to the felt of the wall with your thigh being pulled up over his pelvis.
We should just calm down and fuck some time
then he pulls away and huffs, lips hung wide open and his eyes completely lost in yours. in a low growl, subtly shakes his head as if to disapprove your disobedience against the song lyrics.
"oh, we fucking should."
eric doesn't bother waiting for a response before dipping his nose into your jaw, lips latching onto the tender skin of your neck.
"you coming here-" a jolt of bliss rushes through you when he finds a tender spot, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you close and against the wall. "-was not an invitation-"
the cologne on his clothes starts to intoxicate you like alcohol does to any normal person, the scent of his hair and his clothes wafting and shuffling all around you.
"but you don't hate me being here, do you, princess?" he mumbles into your skin, nipping at the spot behind your lobe. your eyes flutter shut, fists clenching against his shoulder blades.
"come on," he whispers. "we've done it outside and in a practice room, surely you must feel more comfortable in your own bed?"
your eyes widen upon the suggestion, the thought of that cursed object hanging over the corner of your mirror in the room suddenly pulling your soul back into your body.
"no, we can't."
eric pulls away from you, lips reddened from the nipping. they are apart, and his breathing slows as he studies your face.
the panic in your eyes is far too grave for him to miss.
"why not?"
gulp.
"you don't happen to-"
"it's not a vibrator."
eric raises his brows, caging you between his arms as he corners you further, chest on yours and his lips right above your lashes.
"perhaps a-"
"it's not a dildo either."
he pouts in slight disappointment when he can hear the stark honesty in your voice.
his chest rises and lowers under his shirt, listening to your breathing that hitches in your throat every now and then; observing your discipline to keep your eyes away from him.
"you're not gonna tell me what it is?"
glaring at him through the corner of your eye, you shake your head with a resounding 'no'.
he pauses.
then he leans into your ear.
"you being scared is just making me a little more curious, princess."
"curiosity kills the cat."
eric pulls away and slides his arms off the wall. "cats have 9 lives."
the number of sirens that go off in your head spikes, and before you can process his words, he grabs your arm and pulls you onto his shoulder.
"oh my god!" his arm wraps around your lower back, knees against his chest and the world from your eyes upside down as he hoists you up the stairs. "put me down, jesus christ!"
"the more you yell, the more you're gonna regret it, princess," he warns while chuckling to himself. "what could it be, if it's not a dildo or a vibrator?"
then the warmth of his palm reaches up to your shorts, and his fingers dig under the cloth of your underwear.
"fuck, eric-"
all too easily, he pushes a finger into you, your entire body cringing from the sudden intrusion. your eyes blur out just as he makes it to the second floor, and he doesn't need to ask which door he should be heading to.
not when your door has a framed portrait of yourself from last year's concert.
the door creaks open when he pushes the two of you into your room, greeting the sunlight drawn across the floor and his finger still buried inside you.
you heave a sigh when he pulls his finger out and shoves it into his mouth, leaning over your bed to rest you into the cushion.
automatically, his eyes are on high alert, scanning your room. but by the time you've regained your senses and the blood's returned to the rest of your body from your head, he finds it.
resting on the back of your forearms, your breath turns shakey and your eyes twitching from the sight of it dangling off his fingers.
eric turns to look at the mirror, turning the item in his fingers to match the painting of it on the edges.
"so," he returns to you, raising a cocky brow and smirking. "you get high off painting handcuffs on your mirror?"
you tightly shut your eyes as the frown cements into your forehead.
"fuck."
eric scoffs, tongue dragging across his upper lip as he walks towards you and lifts a knee to your bed, the other following.
"this really makes me question how you even got your reputation," eric jingles it from his fingers, his free hand reaching down to draw circles on your right ankle.
"it's just acrylic paint. i paint something new every month-"
"and so your choice for november was... handcuffs?" he wraps his hot fingers around your ankle and yanks you downwards, your crotch nearly meeting his knees.
"it's not my fault you decided to play this game the month i decided to get something remotely inappropriate."
"'remotely inappropriate'," eric repeats, smiling as he lowers himself. the handcuff still within his right hand, his left draws trails up your right leg, playing with the rim of your shorts where they were already riled up enough to expose a bit of your underwear. "so, tell me princess. why did you choose this-"
he holds it up and jingles it over your nose. "to paint?"
"surely it's not because it's pretty."
"or maybe you think it'll look pretty around your wrists?"
eric reaches for your hands and you struggle upon instinct, he pins your dominant hand down first and clips the first cuff around your wrist.
"eric-"
he finds your free hand and connects both your wrists, clipping the other cuff despite your struggling.
eric sucks a deep breath, then parts his lips to exhale. pushing himself off you, he pulls your shorts off first, eyes trailing across every inch of your body with your wrists cuffed together.
the thoughts wash through you involuntarily.
the wooden planks. the dress. the torn underwear.
the mirror. the fogging. the skirt.
the tears collect in the corners of your eyes even before he can completely get it off your ankles.
then he pulls your legs apart for him to lock them in place with his own thighs, crouching over your body like a lion devouring his prey.
he pushes your arms up and above your head, making it difficult for you to bring them back down with your wrists bound together.
his breath is hot on your chest where he first dips his nose into, tongue swiping across the skin of your heaving ribs. hands coming up your waist and pushing them up your torso, it exposes your ribcage and bra.
inch by inch, he breaths down the length of your torso, from your chest and over to your stomach with your camisole rolled up messily over your bra.
upon reaching the rim of your underwear (and heaving stomach as you pant and huff in a bid to calm your nerves), he stops and looks up at you.
"thank god you rejected wooseok."
then both his hands come down to your chest to rip apart your camisole, pulling it out from under you before he unbuckles your bra.
you swallow the first whimper already on the tip of your tongue, but your stomach plunges and your back arches violently when he takes the tip of your breast between his lips.
left hand coming round to grip your other, his right travels down to play with your sensitivity, forcing your body into subtle jolts with the overwhelming sensation.
he tugs on your tip, grazing it between his teeth before releasing it and latching his lips onto the tender flesh in a bid to make his mark.
your brows finally furrow into a frown of bliss, jaw hung agape though struggling to contain the lewd noises prancing about in the back of your throat.
he rolls the other tip between his index finger and thumb, sucking and kissing the reddening flesh of your chest.
and down below, he's pushed your underwear aside, thumb abusing your sensitivity and buckling your hips upwards.
he provides you one sharp bite on your tip, earning a strained hiss from between your teeth. it feeds his pride, for he removes himself off you completely and stares down at you, admiring the painting he's made on your chest.
hickeys.
grip marks.
and the wet patch on your underwear between your legs.
he turns and shifts off the bed, leaving you to catch your breath and cross your legs over one another.
the clacking about in your studio corner drives the tears into your eyes, listening to the lid of the box where you keep your paint come off.
you shut your eyes, resigning to fate.
for your body is in burning need and the discipline to go against his word has betrayed you.
you hear his belt come undone, the weight of his clothes hitting the carpeted ground before the mattress around your legs sink again.
"oh... princess~" he sings, coaxing you out of your mental begging that this was just a nightmare.
a corner drags across your stomach, and your eyes fly open to see his fingers wrapped around a bottle of acrylic paint, completely oblivious to him pulling your underwear off your legs.
black.
the only color that was still relatively abundant.
then the sight of his nudity drives you up a wall inside your head; better yet, driving your resignation up against your own skull.
the lines of his pelvic bone leading down to his manhood all for your eyes to feast on, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn't.
fuck.
"listen to me very carefully, princess..." he shakes the bottle, then proceeds to unscrew the cap. "I'm sure you don't want any of these on your bed, right?"
chills run through your body when he tilts the bottle over, squeezing the paint onto his palms.
"so," he blinks back to you, eyes wide and cautious. "my advice?"
and with that, he carefully caps the bottle, effortlessly tossing it over his shoulder and back into the box.
he presses his palms together, spreading the paint across his skin.
"don't move too much."
with a wide grin, he smudges the paint into your thighs and up your stomach, sliding the paint all the way to your breasts where he offers a harsh grip.
he doesn't give you a chance to respond to that before he slides himself into you, your neediness allowing him entrance far too easily.
by now, your body was somewhat conditioned to recognise his size, but the idea of him buried deep inside you and his groaning coating the room makes you a little more feral; a little more insane.
the whimper that runs off your tongue is mercilessly lapped up by him when he leans over to kiss you, tongue shoved into your mouth in a bid to shut you up.
he rolls his hips back and forth, unwilling to stop and definitely unwilling to give you any kind of mercy when it comes to making you lose your grip on reality.
he pulls away and resumes an upright position, abs flexed and his palms still gripping onto your chest like his life depended on it.
but eric seems to be a little on edge himself, for this was his first time seeing all of you under him, instead of your humility covered by a dress or a skirt and worrying about being caught in school.
no.
now, he can feast his eyes on you like the predator he is.
not only does he decide to leave his own marks, but marks that you gave him access to.
his handprints are black on your skin and the entire bed is jerking along with every thrust he's offering you.
you finally let out a strained cry, tears collecting in your eyes with the bliss rushing through you over and over again like a broken record. eric's breath turns shaky, and his grip on you begins to loosen when his thighs start to convulse.
by some miracle, the last thrust hits your climax and he pulls out almost immediately after to coat the paint on your stomach with himself.
cream on black.
eric huffs arrogantly, taking deep breaths to retain his breathing as he releases you, stepping back to take in the sight of you in your own bed, ruined by him.
"you definitely look pretty in cuffs."
#nevertheless: wishful thinking#eric smut#the boyz smut#tbz smut#eric sohn smut#eric scenarios#eric imagines#the boyz scenarios#the boyz imagines#tbz scenarios#tbz imagines#eric x reader#eric sohn x reader#the boyz x reader#this was too filthy
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Touch it for Real, Part 5
Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut
Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / mention of feet
Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader
Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6
Baekhyun was trembling. His hands were actually shaking so much each time he tried to type into the keyboard of his phone he hit the wrong letters and the typos rendered his message impossible for even the autocorrect to guess what he was trying to say.
“Just — ugh — just give me a regular keyboard for fuck’s sake,” he was grumbling to himself, “my hands wont stop shaking. I can’t. I can’t do this.”
He tossed the phone with force away from him and it landed face down on the carpet across the living room.
“No. I refuse,” he was staring over at the phone on the floor with a shell shocked aura about him, “just forget it. I’ve changed my mind. I can’t. I won’t!”
You’d given him a homework assignment an hour ago.
Ask a girl out on a date.
He’d been sitting on this sofa with his phone in his hands, writing, deleting, rewriting and deleting, again and again, into the text message conversation he had going with Mia.
It had been going pretty well with Mia actually. You’d been handing him the reins more and more and you both celebrated together with a single glass of wine the night he’d had his first actual phone conversation with her. Baekhyun was a lightweight and usually refused to drink more than a few sips of alcohol but he’d gone for the chilled bottle in the fridge and poured it into two glasses and handed one of them to you and lifted his own into the air. He did not wait for you to acknowledge his toast though. He just downed the contents of his glass with a wince on his face in a single go, slammed the empty glass down onto the counter roughly and stormed out of the kitchen toward his bedroom. You sipped your glass and counted it as a shared celebration.
His phone call lasted for 3 minutes and 32 seconds and he managed to tell one awkward joke that elicited audible laughter from the girl. You knew because you sat on the couch beside him with your ear pulled up as close to the phone as you could manage, trying to hear everything that happened. You’d let him know you were here to intervene if something went wrong but honestly you were sure he would do well on his own. And honestly, he was about to do well on his own, despite how awkward and very nervous his voice was.
They had gotten past the introductions at least twice when he briefly forgot what came after “hello” and simply said it a second time. She at least said it twice too and the awkward pause that came after that went on for too long when you held up the index card in your hand and pointed with your finger to the question you had written down.
“Uhh...so h-how...umm...how are — I mean, what are you up to?”
You couldn't make out her response, but whatever she said pulled an interested hum from the back of his throat and he made a quick witted remark that had her giggling in response.
You could definitely make out the sounds of her laughter and you could instantly see the change on his face when it happened. You saw the brightness form inside his eyes and he turned to look at you with a surprised expression as he lifted a finger to point at the phone he held in his hand.
His eyes were wide with something in between amazement and panic and he mouthed the words ‘she’s laughing’ at you and you nodded enthusiastically in response.
Unfortunately a few seconds after the joke he accidentally dropped the phone and it took a wild bounce, landing somewhere under the couch. He couldn’t find it for two whole minutes and when he finally found it, he made up some excuse about having to go because he smelled something burning.
He stared at the phone until the screen turned black and he didn’t move when you rubbed a soothing hand over his back.
“That went pretty good,” you offered. Baekhyun grunted and turned toward the kitchen for the celebratory toast.
Since that night, (you know the one) you’d intentionally taken on a more supportive teacher role in this project. You vowed to keep yourself involved as much as he needed and you swore you could keep your own selfishness from impeding his progress. The way you had been acting had been unfair and he was too good to you for him to deserve anything less than your very best.
You had made a promise to Baekhyun and then you made a promise to yourself to follow through on that promise. You would move Heaven and Earth to help him reach his goal because he deserved it and seeing him happy would be enough to get you through anything that came your way.
You were fine.
No really, you were completely fine.
He was moaning.
You sat on the couch beside him with your foot propped up on the coffee table as you carefully applied the second coat of polish to your toenails. You’d become quite the expert at applying polish to your nails during bumpy situations. Sitting next to the man who flailed and squirmed beside you on this sofa was commonplace and simply no big deal.
You could probably do this during an earthquake.
His moaning turned into much louder moaning and he threw himself back onto the arm of the couch dramatically and in protest of the unfairness of your assignment.
“Buuuug,” he whined through his nose, drawing it out like a little kid.
You’d just finished your pinky toe when his foot pushed up against your thigh.
Your aim was quick and you reached over and grabbed his foot by the heel as you pivoted in place.
“Be still,” you said calmly and you held his foot in place as you applied the bright red polish to his big toenail. You often did his toes to match your own because it made his toes look adorable and he wore socks everywhere he went anyway so he didn’t mind what you did to amuse yourself.
You moved quickly, dabbing carefully over each of his nails until they were all painted to match yours. You blew air over them to dry them, being thankful you’d invested in the 60 second polish.
“Buuu-hu-hu-hu-uuug,” he moaned harder, wiggling his hips into the fit he was throwing and closing his eyes to sell you on the absolute anguish he was in. “Bug, I just don't think I can do it. Can we do something else? I don't even know what to do on a date. What if she says no? Oh god, what if she says yes, I’m going to puke. Do you want to see me puke? Because I am going to puke.”
You tapped a hand lightly over the top of his finished foot and pointed to the other one and after a few moments he shifted, giving in to what you asked for right away.
But good lord, he was dramatic. The whining and the moaning intensified just when you thought you couldn't stand another volume increase he raised his voice into a shout and put actual words to his protests. Your ears were already ringing and you could feel your substantial patience — really, you were on a level with a Buddhist monk after two years living with this — beginning to shake.
“I mean, if I asked you to teach me how to swim would you chuck me into the ocean on the first day?”
You forced your focus down on his other foot, getting the polish smooth and perfect with each stroke. He had gone quiet after his question to you and you bit down on your lip as you carefully pondered the words he was saying. The last thing you wanted was to make him so uncomfortable he was unable to go about his daily life. You didn't need this project to become a source of heartache for the man.
You were not an unreasonable person. Perhaps this really had been too big of a step for him to take without having even practiced under the careful instruction of a teacher.
He’d waited in silence for you to answer for only a few seconds and when you didn’t; because you were thinking about it, dammit, he threw his whole head back and his mouth opened up and he wailed into the ceiling above his head at an even more annoying volume than you thought was possible. This was new and shocking. It was deafening. Surely the neighbors would think someone was being butchered in here.
The awful sounds were coming straight from his diaphragm. The man had power in those pipes and he was going to destroy your ear drums in order to get his way. It went on and on, changing from a moaning, groaning large-dog-with-a-bellyache sound into what you imagined it might sound like inside of an echo chamber trapped with a big sad whale, the biggest ones they made, who also happened to be on fire. He was giving you everything he had now. This was full volume and it was horrible.
“Alright!” You shouted over the wretched screaming, “Alright fine! For the love of God, Baekhyun!” You said for emphasis and the incredible relief of silence flooded and cleansed your ear drums that still vibrated from the after effects of all of that noise.
He lifted his head and closed up his mouth instantly and his eyes were wide as he cautiously watched and waited for what you would say next.
“Do you want me to teach you? Do you think you can practice with me so you learn how to do it before you have to do it for real, on your own? That’s what you mean right? You want more instruction before I throw your ass into the ocean?”
His lips were situated down into a fierce pout now and he nodded his head twice; a big ol’ up and down.
You were irked now. No amount of pathetic pouting on that face could pull you back from the edge. Even the slow careful nod of his head was just an obvious attempt at winning you over with cuteness. Well, it wouldn't work. If anyone was capable of annoying someone to death, it was this man right here and he came very close just now.
“New assignment,” you said with your finger raised and he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and pushed his top lip forward as he inflated his cheeks into round balloons. He sat up straighter and he waited for you to speak.
“Since I am a woman,” you began with your finger still raised and waving in his direction. His eyes glanced down at it, “you may ask me out on a date, for practice. And if I say yes, we will then—”
Your pointed finger was joined by your whole hand as you opened it up and you waved it through the air twice, a visual representation of cause and effect of such a situation. His eyeballs followed every movement you made, looking at the hand that moved instead of at you, the actual speaker.
His eyes popped up into yours when he registered the words you were saying; the requirements of his new assignment.
“...we will then — well, we will..”
Your words were sticking. He was listening very closely and he’d released the air trapped in his mouth and his lips now hung open as his eyes occasionally followed the waving of your hand in front of his face. It was silly how shifty his focus was when your hand moved in front of him.
“We...will…” he said and his face moved, mirroring the movements of your hand as he tried best to understand the new task you were trying so hard to assign to him, even repeating your words to help you get the next ones out.
“We will go on a date. A real one. A practice date. You will have to take me on a date, Baekhyun. You’ll just have to .. do your best at it.”
“A date? I’ll have to,” he said with a flinching, squinting blink of his eyes, “...do my best?”
“Yes, of course,” you said as you pointed your finger at him again, pulling a swift but deep gasp into your lungs to fight the dizziness you could feel building inside your head, “It’s an assignment. Like school. I will give you a grade on how well you do. If you fail, then it’s over and I’m a terrible teacher and clearly your problems are beyond my area of expertise.”
His polish was dry. This conversation needed to be over because you were weirdly agitated by the wide eyed, deer in the headlights expression stuck on his face.
“I’ll send you some study materials later. You better take this seriously, Byun Baekhyun. This is a real assignment from your real dating teacher.”
The entire situation made you anxious. The desire to flee was very strong. You needed a getaway and you needed it now. You felt a tremble inside that could only be attributed to just how freaked out he had been acting. It was rubbing off on you.
You wanted to make a quick escape but you were now fighting with the many bottles of nail polish scattered across the coffee table; you’d gone through so many of them as you decided on which color to use — they really were just numerous and just everywhere. You grasped at them, trying to grab huge handfuls at one time but your hands couldn't hold as many as you wanted and each attempt sent a bottle or two clattering noisily to the table below. It was really ruining the dramatically cool exit you were trying for.
After quite a bit of noise you felt the warmth of Baekhyun’s arm as he leaned against you and began to help you pick up the bottles; carefully placing each in it’s designated spot in your huge nail polish organizer.
It took a bit of effort for you to turn to look at him and when his fingertips carefully placed the final bottle in the case you clicked the lid closed and finally managed to face him.
His eyes were flighty. His face was flushed and when he met your eyes the smile on his lips was very tense. It looked like a grimace.
You had to be insane to be doing this. Willingly putting yourself into a situation like this with him, a situation that was for instructional purposes only, but a situation nonetheless. Your heart was racing inside of your chest and you briefly wondered if he could hear it with him sitting so close to you.
You swallowed it away, the nerves or the uncertainty or whatever it was that had taken hold of your hands and made them unstable and you turned to look into his face head on.
“Do you understand the assignment?”
Baekhyun filled his lungs with air and straightened his shoulders, pulling them back as his eyes closed up. You recognized the self calming behavior. When he turned to look at you he held a new determination in his eyes and he nodded his head and furrowed his eyebrows.
“I was always a good student,” he said, “I will do my best with this assignment. I’ll take it seriously, so I can learn from you well.”
You reached forward and patted the back of his hand lightly and offered a reassuring smile.
“Don't be too nervous, okay? Remember it’s for class so you should learn from it. Mistakes are natural and they help us grow. And you won’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I mean it.”
He swallowed and his lips flattened out into a thin line across his face. His head bobbed up and down and he hummed out a response that told you that yes, he did know what was expected of him for the sake of the lesson; for the sake of his future as an adult man who was entering the dating pool in search of the companionship of some lucky lady.
“Also remember, it’s just me. No pressure. Okay, Peanut? I’m here to help you. You could spill an entire cup of iced tea down my dress at dinner and I would still forgive you.”
“No pressure,” he repeated under his breath and when you were finally satisfied that he really understood, you stood, hefting your manicure supplies up with both hands and you stepped away from the living room to return them to your bathroom.
“Do I have a deadline?” He called after you and you turned back with your hand on the doorknob to your room, quietly amused by the seriousness you saw on his face. At the same time, proud of what a good student he was. He was a smart boy, he would do well in anything he was determined to do.
“Ask me out by tomorrow or else Ben might beat you to it.”
You figured a little sense of competition couldn't hurt. And yes, you were still actually speaking regularly with Ben. You were pleasantly surprised with how smart and how funny he turned out to be and he turned out to be a pretty good distraction for the evenings when you’d normally be bored and hanging around in Baekhyun’s room while he played some game on his PC and he’s toss you a remote for the screen that hung up on the wall above his head. You’d play music videos, or cooking videos from YouTube, or some drama or variety shows and he’d play his games and lean far back in his chair watching the screen when exciting things happened on screen.
A few times lately though, when you went into his room you’d find him watching some anime and you just knew he’d want to pay close attention so he could discuss it later with Mia. You’d much rather find someone to entertain you alone so you didn’t have to be ignored or shushed when you interrupted his anime with some stupid question about it, like who is that guy with the crazy eyes and why is he trying to kill everybody. Ben’s conversations were good enough to keep you occupied at least a little bit.
Back in your bedroom you got to work searching for materials for Baekhyun to study. Mostly using helpful YouTube videos with titles such as “how to ask a girl out”, “what to talk about on a first date” and a super helpful online book you found called The Gentleman’s Guide: How to be the Perfect Date. It was just a little outdated with the styles but the book was extensive and ran the gamut from hygiene to manners to confidence and conversation; it even had an entire section called The Art of Subtle Seduction and it made you just a little embarrassed to think of Baekhyun reading this part. He was an adult. He could handle this much. The Dos and Don'ts of a First Date section alone was worth the price you paid for the book.
You wrote up an email with your course materials and sent it off to the man.
Then you sat and waited alone in your bedroom until your level of boredom that in any other situation would be unremarkable, when combined with the built up anticipation inside of you, mixed into a perfect storm of swirling lunacy that was bouncing around inside of you; trying to break free and wreak havoc on something other than your chest walls.
You grabbed your cell phone, slipped by the 2 waiting text messages from Ben that you would absolutely get to later, and opened a new text message to Baekhyun.
‘peanut did you get my email ^^?’
You were sure he did. Of course he did. You wondered if there was anything he found lacking in the pages and pages of super helpful information you sent him. You wondered what he thought about it all and maybe if he needed some guidance or suggestions on how to proceed with the first step of his assignment. Did he need you to come over to his bedroom and watch the videos with him? Would that be too awkward?
Your phone vibrated.
‘yep’
He would ask for help if he needed it, you were certain. He would be fine. This wasn’t real anyway. It wasn’t like there was an actual deadline, not really. You enjoyed talking with Ben but it didn’t seem like he was close to asking you out yet. He had been a bit busy lately and you had been busy as well with work and with helping Baekhyun.
You’d seen from the notification preview on your phone that Ben’s last two messages were asking you something that would take a while to explain and you didn’t want to open them yet in case he’d been expecting you to reply quickly. You needed a bit more time to come up with an answer for the questions he had casually asked about your roommate. You’d tell Ben that Baekhyun was, yes, a guy. And no, it wasn’t awkward living with a man.
You’d get to all that later. Now, you were entirely too keyed up about a problem of your very own creation.
When.
But really...
When?
You could not relax. Because honestly it could happen at any moment. He could come barging into your room, plop his ass down unceremoniously on your bed and say “Hey Doll, hows about you and me go on a hot date this weekend, what about it? Nyeeahhh?” Like some sort of 1940s gangster. You could definitely see Baekhyun doing this accent. You were pretty sure he had a 40s gangster hat in his closet.
You’d decided that you wouldn't give him a hard time about how he asked you. You’d accept right away for the sake of his nerves, if he worked up the courage to ask you at all, then he was on the right track and he deserved an E for effort.
You still had trouble with the anticipation. Not knowing when was the hardest part to handle. You tried your very best to go about your day in as normal a way possible. Sure, you jumped every time you heard a sound, but other than that, it felt like any other day.
He spent the rest of the evening in his room and didn't even come out until you heard the doorbell ring. You peaked your head out of your bedroom door and waited for him to answer it but after a few minutes with no sight of him you stepped out. The doorbell rang a second time and you rushed from your room to answer it before the visitor gave up.
It could have been something important. This building had a doorman so it was usually someone who had a purpose ringing the bell.
The view through the camera monitor showed a run of the mill pizza delivery man, and you remembered that it was Baekhyun’s turn to make dinner tonight. He must have ordered you a pizza so he could hide in his room all night and not have to worry about walking around you in the kitchen and not asking you out on a date.
This was his way of avoiding you for the night.
You had to swallow down the flash of silly disappointment that popped up. You’d assumed correctly that he had already paid for the pizza and you received your cardboard box of loneliness with a polite smile for the weirdly cheerful delivery kid.
You gave a quick glance at the label in the front of the box to check for forbidden toppings just in case he’d forgotten who he was avoiding tonight and put something weird on it like corn and mayo or hot peppers.
The label had four lines of ingredients listed, the first said ‘xtra cheese’ and each additional one after that said ‘xtra cheese.’ Nothing else, just ‘xtra cheese’ listed four times in succession.
What in the world?
You briefly considered a malfunction of the pizza shop’s label maker, but boy was this thing heavy. Did he sneeze while selecting toppings and accidentally hit the option four times?
You set the monster down on the counter and lifted the lid. It was steaming hot despite the trip in the car and up the elevators to your door and as soon as you opened it you noticed the odd appearance of the inside lid.
There was a message handwritten with black marker inside of the lid.
Your stomach leapt up into your throat as you recognized what this was. The message started with the word Bug.
You had to cover your mouth to get through this.
Bug,
I know this is really, really, really, really cheesy, but will you go out on a date with me this Saturday?
Knock thrice on my door for yes.
-Peanut
P.S. Did I beat Ben?
You had to hang your head to contain it. You wanted to scream. Giggles actually burst out of your mouth before you could stop them. You were highly amused. Actually reallly fucking impressed and goddammit you felt a genuine flutter of butterflies inside of your stomach. How was he this clever? He had always been very silly and good at thinking of the most ridiculous scenarios to get things done, but wow. When you lifted the lid once more to read his message again your mind spun with the logistics of that man in that bedroom sneakily ordering this thing from a real pizza shop that was probably a block from your home.
Did he call them and explain the situation? Did all of the employees gather around, chanting ‘More cheese! Give the man more cheese!’ As they loaded this pizza up with what looked to be a full inch of melted cheese on top? It compromised the edges of the crust and flowed over the cardboard below. It was absolutely ridiculous and nearly inedible too.
Did they giggle at the pet names you called each other as they selected the employee with the best handwriting to relay his message?
You were buzzing again. This time it was pride. He was brilliant at everything he put his mind to and this was clearly no exception. He would do so well in his life.
You left the kitchen and made your way toward his closed bedroom door. As you came close you heard a very soft thud; wooden door hitting wooden door frame. The movement was hardly noticeable but you could see a slow turn of the doorknob too. He probably thought he was sneaky.
You lifted your closed fist and quietly hit three times against his door and after exactly ten seconds you heard the squeak of his doorknob turning and his bedroom door opened up an inch.
You saw a single brown eyeball peeping at you through the opening.
“I’ll text you the details later,” he whispered and the door closed up again before you could respond.
The details came by text message a day later, just as he promised. It was a Thursday afternoon when your phone buzzed and you’d just put the final touches on your data entry work for the day, running it through a spell checker for mistakes as you always did. You’d expected to hear from Ben by now, he said he had something to go straighten out at the bank. He’d taken it well, finding out that your roommate was a man around your age, and he didn’t even ask too many prodding questions about him.
The message was from Baekhyun with the time he would ‘arrive’ to pick you up on Saturday and he gave you sparse details about what he actually had planned; just a quick note at the end that he would be wearing a suit. You figured this was a hint for you to dress up as well.
Was Baekhyun taking you some place fancy? Your curiosity was positively burning and Baekhyun had been acting super weird around you lately.
Whenever you’d come into a room he was already occupying he would make up some excuse why he had to leave it and vanish inside his room to carry on with his highly secretive behavior. Whenever you went into his room he would spin in his chair toward the door with what you were positive was a caught red handed look on his face. It was like you had just caught him watching porn, only you’d caught glimpses of his screen before he quickly hit a keyboard command to clear out the screen and you didn't see a single boob.
After the first time, you’d made it a point to barge into his room often, just to see the surprised look on his face; you did it all for that gasp of air, the frantic fingers of panic on the keyboard, and the trembling hand over his chest as he clutched his pearls. All you caught flashes of were just regular looking websites. Regular text and regular pictures. You saw some blues, you saw some greens. You definitely didn't see the incriminating black and yellow theme of everyone’s favorite adult website. There was nary a penetrative moan to be heard through his speakers. The entire thing brought you great joy. The man was acting so odd and honestly he was getting your hopes up for a fantastically mind blowing date on Saturday. You’d already picked out your dress, heels, and jewelry and had been having a very hard time tolerating the ever so tedious passage of time.
By the time Saturday rolled around you were a wreck of nerves; though you weren’t exactly sure why you were so anxious. It was probably his recent fretting and obsessive preparations that had rubbed off on you. You’d decided to take it easier on him today. He’d obviously been working very hard on this assignment once given the dangling carrot of a good grade to be awarded at the end and if there was one thing you knew about Baekhyun, it was how much he strived to achieve perfection in his academic performance. You’d provided the materials. He’d obviously been studying and go-time was quickly approaching.
You took your time getting ready, soaking in your bathtub to kill some of the dull waiting hours before he was due to pick you up. By the time you were scrubbed, rinsed, shaved, moisturized, plucked, preened, coiffed, and scented to your satisfaction, you had only a half an hour to slip up the straps on the fancy fitted cocktail dress and check your reflection in the full length mirror. It was fitted and had a deep plunging neckline. It accentuated the best parts of your figure and the high slit that landed over your upper thigh showed just enough skin to make you feel sexy.
With your heels you were ready to go; feeling about as pretty as you had in a long while. The silliest little fantasy swam through your head as you spun in front of the mirror and it brought just a little warmth to your cheeks as you allowed it to play out. The idea that he would find you so lovely, so irresistible, that even the iron willed man with his self control like a steel trap would lose himself in the slow blinks of your lashes and drown in the pools of your eyes for just one night.
When you lightly slapped a palm over your cheek, it was to ground yourself. This was fake. Everything that happened tonight would be the result of careful calculations and applications of behaviors modeled in text books that he had studied all week long. It was a date with Baekhyun, but it wouldn't really be an accurate representation of the Baekhyun that you know so well.
You knew he would follow a script. He would perform as a perfect gentleman and you would play along, knowing that when he brought you home you would get a gentle hug and a thanks for sharing your knowledge with him and you would close your bedroom door and he would return to his bedroom door and life as you know it would simply fall back into place as it should remain unchanged for however long it took for you to get back on your feet, perhaps get a place of your own not too far away from him; although this neighborhood was very expensive, you’d settle for one or two subways stops away if it meant you could visit your best friend often and see him living out the life he deserved with someone who was worthy of his love.
Tonight, you will enjoy. But you would not allow your emotions to betray your rational mind. You would enjoy it and then it would be over and Baekhyun would have the skill set to ask out Mia, or whoever else he set his mind on asking out.
Your quiet self assurance was interrupted by two soft knocks on your bedroom door and your hands were trembling as you grabbed your handbag that had your cell phone, a tube of lipstick for touch-ups and a few just in case items you were always taught to carry with you, you know, just in case.
You’d reached the door and swung it open with a beaming smile on your face.
Your date was here. Baekhyun was here. It was Peanut.
A smile that quickly transformed into what you were sure was a gaping opening in your face resembling some aquatic animal and you found yourself gazing upon, frankly, an expertly styled exquisitely handsome real life man, who was wearing Byun Baekhyun’s face and smile.
Despite seeing him standing before you with your own two eyes, your brain was having trouble reconciling the two; your harmless roommate and the man who stood before you wearing a crisp suit jacket that he filled out shockingly well, a fashionable collarless dress shirt that looked like it came from some fancy boutique from downtown, fitted dress slacks that you tried your best not to linger on for too long, and were his shoes Italian? You were pretty sure they were Italian. More than just the clothes, his hair was different. He’d gone and had something done to his hair! Lord, you saw slight waves and a deliberate styling by an expert hand with just a bit of his forehead visible. Oh he looked so lovely with this hair style.
You remembered to close your mouth, but only after the realization dawning on you that he hadn’t said anything to you as you silently admired how beautiful he looked standing in his fancy suit looking like at least a million bucks.
You knew...you knew he was an attractive man. You’d have plenty of glimpses of it again and again, freshly reminded of it during that photo shoot late that night. You’d even known he worked out and had had plenty of chances to ogle the muscles on his arms and chest when he just woke up and would wander out shirtless for a drink of water. You knew that the entire shape of this man was the kind of handsome that you had to make conscious decisions to ignore. You’d forced yourself to look away plenty of times in the past. Still, the Baekhyun who stood here today, the one who had his lips parted as he stared into your eyes now after what you were certain was a head to toe, slow as hell, full body appreciation of all of your preparations to get ready for tonight, this Baekhyun was, for lack of a better word, he was sexy as all hell.
For the first time since you began this project; these lessons in dating, you felt like you might actually be in some sort of trouble.
Baekhyun spoke at last and it was the softest whisper. He said your name. Not Bug, not stupid or dummy or stinky which he called you sometimes even though you knew, you fucking knew you always smelled amazing. You went out of your way to smell great. The sound of your name on his voice softened the shock in your face and you felt a smile pull at your lips.
And so you smiled at him and watched the slow but complete smile that manifested on his pretty face.
“Hi,” he said with a blink of his bright eyes.
“Hi Baek,” you said. Your heart was racing.
He pivoted on his (Italian!) shoes and extended a bent elbow toward you and you slipped a hand around his arm.
He was doing so well. Each step you took through your shared home felt new. You had a hard time keeping from watching the side of his face and each glance you made was greeted with the light touch of his eyes as he met your eyes with his own.
Moments blurred. He ticked all the boxes, of course. He opened your door, closed it quietly behind you once you were inside. Even helped you with the seatbelt, much to the dismay of your racing heartbeat when he reached over to pull the red strap across you, careful to keep his hands well away from touching any of your actual body as he did it. The true devastation hit you when, all closed up inside the dark car in the silent moments before he started the engine and the intoxicating smell of him reached your nose.
This was a new smell. Baekhyun had gone to the salon, gone shopping for expensive new clothes, and was also wearing what had to be the best smelling cologne you had ever experienced in person.
“You smell really good,” you said without looking at him and your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your handbag to keep your mind working.
“So do you,” he said followed by an inhale that you were certain sounded just a little thready and he was steering the car through lanes and turns of a parking garage to exit the building.
His destination was the kind of fancy dream-like restaurant that you saw only in movies. The sun would be setting soon and you were led to a rooftop terrace with a view over the city and a single table set for two. You followed the pleasantly clean woman and lingering just behind you, Baekhyun silently fell behind one or two steps. A glance behind woke him up from whatever daze he’d fallen into and he closed the distance with two larger steps and a shy smile on his lips.
The waitstaff worked like ninjas. Glasses were refilled as if by magic and course after course of delicious food appeared before you as you watched the sunset over the horizon and when the light faded enough, the soft glow of twinkle lights illuminated the view around you.
The dinner was delicious and the scenery was breathtaking and that alone would have given him full marks for such a lovely evening out, but Byun Baekhyun was proving to be an overachiever as he started to talk to you. He was asking you open-ended questions, pulling conversation easily from you and you found yourself giggling and laughing as he joked in response or told you some funny anecdotes from his childhood that he knew you would love.
By the time dessert arrived you were pretty certain you were drunk despite half of the wine that remained back in your glass. Baekhyun, ever the stickler for vehicle safety had stuck to soft drinks and when he excused himself for the restrooms, you waited patiently under the glowing lights as you daydreamed about the genuine brightness you were certain you saw in his smiles. Had the twinkle in his eyes been just a reflection of this place? Everything about him tonight felt so real. You’d read through the same book he read through and you couldn’t recall him using a single recycled phrase or conversation point during dinner.
Maybe he was just that good of a student.
A noise startled you from behind and you jumped when a single red rose was laid on the table in front of you.
A rose. Baekhyun had brought you back a rose from somewhere; maybe he stole it from the elaborate flower arrangements you passed on the way in.
“Where did you get this?” You mused as you smelled his sweet offering and he shrugged and tugged at the top button of his shirt, undoing it and slipping slim fingers down to undo the second button as well. Your eyes watched the action and weirdly the fragrance from the rose smelled sweeter than the first time you smelled it.
“I just had it,” he said cryptically with another charming and blinding smile.
“Ready to go? We have one more place to visit.”
The next place he took you was even more magical than the fancy restaurant. The parking lot was nearly empty and when he opened your door he was fussing around with a small bag in the backseat of his car. He pulled out a pair of black ballet flats and you watched in awe as the man actually kneeled down on the pavement in front of you to carefully slip your heels off of your feet and slip on the comfortable shoes.
While they did not look anywhere near as sexy as the heels did, you instantly understood the need for a change.
Baekhyun had brought you to an aquarium with what looked like miles and miles of indoor and outdoor paths to walk through with tunnels traveling through the biggest tanks of aquatic sea life you’d ever seen.
You were instantly hypnotized by the deep sea exhibits that seemed to take you for miles and miles below the surface of the ocean where the sea life grew weirder and the lighting grew darker and dimmer the further down you traveled. Here at depths difficult to wrap your brain around the fish and sea creatures have adapted to freezing waters and a bleak existence without any light at all. Many had their own light sources. The bioluminescent exhibits sparkled and twinkled like the stars in the sky out in the country. You saw entire universes all around you.
Baekhyun was as enraptured as you were and spent his time carefully reading each exhibit’s information card out loud as he stared with his mouth open in awe at the different creatures. There were hundreds of different species of fishes, beautiful ones and downright creepy ugly things from the very bottom of the oceans; endangered species too; the sleepy eyes of the sea turtles were your favorites and the impressions Baekhyun made of their swimming faces made you cackle with laughter. Bright lights illuminated meters of corals of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and you honestly felt like you’d entered another planet when you both walked into the jellyfish halls.
They glowed and flowed, bounced and danced, and moved like a dream. You found yourself hypnotized as you stared at the biggest tank full of them for long enough for Baekhyun to make three circles around waiting for you to follow him out of this room so he could go see the sharks.
You knew the sharks were coming. You’d had a look at the map. And while you didn't necessarily dislike them, their huge sizes and razor sharp teeth always gave you the heebie-jeebies. The jellies were just so comfortable to look at and so relaxing.
It took some coaxing from Baekhyun, and maybe even a little tiny push at the back of your shoulders to get your feet to move and you lingered a bit long in the dark hallway that connects the two exhibits.
You just felt that maybe, the sharks could wait just a little bit longer to meet you.
He’d noticed right away and you opened up your eyes that you’d closed up for a little relaxing session when you felt the tips of his fingers running along the palm of your hand.
He gripped lightly at first, and then shifted your hand within his and he began walking forward in that dark hallway with you trailing behind him.
Baekhyun touched you sometimes. This was something that he did, on occasion. During a scary movie when you’d jumped too many times, or when you both walked through a crowded place and he didn't want you to wander off, he would occasionally hold your hand. This wasn’t something new to you.
However your heart was beating hard in your chest and the warmth of his hand coupled with the firmness with which he held you felt so damn nice you were having trouble focusing on anything else except for your own shallow breathing and racing heartbeat — and his hand holding yours.
Sharks swam at a gentle languid pace. Clearly at ease and very well fed here in their homes, there didn't seem to be very much murder and feasting happening at all. Hammerheads, tiger sharks, something uglier than any other creature you had ever seen that came from The Midnight Zone of the deepest parts and with each creature that swam overhead, or beside you, or creeped up from somewhere behind you, Baekhyun would turn to face you and take two or three steps backwards as he pulled you through it, your hand held securely inside of his. He would smile at you that debilitating smile, and tilt his head and call you a scary cat or a big baby and you would laugh and roll your eyes and deny that you were even a little bit scared of anything at all.
All was going well. You were very well taken care of and felt very secure inside this tiny tunnel at the bottom fo the ocean and you’d noticed this time when Baekhyun had turned around to look at you with a bright smile that smile wavered just a touch and his eyes seemed to focus on something that was coming up from behind.
Your curiosity got the better of you and you turned to see what he saw.
Baekhyun moved quickly then, moving both of his hands up to reach for your face he pulled your head forward and moved his own face close to yours. You felt the warmth of his forehead lean against yours for a moment and you could not see around or behind you with his hands placed so carefully on the sides of your head like this.
You knew what it was. It had to be something huge and terrifying, maybe even something with fresh blood still on it’s teeth. A Great White. The giant monster from the movie Jaws that you had watched with him once not realizing just how scary it would be and you spent most of the film curled up under his arm wincing at the horrors you saw on the screen.
“Hey Peanut,” you said softly while looking up close into his eyes. He was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face. His smell, that new smell of his smelled even better this close to his skin.
“Hey LoveBug,” he said with a gentle smile and you knew based on the use of this carefully reserved nickname for emergencies that it was exactly as you had feared. A Great White, chomping on the remains of the cutest crying baby penguin. The fluffiest one with its whole life ahead of it.
Baekhyun was safe though. Baekhyun was warm and he was here to protect you. You would be okay, you knew it.
“Is it gone yet?” You asked after what felt like the average time for a fish that size to swim away and you noticed something. It was a look, just a glance. Baekhyun’s eyes floated a bit and the warm breath you felt coming from him was delivered in quicker puffs through his parted lips.
When he licked his lips, you could not help it, your eyes caught the motion as his tongue ran over his bottom lip and left wetness behind and by the time you realized what you had done — where you had looked — you had already done it, your stubborn eyes had already looked and in your mind a vivid replay was happening. You felt too much. This was too much. This was supposed to be fake. Why did he have to smell so fucking good and why was he so aware of every tiny detail about you he knew when something would overwhelm you and ruin your mood, so he used his own body to shield you from it and protect you. You cautiously pulled your eyes back up only to find him blinking too fast and he was dropping his hands from your face as he took a step back and away from the stifling closeness.
You were dizzy. You felt it all over. Your heart was racing and the warmth you felt traveling through your body sent waves through you. You had to rub lightly over your forearms to smooth out the goosebumps and Baekhyun was no longer facing you, but was staring off into the literal depths of the cold black ocean and you took a while to recover enough to walk by him toward the exit of the aquarium and back into the darkened city streets you knew as the real world.
The walk back to the car was quiet and had an odd flavor about it. You both could feel the end coming. It had been a wonderful date. You’d spent hours, just the two of you talking and laughing and exploring literally new worlds you hadn’t before experienced. You felt a sudden but definite melancholy to see the fancy circles that made up the logo of his car.
“Hey, you want to take a walk?” Baekhyun’s voice halted your steps and you turned back to see him standing with a hand in his pocket, fidgeting in hidden, likely with the key fob to his car, and a new sort of nervous flush on his cheeks that you hadn’t seen since he first showed up at your bedroom door looking like a dashing Prince Charming ready to sweep you off your feet.
“Sure,” you said, meaning every bit of it and secretly extremely thankful that this evening wasn’t over yet.
The walk was peaceful. It was a bit chilly tonight and you didn’t even resist when you felt the warmth of the coat jacket he placed over your shoulders. You thought you’d become used to the smell of him by now, but clearly you were incapable of ever getting used to his smell.
The streets were mostly empty now that the night had grown stale and you walked side by side passing various touristy shops that had long since closed up for the evening. Ahead you could see a small street side cafe that sold warm teas and coffees and Baekhyun was pulling out his wallet before you even had the chance to look at him with hopeful delight all over your face. He ordered two hot coffees and you danced and celebrated when he handed the first one to you.
It warmed you from the inside and you paid no mind to the smudges of lipstick all over the white lid of your cup. The hot drink made you happy and you could see your breath like a dragon in the chilly night air around you. Each puff made Baekhyun smile and when he’d taken a particularly big drink from his cup he pulled his head back and puffed out three perfectly formed rings of warm air into the color air above his head. The rings grew and then faded quickly but you were so excited to see his trick that you made him do it again and again until he was puffing and out of breath and laughing too much for any more cool rings to form. This man was full of secrets. Absolutely full of them!
The night was winding on. You could feel the lateness in your limbs and you’d long since finished your drinks and dropped your paper cups into a street side trash can. Your feet, you found were protesting. It wasn’t that they ached or hurt or anything like that. You weren't even that tired. You were just having trouble with the idea of this ending and the night being over.
Everything had to end eventually. You didn't even pout at all when he pulled open your door. You just climbed in and sat down, fastening your own seatbelt this time with a sense of finality looming in your mind along with a wagging finger that quietly scolded you for letting your guard down during this date.
The drive back home was quiet. He didn't even turn on the radio and even though he drove with one hand, he held his other hand firm atop his thigh.
The small touches and stolen glances were over. The date was over. He had done very well. You were thoroughly swept off your feet and his grade would be an A+. You would go back to your room and go to sleep and tomorrow morning when you woke up you’d find him back to his usual antics and maybe, maybe you’d even get him to ask Mia out on a date.
You swallowed the dryness in your throat and the familiar landmarks outside your apartment building called you back home. Baekhyun pulled into the parking garage and you did not wait for him to round the hood of the car to reach your door, you simply opened it yourself and pushed through it.
Baekhyun did well. You had given him a task and he’d done it. He deserved all the praise and recognition for a job well done. He’d taken it seriously just as he said he would. This dark mood that had suddenly come over you could not show. You shouldn’t do this to him.
You cared for him too much to ruin this sweet evening.
You loved him too much. This quiet secret usually echoed around inside of your heart and you winced to hear it peaking it’s way up into your running thoughts.
The apartment was dark and you walked through it easily, knowing exactly where you could walk without bumping into anything and he didn’t turn on any lights as he walked closely behind you. He hadn’t said anything to you on the drive home, nor did he speak right now as he walked you back to your bedroom door where he had picked you up.
You turned to face him now. You pushed a smile up to your lips and his face was mostly in the darkness, barely lit with the city lights from the window.
“Thank you for a lovely evening, Baekhyun. It was perfect. You were perfect. Seriously, you are amazing.”
You leaned before he did and you felt the staggered response from his limbs as he wrapped both of his arms around your shoulders for the hug.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he whispered against your ear and when you pulled out of the hug, your small smile was not returned. You could see enough of his face to see that he did not smile at you now.
Your hand was on your door and you turned and stepped inside, thankful that you had left your small table lamp on. The room was warm and inviting and you closed the door behind you with a soft click that sounded exactly like clapperboard snapped to signal the end of a movie scene. You could almost hear a director somewhere yelling cut. Everybody clapped for the job well done. All the actors could now go home. It was over.
Your shoes were off. You’d pulled off the earrings and had taken off your necklace and the delicate tennis bracelet’s clasp was so tiny you had to try a few times to get it open so you could take it off.
When you reached up to slip the strap of your dress off your shoulders a tiny sound interrupted you. It was almost like a knocking, but it was so soft you had to listen carefully to hear if it repeated again.
It did not, but you could not shake that feeling that it had happened and out of genuine curiosity you walked across your bedroom and pulled your bedroom door open.
Someone was there; Baekhyun was there, standing in nearly the exact same position as he had been, wearing the same clothes. The only difference was the sight mess to his hair and the definite pink shade you saw on his face even in the dim lighting from the windows.
“Peanut?” You couldn’t imagine what this was. He was finished. The assignment was finished and he had done perfectly, you’d said so already...but, his eyes. You caught that same look that you’d seen on him many times before. It was a look of hard determination that propelled him forward when he dove into some new and difficult project he had to master. If you had to give it a name, you’d call it his passion. The passion he had inside of him to do things right. To be perfect.
“I said I would take it seriously,” he said in a well controlled voice and you shook your head, not understanding what he meant. Did he have some regrets about how the night went? Did he feel that he had somehow failed to live up to the requirements you’d set forth for him as his teacher?
“The date, I told you I would.” He wasn't clarifying anything with his words.
It was then that he moved.
His hands were up and Baekhyun took a step closer to where you stood confused and surprised at the threshold of your bedroom door. He reached for you with both hands and you felt the warmth of his palms on your cheeks at the same time as you felt the exhale from his parted lips against your mouth. It happened in a single moment. His lips connected with yours and you gasped in a surprised breath. Baekhyun kissed you. His lips were on yours and he held your face tightly between both of his hands as he did it. This was it. This was his goodnight kiss at your front door. This was the end of the date.
You could just make out the ultra up close view of him, his fluffed up hair, the smoothness of his forehead, his eyes closed up tight and dark eyelashes spread over his cheeks and it was all a big blur and so you closed your eyes and your heart raged noisily inside of your chest with the sudden need you felt for this to happen.
Your own lips parted and you felt the tilt of his head as his bottom lip pushed out slipping perfectly between your own and you could not stop it. You could not control the tightness with which your hands clung to the cotton of his dress shirt and pulled him toward you. You could not contain the way his tongue brushed lightly against your own and the way you reacted to it. The light moan that escaped from your throat and bounced around inside of his mouth. The light draw you felt on your lip as he pulled lightly and sucked on your lip as he did it. The final pull was him pulling away.
He ended the kiss with a step backward and a drop of his hands from your face.
He had kissed you and you most definitely had kissed him back. The labored breathing you struggled to contain did nothing for the dizziness.
“Goodnight,” he said with a roughness on his voice; plus the blown out look in his eyes was telling you of many forbidden things that he was running from now. Things that even he knew were a very bad idea.
This had been fake. This was supposed to be a lesson.
You stood at your doorway and watched him disappear into his bedroom and after standing frozen in your doorway you had no choice but to return to the quiet glowing comfort of your own bedroom and close your door too.
Your hands were shaking and you felt the trembling all over you as you looked around at the place you called home. The place you loved more than anything in the world except for maybe that man who was likely facing a very similar struggle behind his own closed bedroom door.
The only difference was just how much you had to lose if you gave in.
You loved him. You knew it deep down inside of your soul. It had been buried for so long deep in the frozen depths of your ocean that you thought it would never surface and consume you, yet now you knew you’d been a fool.
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6
Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth @totallynerdstuff @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer @uhobob
#Baekhyun#Exo#Baekhyun fic#Exo fic#Baekhyun fanfiction#Exo fanfiction#Baekhyun fluff#Baekhyun smut#Exo fluff#exo smut#Baekhyun scenario#exo scenario#baekhyun series#exo series
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Black Dahlias For The Waynes - Ch.2
Chapter 2: The Perfect Storm (ii)
Series Masterlist
Story Pairings: Bruce Wayne & Alfred Pennyworth; Bruce & Female!Dick Grayson; Alfred & Female!Grayson; Jim Gordon & Bruce
Chap Summary: Bruce couldn't explain it. The nagging feeling that something was going to happen. But what? What could it be? Surely it couldn't be that alley way all over again.... Right?
Story Rating: Mature
Warning: Possible OOC? (I'm still learning how to right Battinson Bruce/Batman); Mention of blood & Corpses; References to Past Trauma; References to Anxiety & Depression; Mature Language. Read at your OWN risk!
A/N: I know the Graysons died on April 1st but for the sake of this story and where I want it to end it has to be later in the year.
Also, sorry for the long wait. I usually post my work first on Ao3 and then I completely forgot to post it on here! So sorry!
A·Perfect·Storm
Idiom
1.The worst possible situation.
2.A combination of events that result
in an unfortunate situation.
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‘Gotham Year 4, Date: August xx,
The city is almost done rebuilding-’
It took months to get all the water out, and after that it was all hands on deck to get everything cleaned up and back to normal (or at least Gotham’s definition of normal). But the city never sleeps because even when the city was trying to drain all the water, crime was still evident. Batman and the GCPD hardly got a wink of sleep, the Mayor did her best to keep everything going. And luckily it’s been working, and luckily things haven’t been too crazy.
But what can you consider not crazy here? Yes, in the two years since Riddler’s “Cleansing” plan there still has been murders, robberies, and arson, and other unspeakable crime; And yes, there was that one lady Batman put behind bars that could… What did she claim again? That she could control plants and threaten the Mayor that if she tore down another park she would level the city? Yeah, she’s in Arkham now. She’s-
“-orry for the hold up.” Gordon says as the elevator closes with a chime. “It took me forever to get these out unnoticed.”
He held out a coffee stained folder, which was about a quarter inch thick, for the vigilante to grab.
Batman opened the folder, his fingertips ghost over the words and pictures throughout the first few pages. He keeps himself from making his jaw tighten the more he looks over the photographs, people he wishes that never existed in the first place.
Gordon took this man’s long silence a cue to break it. He clears his throat, straightening up. “Well, if you’re wondering, nothing unusual is going on with the inmates.” He explains, also trying not to shiver at some of the bad apples’ gazes. “So far… they’re just normal.”
“What about Pamela Isley?” Batman asked upon finding her barely touched file. Even though a year has passed, there was hardly anything written about the woman, even her behavior in the asylum is pretty bland.
“Nothing really. She’s just a crazy woman who is constantly talking about her plants.”
Batman hums, sounding more like a grunt, but Gordon knew him long enough to know the difference.
It didn’t make sense though, the feeling he’s been having for a while. He’s been getting a nagging feeling something was going to happen, and he didn’t know what or when. And for some reason though, his mind always wondered back to the fucking asylum-
“Don’t worry about it.” Gordon erupts his thoughts. His voice was soft and sincere, just enough to cover the tiredness he was feeling. “If something really is going on with the inmates, the GCPD will be the first to know, and I’ll certainly tell you too.”
Batman was surely on the line of agreement and disagreement, both having pros and cons, but in the end it all came down to trusting the detective. He hums again, closing the file and attempting to hand it back over.
“Keep it.” Gordon said, holding his hand up to a stop. “That’s why it took me so long, it’s a copy.”
“I’ll keep it close then.” The vigilante replies, which could translate to ‘thank you’.
“Get some rest, so in case you’re gut feelings right, this city’s going to need you.”
Another grunt as he watches the detective sluggishly carry himself towards the lift, saying something that was like a ‘goodbye’, before slipping back to either the precinct or home.
Home actually sounded good. Sleep did too. But could he think when something was eating at his stomach lining?
Something’s going to happen.
He can feel it. But oh hell… If this was like anything like the Riddler or any other foes he’s fought then this was going to be trouble…
He just prays that he’s wrong for once.
So… was it healthy to stay in his cave for so long? Probably not, but that’s what he did anyway. He just can’t get this dreadful feeling to go away. He was practically gnawing at his fingernails with anxiousness.
Maybe it’s something with me? He thought, his mind practically did a three sixty when something crossed his mind. That near death experience with Alfred a few years back still haunts him. That fucking trap wasn’t even meant for him in the first place.
Maybe it’s…
His jaw tightens as he stands up, sending the desk chair back, heading for the elevator, already out of the kevlar suit hours ago. He fights himself from tapping his foot repeatedly, watching the numbers go up and up till it flashes his expected floor-
Damn Dory nearly gave him a hard attack.
She pursed her lips, shaking her head a little. “You know Mr. Wayne, if you’re going to stroll in here then at least wipe that makeup off first.” She tsks, and hands him a clean handkerchief.
He stares subtly at her, not really sure how to respond as she brushes past him for the elevator.
“I made scones if you want some. There in the kitchen.” She continues. “Good day, Mr. Wayne.”
The door rings and closes, the faint sounds of the gears turning was all he noticed before Alfred walked by. The older man sighs, sharing a similar expression that the older woman had just shown.
“Master Bruce, what if we had guests? How would you explain this… phase?” He says, digging into his own pockets for-
“Dory already gave me one, Alfred.” Bruce points out the white cloth.
“Then what are you waiting for? The bloody Queen of England to give you permission? Wipe it off, Lad, I have to talk to you about something.”
Bruce felt his heartbeat return normal, the goosebumps on his arms slowly fading away as he followed the main in the dining area; Almost immediately he still winces at the sunlight hitting his eyes (Yes, he was getting better with the sun since he was being Bruce Wayne more, but still, who do you think still has a higher priority?). He fights back the urge to grab his sunglasses as he slides next to Alfred and begins working on the cake on makeup under his admiral eyes.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” He asks.
“Well, It’s a quarter to 2 if you’re wondering, which is a perfect amount of time for me to tell you this.” Alfred begins, studying his young master to see if he was listening. “Ms. Harriet called me a while ago.”
Bruce still, worriedness fluttering in his chest for a second. “Does the orphanage need more funding? Or did their generator break again?”
“Oh, no, she was fulsome as ever, which leads to our conversation. She called and wanted to personally thank you for the funding which so happened to be enough for something else in their budget.”
“Something else?”
“Entertainment.”
Bruce hums, his attention lessening as he starts working under his eyes again. “Is it one of the children’s birthdays?”
“Well, no, actually, but she’s taking the children to the C.C. Haly and Norton Bros. circus tonight.” Alfred replies in his usual flat tone. “And you’re invited.”
His movements falter a little. “The answer’s no.”
“Well funny thing you say that, but I already told her you’re going.”
“What?” Bruce stops completely, his attention on his parental figure turning way up again. “You-” Was he allowed to scowl? “W… Why?”
“Well, let me spell this out for you Master Bruce-” Alfred places his palms flat on the table. “Your public appearance is starting to slack again-” He watches the man pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “And you’ve haven’t been to the office in a while either, so you’re really slacking there-”
“Alfred, I can’t. I have-”
“The Batman can wait. He’s allowed to take the night off. Plus-” He gives off something resembling a small grin. “She told me that the children have been dying to see you again.”
He grumbles under his breath. Memories of little children clinging to his limbs and giggling that bounced off the walls came full force. Ms. Harries felt sympathy towards him, all while the paparazzi ate it up like crazy (The last time he visited, the pictures were all over the news for a whole month).
Should he “accidentally” dislocate his shoulder again?
“Fine.”
“Wonderful.” Alfred said, smiling.
“Only if I can skip that charity event for that Maxwell Lord, Guy.”
“We’ll talk about that later.” He pushes his chair back as he stands up, hands starting to tuck behind his back-
“And if you go with me.” Now it was his turn for the smug look and slight quirk of an eyebrow. It made his Butler look like a deer in a headlight.
Alfred gave in and sighed. “Fine.” He almost rolled his eyes as he started walking away from the table. “I guess it would be nice to get out of my house. Get dressed by 6, Master Bruce.”
Footsteps faded. The billionaire fought the urge to drop his tired head against the mahogany table. Why did being a member of society have to be so hard?
“Still afraid of the clowns, Master Bruce?” Alfred whispered, smugly as a child (yet again) tugged on his Master’s tie.
Bruce casted a silent look that said, ‘Never again’. He tried his best to politely smile at Ms Harris as he gently pries the little boy’s hand away for… jeez… he lost count, and the show hasn’t even started yet.
“Ms Harris said there aren’t going to be clowns.” The boy said as loudly as he could, pretty much getting attention from all sides.
Bruce’s jaw noticeably, besides Alfred seeing, twitched at the comment.
“And what makes you say that, lad?” The Butler asked, softly.
Oh god, Alfred was so much better at this than he is.
“Because these lovely circus folks have read this city's history.” Another familiar voice came through, and Bruce almost jerked visibly again.
Why did he agree to this again?
“I won’t be long, I just wanted to say hello.” Reál said, happy go lucky as usual, despite almost being crowded by people and her bodyguards.
“Mayor, thank you so much for having this group come to Gotham.” Ms Harris said, stepping over her bleacher seat to shake her hand. “The children are so excited for this.”
“Oh it was my pleasure. I think the city folks deserve a little fun now since it’s almost done rebuilding.” She faces the other people present. “Mr. Wayne, long time no see.”
“Likewise, Ms. Reál.” Bruce said, shaking her hand also. Got to keep his image up.
If it was possible her smile got bigger, and so did her eyes when they set on a new face. “And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met, Mr…?”
“Pennyworth. Alfred Pennyworth, Madame Mayor.”
“Nice to meet you. Well, it’s good to see you all, enjoy the show.”
She gives small waves to the children who returned the gesture before they continued their antics. Now they were talking about monkeys now? And wonder if they could feed their candy to them? Could Bruce handle any more of this? What was even worse was that when he thought the show was about to begin, the ringleader must have caught wind of who was going to be here, and guess who was caught in the spotlight besides the Mayor?
He tuned most of it out after people started clapping and cheering for him even being here, and occasionally when someone started talking to him he would exchange actual words for just nods and hums. He fought the urge not to check his watch for the time, because he knew Alfred was watching his every move to make sure his presence was acceptable (Seriously, he’s not five anymore). Maybe those days being stuck in the office might not seem so bad right now.
The night dragged on and on, and soon, after nearly being elbowed in the face by a kid, and doused in buttery popcorn, and stepping in a puddle of sticky soda, his wishes might soon be answered as the final act was being announced.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Children of all ages!” The ring leader’s voice boomed across the tent, twirling his cane in the swirling spotlights.
The bright red suit hurt his eyes as the light reflected right off it. The candy apple red reminded him what the city’s streets were usually painted in. He held back a shutter and visions.
“I unfortunately will have to say that this is a goodbye! But don’t worry folks, we have our main event, the grand finale!”
The crowd cheered again, the joy radiating off of them, boxing the billionaire in. The deafening cheers reminded him of that night in the alley, right in the theater where the movie played and the other families laughed, moments away from the pain he’ll experience. Can he just ho-
“Give it up for the Flying Graysons!”
Bruce forced himself to follow the trail the ringleader led with his sparkling cane, which led all the way up to the platform above, the spotlight shifting on a family of three. Their tri-colored leotards were easy to make out, almost a perfect set of targets, colorful suits like that clown. He mentally slapped that last thought away as the trio flashed their pearly whites and waved bashfully.
What’s with all the feelings so suddenly? He was confused. It was like something was warning him-
“And they’ll be performing their amazing act without the safety of a net!” Their capes came off as the words left the man’s lips. Those shiny gold fabric resembled the flames of Riddler’s bombs and the-
Bruce shook his head meantally again.
Stop it. Stop it with those thoughts. Just focus on the words. What did the guy just say? He scolded himself sternly and followed his instructions.
Truthfully he did his best to halfheartedly focus on those words. What did the ringleader say? They were performing without a what? Without a net? That was crazy, even for him because…
Was he seeing that right? A child on the stand?
His eyes stopped on the little girl, he assumed barely a teenager, resembling a lot of the two adults next to her (Her parents, he’s assumed also). His instinct told him to watch closely. Even from this distance, he watched her face fall so suddenly as she jerked her head back, looking almost startled. Her reaction only lasted a few seconds before putting up her facade again, an airlock facade Bruce knew too well himself, which gave him enough time for his heart to sink to the floor.
Something’s not right.
That feeling he’s been having for a while has finally returned.
The nagging-ness.
The past trauma.
The feeling of being on edge.
He knows this all too well.
Something’s not right.
He didn’t know what it was as the two adults began their act, his tense body language, which consisted of him stiffening straight as one of his hands was firmly against the bleacher, ready to stand himself up if needed so, he caught someone's attention because of this.
“Bruce?” Alfred whispers, managing to get the message across over the loud noise.
“Something’s not right.” He answered quickly, eyes searching the tent for something, but his navy eyes always landed back onto the platform. What was he missing?
“What?”
“Something’s not right, Alfred. I’m getting that feeling again.” Why? Why was he always landing back on the trapeze? What is he-
They didn’t hear the snap but he did.
Yet everyone heard the shriek of the child above.
Out of instinct (And maybe something else deep inside), both him and Alfred covered the eyes of the many children they could, just as Bruce looked back on the little girl who caught herself from tumbling off the tower.
His heart skipped a beat.
The next thing was so much worse.
The crunching. The cracking. The breaking. And…
Oh god-
The blood.
People panicked around him almost immediately as the bodies dropped into the ring. They fled around him in groups of terror and ear piecing screams, but even as he was getting trampled and pushed to the side, he never moved his eyes away from her.
He should’ve known that history would repeat itself in the city.
He should’ve known that he would see another child in an alleyway.
He should’ve known that another set of parents would be gone again.
Life is really sick and twisted, ain’t it?
And Bruce didn’t know what hurt worse, the look on the girl’s face, the outreached hand to nothing, or when she gripped the side of her head and let out a blood curdling scream that reminded him of his own?
What was his answer, you may have asked?
Well…
It was this whole fucking night.
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A/N: Again, sorry if this seemed short. Like I said previously, I kind of want to get the ball rolling a bit more (Since I'm more interested in writing about the Parental Relationships of these characters). So sorry again!
Until next time!
#the batman#the batman 2022#the batman 2022 robin#the batman spoilers#the batman movie#bruce wayne#robert pattinson#battinson#battinson and robin#female dick grayson#dick grayson#robin#female robin#selina kyle#catwoman#zoe kravitz#alfred pennyworth#batdad#andy serkis#jeffery wright#jim gordon#james gordon#barry keoghan#barry keoghan joker#paul dano#the riddler#edward nygma#edward nashton#bruce wayne and his serial adoption tendencies#bruce wayne x oc
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2,365 Days
2,365 days. That’s how long it took you to realize that you were in love with Han Jisung. It took him another 36 to realize that he never stopped.
Pairing: Han Jisung/reader, female reader.
Word Count: 2.1k
Genre: Romance, college au, idiots in love, slight angst, angst with a happy ending, childhood best friends to lovers au.
Warnings: Excessive usage of italics and Y/N because that’s how I roll. Also profanity, I like to cuss.
Bits and pieces of a story idea I had for Han. Events happen chronologically, but a fair amount of time is skipped before and after each bit. Heavily inspired by the song Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship), go ahead and take a listen!
↢
“Two thousand, three hundred and sixty-five days!”, you shouted.
Jisung stopped in his tracks, furrowing his eyebrows. “Y/N, what are you on about?”.
“Two thousand, three hundred and sixty-five days”, you stated again. “That’s- that’s how long it took me to realize I was in love with you”.
His mouth parted in shock at your confession. “Look, Y/N-”, he started but you cut him off.
“I don’t want to hear it!”, you said furiously shaking your head. “I know it’s stupid! I am never going to be over how stupid it was that I could be in love with someone for that long and not realize it until a couple weeks ago!”.
He took a step forward reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder. On any other day you would have gladly accepted the comfort, but the look in his eyes in that moment sickened you. In all the years you had known him, he had never once looked at you like that. And you fucking hated it.
All you could see was pity.
You dodged his hand, instead letting your own arms wrap around your front. You didn’t want comfort from him, not right now at least. All his touch did was make you hurt.
“The worst part about this is that I think you used to be in love with me too”, you murmured, shrinking into yourself. “And I’m- I’m so sorry I never realized it until now because I think… I think I could have saved you a lot of pain if I just took one fucking look at what was right in front of me”.
“Y/N…”, he said looking at you with a pained expression.
“Jisung I’m sorry, I really am. I know you’re with someone right now. I’m not trying to- steal you from them or something I just…”, you trailed off.
“You just what?”, he said.
“I just!”, you said looking at the ceiling to hold back your tears. Pressing the heel of your hands into your eyes you took deep steadying breaths.
“Jisung, I want you to be happy. I really do. And if that girl makes you happy then- that’s enough for me! I just… needed to give my best friend an explanation instead of dropping off the face of the earth”.
“Dropping off…?” he said, beginning to look vaguely panicked. “Where are you going?”.
“I’m just going home!”, you said waving your hands back and forth in a placating manner. “For… a couple of months at least”.
“Y/N. You haven’t been back home since the day we graduated high school”.
“I know”, you whispered looking at the floor. “I just need time to myself right now. These feelings are all new and I… I know I can’t be a good friend to you right now. Seeing you, being with you it just- hurts. I’m not the best friend you deserve right now”.
Jisung made a pained noise in the back of his throat and stepped in closer towards you. “I’m not mad at you! You don’t need to leave, if that’s what you’re afraid of”, he said placing his hands on your shoulders.
“No that’s not it Jisung”, you said gently brushing off his hands. “I just- for me to be a good friend, the one who can support you and the relationship you’ve found yourself in, I need time to get over these feelings. And I know that’s something I can’t do right now. So, I’m going home”.
Jisung sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. Taking another look at you he seemed to decide that you were being serious and dropped onto your couch in defeat.
“You’re not… you’re not leaving right?”, he said head hanging down to his knees. “You’re coming back?”.
You gave a half hearted laugh and collapsed next to him.
“Han Jisung, just because the unfortunate side effects of the human condition cause me to have feelings for you that does not mean that you are ever going to be able to get rid of me”.
He gave a chuckle in response, still refusing to lift his head up. You tried to ignore the fact that he was sniffling through giggles. For his sake.
You gently nudged his shoulder with your own.
“I’ve known you for almost 7 years now. You’re stuck with me for life”.
He laughed fully this time, trying to subtly wipe at his eyes. “Kylie”, he said tilting his head at you and giving you a watery smile. “What do you think about her?”.
You gave him your own watery smile in return, “I really like her”, you said.
And it was the truth.
↢
Something was off, Jisung thought. In fact, something was off about this entire week.
His grades we’re up, better than they ever had been, he was dating an amazing girl, he had a steady job so… life is good.
Life was good, right?
↢
“Are you done moping yet?”, Chan said casually sipping at his soda.
“Moping?”, I asked. “I’m not moping”.
Chan rolled his eyes throwing another french fry into his mouth. “You clearly are. But, if we’re still in the denial stage that’s fine. We can just talk about… uh”, chan said nibbling at his fry thoughtfully. “Oh!”, he shouted suddenly. “Professor Brewer’s paper! Why don’t we work on it now? What are you doing for the prompt?”.
I sighed and rested my head on my palm. “I already finished it”, I grumbled twirling my soda straw aimlessly.
Chan’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “You fucking what?!”, he said choking on his soda.
“Shit dude are you ok?”, I said patting at his back. He waved me off, spluttering an “I’m ok” back.
“You WHAT”, he said after regaining his breath.
I shrank back in my seat. “I er- already finished it?”, I said nervously.
“Han”, Chan deadpanned. “We have 4 days left until that paper is due”.
I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “4 days isn’t that long you know, I have other classes too. Besides, don’t you always finish your assignments the day they're assigned?”.
He waved me off leaning back in his seat. “Yeah I do, but that’s not the point”.
“I’m sorry… then what exactly is the point then?”, I asked steadily growing more confused.
“The point is! You never even bother to look at your assignments until the day they’re due!”, Chan said exasperatedly.
I eyed him warily. “Why are you getting so worked up about this?”.
“Because!”, he all but shouted. “You’re an idiot!”.
“Hey!”, I said. “Just because you’re my hyung doesn’t mean you can just call me stupid!”, I huffed crossing my arms at him. “I’ll have you know I have a 3.8 this quarter”.
“Exactly”, Chan groaned while slowly dragging a hand across his face.
“What the hell are you on about?”, I said genuinely starting to become annoyed with the conversation.
“Hannie”, he said sighing. “The only reason you have such good grades this quarter is because you’re not following Y/N around like a lost puppy”.
My heart panged at the mention of her name. “I don’t know what you're talking about”, I breathed.
“Yes you do”, he said with a stern look in his eyes. “You have shitty grades every quarter because all you ever want to do is spend time with her. The only reason you get by is because she chews your ass out when she finds out you’ve been slacking”.
“Nope”, I shook my head adamantly. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a girlfriend, everything’s just fine”.
“Ok the fact that you brought that up when I wasn’t even talking about your girlfriend makes me feel like there’s more to unpack there but… baby steps. We’ll come back to that”
Chan looked at me with an expectant look in his eyes, as if waiting for me to say something. I shrugged helplessly at him, not knowing what he wanted from me.
He sighed heavily through his nose before apparently giving up on what he’d been waiting for.
“Hannie…”, he said gently. Chan carefully put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me with sympathetic look in his eyes. “You miss her”.
I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “No I don’t”, I said shaking my head at him.
“Han, you’ve spent nearly every single day with Y/N since you guys we’re 13. You can’t expect me to believe- actually you can’t expect yourself to believe that you don’t miss her”.
“Not true”, I muttered. “When we were in school she went back in the summers to visit her family”.
“Fine then- you spent everyday with her albeit 2 months out of the year. That’s not even true for the past 3 years! She hasn’t been back these summers, she stayed with you”.
I sighed heavily, sliding even further down my seat. “What do you want me to do?”, I mumbled miserably.
“I want you to stop being an idiot and acknowledge that you're upset, and that you have been for the past month”.
“Because Y/N’s gone?”, I asked slowly.
“Because Y/N’s gone.”, Chan affirmed.
↢
“Jisung?”, you asked incredulously. “How the hell did you get here? Why the hell are you here?”.
Jisung was near hyperventilating at this point, he felt that his lungs might collapse from the sheer stress of the situation.
Alright, alright. Calm down. Just remember what Chan and Changbin told you in the car ride over this is fine everything’s fine.
“I broke up with Kylie!”, I blurted out.
Everything was not fucking fine.
You crossed your arms and gave him a stern look. “Han Jisung I had to suffer through weeks of you non-stop talking about that girl. You better have not just broken up with her I swear to god-”
“She doesn’t make me cheesecake!”, I shouted cutting off her rant.
She looked even more confused than when she first realized I was standing in her grandparent’s yard. “Jisung what on earth are you talking about?”, she said.
What on earth indeed.
“I’m sure if it's really that big of a problem”, she said utterly perplexed. “She could just learn how to make one dude?”.
“Even if she did, it wouldn’t be your cheesecake!”, I said desperately.
“...what?”.
“It wouldn’t be the same as the ones you make me and- she doesn’t stay up with me all night trying to help me figure out rhymes for my lyrics even though you know you can’t rap for shit. And sure, she can skateboard and that’s pretty cool but she’s not the dumbass who thought launching herself off an out of control board was a great idea and face planted in the middle of four way traffic-”.
“Hey!”, she huffed indignantly.
I ignored her, continuing to roll right through my rant.
“And she doesn’t snore like a fucking buzzsaw, which would be so cute if it didn’t sound so god damn concerning. And she doesn’t watch romance movies with me even though you absolutely despise them and-”, I said stopping abruptly.
“And?”, she asked softly.
“And I don’t love her”, I breathed feeling the tips of my ears turn red. “Not the way that I love you”.
“Oh”, she said.
I laughed at her dumbfounded expression. “It took me 36 days and 2 hyungs to realize I was still in love with you and all you have to say in response is ‘oh’?”.
She huffed at me in annoyance. “I spilled my guts out to you a month ago, what the hell else do you want?! Some kind of blood oath??”.
“If that’s what it takes for you to tell me you love me right now then yeah, I think that’s fair”.
“You should have asked for that a whole fucking month ago!”, she said stamping her foot in annoyance.
“Hey! You may have had to wait a month but I had to wait 6 whole fucking years before you even acknowledged that you liked me!”.
“I hate you”.
“Oh you do? Well I could just- get back in Chan’s car then. Drive back to school”, I teased.
“Han Jisung I swear to god I will throw this fucking shovel at you”.
I laughed wholeheartedly, head tilting towards the sky. “Ok ok, I’m sorry. I get it. No leaving allowed, now will you get over here and kiss me already?”.
“No!” she yelped, turning red.
“6 years Y/N, I’m a desperate man”.
“If you don’t shut up I swear to god-”.
#han jisung#han jisung x reader#han jisung imagines#stray kids#skz x reader#enjoy this i guess#this is my first time sharing my writing#be kind pls#i am but a sensitive little person
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Nora Valkyrie, Identity, and Purpose
Hey everyone, Blaire here, and almost exactly a year ago, I made this mess of a post where I laid out all of my thoughts on Nora and what I thought the show could have in store for her.
And honestly, most of my ideas were way off, and not at all correct. Also, the post kind of flopped.
Thankfully, Volume 8 has given me a chance to redeem myself, and write another, more coherent, essay about my favourite RWBY character; where this Volume seems to be taking her character, and what it means to me, personally.
Buckle up.
To the vast majority of people in the RWBY fandom, Nora is the least-developed character, and the one most lacking in dimension. Most of her character seems to be defined by two things; her energy and love for fighting, and her relationship on Ren.
Volume 8 took note of these conceptions, and addressed them head-on.
Of course, any keen-eyed viewer will have noted Nora’s hidden depths even before this volume, which I noticed in last year’s post. She is perhaps the most perceptive of the main cast, at least, when it comes to people’s feelings and relaionships. She was the only one to really comment on Pyrrha’s crush on jaune, and the first to bring up Blake and Yang’s growing relationship. It was also her level-headedness that resolved RNJR’s argument in Volume 4, Chapter 9.
Volume 7 also showed us her innate desire to protect the weak, and her disdain to those who have the power to help, but refuse. I personally get the feeling that this was her driving motivation in becoming a Huntress; to protect people who cannot protect themselves, perhaps because she doesn’t want anyone to have to grow up as she did. Nora’s fury at Ironwood in V7C7 is esepcially signifigant, because it’s the angriest we’ve ever seen her before, even more so in that this anger is directed at someone with much more authority than her.
But these little details were only the tip of the iceberg. These were traits she already had, and while they help to add layers to her character, they’ve done very little in terms of her actual development.
This is where Volume 8 came in stronger than any other.
Volume 7 hinted to us that Ren and Nora’s relationship was beginning to get more complicated, between their bickering, Ren’s dismissiveness at Nora, and their kiss in V7C6. By the end of the volume, it was clear that they were still struggling, despite their clear love for each other. Volume 8 carried this thread along, having them split into different parties, and Nora giving Ren a bit of attitude we’ve not really seen her direct at him before.
She’s frustrated with him, and disappointed that he can’t see what she sees. But despite her tough front, V8C2 then hints that she’s sadder about the split than she’s letting on, after May brings up Nora’s ‘friends’. C3 then brings this to a head, where we get a conversation that sees Nora opening up to Blake and Yang, and revealing a deeply sad truth about herself- that she has no idea who she is without Ren, because she’s spent so much of her life with him and him alone, and her feelings for him have shaped so much of who she thinks she is. We’ve never seen her so hopeless and lost, especially after she reveals that, as far as she’s concerned, all she’s good for is hitting stuff.
Right in these few minutes, the show takes how the audience percieves Nora, and reveals to us that those two core traits are the gateways to a far deeper insight of her character. She’s known for her relationship with Ren, but wait- what about when he’s not there with her? She’s known for hitting stuff, but wait- that’s all she thinks she’s good for.
It’s revealed to us that, not only is this how most of the audience percievs Nora, but it’s how she percieves herself. And for all her energy and upbeat attitude, deep down, she thinks incredibely lowly of herself. For all her confidence in her fighting abilities, she lacks confidence in herself as a person.
Surprisingly enough, the ‘who am I?’ character arc is one that was hardly explored at all up until this point, despite it being one of the most common and signifgant character arcs in fictional media. And I don’t think many of us at all could have imagined that Nora would be the one to get that arc, when she’s always seemed so self-assured on the surface.
And then, when Penny is in need of help, Nora takes Weiss’ advice to heart, and does the one thing she believes she’s capable of- being strong, and hitting stuff.
Nora overcharging her Semblance to take down the wall is seen by a lot of the fandom as some kind of win for Nora; as her ‘big moment’. But while it’s certainly a really cool and badass scene, it was far from a triumph for her.
This was Nora at perhaps her lowest point so far in the series. This was Nora figuring ‘well, if this is all I’m good for, I’ll do it to the extreme’. This was Nora thinking her only purpose was to greatly endanger herself for the sake of others, because she figured she was the only one who could. And she almsot got herself killed for it.
While certainly a defining moment, it was far from triumphant. It wasn’t a win. It was a self-destrcutive act that reflected how little she thinks of herself; that she’s not worth anything unless she’s pushing herself to the limit doing the one thing she thinks she’s good at.
And to drive the knife in harder, it backfires horribly.
Because now she’s bedridden and critically injured, with scars that are probably permanent; a reminder of her lowest point, forever marked on her body. She can’t fight now, can’t help at all, and Salem has launched her attack on Atlas.
And in her half-unconsious state in V8C7, she realizes this, delivering an absolutely heartbreaking line:
As far as she’s concerned, her last attempt at doing what she thinks only she can do- what she thinks is all she can do- has prevented her from doing anything of worth at all. She lost one half of herself when she split from Ren, and now she’s lost the other half too. The two things that she defines herself by are gone. And the worst part is, we don’t know if she’s awar of the fact Salem has begun her attack. We could very well see her fully wake up, only to realize that the world has begun ending while she was unconsious, and she can’t do anything about it.
Now, this scene, and Nora’s struggle in this Volume as a whole, hit home for me in particular.
If you follow me on Twitter, you’re probably aware that Nora is only of my hightest- and only- kins. And I’ve only been able to relate to her more and more after what we’ve got of her in this Volume.
I am chronically disabled. I have a connective tissue disorder known as Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which fucks up my body in a multitude of different ways, but signifigantly affects the joints. For me, it hits worst in my back, ankles, and my fingers. The fingers are my main problem. To make matters worse, I’ve also been victim to intense pains in my shoulder, which came out of nowhere a couple of months ago and have only gotten worse since. The slightest movement aggrevates it. As any follower of mine would know, I am both an artist and a writer. I create both for fun, and I’ve studied writing as a profession. It is these things I’m known for being good at, and not much else.
Thanks to my disability and my shoulder though, I have to do these things less. Even on perscription pain medication, it still hurts. It hurts to write this even now; my shoulder feels like it’s burning up from the inside. It will only get worse over time.
So, I’m finding myself in Nora’s position. I can’t do what I’m good at anymore, and I don’t know what to do with myself as a result. Not doing these things makes me feel lazy and unproductive, and makes me feel that the people around me will abandon me so long as i can’t keep providing them content. And I’ve gotta say, it hurts a lot, and I don’t just mean physically.
Because of what I’m going through, it’s especially important to see my favourite RWBY character just so happening to be dealing with the same problem; the same loss of idenity and purpose. We don’t know who we are or what we’re good for without the things we think define us.
While I’m unsure of my own future though, I find comfort in knowing that Nora’s problem will be tackled and addressed; that her friends will help her to rediscover herself and find her true worth. And while we’ve got a while to go until we’ll be able to see the Volume continue, I’m incredibely excited to see where Nora’s arc goes, especially if we can get some backstory along the way. I find myself wondering if her life before Ren is part of why she thinks so little of herself without him- was it the way she was raised to think? Is this the fault of her childood circumstances? Or is this just something she developed on her own, after becoming too dependant on Ren for comfort?
Whatever answers we get, I have faith that Nora’s story will be told well, and I’m very sure that it’s only just beginning. Even if she finds her worth before the end of the volume, her story won’t be over yet, not when we’ve still likely got at least four more volumes to go after this one.
In just seven episodes, Nora Valkyrie has gone from one of the least developed characters, to one of the most interesting and relatable, at least, in my eyes. There is so much more depth to her character than having a crush on Ren, and being the strong girl who hits stuff. There’s a layer of tragedy to her character that we’re touching upon now, and I’m excited to dive into it.
Thank you all for reading!
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Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 5 of 27: You
Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?
CHAPTER 4
A/N: A chapter from a different perspective! I hope you all like it <3 And thank you so much for your support!! I love you all so muuuuuch!!!
Words: 2300
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!Reader, post-war
Warnings: none
Draco Malfoy wasn’t easy to impress. Being bored quickly by other people was one reason why he never had many close friends – and yes, he knew how utterly arrogant that sounded. It was the truth however. He was friendly with most of the Slytherins but his mother always taught him “Quality over quantity” and he agreed. Draco went so far as to apply that mindset to his love life as well. Yes, before the sixth year of school, he used to like to flirt and he had dated the occasional Slytherin girl. He was also very aware of the fact that there had been quite a few girls with crushes on him. In some cases, he even reciprocated them, however, those feelings faded quickly.
So you couldn’t imagine how much it bothered Malfoy that he wasn’t able to stop thinking of you. Not even in his dreams did you leave him alone and so he kept on going back to that evening on the Quidditch field. Until today, it was entirely unclear to him why he told you all those things. He didn’t know anything about you yet speaking to you left him feeling … good, almost. After a year of trials and coming home to find his family and life in shambles, there was no one left to talk to. No one he wanted to talk to. To whom was he going to turn? His friends which were all coming from the same pureblood Death Eater families? Yes, of course, they understood – and also they didn’t. Not quite. Did you understand him? Probably not, he guessed. After all, you were a Gryffindor and fought on the right side of the war. The winning side. But talking to you felt different, almost easy. You grew up in another world than him and maybe that was the key to it all.
Obviously, Draco didn’t plan on repeating that evening. You were friends with the whole Potter and Weasley bunch. It made it even harder to trust you – how could he be sure you hadn’t already told your Gryffindor friends and were laughing about him behind his back? It was possible. A part of him didn’t want to believe this possibility and another part reminded him of all the times he was disappointed and got hurt by the people around him. It was probably for the best to stay away from you.
Yet he didn’t stop thinking of you. He saw you looking at him in the Great Hall during meals, watched you from walk away when you passed him in hallways and the library. Without noticing it, he always chose a place behind you in class. Draco didn’t understand the urge to be close to you. It was utterly ridiculous for Merlin’s sake. You were a Gryffindor; one of the good ones. He wasn’t. Not at all.
Maybe it was because of the kiss, he wondered at some point. Maybe you hexed him in this moment. Draco knew this theory was very far-fetched but it was the only logical explanation fin his mind. Why else would he keep thinking back to that moment in the storage room? He didn’t deny that you were witty and smart and very beautiful – he wasn’t blind after all – but so were lots of girls. What the hell was so special about you that you wouldn’t leave his thoughts?! It couldn’t be your taste in men as you obviously didn’t have any. At least there wasn’t a reasonable explanation for him for why someone like you would get with someone like the Weasel.
“Draco,” Blaise’s voice pulled him out of this thoughts. “You coming?”
Draco nodded. “Yeah, just a second.”
He got up from the table in their shared dorm, putting his notebook in the drawer of his nightstand. Two months since school started and he had almost filled in all of its pages. Draco started writing during the first trial of his parents last year. It kept him focused and helped him put his thoughts in order. It soon became a daily ritual which helped him stay grounded. Draco carried it around in his bag during the day, using it in between classes and meals. His friends caught him doing it a lot and he was sure they had already guessed what it was. He was glad when they didn’t say anything because in the end, Draco would have rather died before admitting that he was using a diary.
“You’re not wearing a costume!”, Astoria exclaimed when he joined the others in the common room. Pansy, Blaise, Theodore and the Greengrass sisters were already waiting for him.
There was a Halloween party happening in the Room of Requirements tonight and his friends had convinced him to go even though it meant more awkward conversations with Astoria.
“I thought we’re not doing muggle traditions. What are you supposed to be?”, he asked instead, taking in her revealing outfit.
She giggled. “I’m a healer. Or ‘nurse’ as the muggles call it.”
“Ah,” Draco made, thinking that she didn’t look like a healer at all. “I thought Halloween was supposed to be scary?”
Astoria rolled her eyes, before linking their arms with each other. “You’re no fun. Don’t you think I look pretty?”
“Astoria, you can wear a potato sack and still look absolutely stunning.”
That answer seemed to satisfy her and they started making their way towards the exit of the common room. Draco glanced at her from the side. She was, objectively speaking, the perfect match for a Malfoy. Coming from a well-respected and wealthy pureblood family combined with her intelligence and beauty, she was everything his parents could have wanted for him. Especially now.
You had told him what to do. It was such a simple solution to all of his impending problems. However, it had been the moment where Draco had realized that you grew up differently. Not a day went by where he didn’t receive a heartbreaking letter from his mother. He knew, she just wanted the best for him and she didn’t want to manipulate him; she was simply desperate. Desperate for the live they used to have – a husband at home, a son with a promising future, money and a respected place in society.
Draco had asked himself countless times what the marriage would truly mean. His family would have another chance. Together with Astorias family, his future was secured. A good job, maybe even in the ministry if he was lucky. Enough money to take care of his mother. Who knew, maybe his father would be out of Azkaban sooner? Draco marrying Astoria would lessen his families suffering, that was for sure. But did he want that? Did he want a simple and easy solution to make their past crimes … disappear? His family was far from innocent. They had committed horrible crimes in the name of the Dark Lord – and a part of him knew, they deserved everything they got in the end. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they sent his mother and him to Azkaban as well.
When thinking about the engagement, another thought popped into his head. Could he learn to love Astoria? Would he be happy with her? Maybe. Maybe not. Draco knew only one thing for sure – there was a reason why he kept resisting to the whole idea. Giving in felt like sacrificing another part of himself to something his family had burdened him with.
“And Astoria, I disagree,” Blaise once again disrupted his train of thought by joining in from the right. “Draco can quickly make his costume appear. Just roll up your sleeves, Dray, and the Gryffindors will shit their pants on the spot.”
The rest of the group snickered but Draco didn’t react. Instead he suppressed the urge to touch the mark on his left arm and shoved his hand deeper into the pocket of his pants.
***
The Room of Requirement was absolutely crowded.
The Slytherins were surprised by how many people had actually appeared. Almost everyone from the sixth and seventh grade was here, wearing mostly ridiculous costumes. Music roared from invisible speakers, students were dancing and talking loudly.
“I’m surprised that the teachers didn’t already break this up,” Blaise almost had to shout. “Or Filch.”
Draco shrugged. “I feel like they stopped caring this year.”
“Maybe they feel responsible for all those deaths,” Theo suggested.
“So to make up for all the trauma, they allow us to party?”, Blaise concluded with an amused undertone.
“It’s good for us though so stop talking and start drinking,” Pansy chirped and grabbed Draco and Theo by their arms, pulling them towards the table with a few questionable bottles.
When his friends started chatting about the usual Hogwarts gossip, Draco’s eyes started to wander. He was searching the crowd for someone. You. Were you here? Did you even like parties? Draco had no idea. You always looked quite social from what he witnessed.
And there you were – standing in a group of people, listening to Granger who was gesticulating wildly. You were holding a drink and laughing at whatever the other girl told you. Draco noticed from across the room how your eyes were gleaming, your face red from the alcohol. You looked so careless. He swallowed hard at the sight.
“He’s either staring at Weasley, the mudblood or Y/L/N,” Zabini said to the others in that moment. “Don’t know what’s worse.”
Draco needed a second to understand his friends were talking about him. “What did you just say?” He turned to them.
Zabini grinned widely at him. “I said, you’re staring at the Gryffindors again, Draco. It’s fucking weird. What’s your sudden obsession with them?”
Draco quickly glanced at the rest of his friends. Daphne, Theodore and Pansy watched the two of you with a smirk on their lips, maybe even suppressing a giggle. Astoria looked at Draco with a worried expression.
“No, what did you just say?”, Draco repeated his question, straightening up slightly. “What did you call Granger?”
Blaise snorted. “What?”
Draco just stared at him.
“I called her a mudblood,” Blaise gave a half shrug.
“Yeah, what the fuck, Blaise,” Draco spat out.
“Come on, Dray,” Theodore tried to intervene. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is!” He looked at him, visibly disgusted.
“What’s your problem, Draco?”, Blaise raised an eyebrow, shifting from one leg to another. “You called her a mudblood for years and now you suddenly have a problem with it? You’re acting so weird this year, seriously.”
Before Draco was able to reply, Astoria carefully placed her hand on his arm. It took all the strength he had, not to immediately shake her off. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s get you a new drink and calm down.” She pulled him a few steps away from the group.
Draco gritted his teeth, remembering what he had thought about not being able to talk to his old friends. They understood – and also they didn’t.
“Are you okay, Draco?” Astoria asked, still looking slightly alarmed.
Draco looked at her. Did she want to hear an honest answer? “Sure,” he finally said.
She didn’t buy it. “You’ve been acting strange for a while now.”
“I’m really not.”
“Draco,” she reached for his hand. “I know you.”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Can we … can we not talk about this now? Here? With all these people around us?”
“There’s always a reason not to talk so we might as well do it here,” she pressed on.
Draco could think of a thousand different things he’d rather do than talk to her right now. “I’m … I’m not acting strange. It’s just a lot. With my parents and all that.”
Her smile changed from worried to pity. “I understand.” Did she? “That’s why I think we should move on.”
What kind of weird reaction was this? “Move on?”, Draco frowned.
“With our engagement.”
“Right.”
Astoria squeezed his hand. “I don’t see why we can’t just make it official.”
Draco looked at her fingers as if he was searching for a ring that he had forgotten existed. “Because the whole thing isn’t official yet,” he slowly said.
The brunette let go of his hand. “It’s going to happen anyways. My parents won’t stop talking about it and I bet it’s no different for your mother.”
Draco just wanted to get out of this situation. He got dragged here and now it was just one big argument. Why couldn’t they have stuck to gossiping and partying? “Why during school though?”
He saw how Astoria stared at the ground for a moment. When she started speaking again, her voice had become a little colder. “You know, there are a lot of men who would jump at this opportunity. My family is well respected and yours is …”
Draco let out a short whistle. “Thanks, Astoria,”
Astoria was visibly uncomfortable and Draco wondered if she regretted what she had just said. “That’s not how I meant it and you know that, Dray. I just don’t understand why this takes you so long.”
Draco put his hands on hips, pushing his jacket back. “Excuse me if I’m wrong,” he started, “But I’m not exactly your first choice either, am I?”
The girl didn’t answer right away. When she did though, Draco wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what my parents want. Pureblood marriages will happen less and less in the future so we will be a good union.”
“Right,” Draco mumbled with a sad smile. It’s all about the family.
Astoria cleared her throat. “Well, are there any reasons why we shouldn’t move on?”
“Yes, there are.”
This didn’t come from Draco or Astoria. Irritated by the sudden interruption, he turned around to see who had so rudely eavesdropped on the conversation.
You.
***
A/N: Even though I wrote this, I really felt for Draco in this chapter. His life (like so many other characters lives in HP) is so f****** up. Sorry but I can’t find a better word for it. Poor Draco.
Anyways - I hope you liked it!! I’d love to hear what you think <3 I love reading your comments *-* (if you don’t comment or do anything, it’s fine, don’t worry, I just love to read your thoughts <3)
CHAPTER 6
“Choose Me Instead”-Masterlist
HP-Masterlist
Tag List: @writerdee1701, @youareinllve, @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin, @jadam268, @wynterwind, @mina672, @renaissance-confiance, @harpoon999, @doitforthevine67, @rinasrights, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee, @jungjxxhyun, @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @sophia-gwendolyn, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @s4dthrills, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13, @pockitparks, @just-addicted-to-bangtan, @cuddlykoala101, @zpandaqueen, @marvelpeters, @natsiboo, @jjjmaybank, @justmesadgirl, @books-and-tings
If you want to be added to my tag list, let me know <3
#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x y/n#draco x reader#draco x you#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy imagines#draco malfoy x gryffindor#hogwarts imagines#hogwarts imagine#hogwarts#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter imagine#harry potter imagines#slytherin#slytherin fanfiction#slytherin imagines
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SP/so vs SO/sx
Not sure how much this can be generalized since it's only my personal experience. When I was a pre-teen my best friend used to be a so/sx 6w7, while I am 9w1 sp/so. Sp dom vs Sp blind... some stuff went down and it’s fascinating to analyze such differences to me (I feel like I'm fascinated by sp blinds in general wtf).
She was the V immature of the pair, throwing herself in any possible weird experience she could have just for the sake of it. She would always cause so much drama it was legit concerning and I always was on the sidelines, not participating and sometimes suggesting her to stop, but did she listen to me? Never, and also, in some ways, I think I did in fact understand her desire to feel alive and feel stuff and do dumb stuff, possibly in that I am sx-blind and I won't fucking allow myself to do that, while she totally did. I guess, I don't usually pay any mind to my sx-blindness but the only time that it kind of felt like I was missing on something was when I would spend time with her? And also now that I'm actually studying the instictual variants I guess I'm starting to realize it (but also not really there's a shit ton of work to do).
She would always act as if she was the protagonist of some weird 19th romantic novel but, make it dumber (we were 11-12 after all, how smart could we be?).
I deeply, deeply understand her need and wish to be like a novel protagonist. I do think of myself in that way quite often. But while she did it by acting and getting actively involved in stuff, I’ve always done the same by hyper-interpreting my simpler, more boring experiences (9 basic bitch here, feeling attached to something while being withdrawn and out of touch with your body results in amazing fantasy sky castles). She was never satisfied by this.
If she wanted intensity, she would create it by idk, doing some dumb stuff she would for sure later regret. While she went on to feel so alive, I would stay in the back overthinking my more boring life. An example would be that while she actually acted so that everyone around us hated her and shunned her, I would simply feel and think I was being shunned as well, but in practice I would never do something that would elicit a strong reaction out of others. I basically fantasized about it. As you can tell her being a Social Dominant I guess she got the sx juice she wanted through social stuff (her reputation, going against the social system (social 6s often do that)).
In so many ways, if I were to simplify it, she was a mixture of Dorian Gray and Heathcliff and I was Des Esseintes. She was an edgier version of Dorian Gray, wanting to experience everything but make it dark and painful and tormented (a là Heathcliff), not once holding herself back. Des Esseintes, on the other hand, would also feel like a misfit and a tormented soul but he did so by staying inside his house and hyper-interpreting his experiences to an insane degree, until he basically starts to hallucinate. He barely goes outside of his home and when he does everything seems weird, scary, magical in its own way, and while a bit creepy that’s also part of being sx-blind I think? You secretly want that way of feeling alive via the dark things in life (not sure if my fixes have a part in this as idk other 9s may not relate to this maybe) but also you want to go about it safely (sp) and by not exposing yourself (9), so it becomes like wearing a pair of glasses that adds a layer of poetry and beauty and suffering to an otherwise normal, boring and inane reality (again, 9 fantasy shit). But that’s about it. It’s a magical pair of glasses that at times I feel like I can remove and put on at will when I’m bored and I feel like I want more out of life. Outsourcing sx if you will w/o ever acting on this shit.
I relate to Des Esseintes even though he was possibly a sp 4 but whatever I guess...
My old friend, being sp-blind, of course did not feel the same need for “safety” and had nothing to hold her back, really... the 6w7 sp blind brings a lot of energy and a way to never be able to fucking stand still, so yeah... it was so fascinating to see her act that differently from me, but also empathizing with her desire to get MORE out of life and dive into the darker aspects of it. I guess that’s why I sticked with her even when I thought she was being unreasonable and annoyingly melodramatic. Most people would shun her and don’t get her ways and while I can’t say that I got her, I would at least sympathise with her wish to experience more and be dramatic, even if I couldn’t quite elaborate it at the time and I superficially thought she was being too immature (this is so funny, we were fucking 10 and we were already doing instictual stuff with me acting like the adult one idk. Also w1 may play a part in this shit. Me being sp dom felt like I was supposed to check on her but also I didn't really do it because it was fun to tag along with her dumb stuff). But while she had the courage(?) to act on such a wish, I did not - I never had it, and instead compensated by having an hyperactive mental landscape...
There was a Wilde’s quote that went like, “the artist always represents what they themselves cannot live and experience”, or whatever, and I’ve always related to it way too deeply, lmao. I would represent, think, imagine, write the stories, and instead she would actively live them. Also Wilde was a so/sx so I guess that means something
While I may be bitter, because even as a sx-blind I at times feel....... like I want to live and get involved in stuff more? also I guess 9s have a way to dissociate with their life quite easily so that doesn't help (a sx-blind 7 would probably feel like they're getting involved more). Plus possibly having a 5fix makes it worse? it kind of sucks tbfh. Like it feels I've been dissociated since I was 4 yo and never got back to actual earth wtf. 95x sp/so may be the most fucking boring thing on earth + it may bring a neurotic need to keep your little bubble untouched by real life and finding security in that bubble, to the point that you're actually missing out. Idk. I may *do* stuff to make me feel like I'm going around with people more but it doesn't really affect me that deeply so yeah... fuck all of this. It's not even the same as being stuck in your comfort zone? I guess it is but again I may at times challenge myself in some small ways and have new experiences but it's like nothing really reaches me idk.
Again, I usually prefer to go about stuff safely (aka not disrupting my little bubble too much), and in this way, I’ve always had way less regrets than her - so in this, I’m actually fine with my way of playing it safe. I like letting myself wear that pair of glasses when I feel like it and call it a day. I’ve always been content with very little...
Though honestly I’ve not been hanging out with her in years (at least 8 years, wow) and while I do hear from her I can’t say I can get to see how much she’s changed, lol
It was weird, you’d expect that with such a melodramatic friend the break up would be at least as dramatic, instead it has been quite the opposite - we simply slowly stopped reaching out to each other once we had nothing much in common anymore, and something else going on with our lives, lmao...
Also I mistyped her as a 4w3 in the past but it's so funny I got that little about the enneagram and IVs and somehow got her IV right at first try wtf I guess she's just that obvious
#enneagram#enneagram 5#enneagram 4#instinctual variants#so/sx#social instinct#long post#sometimes i say stuff#ennea5#ennea4#enneagram 6#enneagram test#ennea9#enneagram 9#ennea6#ennea 6#ennea 9#sp/so
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BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.9)
[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] [CH.7][CH.8] previous chapters
[CH.10] next chapter (unavailable on tumblr but avaliable on wattpad!)
You wait outside the nurse's office beside Jay in complete silence. You were both waiting for someone to burst out the door in front of you to rest assure Jungwon's condition.
"You can go to class, I'll stay and wait for Jungwon." Jay broke the noiseless lounge as his eyes laid flat on the grim grey floor. You were willing to stick around but realized it would be better if you were to just leave. Jungwon probably wouldn't want to see you after the minor argument. You simply nodded your head and left without another word.
When you had arrived in your astronomy class you carefully explained yourself, explaining Jay would be gone for most of the afternoon. Your teacher listened intently and understood every word well. Sitting in your usual spot, a wave of frustration washes over you once you remember Sunghoon had stolen your book for the class. You could only hope the new interesting concept of the class would jog your mind off of things to which it did. However, as the class came to a close you couldn't help birdwatch Jay's desk. Jay's absence for the entire class continued to make you worry about Jungwon and his condition.
Sending yourself out of the class in a daze, you began to join the trail of the halls. You met Nana and Dahee walking out of their class at the same time to your surprise, "Oh! Y/N!" With an abrupt slide to slow down you let the two girls catch up to you, "Sorry we couldn't eat lunch with you and Hyesun, we went to track tryouts." Nana gleefully explained.
"It's fine, I had detention for half of lunch and then got caught up in something..." Your head going straight back to Jungwon, "We should all be apologizing to Hyesun right now..." Immediately you got reminded about what Hyesun had mentioned to you earlier, "Hey, Dahee... I actually really need to speak to you about something in private." You asked shamelessly.
Nana looked at you both suspiciously but ultimately respected the privacy you desired, "I'll get going to my last class then, girls." She tapped both of your shoulders before joining the flowing current of the hallway.
You went with Dahee to a more private space, under one of the stairwells of the school. "Dahee, Hyesun told me about you and Sunghoon..." You trailed off, hoping you didn't have to say much more as to what you were about to say.
"So you do like him?" Dahee gasped happily to your surprise, "Don't worry I'm not that into him yet... But you should've told us a long time ago!" She nudged you gently in the elbow.
"Yeah! Sorry about that..." You lied with deep despise. You now had to act like you liked Sunghoon and that was the worst feeling ever, "I'll tell you about it later then, you should get going!" You cut the conversation very short so Dahee could both get to her class in time.
"I will! See you!" She waved in a much brighter mood now that you told her you supposedly liked someone for the first time forever.
"Dear Lord, what am I getting myself into?" You muttered furiously. Were you really going the extra mile to protect your friends over some gut feelings? You were literally praying to God that you would receive some sort of reserved spot in heaven for the shadow work you were doing. That is until you were interrupted by a somberly slow clap and a couple of shoes that clacked against the stairs above you.
"Wasn't expecting such a plot twist..." Sunoo came into clear view after reaching the final step at the bottom of the staircase. This was now the second time you were caught being heard by people separate from your plan. "So you didn't like Jungwon, but Sunghoon?!" He giggled in interest and cheap pity. He seemed rather thrilled to overhear your bullshit.
"I..." You could not come up with a reply in fear of both outcomes. By telling the truth or carrying out the lie to people, you were putting yourself in a very sticky situation.
"Dahee and Sunghoon were hitting it off so well the other day, it's a shame you're in the way..." Sunoo made an overly exaggerated glum face to piss you off, "You don't actually like him now, do you?" Sunoo caught on to your intentions, circling around you, "You're just doing it to save her, yes?"
You remained silent, causing Sunoo to stop right behind you where you felt the heat of his body getting closer.
"You're a lot smarter than some girls... It's enticing really... Perhaps that's why the boys are so fond of you?" Sunoo snaked around his arm to have the dull edge of his nail touch the flesh of between your jaw and neck. Slowly he etched a line down until it was right against your throbbing pulse.
You pulled away in shock as to how scandalous the act was, "I need to go... I'm supposed to check on Jungwon." You stepped away to face Sunoo in an abrupt manner.
"I heard about Jungwon's situation from Jay," He held the sharpest part of his chin between his index and middle finger, "Jungwon will just continue to get sick. He's so malnourished."
"Malnourished?" You echoed Sunoo.
"He chose to end up like that." Sunoo walked toward you again but this time passing you, with his shoulder slightly bumping yours, "Don't pity him, darling."
You shuddered. Sunoo was the most mysterious with his hints. He was the hardest to read between the lines with. For some reason, only he out of the boys influenced your thinking pattern.
...
After school and a mediocre meal at dinner, you regretted not at least peeping your head by the nurse's office just once that afternoon. Jungwon had probably been released from health watch but you thought you could've come to terms with him that evening. It was unsatisfying as you didn't feel any closure between the war of words you had with him. What wasn't helping was the stress you also had from Sunghoon.
The daylight vanished rather quick in the colder season of the year and dusk approached rather faster than a candle blowout. Since Sunghoon didn't set a specific time, you just headed out with not a glance at the clock. Your guess was to sneak out as soon as the sun came falling down. Due to the hallway monitors of your school during the late evening, it suddenly became an obstacle you had not planned for. You were confused yourself as to how Sunghoon could sneak out at this time of day, surely sneaking out super late at night was possible but not in the evening. Eventually, you took a trip out of a window on the bottom floor of the dormitory to bypass one of the school monitors.
You were well aware of how idiotic you looked running down the concrete steps and toward the very back of your school where the shadows of the forest shined brightly. You didn't see Sunghoon at all insight which was making your heart thump in fear and anger. There was no way this guy was going to set you up like this? You bit around random parts on the inside parts of your mouth as the sky grew darker every few seconds. With no one around and nothing around to do as you waited for Sunghoon, you approached the line between the woods and open grass field. You began to get deja vu of Jungwon which made you nervous as you felt the same wispy grass tickle at your calves.
"You actually came?" Sunghoon's voice rang in the open air from behind you, scaring the literal hell out of you.
"Y-yes I did." You sighed as to how close you were to exploring that forest, "Let's just get to the point." You turned your head back just for him to be in your personal space, you almost lost your balance trying to add some room.
"Walk with me." He ignored your jump into things while crossing the boundary between the skylight of dusk and the darkness of the woods. With hesitation and no clue as to what was about to go down, you followed him. "What did you want to hear from me again?" He asked carelessly with hands in his pockets as he guided you over a pile of soil and dead leaves.
"Kyungeun." You answered bluntly. "Why is she tied down to you?"
"That son of a bitch. She told you, huh?" He rolled his eyes in dear annoyance, "I guess you could say I have some information about her that would totally diminish her image." He kicked and crunched around a couple of leaves as he dragged his feet. You remembered Jaeyun had told you Kyungeun had secrets, perhaps that was it? Were you allowed to ask him about it?
Making a mental note to ask Kyungeun about it later you brisked forward to the next question, "Okay? But you said she'd be of no use to you when you get your hands on Dahee... What exactly did you mean?" Your heart thumped in loud eagerness as you move behind Sunghoon.
"She doesn't taste as good." Sunghoon paused to have you hear him clearly, "Her blood."
Your face heated up, a vibrant blush sparkling your face before the sickening realization hit you, "D-don't tell me..." The horror spreading like wildfire in your body from your head downwards. You were frozen to the very core as all the puzzle pieces came together. All the times including the gash on Kyungeun's neck, the warnings Sunoo gave, and Heeseung licking your hand... It wasn't just Sunghoon who was a vampire, it was all of the boys...
What Sunghoon faced you with a gentle eyes he withdrew the small book from inside his blazer, making your ankles shake. "I suppose you'll know why I took this now." He shook the book before throwing it in front of you with pity. You simply watched the book plop on the bed of dead leaves before your shoes in no ability to process or produce words. You didn't even feel like picking up the book as you were afraid of reading it's horrific contents.
"W-well you won't be getting your hands on Dahee any time soon." You tremble with a paralyzing fear as you tried to speak. You were regretting the bold comment, for fuck sakes the boy standing before you could kill you right then and there.
He stepped closer and closer to which you stepped further and further. "Well, then I guess I'll keep Kyungeun under my power until the day she dies." His scornful laugh made you shudder painfully. In full defeat, you were sincerely helpless. You felt you couldn't run nor report the boys, who would ever believe you? You began questioning how you even got in this position.
"Wh-why does it have to be them? Can't you just live without blood?!" You cried pathetically as you backed into a hard tree.
"And end up like Jungwon?" Delight crept onto Sunghoon's white face as yours grew in confusion, "He hasn't drunk blood in months, he's so weak to the point where he can't even stand sometimes..." Sunghoon went on to speak his mind, "Heeseung and I were convinced he was messing around you for your blood."
Your eyes shot wide open in disbelief, "Well he's clearly not like you if he's abstaining from blood."
"It's true... Something changed in him recently after he started talking to you. Perhaps he has fallen for a mortal?"
"Go to fucking hell." You muttered at a volume that wasn't loud enough for Sunghoon to hear.
"As soon as I sensed your presence that day in the library, I knew you would fall down this rabbit hole." He hummed while bending to have your eyes both at the same level. "Curiosity killed the cat."
You held your tongue with no desire to respond to Sunghoon as the closeness was now more than dangerous. But your muted self only gave Sunghoon the opportunity to proceeded to taunt you. He began caging you against the tree, causing you to press up against the rough wood where you couple feel every detail of the bark on your back.
"I remember Heeseung telling Jaeyun and I about just how good the blood from finger tasted... How about a deal?" He caught your attention as you met eyes with him. A full set of upper teeth being exposed between his rosy lips. If there was one thing you had been taught by the caregivers of your school, it was to never make deals with the devil. You knew exactly what kind of bargin Sunghoon had in store for you "I'll leave your friends in peace if you promise me this," He said with a small lean forward so that his chin rested on your collarbone earning a gasp from you,
"You'll give me your blood in exchange for theirs."
#enhypen au#enhypen x reader#enhypen fanfic#enhypen ot7 fanfic#jungwon fanfic#yang jungwon fic#heeseung fanfic#lee heeseung fic#jay fanfic#park jongseong fanfic#jake fanfic#sim jaeyun fic#sunghoon fanfic#park sunghoon fic#enhypen fic#kim sunoo fic#sunoo fanfic#niki fanfic#nishimura riki fic
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5 times tony comforted Peter and the one time Peter comforted Tony
This is for @bluesweatshirt for the friendly neighborhood exchange!
(also i’m really sorry i couldn’t add in a cut off on mobile)
________________
1.
Peter wasn't a sad person.
He wasn't too sad when his parents didn't come home from their business trip. Yeah, he was sad when Ben died- he died in front of him for god’s sake- but he didn’t show it, he sucked it up and helped May with the new struggles with money.
Peter wasn't sad, no. He was tired though.
God, he was so tired.
It had been two weeks since homecoming night and Peter was catering between not being able to sleep at all and waking up every night from nightmares.
This night was different, though.
Because for some reason… Mr Stark was in his nightmare.
It was never anyone but peter. Always Peter stuck under rubble, falling from a plane, stuck in the fire. Never anyone else so why now would it be Mr Stark?
That wasn’t exactly the first thought on his mind when he woke up.
___________
Peter woke up with a start, breath stuck in his chest, tears already escaping his eyes.
He threw the covers off him, needing to be free from the confines, before reaching for his phone.
He’s hurt, mr stark’s hurt and he can't help him- oh god he can't save him-
“Hello?” Mr Stark’s groggy voice shook him out of his thoughts.
“Mr Stark?” Peter asked, almost scared for any reply.
“Pete? You okay?” His mentor’s voice took on a new tone. Worry mixed with… something.
“Yeah, sorry, i just- I’m sorry for waking you- I’ll hang up now-”
“Peter. Are you okay?” The question made him want to cry, made him want to curl up and let it all out with how safe it made Peter feel.
“Yeah I’m-” he took a breath, “I’m fine,”
He could tell the billionaire knew he wasn’t, “Okay, well you might as well help me anyway,”
“Help you?”
“Yeah, i've been up for hours trying to figure this problem out,” He lied.
“O-okay”
The mechanic explained the problem to him, Peter letting the words wash over him, breathing through the explanation. He pretended not to notice when Mr Stark didn't ask for his thoughts, when he reminded him to breathe every now and then, just letting his words soothe the kid from the evident panic attack he’d just gone through.
God, he was so out of his element.
Maybe this was a good thing- maybe it was good for him to comfort this kid- this kid who he barely knew. Just for tonight, only tonight.
2.
Tony was tired. No, scratch that- he was fucking exhausted.
He was pretty much ready to drop on that wednesday, ready to curl up in his king size bed and sleep for 16 hours straight.
And yeah, maybe he forgot it was lab day.
Peter walked- more like stumbled- through the lab doors, somehow racing and also shuffling to his seat, dropping his bag with a thud and sitting in his chair in almost the same manner.
Peter’s hair was messy, curls more unruly than usual, and Tony would bet that if he could see the kid’s eyes, they wouldn’t look healthy.
“Hey kid,”
No answer.
“You okay?”
A delay, then a slight nod. Peter still hadn’t put anything in front of him, just simply sitting at the desk.
“You wanna skip lab day today?”
Peter’s head shot up, eyes wide and concerned. And yeah, Tony was right, he had dark bags under his eyes.
“What? Is something wrong? Do you need me to leave?” Tony raised a hand to stop him.
“No- no- I mean more like…” He didn’t know how he was going to say this, “I’m pretty tired right now, do you wanna just order a pizza and chill out on the couch?”
Peter looked at him suspiciously, before nodding, already getting up and heading to the other room.
Yeah, tony thought to himself, you’re doing okay
.
______--
Peter was passed out on the couch within 5 minutes, remote laying in his limp hand and head lolled to the side awkwardly.
Tony brought the pizza in, setting the boxes down on the coffee table and gently shook Peter awake.
“Hey, kid,” He whispered as Peter woke up, matching the tone to the dark room, “You wanna have something to eat? Or at least get into more of a comfortable position,”
Peter nodded groggily, sitting up so Tony could sit next to him, legs touching as Peter moved closer. Tony raised his arm up and around the back of the couch, resting on the teenager’s shoulders and allowing him to relax into the billionaire.
Tony put a random star wars film on the tv, letting it drift into background noise as the kid fell asleep next to him.
For years, Tony had been scared of fucking a future kid up, becoming his father and eventually pushing everyone away. Somehow, now, his fears have receded, his mind reassuring him repeatedly.
He trusts you. You’re doing okay.
3.
Peter woke up under rubble.
No, no, this wasn’t a nightmare. The air was too thick, dust invading his airways. He choked on it as he took a breath. It was too dark, way too dark, the rocks were crushing him, piercing his skin in multiple places. He groaned with the weight, reaching for his watch instinctively.
He pressed the side button three times, letting red light illuminate his surroundings and trying to breathe with the rubble pushing down on his chest.
His watch lit up blue, and Tony’s voice started speaking through it.
“Peter? Pete- you there?”
“Y-yeah I’m here” He choked out, a waver in his voice.
“Okay, how are you feeling, kid?”
“I- The rubble- it’s crushing me- i can’t-” His breath started to speed up at the reminder, panic invading his senses.
“Kid- kid! You gotta calm down, okay? We’re getting you out now, i promise- we’re gunna get you out real soon- but you gotta calm down for us to do that, okay?”
Peter made an affirmative noise, closing his eyes and trying to even out his breaths. His memories were resurfacing much quicker than he could cope with and Tony’s voice was only helping slightly. Peter didn’t know what he was saying, letting the noises meld together in his mind as he calmed himself.
After a few minutes- or hours, he didn’t know- he’d calmed down somewhat, finally able to focus on the voice coming out of his watch.
“We’re getting you out of there now, kid. You’re doing so good for me, Pete- just keep breathing for me, okay?”
With the panic receding now, Peter was much more aware of his surroundings. He was also aware of the fact that his brain was slowing down, unable to process things as quickly as he normally could. There was a reason for that in the back of his mind but he couldn’t reach it.
There was something wet underneath him, soaking up into his clothes, he didn’t like that. He wanted to move away from it but only made it hurt worse when he tried- he cried out in pain.
“T-tony!”
There was a scuffle on the other end of the line- “Yeah, pete? You okay?- what’s happening?”
“T’ny- t- tony! T’y please- g’t me out- please- please- i- i can’t-”
“Peter- what’s happening?”
“H’rts- my- my chest- there’s- it’s-” The panic was back now, confusing him even more than before, “S’mthing- und’r- something wet- under me- t’ny please-”
“Shit- Peter- Pete- breathe, okay kid? Breathe for me. We’re gunna help you,”
Peter took a breath, then another, and another, steadying his heart before whimpering when the rubble shifted, “Kid, we’ve almost got you. I need you to stay awake, okay? We’re gonna get to you soon but you gotta stay awake so you can tell us if we move the wrong thing, okay?”
Peter made an affirmative noise again, wanting nothing more than to move away from the pain, but listening to Tony.
Tony talked again a while later, surprising Peter when he did.
“Pete? You still awake for me, bud?”
“Y-yeah im- im here,”
He heard Tony breathe out slowly, “That’s good, Pete. We’re only a few feet away from you, but the next thing we’re going to move is gunna shift some stuff, okay? Tell us if it hurts you, okay, kid?”
“Okay- I’ll tell y’u”
He waited a few seconds, hearing some movement to his side, before the rubble shifted and his legs screamed in pain. He only let out a grunt, not wanting to stop the team’s efforts, and only a moment passed before he saw his father figure knelt down beside his head, cradling it with one hand. He smiled up at him.
“T-tony-” He sobbed.
Tony nodded, “Yeah, yeah, kid, i’m here now. Sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner but I got you now, i promise. You did so good for me, bud,”
“Good?” Peter’s eyes were closing now, relishing in the relief of pain after hours of panic.
“So good, kid. I’m so proud of you for staying calm. You can sleep now, okay? Let us do the rest.”
He smiled up at his mentor again, letting his eyes close and his body relaxed as his mind gave in to the not-so-distant pull of sleep.
4.
Tony woke up that morning to a call from midtown tech.
Of course, he was confused as to why Peter’s school would call him at midday on a random tuesday.
“Is this Tony Stark?” The caller sounded dubious- doubtful.
“Yes, it is,”
“This is Julia calling from midtown tech. Are you the emergency contact for Peter Parker?”
“One of them, yes,”
“Would you be able to pick Peter up soon?” Tony was already getting some more presentable clothes on, worried as hell.
“Yes, of course. Can I ask why?”
“To be completely honest with you, Mr Stark, I don't even know. There’s a police officer in there with him right now, and that’s all i know.”
Tony froze. A police officer could only mean two things, and Tony didn’t like either option.
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” And with that, he hung up.
Peter practically fell into his arms when he walked into the office. Tony instinctively went to cradle the back of his head as he processed everything that was happening. One of those things being that Peter was crying.
Peter was crying.
He wrapped his arms around the teenager more firmly as the police officer stepped toward them.
“Mr Stark, I’m officer Langford,” Tony nodded curtly towards him, waiting for an explanation.
“You may want to sit down for this,”
It took some time for Tony to maneuver Peter into a more comfortable position on the couch in the corner, the kid not wanting his mentor to see his face- in fear?- but they got there in the end.
The officer sat down in a chair opposite them, “I’m sorry to tell you this but this morning May Parker was involved in a car accident, she was rushed to the hospital but unfortunately, she was pronounced dead on arrival-” Peter held him slightly tighter, “We called you here because you were Peter’s second emergency contact, and in situations like these, we need a temporary home for him. If you agree, you can take him home now, and if not we can move him to a separate-” Tony held a hand up to cut him off.
He moved the hand back down to rub across Peter’s back, meant to be a soothing gesture but somehow made him more tense.
“I’ll take him now, and i can sort out the paperwork for a… longer arrangement soon,” Officer Langford nodded before wishing them well and leaving, but Tony didn’t pay any notice, his mind too caught up in what just happened.
It wasn’t caught up in May’s death, somehow in the back of his mind, he knew, he knew that police officers didn’t just show up at a kid’s school for no reason. He wouldn’t have been called if it was anything else.
No, it wasn’t caught up with that.
It was caught up with the fact that Peter- his kid, his Peter- upon hearing Tony’s agreement to take him in- he lost all tension in his body. As if he was relieved, as if he feared Tony would leave him, as if he would abandon the kid he’s grown so close to lately.
Tony couldn’t process it.
“Hey, kiddo, can you look at me please?” Peter minutely shook his head, burrowing into Tony’s shirt even closer than before. His tears had long since stopped, now just seeking comfort from the billionaire.
“We’ve gotta be clear about some stuff, okay, bud? Just a few minutes and then we can go back to whatever this is,” Tony wasn’t good at this.
But, still, Peter pulled back from their embrace, head turned down towards his legs.
“Kid-” Tony was stuck for words, “i want you to know that you can stay with me for as long as you like, okay? If it’s just for this week, for a while or if it’s for the rest of your life, okay? I need you to understand that i’m going to stick with you through all of it, anything you need from me, I’ll get it for you,” He took a breath, “You’re not alone in this,”
Peter crumpled.
As if against his own command, his body surged forward, arms clumsily reaching for his father figure, breaths coming through as gasps, head still downturned.
But still, Tony caught him.
__________
Tony took Peter back to the tower, he set him up in his room, gave him food and sent him to bed. He figured they’d deal with talking about it tomorrow, after some good sleep and a long fucking think about how Tony feels about this kid.
That went to shit at around 4am.
Tony was up on his feet before he could process the scream, legs rushing him to the only inhabited room on his floor. Pushing the door open and hoping for the worst.
He really didn’t expect to see Peter in the corner, bed sheets crumpled around his feet, breaths barely present.
He kneeled down a few feet away, unsure about whether Peter needed him close or not. But upon seeing the kid reach out a trembling hand towards him, he surged forward, pulling the teenager into his arms.
“It’s okay, whatever it is, it’s okay, we’re safe. I’ve got you.” He repeated in hushed whispers, rocking the two of them back and forth.
It was only a few minutes later when Peter responded to him, breathing normally now, hand clutching his mentor’s shirt as he mumbled into his chest.
“Couldn’t- couldn’t save y’u- i- i can’- can’t do i’- pl’se t’ny-”
Tony hushed him.
Peter repeated the mantra for another- god, tony didn’t know how long- until tony was finally able to hush him. The billionaire carefully picked him up, walking him the few feet over to the bed and laying him down in it.
Tony hesitated by the door, before hushing his brain of all negative thoughts, turning off the light and retreating back into the teenager’s bedroom. He climbed into the bed with the kid, curling up next to him- relieved when Peter immediately turned to cling to his chest.
Slowly, he fell asleep.
5.
To say Peter was worried about this mission was an understatement. Him and Tony were going undercover together and honestly… it was already awkward.
The thing is, Peter wouldn’t have any trouble going undercover normally but now, they were going in as father and son.
There was this guy- this villain they’d started calling the ‘poisoner’- who was targeting father and son couples, poisoning the son and leaving the father with the body until they were found. They’d tried everything to arrest the guy but… he kept getting away- going undercover was the only option- the last ditch attempt before the avengers started knocking on doors.
It was weird how Peter was more scared to act like Toy was his dad, when he could actually die if the other guy got the upper hand.
_______________
They were sat in the hotel room, waiting.
They saw the guy- the poisoner- earlier at the bar. He’d followed them all night, back to their room but… he hadn’t pushed his way in, always staying just too far away to be apprehended by Tony.
It took a few hours for there to be a knock at the door, Tony standing up and casting a quick look at Peter before going to answer it.
He opened the door to see him- the guy- the poisoner- dressed up as a waiter or something, pushing a cart in front of him.
“Can i help you?”
He smiled, “Room service, sir,” He started pushing his way past Tony.
“I’m sorry, but we didn’t order room service,”
The poisoner turned around quickly as he heard the door blow shut, quickly pulling Tony into a headlock and facing Peter, who was frozen in the shock of it all.
“Now I’m going to say this one time only,” He ignored Tony struggling in his hold, pulling out a gun from his waistband, “There’s handcuffs under the cart. You’re going to cuff yourself to the bed or I’ll blow your dad’s brains out,”
Peter moved slowly, sliding off the bed and keeping his hands visible. The man was the same height as Tony and didn’t look much bigger than him. Tony should be able to get out of his hold easily- there was a reason he couldn’t- and now he had a gun to his head.
He reached under the tablecloth, feeling the cold metal and pulling out three sets of handcuffs. He moved over to the bed again, cursing the hotel for having actual bed posts, and cuffed his left wrist to the bed, laying down on it to make himself more comfortable.
The man then pushed Tony away from him, pointing the gun at Peter this time and making fear rush through him, “Now you- cuff his other hand to the bed,”
Tony hesitated, making the man cock the gun, and Tony then quickly moved towards Peter, efficiently cuffing the teenager’s wrist, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance that didn’t do much to reassure him.
“Pull the chair away from the desk,” The poisoner commanded, “And cuff your hands behind it,”
Tony did so immediately, not risking Peter’s safety again. Only once he was situated did he start talking.
“You know you’re going to regret this,” The poisoner laughed.
“You really think so, do you? I know you’ve got this room bugged, i know the avengers are probably on their way here. But I’m here to send a message,”
“And what message is that?”
He paused, pulling the lid off the metal plate he brought in on the cart, it revealed a neat line of six vials, all full of a blue liquid.
“You need to pay for what you did,”
__________
As it turns out, the poisoner doesn't actually inject the poison.
No, that would be too merciful.
Tony’s handcuffed to the chair he’s sat in, facing the bed. The same bed of which Peter, his kid, the teenager who he’d grown to care for so much in the past year or two, was handcuffed to in an ironic parallel. Father and son. Mentor and mentee. Tony, the merchant of death, destined to lead anyone he comes into contact with to a gruesome fate.
Peter happened to be that person.
Tony remembered the first few days after the fight with the rogues, how he regretted taking Peter with him, knowing he was going to ruin the kid. The few months after had only solidified that claim, and so he’d taken the suit.
There was no way he was getting out of the situation now.
The poisoner- that son of a bitch tony was going to kill as soon as he could get out of this damn chair-
The poisoner, had strapped a mask to the teenager’s head, slowly screwing in a vial of that fucking liquid on either side.
And now he was breathing it in- the gas- the poison that Tony just sat there as he’d been strapped down.
Now, Tony thought it was bad enough when he’d had all those thoughts running through his head, memories of Peter before they’d gotten to know each other, before Tony had taken him in. He thought that had been bad enough.
But no, it was so much worse when all those thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt.
Because Peter had just turned his head, linking eyes with Tony, a desperate plea moving between them.
Because Peter was scared- he looked terrified.
There were unshed tears laying in his tear ducts, enough to easily see as you looked at the kid. His lips barely visible within the mask but from what Tony could see, they were held in a strained frown, lips being bitten.
Peter moved his head towards his mentor, linking eyes with the man. And that, right there in that moment, was when the teenager let go.
“T-tony-” A sob cut him off, choked out between his lips.
“T-tony please- i can’t- i don’t-” Tony shushed him from where he was sitting.
“Kid- Pete- I-” Tony was speechless, all known reassurances dying in his throat as soon as he’d thought of them, what were you supposed to say to a kid who was dying and you couldn’t do anything about it?
“Tony- please- dad- i can’t-” that kicked his instincts into gear.
“Kid, you need to stop talking, okay? The team’s going to get here soon, they’ll get this shit out of you and you’ll be okay, then you can tell me whatever you need to when you’re better, okay?”
Peter nodded, eyes still wide with tears but he listened to the billionaire. and somehow, that made it so much worse, the kid would follow him into fire if he asked him to, and now Tony got him into this situation.
Tony wanted nothing more than to look away from what was happening, as Peter breathed in the poison, helpless to do anything, but he couldn’t not be there for the kid. He needed his father figures comfort.
“he’s right, the teams gunna get here soon, i don’t know when but we’ll get you out of this as soon as we can, and then we can spend a week watching all of the star wars movies, and the clone wars if you want, anything you want kid”
The poisoner was sat in the corner of the room, on the other bed. He was watching them, watching Tony desperately give his kid comfort without being able to touch him.
Tony looked at him, “you’re a fucking psychopath, you know that, right? he’s 16, he’s just a kid. why don’t you kill me instead if you want me to pay so much, huh?”
The poisoner chuckled, standing up to walk over to them, “If you die, you wouldn’t feel the pain i did as my kid died in front of me, i’m going to make you watch as your kid suffocates in front of you”
He got two new vials, replacing the almost empty ones. Peter’s wheezing had gotten a lot more prominent now, trying desperately to bring in air.
Tony’s always been around death, it greets him at every corner. but every time, someone else dies instead of him, or at least, they come close to it.
He doesn’t know what he’d do if Peter dies.
______________
He’d already changed to the last set of vials now, Peter's breath was barely there.
Tony was fucking terrified, obviously.
The team was close, he was sure of it, but that had been what he’d been telling himself the whole time.
They were barely minutes out by his assumptions, but he didn’t know if Peter had minutes, vials nearly empty as the liquid in them turned to gas for the teenager to breathe in, slowly suffocating him.
He was still facing Tony, eve after this long, still trusting him to save him. Even as his body could barely pull in breaths, eyes drooping, they didnt stray from his face.
“Peter, you gotta keep your eyes open, i know it’s hard, i know- but you’ve gotta stay awake for just a few more minutes. We’re gunna help you, but you just gotta stay awake,”
Peter looked at him sadly, but his eyes stayed open and Tony counted that as a win. He started to say something but Tony shushed him quickly.
“It’s okay, kid. Don’t try to talk. We’ve been over this already, you can talk to me after the team gets here- star wars marathon and everything, remember?”
Peter’s eyebrows creased inwards, and Tony’s heart dropped. Either he just forgot about that whole part of their conversation or… or…
“You just gotta stay awake for me, okay? I believe in you kid, dont let me down,”
_______________
The door seemed to explode inwards when the team got there, Tony didn’t look up.
He didn’t look up as they arrested the poisoner, Bruce and sam moving to Peter, while two others moved to get Tony out of the seat he was in.
As soon as the handcuffs were undone, he surged forward, one hand reaching for the kid’s- which now rested on the bed after being released- and the other going to rest in his curls. Tony quickly wiped the tears off the kid’s face, staying away from his mouth as the others tried to give him as much oxygen as he needed.
Peter choked on a sob when he realised Tony was there, mouth slightly upturning even as another oxygen mask was placed over his face.
“I’m here kid. I’m so proud of you for staying awake, okay?” He looked to bruce, as the man looked away from Peter’s vitals, nodding to Tony now, “You can go to sleep now, I’m so proud of you kid, it’s okay,”
Peter’s eyes didn’t leave him, even as he fell asleep.
Tony cried as he was carried away.
__________________
Peter woke up in the medbay. That was his first sign that something bad happened.
The next sign was his mentor-father-figure-dad asleep on the side of his bed.
Peter’s eyes widened as he saw the tear tracks lining his cheeks. Tony never cried, not even when he dropped an engine on his foot that one time. If Tony was crying now, this- whatever it was that happened- it was bad bad.
“Tony?”
Tony startled awake, as if he meant to be on guard, and took one look at the kid in front of him before reaching for Peter and bringing him into his arms.
“Oh my fucking god, kid. Holy shit, you’re okay. Oh my god-”
“Tony what happened?” Was the teenager’s muffled answer, not complaining about being smothered in his da- Tony’s shirt.
“There was this- this guy we went after- had to go undercover and he got to us and he poisoned you, kid- and i couldn't- i couldn't do anything about it- i just sat there and you- you did so good-”
Peter shushed him as the memories arose in his mind, “Tony, can i talk for a second?” He received a nod in reply, “You called the team, Tony. I didn’t, you did. They got there in time and now I’m okay, aren’t I? You did everything that you could, if anything i should've done something, I’m the one with powers here. No- i know- i couldn’t have done anything but you were there the whole time telling me to stay awake and i did, Tony, because of you.”
Tony didn’t say anything, seemingly processing what the kid said. He looked up slowly, tears falling down his cheeks, leaning forward and pulling the kid into a hug again.
Slowly, Peter got tired, nearly falling asleep in Tony’s arms. So, of course, Tony moved into the bed with him, pulling the kid to rest his head against the man’s chest.
“I got you, kid, don’t worry. You can go to sleep,” Peter didn’t know if Tony was reassuring himself or the kid.
Stil, nonetheless, Peter seemingly couldn’t hold back from murmuring a last thought as he fell asleep.
“Love you, dad”
Tony froze for a moment before replying, “Yeah, i love you too, kid,”
#irondad#spiderson#peter parker#tony stark#friendly neighborhood exchange#whump#fluff#poison#nightmares#comfort#hurt/comfort#daniel writes
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An small sampling of fucked up shit in PatB
Incomplete because these are just the moments I remembered off the top of my head without actively LOOKING for things in each episode.
I have also not seen many episodes in the last season despite being a big fan. It be like that sometimes.
Also including moments that are not actually fucked up but I wanted to mention them for other reasons.
0: The entire plot of the show is Brain wanting to take over the world. He’s portrayed as a megalomaniac who wants power but the show reinforces time and time again that his motivations are Brain is super angry at humanity fucking up the Earth but politically as well as environmentally and thinks he can do a better job if he just ran the damn thing himself. (And yet often his plans include extreme environmental damage like melting the ice caps and stuff. Go figure.)
1: Brain recounts his childhood days as a lab mouse, his water bottles filled with copyright dodging Snapple (a cooldrink), Chanel No. 5 (a perfume), DDT (a pesticide which has been outlawed since the broadcast of this episode due to its intensely harmful effects on the environment) and ALAR (a plant growth regulator used on apple trees which was outlawd in the 80s due to it being an incredibly high cancer risk in people who eat the apples afterward)
jfc
2: That time Brain lured some of the fieldmice around the lab into the lab specifically so he could test a nightvision serum on them before taking it himself.
(I actually like this episode because it turns out the mice are Brain’s parents (because cartoons) and it turns into a story about having parents who expect you to live up to impossible expectations and if your parents fail to live up to your expectations for how parents to be you need to accept that about them and stop trying to force a relationship with them in a way it cannot exist. It’s weirdly touching seeing Brain listening to Pinky give advice but if I list every moment I like in the show which is like this we’ll be here all day)
3: That time PETA broke into the lab and “freed” Pinky and Brain by dropping them in a jungle where they had no hope of survival and the episode turned into a parody of Heart of Darkness.
Also Pinky kills and eats a whole ass wild boar.
4: The episode where Pinky and Brain find and for a short period raise a baby Clark Kent (Because WB owns the rights to Superman so they could just do shit like this) It ends with the mice agreeing to make a scrapbook
5: That time Pinky and Brain had a son together. Just... this whole episode. From Pinky calling La Leche League International [ La Leche League International is a non-governmental, nonprofit organization that organizes advocacy, educational, and training related to breastfeeding. ] to the rather liberal use of “Oh my Lord” and “For God’s sake” which is pretty far up there in “PG things you’re not allowed to say in kids’ cartoons) to Romy referring to Brain and Pinky as “My two dads” to Pinky ending the episode after the ‘tomorrow we try to take over the world’ line with “Not tonight Brain, I have a headache”
fsdfkjdshfk how did this episode get approved???
6: The neighbour who lives in the dilapidated house next door to Acme labs (because of cartoon reasons) thinks Pinky is”the Missus” of the lab and has a crush on him (and tries to have an affair with Pinky because he thinks Pinky and Brain are married WHICH I MEAN....). Something Pinky finds immensely uncomfortable. For some reason this is a continuity detail they kept throughout the show, with the neighbour coming across as a bit of a stalker and it’s weirdly not played for laughs. It’s just strangely threatening and uncomfortable.
7: the anti smoking episode where the lab got Brain addicted to Nicotine. This episode was made directly to criticise the ‘Joe Camel’ character used by Camel brand cigarettes which was targeted at children trying to get them addicted to cigarettes at an early age. This was a real thing that happened and we don’t talk about it enough.
8: I mentioned the extremely messed up episode where they travel into the future to meet their future selves a whole TWO YEARS INTO THE FUTURE) but I didn’t mention this in the previous post because I wanted the screenshot. But please enjoy Pinky’s surgical scar. You’re welcome I guess.
Oh for fuck’s sake while getting the screenshot I got a line from Pinky making fun of Brain’s floppy left ear and how he “Can’t get it up any more” AAHJSAGJHGFJFGDSJHFPLEASE
9: That time Brain yelled at Pinky that he was completely worthless so Pinky sold his soul to Satan so Brain could take over the world and Brain had to go to hell to get him back. (in case you were curious, Hell is located underneath the DMV)
10: This screenshot which I once posted to facebook and a friend of my replied with “We all see who the big spoon really is” and that’s a phrase burned right into my fucking cortex.
Anyway so that’s just the ones I can remember.
This show is a fucking trip. Try rewatching it sometime. Season 1 is probably what you think the show is like but get past that and HOO BOY.
This was just the “things you probably forgot” post. I could make a whole different post about “they really did that” episodes but honestly... idk I’m not sure anyone really cares about a cartoon from 1995 and it makes me weirdly self conscious. Like I’m one of those internet people whose tastes and interests stagnated in the mid 90s and I really don’t want to come across like that or fall into that trap. As I feel it’s very unhealthy to not explore and look into newer media and content and stagnating in cartoons ONLY from your own early childhood dooms you to irrelevance.
So idk if I’ll really talk about this more. But I wanted to make this post at least.
#Pinky and the Brain#PatB#long post#image heavy#these posts take a while to make so feel free to drop me a ko-fi if you want
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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 2 (Nessian)
Damnation Series
Parts 1 / 3 / 4 / 5
_____________________________________________________
~Nesta~
The day after meeting my fiancé, I drop Alexei off at the plane, tell him goodbye, and drive further down the tarmac to where Cassian’s waiting in a completely different private plane.
Very environmentally conscious, our lifestyle
The stairs are unfolded, so after making sure my luggage is transferred over, I head inside.
Cassian’s waiting, sipping bourbon despite the fact that it’s nine in the morning.
He’s dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black long sleeve t-shirt that makes the tattoos on his hands and knuckles seem even more pronounced. He seems more comfortable now than yesterday.
Like he’s not trying to fit into the mold of a respectable gentleman in a suit.
He looks over as my heels click against the floor, eyes dragging up my legs, pausing at my chest, and scanning my face.
“Hey,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t know what else to say.
My lips twitch as I slide into the seat across from him, staying silent for now to throw him off.
As expected, he shifts in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable.
Then, like he realizes what I’m doing, he narrows his eyes. “You realize that a woman who just sits there, looks pretty, and doesn’t argue is pretty much a man’s dream, right?”
A smile tugs at my lips, but I sigh like I’m not the least bit amused. “Good morning, Cassian.”
His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to determine the proper response for such a ground-breaking conversation opener.
He finally decides on: “You don’t have an accent.”
“Not when I speak English.”
Alexei, the hypocritical bastard, said English should sound like English and Russian should sound like Russian.
“Do you speak any other languages?” he asks, apparently not having looked in my file. He’s probably trying to figure out if his secret conversations with his fellow countrymen are safe.
“I speak Italian, since that’s what you really want to know.”
He grins, playful light in his eyes. “I think I’d like to hear that.”
An amused laugh escapes me at that, but I give him what he wants as I murmur, “Sono sicuro che lo faresti.” I’m sure you would.
His eyes seem to darken, and I roll my eyes. Men.
“I speak a little Russian, but not much,” he tells me. Considering I, unlike him, I did my homework, I already knew that.
Done with this conversation, I close my eyes and attempt to sleep. A plan that goes out the window when Cassian says confidently, “I usually only speak Italian when I fuck.”
I know he’s trying to feel me out, get a rise out of me, so I keep my voice completely deadpan as I reply, “Interesting. I tend to choose French.”
He laughs, face splitting into a humongous, goofy-looking grin. “Now that, I can’t wait to hear.”
Ah, yes. Because the idea I won’t sleep with him is unthinkable.
To me, too, but at least I’m not an asshole about it. Time to humble him a bit.
I feign like I’m not attracted to him in the slightest as I make a show of looking him over. “I never said you would, tupitsa.”
Before he can respond to me calling him a dumbass, I close my eyes and go to sleep.
~Cassian~
My fiancé passes out in a matter of seconds. It’s a little impressive, honestly. One second she’s teasing me with the thought of French whispers under silk sheets, the next she’s dead to the world.
I, unfortunately, am stuck on the first part.
Fuck, she’s hot.
It’s an effortless sort of beauty, considering she isn’t wearing makeup and her hair appears to be naturally blonde and straight.
Regardless, she looks like she just stepped off a runway.
Delicate bone structure, fierce eyes, full lips that sounded so good saying my name it took me a moment to formulate a response.
Distracting curves, sweeping hips, long legs that are currently crossed and allowing the slightest hint of lace at the top of her stocking to show.
My dick takes notice of that site, and I remind the greedy bastard she’s a Russian--an enemy--but he doesn’t seem to care. Nope, he wants me to peel those stockings down. With my teeth.
What’s somehow hotter than even her choice of legwear is the fact that she isn’t doing it on purpose. She’s completely relaxed, asleep for God’s sake, not trying to seduce me.
I grit my teeth and look out the window.
Like every other time I fly, I get restless after about ten minutes. I pull out my phone and make sure everything’s ready for when we land, work on my laptop for a bit, stare at Nesta sleeping for a longer bit, and pace the aisle like a caged lion when I start to feel like a creep.
Because I’ve been dealing with administrative shit like getting engaged, it’s been a while since I’ve done something to quell the rush in my blood.
Business, surprisingly, is boring when an army of hateful Russians isn’t trying to kill you all the time. I haven’t fought in days, haven’t shot my gun in longer.
I send Ricardo a text and have him set up a fight for tonight, but even the thought of the coming violence does nothing to help me calm down.
By the time we land, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of this plane.
Nesta wakes up when the wheels touch down, stretching and looking annoyingly well rested.
As the plane taxis, I tell her, “I have to work tonight.”
It’s a lie, and she cocks her eyebrow like she knows it. But she doesn’t call me on it, doesn’t even seem that interested. “I already requested a separate car.”
My brows furrow because I hate being predictable, but I keep my mouth shut.
Nesta stands as the stairs drop open, straightening her dress and pulling it down over the lacey top of her stockings that are now right in front of my face.
Before I even realize what she’s about, there’s a sharp smack to the bottom of my chin that forces my head up. She tsks, shaking her head teasingly.
“What was that for?” I ask, even though I already know.
She grabs her bag, and I follow as she walks down to the tarmac. “Somnophilia.”
I take a second to look up what the hell that is, laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes when I find the definition. Nesta shakes her head, small smile on those distracting lips, and walks to her waiting driver.
“I’ll see you at home, wife,” I call, not able to resist.
She just flips me the bird over her shoulder, making me laugh again.
Like I said, not what I was expecting.
~Nesta~
Things with Cassian are going... well, I guess.
He has the emotional maturity of a seventeen year old boy, but he isn’t terrible. As long as he stays out of my way, I dare say this marriage might work.
He’ll go about his business, I’ll go about mine, and we’ll avoid each other for happily ever after just like the fairytales say.
I shake my head as Maxim, one of the first New York transplants, navigates us through the city and to Sera. I’ve visited all my clubs at least once, and I have to admit, this one is by far my favorite.
As it should be.
The other three I run in New York were all my father’s originally. Built by a man, for the entertainment of men, I have to say they aren’t places I’d visit myself.
But I built Sera from the ground up, and while it’s designed to appeal to both men and women, men are--for the first time in history--not the priority.
The building it’s located in is a skyscraper, one I rent out to different businesses that don’t need an entire place to themselves. The ground floor is a bank, one that discretely cleans Russian money and makes us more through interest.
All in all, an unremarkable location to the public eye.
But every night, after normal banking hours have long passed, a select number of guests are invited to Sera--a speakeasy-type burlesque club with a hidden entrance in the secondary vault of the bank.
It’s secret, exclusive, and private as hell.
When we get to the bank, I enter the passcode on the side door--changed nightly--and walk through the silent lobby to the back room where the bouncer sits on a wooden stool.
“Privet, boss,” the burly man greets, sweeping the door open and ushering me through with a meaty hand. “Man in the back is asking for the owner.”
I nod and step inside, the door immediately closing behind me.
It’s the perfect level of crowded; enough people that no one stands out but not packed to the point of misery. By design, of course.
Everything seems to be the same as when I visited a few months ago except for the changed flooring I had installed last week. The tables and booths in the back are full of people captivated by the jazz singer on stage, a woman I discovered while walking to a business meeting in Paris.
Her cigarette-roughened voice had pulled me in, much like it does the audience now, and I’d offered her a job on the spot.
One of the bartenders, an ex-con who was locked up for stealing insulin for his diabetic daughter, smiles at me and slides me a tumblr of vodka as I make my way over.
“Good to see you,” Dima greets warmly. “How long are you here for?”
“Permanently.”
His eyebrows shoot up, which makes sense, considering the engagement hasn’t been announced properly. We’re apparently having a party of some kind in two weeks to celebrate the big news.
“I’ll explain later,” I tell him, noticing a group of people approaching the bar.
He nods, and I slip away towards the back corner where a roped-off set of stairs lead down to the basement below.
Like usual, there’s a private poker game happening in the main room of the bottom floor, and I stop to make say a few hellos but eventually move on to the hallway containing offices for some of the management.
The soldier stationed at the door to mine nods in acknowledgement, then tells me a whale’s inside.
My brows raise at the idea of a big-time investor coming to see me at this hour, but I shrug and walk in, shoulders back and face blank. I learned a long time ago to never let my emotions play out on my face.
The man waiting inside looks to be in his forties, richer than sin, and cold. Mafia, undoubtedly. His dark eyes rake over me, and he asks in a tone I don’t appreciate, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Nesta Orlov. You requested to speak to me?”
His bushy brows pinch together. “No, I want to speak to the owner.”
“One and the same.”
“I was told Cassian Azara is the owner.”
My jaw clenches at the thought that we’ve been engaged for less than two days and people already assume my shit is his. “By who?” I ask, remembering our upcoming nuptials aren’t even public news yet.
“My Capo.”
That gets my attention.
Rhysand’s telling people my club is Cassian’s? Why?
Something isn’t right.
I might not know the Italian boss, but I’ve heard he’s straightforward. Ruthless but honest. So why would he lie?
A little voice inside my head whispers, What if he isn’t?
Mind whirling, I turn to the man and smile politely even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing. “Would you mind giving me a moment? If you go upstairs, our bartender will get you anything you want, on the house.”
He shrugs and leaves, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I go to my desk and pull up the electronic copy of our marriage contract.
Like I thought, nothing’s amiss.
I read this shit thoroughly enough to know exactly what I was getting into, and in case I missed anything, I had my private lawyer scan over it.
But that little voice, that gut feeling, refuses to go away. So I grab my bag and look through the physical copy, dread unfurling when I notice an extra page tucked in the middle.
It’s a prenup.
One I’ve never seen.
And there, smack dab in the middle, is a line declaring the deed to Sera the property of Cassian Azara.
A rough breath forces its way out of me, and for a second, I’m so angry, so blind with rage, I can’t hardly think. What the hell is going on?
I force myself to think through this, to rationalize what I’m seeing.
Replaying the moment in the Capo’s office, I realize the switch between the original and this version of the contract must’ve happened prior. I was only in there a few minutes and had the papers in my hand the whole time.
Which means...
Alexei picks up on the first ring, like he was waiting for the call. “Da.”
“What the hell have you done?”
He sighs. “What needed doing.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I wasn’t the one who started a goddamn war with the Italians, and yet I’m the one who’s paying all the prices. I’m marrying the bastard, for fuck’s sake. Give him one of your clubs.”
His tone hardens. “He didn’t want anything else.”
“I don’t give a shit! This place is my property. It isn’t yours to give away.” I take a deep breath and try to quiet the rushing in my veins. “That idiot will run it into the ground.”
There’s a long moment, and I swear he sounds a little guilty as he says calmly, “He has more than a few businesses of his own, Nesta. It will be fine.”
I pinch my lips together to keep from cursing the man who raised me.
“If you read the document,” he says, a strange note to his voice. “You’ll notice there are a number of clauses.”
My eyes scan to the bottom of the page, and I read as Alexei continues. “He is permitted from selling, unless to you. The investors have the option to vote him out at any time. And if he is unfaithful to you or ends the engagement for whatever reason, Sera is returned to you in full.”
All the violence, all the rage, seems to dim. Just a little.
This is so like Alexei; in fact, it was one of his first lessons to me.
Give someone the illusion of winning, and they’ll sign anything you want them to.
I read through the clauses again, lips twitching. “Let me get this straight. If I can prove Cassian Azara--notorious playboy of New York--is cheating on me, the club is mine? And if the board at Sera votes him out, he can’t fight it?”
I can practically hear my father’s smile. “Da.”
“Or if I drive him crazy and he ends the engagement?”
“Da.”
Sounds easy enough. I drive Alexei absolutely insane and have never had a long-term relationship. I’ll have him running for the hills in no time.
One thing doesn’t make sense, though. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t sign. It’s still a risk, even with the clauses” He takes a deep breath. “I never told you, but we were losing the war in New York. We would’ve lasted another year, and then we would’ve lost the city.”
“Alexei-”
“I need this alliance to hold, Volchonok,” he says. “And either of you calling off the engagement or divorcing the other is grounds for the war to start back up.”
“So you’re saying I still need to marry him.”
He gruffs a confirmation, and my brain whirls as it thinks of a new plan.
My options are down to three: have him sell to me, prove he’s cheating, or get the board to vote him out.
“One more thing. You only have until the wedding. Once you’re married, the only way to get your property back is if he signs the deed to you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, moving my timeline up by a factor of a hundred. Checking the calendar proves what I already know: I have less than thirty days to somehow convince one of the most notoriously stubborn men in the world to give me a multi-million dollar company.
Easy.
“I’m... sorry. For lying.”
I’m so shocked he just apologized--something he’s never done in my twenty-five years of life--it takes me a moment to respond and tell him he’s forgiven. “Ty proshchen, otets.”
I disconnect the call and swivel around in the chair, a smile pulling on my lips.
I’m going to drive him fucking crazy. All while I make him fall in love with me.
Oh, Cassian. I almost feel sorry for you.
_______________________________________________________
NEXT CHAPTER
#nessian#nessian fanfiction#acosf fanfiction#acosf#nesta archeron#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acomaf#acowar#a court of thorns and roses
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