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ohmightydevviepuu · 2 months

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imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [5/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said. But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him. Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too. A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up. She wasn’t that kid anymore. Confidence could be learned. And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces. Not if she told herself a new story. About who she was. About what she wanted. Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. “You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret said. “Happy endings always start with hope.”

–

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer @phiralovesloki for always giving me a cheer when i needed it

sixteen. 'a pleasant conversation'

She booked them both because she could. Because she wanted to.

Filing a false police report. Loitering. Theft. Piracy.

Three mugshots in a row after David insisted on hanging them next to hers, from when Graham had booked her. Then it was into the cells for both of them.

“If you wanted me in handcuffs, Savior, you know you have only to ask.” Hook’s eyes glinted with mischief and threat—promise?—that she ignored as she felt the weight of her father’s appraisal behind her.

“Is this even legal?” Neal draped an arm through the bars. The affected casualness overtook Emma in a wave of familiarity. Eye-fucking from the one side and the comfort of nostalgia from the other. Neal grinned. Hook batted his eyelashes.

And then there was her father, watching. Still.

“We live in a magical town ruled by an Evil Queen who doesn’t seem to like you,” Emma said, dripping false sweetness. “But if you need to file a complaint, I’d be happy to direct you to the appropriate form.”

“Emma.” David spoke gently. His head tipped toward the corner.

That’s where Henry was sitting. Totally fine. Like it was a totally normal day and not less than a week after he had been kidnapped and then traded his heart to a demon. In another realm.

“Right.” Emma imagined the candle. Calm. “All of this because Henry was on a boat?” A hypothetical more than anything but all three of them spoke together to answer.

“A ship.” Henry’s voice chimed in with Neal’s and with Hook’s.

Then Neal said, “Did you know he was there?”

“I was only trying to help,” Henry muttered.

“I know you were, kid,” Emma said.

Hook leaned against the bars. “The boy presented himself at the docks and asked about our journey home—if anything had been damaged,” he said smoothly. “We were undertaking an inspection of the main sheet when it occurred to Henry that no one had been apprised of his whereabouts. Of course we wanted to correct that immediately.” He winked at Henry in his corner, and Henry straightened in his seat. Emma couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Did you know he was there, Em?” Every trace of casualness was gone as Neal leaned forward, as if to push the bars and walk through.

“You can’t possibly think that Hook would hurt Henry,” Emma said.

Neal shrugged.

“No.” Emma stepped closer to the cell. “I know—and so do you—that Hook would never hurt your son. I know—and so do you—that he would never hurt your mother’s grandson.” The air left her suddenly, and she was tired.

She was tired of running from the past.

“Come on, Henry. Let’s get out of here, okay?”

Before Henry could move, there was David’s hand on her arm. “Hey.” His fingers closed on her wrist and she froze; she wanted to jump out of her skin. It was a gentle touch—a casual touch—a touch meant to soothe and to comfort.

A parental touch.

Emma looked at him, eyes wide, as he let go, slowly. Backed away—slowly. She wanted to say something. Anything. “Dad, I—”

“Hey.” He smiled. No pushing, no pressure. No disappointment. Just that megawatt Charming smile. “It’s fine. Henry’s fine.” He took the keys from her. “I get that we’re all still a little on edge after what happened. It’s barely even been a week.”

“Six days,” Emma said. Six days. A lifetime. She looked around the room—at her father with his hopeful smile and the way he watched her, and at Neal with his wounded aggravation, and at Hook. In his new clothes. He ran his tongue across his lips but his eyes never left hers.

Enough.

Hook nodded. A slight movement of his head, as if he’d heard her. She held out her hand—pictured the tumblers, the tension rake, the wrench. Felt the warmth under her skin. The cell locks popped and the doors opened. “You’re right,” Emma said, speaking to her father. “Come on, Henry. Let’s go.”

“What about Dad?”

“Yeah, he can come with us. The three of us can take a walk,” she said. “And he and I will have a chance to talk.”

Tink was waiting for them when they returned to the camp.

It had not been what one would call a triumphant march back. Emma didn’t speak, not a single word. Neither did Neal, nor Killian. He was sore in places he hadn’t known existed—sore, angry, disappointed. His heart hurt.

Strange to think that it could, still. Or again.

“Bae?” Tink whispered. “Is that really you?”

“Yeah.” Neal smiled. It was the smile of the boy Killian had once known, now grown up. A man. Neal held out the coconut with its lid secured by vine. “We did it. Let’s go.”

There was no point in delay; they set off at once. Snippets of a murmured conversation between Emma and Neal floated around him as Killian began to walk. There was an air of tension between Emma and her mother as David advanced ahead and fell back at intervals, trying to catch up one very determined, very skeptical fairy as she led them through the jungle. Only his belief in Tink kept Killian calm as he heard the rush of foliage and the weight of footsteps approaching. Regina and Rumplestiltskin pushed their way through, but he left his hand on his sword-hilt all the same.

And drew it, without thinking, as he heard Neal speak of his father’s plans.

“My father’s not here to save Henry,” Neal said. “He’s here because of a prophecy—that Henry will be the cause of his undoing. He came here to kill him.”

“I won’t hurt him,” the Dark One pleaded. All of these years—centuries—and he still whinged when he could fight. “Without me, you will fail. I’m the most powerful amongst us.”

“That’s why we can’t trust you,” Neal said.

“If I could give you the dagger—”

“Give me the box,” Neal said. “I don’t have to trust you if I can stop you. Look at me—” he pointed a finger at his father “—you so much as lift a finger to perform magic and you will spend eternity in this box. Let’s go.”

As they set off once more, Neal clutching Pandora’s box in a fist with white knuckles, Emma came along beside him. Killian braced himself.

“We need to talk,” she said. Her hand on his arm was the first time she’d touched him since The Kiss.

“I’ve found when a woman says that, I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

“Hook. Killian. He told me about what happened. With your brother. I know it can’t be easy to talk about—”

“Then let’s not,” he said.

“—but there has to be a way for David to leave the island.”

There it was. He kept walking, heedless of the foliage and greenery in his face, still feeling the place where her hand had been. “There isn’t. The water that cured David from the poison has connected him to the island. If he leaves, the connection is broken. The poison will kill him.”

“What if we take some of the water with us?” She asked. “That way, he stays connected. He can stay alive in Storybrooke.”

“Aye, but for how long?” Killian stopped and turned to face her. Emma’s face was pale, her eyes wide. He knew that face and that look and how much what he was saying would hurt her. No matter how much he wished he had a different answer. “Once the water runs out, the dreamshade will take his life.”

“Unless there was another cure.” The Dark One stood casually behind them. Killian and Emma both turned to face him and immediately he pressed his advantage. “Oh, are you suddenly interested in what I have to say? I thought I wasn’t to be trusted.”

“You’re not,” Emma said. “But I’ll take my chances.”

What choice did she have, really? What choice did any of them have?

“You’ll remember that I too was poisoned with dreamshade by a cowardly pirate.”

Killian stiffened and froze his face into a pleasant mask—a faint, painful smile.

“We know how you cured yourself,” Emma scoffed. “David is not that selfish.”

“I’ve learned much about the poison since then,” Rumplestiltskin continued, “and I believe I could create an elixir. Back in my shop.”

Emma said it just as Killian thought it. “What’s your price?” She was frozen, too, her shoulders tense. The tension was in her voice. Tension, fear, doubt.

“It is quite the favor—” the Dark One said, drawing out the words. “I’d expect one of equal weight in return.”

“No.” Neal stepped in. “No deals, no favors. When we get back to Storybrooke you will save David. Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Killian’s eyebrows went up. Instinctively he turned toward Emma—and found her looking at him, a mirror of his own surprise. It was over so quickly he might have imagined it.

It was a moment that felt momentous. Neal and his father stared each other down just as Tink emerged into the clearing, David and Snow behind her.

“We’re here,” she said simply. “Pan’s perimeter.”

“Then it’s time,” Emma said. She squared her shoulders. “In and out, simple.”

Suddenly the Dark One’s hand was on Killian’s sword while he stood, watching. A shudder rolled through him but he did not let himself react until Rumplestiltskin pulled the sword free. Then he moved—to catch the knife David tossed at him.

“In case your good looks fail you,” he said.

“Thanks, mate,” Killian said, clutching the blade in its sheath. Meaning it.

The sounds of the Lost Boys’ camp drew them onward—Tink in the lead, Neal at his father’s side. The box stayed clutched in his hand and he flinched as Regina performed the spell to silence the boys.

But they didn’t find Henry.

They only found the girl. Wendy. Pale—the color of her nightdress—and trembling. And she confirmed what they were all afraid to hear: “When Pan lives,” she said, “Henry will die.”

Killian took his time building up the fire. Slow trips back and forth for firewood; deliberate, careful kindling of the flames.

Tink watched. Bemused. Silent. She waited until he’d thrown off his coat and settled his back against a log. Waited until he’d pulled out his flask and pulled the stopper. Waited until he lifted it to his mouth and lowered it immediately.

Being drunk when the rescue mission returned and pivoted to exit strategy would be exceedingly bad form no matter how much he wanted a drink.

That’s when she dropped down to sit next to him. She took the flask right from his fingers and helped herself. “I haven’t had this since you left,” she said. A long, appreciative sigh accompanied the statement. When he looked at her she smirked and said, “Fairies can’t get drunk. And I like the taste. You know that.”

“Aye,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Well then. Isn’t this a blast from the past?” Another sip. “You and me, drinking. Brooding still looks good on you, you know. Just like the old days.”

“That’s not all we did in the old days,” Killian muttered.

Tink laughed. “Is that a proposition?” He shrugged, uncomfortable. She laughed again. “That’s what I thought. It’s you and Emma, isn’t it? Care to explain?”

“No.”

She took another sip. Loudly. The fire crackled around them but there was a strange stillness in the air. A quiet. The Lost were silent; unconscious and scattered about the camp and still under the effects of Regina’s spell.

“I’ve been watching you,” Tink said. “I saw you go up Dead Man’s Peak. Her father was shot, wasn’t he? And you took him up there for the water. Is it really a good idea for him to try and leave? You know what happens.”

“The Dark One has agreed to formulate a potion for David. He wants to try to go home. Hence their current task, which you know already. But by all means, keep asking annoying questions.”

“Bae’s father.” She shook her head. “You knew, didn’t you? This entire time? Who he was?”

“I did.”

“What was your plan there, Hook? Use the boy against his father?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Oh, no, Killian. And he found out, didn’t he? That’s why he was so angry.”

“As was I.”

“He was a child.”

“I’m aware.” Killian shifted. “I’m trying, Tink. Henry is his son. Henry is why I’m here.”

“You and Bae and Emma.” She capped the flask with a laugh. “Buck up, mate. She doesn’t love him, you know. Not the way they want her to.”

He knew that. He’d seen it in her eyes when she’d chained him and left him on the beanstalk. When he’d left her in that dungeon.

When she’d told him who Henry’s father was.

But—“She’s made her choice,” Killian said. And—“I thought you didn’t have any magic left.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t notice things. And she trusts you. Don’t muck that up. Be worthy.” Tink put her hand on his shoulder. “I believe in you.”

Killian turned to face her. “I’m trying, Tink,” he repeated. He blew out a long breath. He opened his mouth to speak again—

—and felt the ground heave beneath them.

Tink dropped the flask into his lap as they both struggled to stand up. There was an instant of near-total darkness that dissipated with another great heave.

A thud echoed from the bushes as David Nolan stumbled back into the camp, clutching a water skin against his body. Behind him strode Snow White, an arrow nocked.

“What just happened?” David asked.

Killian looked at Tink. “Nothing good,” he said.

No diner. Not this time.

This wasn’t that kind of conversation, the ‘dinner and a floor show’ conversation that everyone at Granny’s would be watching and waiting for—the dwarves, Ruby, Tink. Mary Margaret.

This needed to be just for the two of them. No performance. Just truth.

But here—now—this moment, it was the three of them. They walked along the shoreline by the harbor. The sun was setting behind them. Henry was too big to hold hands but Emma kept him close, touching, her hand on his shoulder. Neal walked on the other side, their son in between, and it was a Moment. A Moment worth having.

She and Neal had never been ‘holding hands in a mall’ kinds of people. She was not—by nature, or by nurture—a casual touch kind of person. But there was something Emma had noticed since they’d come back from Neverland.

It did something to her magic, to feel the comfort and warmth of physical touch. Of affection.

So she was working on it. She was trying.

She tightened her grip on Henry’s shoulder for a second before she let go, watching him kick at the rocks along the beach. He had a small, contented smile on his face that turned wider when Emma suggested he get back to Regina’s. “She’ll be waiting for you,” Emma said.

“It’s lasagne tonight,” Henry said. He was an eleven-year-old boy and he could not contain his excitement at the thought of that much food. He wrapped his arms around her waist and Emma hugged him back, hard. “Bye, mom. See you later.”

His hesitation as he turned toward Neal was—almost—imperceptible, but Henry was a hugger and Neal was family and in the end that seemed to be enough. Neal ruffled his hair for a second before Henry pulled away and peeled off in pursuit of warmer, tomato-sauced pastures. “Bye, dad.”

“See you, kid,” Emma called. She pointed toward the picnic table overlooking the beach and then jammed her hands into her pockets against the wind. The table looked like it had been there since before the curse and according to Mary Margaret it was where the dwarves liked to eat their lunch. Or maybe that was over now that the daily diner matinee was on the menu, Emma wasn’t sure, but what she was thinking of was the familiarity in Mary Margaret’s voice. Memories of realms past, no doubt.

Of course, Mary Margaret had also been at the diner every day this week. Not just for her 7:15 AM coffee date but to keep an eye on Emma. On Emma and Neal. Because Snow White just wanted her daughter to get her happy ending. With Neal.

Every night at dinner was a dance. A game. question and answer. Cat and mouse. Like everything Emma was already doing wasn’t enough—not fast enough, not hopeful enough. Snow White so loved her Prince Charming that she had been willing to condemn herself to an eternity away from her family but Emma was the one letting the side down by taking her time when it came to Neal.

It had been less than a week, for fuck’s sake.

But if it was a game, then she could win. Emma was determined to win.

Emma had waited her entire life to meet her mother, but she really missed her friend.

The picnic table bench shifted and groaned as Neal swung his leg over the wood and faced her. From where they sat, the gently bobbing masts of the Jolly Roger were impossible to miss.

“How?” she said, finally. “How did you end up there? You’ve never told me that story. The real one.” Shut up in his cave, away from the world, looking at the drawings he had made to give himself a sense of home—had he cried out in the dark, Lost? After everything Hook had done for him? Had done to him?

Emma hadn’t even known he could draw until she’d seen the scratches etched into the walls. Seen the expression on Hook’s face and heard the break in his voice when he’d spoken of Baelfire and his love for art, for drawing, that he’d gotten from his mother. The sadness in his voice when he’d boasted of Baelfire’s skills at celestial navigation.

How did the story end?

They hadn’t talked about it, her and Neal. Not about this or any of the other things; the way she had cried in the night, swallowing her tears and her screams within the cinder blocks and bars of her prison cell. Emma wasn’t a child anymore, ready to be swayed by a story. She wanted the truth.

“Wendy,” he said. “I went there because of Wendy. Because of her brothers. When I left my father, I didn’t go straight to Neverland. I ended up in this realm. In London. Wendy, she—” he sighed “—she found me. The Darlings took me in—gave me a home—until one night, the Shadow turned up. I went there so they wouldn’t have to.” He didn’t look at her as he said it. There was him and his voice and the pain in his words as they both stared at the harbor and the ship that rolled with the incoming tide and made everything else in the harbor look small.

Emma felt herself smile. Just the corner of her mouth as she blinked back a tear. It was such a Henry thing to do, after all. He would approve, she knew.

So did she.

“And how long were you with—um, on the Jolly Roger?”

“I don’t know.” Neal ran his hand through his hair. “A while? Time in Neverland, you know—”

“I know,” she said.

“And Hook, they way he acted. Like he wanted me there. Like he cared. My mom had left. She’d died. And my dad was—” he blew out a breath, struggling. Because his dad was. “So I wanted to be there too. But he was just using me. It was all a lie. I was just some pawn in his game against my father.”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “Hook, he does that, doesn’t he?”

“I was a fucked-up kid. And he was—I don’t know.” Neal shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“He loved her. You should know that. It was one of the first things he told me.” She laughed a little. “One of the first true things he told me. And then, after, when we thought you were dead, when I told him who you were, that you were Henry’s father—” The look on his face when she’d said it—everything stripped away except grief. Sadness. Regret.

“You said he left. You asked him for help and he left.”

“He did. He walked right out of the diner and onto that ship and was halfway out of the harbor.”

“But he came back,” Neal said. “He came back because of me.” Everything stripped away except grief. Sadness. Regret. “Hook—Killian—asked me to stay. Begged me. And I’ve always wondered, you know? If he meant it. I guess he did.”

“But you left,” Emma said. It wasn’t a question. That was just what Neal did. What he does. He leaves. He’d left. “Do you miss it?”

Their eyes met.

“Every day,” he said. “And I’ve been running ever since.”

“And now? What are you doing now, Neal?”

“I’m looking for Tallahassee,” he said. “I care about you, Em. I always will. And I want you to be happy.”

“We were happy. Once,” Emma said. “But what if this isn’t that? I’ve been to Tallahassee, you know. I went there after I got out of prison. After I gave up our son.”

“I can’t ever take that back, can I? I can’t ever make that better.”

“You left,” she said simply.

“I still want you to be happy,” he said. He looked out at the harbor. At the ship. “Even if it isn’t with me.”

Emma reached out. Took his hand—squeezed it tightly—and retreated into her pockets. Neal smiled and stood up. “I’m gonna head out,” he said. “Lunch tomorrow?”

Emma tilted her head. “Seriously?”

“I’m kidding,” he said. “Saturday, then. With Henry?”

“Yeah. You know, Neal—” he turned back to face her “—we still have Henry. What if Henry is our Tallahassee?”

“Then I’d call that one hell of a happy ending,” he said with another smile.

She walked back to the loft and walked in to an ambush—an ambush in the shape of a real-life Disney princess, a brown-haired blur who wrapped herself around Emma, squeezing too tightly. Green eyes shone like mirrors of her own and—like her own—they glistened suspiciously.

The hug was an attack. Her senses definitely took it as one, recoiling—

“I’m so sorry,” Mary Margaret said.

—and then something happened, a release, as Emma dissolved into the hug.

“Gosh, Emma, I’m so sorry,” Mary Margaret said again. “We didn’t—” she looked at David “—I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. I didn’t—I just. Didn’t.”

Immediately Emma’s defenses went back up. She removed herself from the hug and took two very large steps back until she felt the edge of the kitchen island cutting into her spine. “Um. I don’t know what—I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” Mary Margaret and David were standing together. David’s hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder. Mary Margaret’s hand on David’s. One unit.

Watching.

“Neal came by,” Mary Margaret said. “To, um, talk.”

“Oh.” She’d been sitting where he’d left her, watching the masts of the Jolly Roger. Listening to the waves. Listening to her heart. There was so much noise in her head these days. Grumpy shouting in the diner. Neal’s laughter. I’m never gonna stop fighting for you.The crashing of the bridge as it built itself in the Echo Cave. The howling in the Dark Hollow. When I win your heart, Emma…it will be because you want me. Hook’s screams. The cries of the Lost. The quiet crackle of a fire.

Her mother’s voice, whispering in her mind.

You owe it to yourself. Happy endings always start with hope.

That’s why she was doing all of this, wasn’t it? Her mother’s voice. Snow White—her expectations, her assumptions. But standing there in the loft—her parents’ loft, her home—what she felt was a buzzing in her fingertips. It wasn’t magic. It was a kind of—nervous anticipation.

Hope.

Because this—all of this—had been a long time coming.

“Emma.” It was the softness in her mother’s voice that might be her undoing. “Where was Henry born?”

“Are you sure? You’ll never be able to not know, after.”

Mary Margaret nodded.

“He was born in a prison maternity ward. That’s where I spent eleven months after Neal left me to take his fall.”

Her mother’s eyes were shut. It was resignation, Emma thought, not refusal. Just like the map. “You never told us,” Mary Margaret said. “You never told me.”

“Why would I tell you?” Emma said. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“I’m your mother.” It was a whisper.

“And you used to be my friend,” Emma said. “My friend, who used to listen to me. Who trusted me to know what I want. If I had told her that seeing Neal broke my heart—” Emma sniffed “—but you told me I needed to give it another chance. You told me that I didn’t need to be an orphan anymore and then you—even though it meant losing me all over again. But Neal—”

The sound she made was not pleasant, but Emma couldn’t help it. She was laughing. The buzzing in her fingertips, it was a little less hope and a little more magic and emotion but it was past time they did this. And she wasn’t going to apologize for her feelings. Not this time. If what they had was unique and special then just this once it could also be honest. She could be honest. Emma was tired of being a stranger to her parents.

She wanted to come home.

“Neal left me because Pinocchio told him to and I spent eleven months in jail. He’s known all this time—eleven years—who I was. But he never came back for me.”

“He was afraid of you. Of the curse,” Mary Margaret said. “He knew what it meant, didn’t he? He was afraid of his father. I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t understand before. I didn’t want to. I shouldn’t have pushed you where you didn’t want to go. I should have listened. Emma—“

She was ready for the hug this time. Welcomed it.

“—I owe you an apology. What I said in the Echo Cave—”

“It was the truth,” Emma said. “And it was the right thing to do. That’s what heroes do, isn’t it? We saved Neal that day. We saved Henry’s father. I’m glad he told you the truth. Mom. I just—if he told you all of that, why are you asking me? What changed?”

That was when David spoke up, stepping forward so that he had an arm around each of them. “After Neal left, I told her about Hook.”

“What about Hook?” The sudden smile on Mary Margaret’s face made her suspicious.

David chuckled. “Fine, about you and Hook. That you’re together.”

“That we’re—”

“You look at him the way I look at your mother. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Yes.

That was exactly what she’d thought. In fact—that had been the plan.

#cs fic #canon divergence #season 3a #no curse renaissance

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reallyromealone · 2 years

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Halloween was upon everyone and (name) and Eddie were excited, they had big plans this year.

This was little (sons names) first Halloween!

The pup had no clue what was going on, wearing a tiny Beetlejuice costume as (name) and Eddie dressed as the Nathan's, Eddie rocking a dress.

The kids were all hyped along with Robin and dragged steve with her as they were a package deal.

The tweens were excited as hell and little Holly was joining them this year so Mr and Mrs wheeler could have a night to themselves, apparently finding that spark again but the small child was chill as she held onto (name)s hands "remember, meet back at the street sign at eight and then we come back and watch a movie" Steve said as the group split up, the tweens wanting to go goof off while the adults and children did a simple trick or treat "you two are totally using (sons name) for candy"

"No proof" (name) said with a sly grin and Eddie nodded "we just want our boy to have a good Halloween" before the couple took holly and (sons name) to their first house, the tiny pup getting extra candy because he was precious as hell.

"Dustin is gonna try and yoink our three Musketeers" Eddie said and (name) chuckled "he better have something worth the exchange" and Eddie just snorted at that, mumbling something about the Henderson's and their nugat. "When it got a little later, (name) put a light sweater on holly and (sons name) to make sure they kept warm "you good Hun?"

"Yeah!" Holly said happily and ran up to the next house with Eddie who took over holding their pup "How do you think the shitheads are doing" Steve asked eating a chocolate bar as robin ate a sucker "oh they are probably getting into some mischief but as long as it's not a crime..." (Name) said simply as Eddie and the children returned and (sons name) gave a big yawn "oh someone's tired" (name) said fixing his sons hair "good job bud, you did good for your first Halloween!" Eddie cheered to the babe who was basically passed out in his dad's arms "let's hit up a few more houses and then check on the brats"

By time they went to the party, holly was asleep in Steve's arms and (sons name) was letting out tiny snores "how goes the candy collection?"

The tweens had candy filled pillow cases "Mrs. Roberts is giving full sized bars!"

"Shit really? Shame the babes are asleep" (name) said teasingly as he went to fix his brothers costume "(naaame) it's supposed to me like that"

"Well finish up, it's almost eight"

The drive home was split between Eddie and Steve, Eddie and (name) taking: holly, their kid, Dustin, Lukas and El.

Steve took : max, Will and Mike with Robin sitting upfront.

"You guys have fun? Loving the ghost costume el!" (Name) said as he glanced back at the group of pups "thank you (name)" Eleven looked very happy as she held her costume in her lap while trading candy with Lukas "what movie are we watching anyways?"

"Well, rob and Stevie managed to save us a copy of Poltergeist" Eddie said as he took (name)s hand gently, rubbing his thumb over the top of his hand as he drove "wait really?!" Dustin was hyped as the kids got excited "remember there's two sleeping pups here" Eddie chastised gently and the kids just looked hyped as they made it to the Munson residence, the other half already there and waiting for Eddie and (name) "Steve unlock the door while I get the pups" (name) said tossing the brunet the house keys as he and Eddie collected the pups, Eddie with their son and (name) with little Holly "Mrs wheeler said if she falls asleep before her bath to just get her in her pjs and I can let you handle her hair yeah?" (Name) said and Eddie nodded, the two walking into the apartment and thankfully they told the neighbors that they would have people over as the kids giggles and laughed as the parents put the pups to sleep, a spare fold up bed for little holly and (sons name) his crib.

The two changed the kids and Eddie put Holly's hair in two loose braids before tucking them in and turning on the nightlight.

Returning to the movie night, everyone had gotten the snacks set up as Eddie got into his recliner, a gift from the party as a collective for fathers day "you aren't a dad without a dad chair!" Mike said with a shit eating grin but it was used often and quickly became Eddie's chair.

(Name) was about to sit on the couch when Eddie pulled him into his lap as the tweens fake gagged "ew old people kissing!"

"Oh hush, you're all gonna be old too!"

Eventually everyone settled down as the movie started, (name) feeding Eddie snacks as he ate contently and snuggled into his mate as the smell of Eddie's pharamones soothed him, a soft kiss on (name)s head and a gently rubbing on his hip had (name) turned into putty.

(Name) smiled as he watched his friends and family all together and happy and let out soft purrs of content.

When the movie ended the kids were all passed out as Steve and Robin made their leave "we did it babe.." (name) said softly "we used our kid for free candy"

"I knew it!" Dustin said sleepily before passing out.

#eddie munson x male reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #male reader #eddie munson x reader

189 notes · View notes

h0neypjm · 3 years

Text

Just for practice | kth

↳ Summary: “I think we should normalise giving head to your friends as practice.”

↳ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, slight Hoseok x reader

↳ Genre: Smut, pwp, some plot i guess, best friend! Taehyung

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word count: 5.3k

↳ Warnings: swearing, lip biting, hickies, oral (both female and male receiving), rough blowjobs, spanking, fingering, squirting, big dick! Tae, possessiveness/jealousy, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap pls), dom/sub themes, Taehyung calls reader lots of pet names (sweetheart, darling, good girl), degradation, biting, slight cockwarming

↳ a/n: I’ve been having major writer’s block while writing confident :( however, i saw this tweet which prompted this lil oneshot hope you enjoy

Jung Hoseok [ 2:15 PM ]

Am I gonna see you at Seokjin’s tomorrow?

You [ 2:16 PM ]

I’ll be there :)

Jung Hoseok [ 2:18 PM ]

You’re not gonna run away from me this time, right?

You [ 2:20 PM ]

No of course not haha

Jung Hoseok [ 2:21 PM ]

Is that a promise princess?

A sigh flies out of your mouth like wind through a window and you’re shucking off your glasses in an instant. Hoseok’s texts bringing back a flurry of memories that you wish to forget.

“Do you need help with your essay again?”

Your eyes are strained when they try to focus on Taehyung, your shoulders shrug in defeat. “No, I’m fine. It’s just-”

Taehyung knows immediately, he is your best friend after all. “Let me guess, It’s Hoseok isn’t it?”

You slump in your seat while a pout is cutely drawn onto your face, you nod with dismay. “I really like him Tae, and every time we see each other, It’s like the universe has it out for me and tries to make sure I embarrass myself in front of him.”

Taehyung shuts his laptop because he knows there's no use in trying to write an essay while you speak about your utterly tragic love life. He thinks about your situation for a minute before he speaks.

“Yes, you might’ve spilled your beer on him and accidentally punched him in the eye, more than once. But, if he’s still texting you he’s obviously still into you. It’s a good sign sweetheart.” Taehyung pats your hand across the coffee table, a comforting smile adorning his handsome face.

Taehyung doesn’t know the full extent of your problem and the more you think about it the more embarrassing it becomes. So you smile back at him uttering a small thank you before turning back to your laptop.

Taehyung raises a brow, “wait, wait, hang on, something is still bothering you.”

You frown, “it’s embarrassing.”

Taehyung shuffles around the corner of the coffee table as if you’re about to tell him a secret, though it’s just the two of you in his small apartment. “Just tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

“Taehyung it is that bad.” You tilt your head at him, pulling up the sleeves of your sweater around your tiny fists. “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

Taehyung feigns shock at your words, his hands placed on his heart for dramatic effect. “I would never laugh, and frankly I’m offended you think that low of me.”

You roll your eyes, turning your body more towards him, deciding it wouldn't hurt letting Taehyung know the thoughts plaguing your mind. “Well, you know how Hoseok and I have been kind of flirty lately, right?” He nods in understanding.

“I can tell he wants more than that, you know? His touches are small but I know exactly what he’s suggesting, and don’t get me wrong, the feeling is completely mutual because trust me I want that too. Really bad.”

Taehyung hums, interrupting your soon-to-be graphic rambling. “I totally get it Y/N. Now let’s stop beating around the bush so I can help you.”

If Taehyung were a girl, this would be so much easier. You curse your eight-year-old self who just had to become friends with a boy because God, how do you even start?

Taehyung is a patient man, always giving you space before helping you but, in this situation, you feel it’s best to just rip the band-aid off. Taehyung if you can read my mind, please don’t laugh at me.

“I’venevergivensomeoneablowjob.”

You speak so suddenly, Taehyung’s not so sure he heard you correctly. “Huh?”

“Goddammit Tae”, you rub and your temples and avoid his stare. “I’ve never given someone a blowjob!”

His eyes are wide. “Oh”

You hide your face into the table while your body internally cringes. At least he didn’t laugh. “See! You do think it’s bad.”

“I’m just surprised to be honest”, he reassures, leaning back onto his palms, strong brows pulled together in thought. “Shit Y/N, have you really never sucked a dick before?”

Sure, you’ve had sex many times (most of which have been extremely disappointing) but, it seems that most of your hookups want to get straight into fucking. No foreplay, no nothing. Just unseasoned, pleasureless fucking.

A groan rumbles out of your throat, “It just never happened! They were all about that hump and dump lifestyle I guess.”

Taehyung is utterly baffled at your statement. In Taehyung’s books, It is compulsory to treat every women like a queen. Preparing and edging them the perfect amount of times to see them crumble so sensually by his very doing. To Taehyung, seeing a woman cry out his name from experiencing the most explosive, leg-shaking orgasm was always his favourite part.

This is why Taehyung is absolutely shattered for you. “So, you’re also telling me no one has ever eaten you out?” You miserably nod, “that’s actually fucking evil!”

His words do not ease you one bit as you throw your head onto the seat behind you. “The way you say it makes me feel even worse. This is the sole reason why I run away from Hoseok and make a fool out of myself.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, the air floating around carrying an awkward silence. You don’t really care and you don’t expect Taehyung to think of a solution. Plus, you’re already embarrassed enough.

You might as well leave and ask one of your girlfriends for help, maybe finish your essay while you’re at it. You sigh, shutting your laptop and stacking your books together.

However, the next sentence that flies out of Taehyung’s mouth makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“I think I’ve figured out how I can help you.”

Wiggling back into a comfortable seating position, you lean into Taehyung with interest. “And how might you help me, dear Taehyung?”

He eyes you nervously, his fingers fiddling with his chunky rings, “You trust me, right?”

You smile, “yeah, of course, you’re my best friend Tae.”

An exhale puffs out of his mouth. “Why not practice on me?”

You almost choke on your spit. You definitely did not expect him to say that. “Could you repeat that please?”

A new glint of mischief sparkles in his eye. “Why not let me teach you how to give Hoseok the blowjob of his life and in return, I’ll eat you out”

Your brain is having a meltdown.

“You’re fucking crazy”, you wail. “You actually want me to suck your dick?”

He brings his hands up in defence, “I think we should normalize giving head to your friends as practice, I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Think about it, you get to learn and cum at the same time.”

You won’t lie to yourself, the proposal is tempting and in all honesty, Taehyung is hot as fuck. You will forever thank the Gods above for blessing you with the delicious sight that is your best friend. However, the proposition puts you in an odd spot.

Apprehensive about your thoughts, you state your unease, “I-I don’t know Taehyung, don’t you think this might ruin our friendship?” An exhale, “have you seriously thought of me that way?”

Taehyung chuckles, it’s deep and totally unexpected to your question. “Sweetheart, there are many things that go on inside my head involving you. And to answer your question, they’re not completely innocent.”

A startled gasp is ripped from your throat and your stomach flutters with a dangerous mix of nervousness, thrill and dare you say arousal.

Never in your life would you have imagined Kim Taehyung, your best friend since grade school, seeing you in such an inviting way. To make matters worse, It was intimidating to think about his fair share of experience and the long line of women backing up the fact that Taehyung was indeed some sort of sex demon.

Of course, you felt the same way. How could you not! The man was practically an incarnation of a Greek God. Broad sturdy shoulders that sat atop thick muscular thighs, and how could you forget his gorgeous fingers.

You’d die before you admit it, but there have been many nights where you have found yourself thinking about what his pretty long fingers could do to you. Those nights always ended with a mess of your sheets and a wetness between your thighs. It was your dirty little secret, however, it seems Taehyung also had some of his own.

His sharp eyes storm with darkness when he speaks, “don’t lie Y/N, I know you’ve had some dirty thoughts about me up in that pretty little head of yours.”

Pink blossoms over your cheeks like wildfire because he’s so terrifyingly right. “I don’t even need to touch you sometimes, one look and you’re a goner.” You gulp. “Look at you right now.” His gaze drops down to your thighs. “All my talking making you so needy, you need to clench your thighs to keep it together.”

He smiles, though it’s not his usual boxy, boyish smile. It’s dangerous and seductive almost smirking and shit when did he get so close to you? Your breathing is erratic and you have no idea how you could be so anxious yet so amorous at the same time.

Your heart beats rapidly in your ears. “This is just for practice, right?”

Taehyung curses under his breath, “just for practice sweetheart.”

You don’t get to respond.

His lips are hesitant at first when they meet yours, yet his hands say the opposite. They start at your waist and tickle their way down to your stiff hands. Ever so gently, he pries them open, intertwining his long fingers with yours, and God, did his hands feel so right.

Your nerves dissipate slowly but surely as you allow him to explore your mouth with his skilful tongue.

Much to Taehyung’s dismay, he finds you releasing your fingers from his own. Your hands flying to the nape of his neck, ultimately bringing him closer to you, deepening the kiss. Taehyung moans in delight when you tug at his long curls, you bite his lip in reply while lust paints your vision and dampens your panties.

Taehyung never knew he would miss the feeling of your lips against his when he painfully pushes himself away to situate himself comfortably on the couch. It was time for the lesson to begin.

You pout at the distance, trying to wiggle close until he motions for you to get into a particular position. Your insides swell with eagerness.

His voice is sweet and his hands are delicate when he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Get down on your knees for me sweetheart.” You obey immediately. He smirks at your sinking form. “Good girl.”

You swear right then and there your pussy had gained a working heartbeat at his words. The unfamiliar pulse thumping as if it were trying to break loose from the constraints of your sweatpants.

Your eyes are big and expectant, slowly drinking up the sight of Taehyung’s delicious figure seated above you. He sits on the couch like it’s his throne, legs spread to accompany your kneeling figure, and dominating stare pinning you down. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Wh-what do I do now?” You utter, making it known to Taehyung that he is in charge. He is in control.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, using a decorated pointer finger to hither your hands towards him. Hesitantly, you raise both hands, lightly placing them down on his thighs.

A click of his tongue makes its way to your ears and you know you’ve already made your first mistake. Taehyung’s brows furrow, it’s obvious you need to make the next move but your brain is fuzzy and flustered.

He sighs at your confused silence, bringing your small hands onto his belt. Oh, you know what you’re supposed to do now.

“I thought you were smarter than this, how else are you meant to get my dick out, hmm?” The blush across your cheeks has definitely spread profusely from his teasing. Its once peachy pink tone deepening into an embarrassing cherry red.

The buckle of his belt jingles under your fingertips as you nervously undo them. You’re apparently too slow for his liking, Taehyung finishing the job by pulling his belt off his pants, leaving you to stare down at the large bulge covered by the fabric of his tight jeans. You thought you had your nerves under control but the way your hands start to shake is an indication that this is real. You’re really about to suck your best friend off.

Ever the observant friend, Taehyung is quick to notice the slight shake in your fingers. “Wait, stop.”

You do as he says, quickly settling your palms back on the thickness of his covered thighs. “Are you sure you want to do this? your hands are shaking sweetheart.” His voice is laced with concern, a total switch to his previous words.

Clearing your throat you reply, “oh, no, no I’m fine.” You lock eyes. “I just want to make sure I’m doing good so I can be good for him.”

Possessiveness flares within Taehyung’s chest and he has no idea why. Although he doesn’t let it show, he can’t help the swell of his ego at the knowledge that he’s the first to get you like this. Not Hoseok. Him.

So, he grins his wide boxy grin, dragging a finger down your warm cheek. “Don’t worry darling, you’re in great hands”

The commanding smirk etched onto his lips sparks a surge of confidence through your veins, begging you to finally touch him.

With a tug of your small hands, Taehyung’s constricting jeans are pried off the taut muscle of his thighs and are left to pool around his ankles. The excitement of finally being able to suck dick coursing through your body like lighting, and just like his jeans, Taehyung’s boxers are off in a second.

His cock springs, tall, hard and proud. Your jaw drops, Taehyung chuckles at your reaction. You feel an ooze of wetness pooling in your panties.

His size is nothing you’ve seen before, thick and girthy with an impressive length to match. You wince at the thought of fitting him down your throat.

The cold metal of his rings against your hands brings your attention to Taehyung’s handsome face. Without breaking any eye contact, he wordlessly wraps your hands around the thickness of his cock.

It’s warm and swells in your palm, your two dainty hands stacked on top of each other. Fingers trying so hard to wrap themselves around the sheer girth of his cock.

You’re not dumb, you know what comes next. With a sharp inhale you begin to stroke up his length, paying close attention to his facial expression to get an idea of how well you’re doing

Taehyung’s head tilts to get a better view at your hands, “grip it tighter for me… yeah fuck that’s it.”

His praise boasts you on, holding tighter onto his cock and gathering the slick of his pre-cum with a twist of your wrist. Your eyes remain focused on the way the skin moves with your hands and the way his tip glistens with arousal. You want to lick it.

“When you’re ready you can put your mouth- Ahh shit Y/N!”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence when you’re already so eager to have him in your mouth. You do what you think would feel best, sucking on the head of his cock like a sweet ice lolly on a hot summer's day. Your tongue tracing the thick circumference before dipping into his slit.

A light groan falls from his mouth as he watches you lap at the remaining pre-cum that glistens in the afternoon light. Taehyung almost forgets why he’s here, lost in your plump lips wet with saliva.

Right, he’s here to teach you how to give a blowjob. “Try and take my whole length in darling.”

You nod, taking a deep breath, your mouth opening wider to take him in as far as you can. You try to keep your throat relaxed taking him inch by inch.

“That's a good girl”, he praises, “you’re doing so well for me.”

Your knees squeeze together, acting to relieve some pressure on your aching heat. It had truly been a while since you got some serious action.

Surprisingly you’re able to make your way to the hilt of his cock, a choked gag sputtering from your lips.

A few strands of hair fall in your face, blocking your eyes in the process. Swiftly, Taehyung brushes the hair from your eyes while simultaneously lifting your head off of his cock.

You release him with a satisfying pop, your eyes wide and makeup a little smudged. Taehyung coaches you through the next steps. “I want you to try and do that again, but when you come back up, lick the length of my cock and look at me while you do it.”

Humming in acknowledgment you grip the base of his cock before pausing. “Isn’t this what you like though? What if Hoseok likes to be touched in a different way?”

An unintentional growl bubbles out of his mouth. Oh how he wished he could take your mind off Hoseok and have you screaming his name, thinking about him instead.

He pushes down his discontentment with the other man on your mind, “men are simple creatures Y/N, just making out sometimes can get them going. And judging by the way you’re sucking my cock right now, I’m sure Hoseok will be crazy for you.”

As Taehyung explains the ins and outs of a man’s brain, you don’t make an effort to stop the teasing of his cock. His words sound slurred, they go in one ear and out the other, and besides the delicious length in front of you is much more fascinating.

For the time being you stare up at him, your eyes wide feigning interest in his words, all while you grip his cock in one hand and continuously lap at his tip with a kitten-like flick of your tongue.

Taehyung finally realises that you’ve stopped listening when he feels the small yet downright sensual pleasure shooting through his cock. He grunts, pushing your hair back once again, “fuck, that’s hot. You’re so fucking good.”

His preoccupied hand squeezes the pillows beside him, the veins of his hands popping out. You do what he taught you, seductive eyes laser focused on him while your wicked tongue leaves a hot trail up the prominent vein on his dick.

“Shit Y/N you’re doing so well-”

You release him from your mouth disrupting his sentence, “can you fuck my throat?”

Taehyung swears his whole body just convulsed at your request. He looks away just so he can contain himself because holy shit.

Obviously Taehyung has thought about you being in this position, saying those words. Yet, no matter how many times he fantasizes this scenario, nothing would ever prepare him for those words to actually come out of your mouth with the most bewitching grin plastered on your pretty face.

He stutters, “I- no, I don’t know if you can take it darling.”

You grip his thighs, pout forming on those dangerous lips of yours, “please Tae, I want it. Want you to use me.”

Taehyung pushes the curls of his bangs away, a hiss steaming from his lips. “Alright, but if you feel any discomfort pinch my thigh, okay sweetheart?”

You’re impatient, “yeah, yeah, I can take your monster dick.” You place a small kiss on his thigh, “do your worst.”

His movements are all too fast, all too sudden. His fingers securing a death-grip on the mess of your hair before holding his cock up to your mouth. “You asked for it darling.”

Your mouth automatically widens, welcoming the rough intrusion of his cock as it slides all the way down your throat. A lewd gag fills the room.

A dark cloud of lust of dominance fogs Taehyung’s vision, his biceps flexing when he brings your head up and down his thick velvety length.

The room resounds with the filthy wet noises of your saliva covered lips pumping repeatedly. Taehyung breathes heavily through his nose, tilting his head against the cushions behind him. He keeps his hips still, yanking your hair at an obscene pace. A slew of curses and moans fly out into the air as he revels at the complete state of ecstasy you’ve put him under.

The heat of his member burns the back of your throat but you fucking love it. You open your teary eyes, gazing at his chiseled jaw and the way he shivers and groans above you. It only spurs you on when he glances back down, meeting your mascara ruined eyes.

It’s like a knee-jerk reaction. Taehyung harshly pushes your head all the way to the base of his cock. Your face is met with his abdomen, the hairs of his happy trail tickling your nose.

He leaves you there, and the burn in your throat rises, leaving you gagging, your throat tightening around him.

Taehyung believes after this he could never get the image of your messy docile eyes and tarnished lips out of his brain. He feels your throat constrict, “sh-shit, fuck Y/N, breathe through your nose.” You inhale. “That’s my good girl.”

He releases you from his member only to push your lips back onto him, going back to his beastly pace. “You look so fucking pathetic, you think Hoseok wants a messy girl like you?”

You gurgle around him, tears freely falling down your cheeks as you try to shake your head no. He only mumbles out a groan, his cock abruptly pulsing under your tongue like a steady heartbeat.

It's all too sudden when he releases your head off his length, a glob of drool dripping down your chin and onto your shirt.

“Fuck sorry I was about to cum.”

Although your heart swells with pride you wonder, “why didn’t you?”

He runs a hand through his messy locks, “the purpose of this was to teach you, don’t you still want to practice?”

You’re smug with your answer, “I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”

He swipes a finger under your tear stained eyes, “getting cocky now are we.”

You were cocky indeed, “well I did get you shaking under my touch didn’t I?”

He rolls his eyes, “get up you brat, I’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing out on.”

Fucking finally.

You won’t lie, you were probably most excited to finally know what it feels like to receive head. Your mind is still fuzzy from Taehyung’s rough ministrations as you slowly get up. You wobble slightly and Taehyung is quick to stabilize you with two strong arms holding the curve of your hips in place.

With his arms already around you he pushes you towards the couch, kicking his jeans off in the process.

Back flat against his plush couch you’re already stripping off your sweatpants and panties together in one. “My, my aren’t you eager”, he teases, a glint of shamelessness twinkling in his brown orbs when he drinks up the plushness of your thighs leading to your dripping cunt.

Holding your knees in the palm on his hands, he spreads them open to reveal the glossy folds on your heat. He kisses his teeth, satisfaction and hunger clear on his face. “Fuck, isn’t this a pretty sight.”

His words bring back a blush on your cheeks, you pull him forward, your lips inches away from his own. “Shut up please.”

And he shuts you up real good. Smashing your lips to his, he envelopes you into a feverish kiss, your tongues dancing the devil's tango.

His hands are adventurous, feeling the mounds of your breasts over your shirt. “Why the fuck isn’t your shirt off yet huh?” He tuts, pulling on the cotton fabric.

“I want yours off too.” You cutely mumble tugging at the hem of his shirt, to which he complies, tugging it off in one fluid motion.

You peel your baggy shirt off just in time to see Taehyung's arm flex as he takes his very own shirt off. “Have you been working out? My God Tae, you're as big as Joon.”

He inwardly smirks because yeah he’s been working out and it's clearly paying off. He doesn’t want to show his glee however, “can we not talk about other men when I’m about to eat you out.”

You chuckle, eyes trailing down his buff arms to his v-line that leads to his dick like an arrow directing you to his treasure. You bite your lip, unclipping your lace bralette, “sure, sure, let’s get the show on the road.”

It’s Taehyung turn to drink up the sight of your body. “Fuck, always imagined what these tits looked like under all those tight clothes you wear.”

He’s really feeding into your praise kink. “Well, were they what you expected?”

He sucks on one immediately and you arch your back at the unexpected pleasure. “Even better”, he squeezes them in his palms, “they’re fucking gorgeous.”

He sucks a deep hickey under your left breast, leaving you whimpering with a hand tangled in his hair. “Always imagined what you sounded like moaning for me.”

You can’t reply, his touches burning through your skin. He kisses down your sternum to your stomach until he’s hovering above your aching clit, a tantalising grin on his face before he’s diving in.

“Fuck!” You wail at the unfamiliar yet mesmerising feelings. His tongue is stiff and pointed, flicking quickly up and down your bundle of nerves.

The grip you have on his hair is deathly but it's the only thing in your reach that can ground you. He licks a long stripe down your sopping slit, keeping his sharp eyes on you the whole time.

“F-feels so fucking good Tae!” You almost scream. He cups his lips around your swollen nub sucking on it with a shit-eating grin on his face.

You’re too dazed to comment on it, reeling in the new pleasures you’re experiencing. You stare down at him, your eyes half opened and so close to rolling to the back of your head.

However, they almost completely open wide at the sight presented before you. With two long fingers, Taehyung is shoving them in his mouth, soaking them with his spit before rubbing them onto your sensitive folds.

You beg. “Put them inside.. Please.” Taehyung doesn’t make a sound only kissing your clit as he plunges his ring decorated fingers into you.

You’re so wet his fingers slide into you with ease. He groans at the sensation, his view focused on the way your cunt greedily sucks him in.

“Look at you, getting my rings all dirty you filthy girl”, he scolds watching the way your essence drips into the crevices of his intricate jewellery.

Taehyung increases the pace of his long fingers, finger fucking you into euphoria. He doesn’t stop there, his lips returning to your desperate clit in a wet mess of your juices and his saliva.

You can feel your orgasm bubbling in your stomach. It's hot and feels so unlike any other upcoming orgasm you’ve experienced. His fingers curl inside of you, his palm slapping your folds with his rapid pace and his lips don’t give any sign of stopping.

“Taehyung- Tae, I’m cumming!” You really scream this time, your orgasm taking control over your body like a demon.

You swear your eyes black out, your body shaking, a warmth gushing out of your cunt as it spazzes out.

Your chest heaves and you blink, feeling a damp pool around you. Oh God, Did you piss yourself?

“Holy fuck Y/N, I can’t believe you just did that.”

You sit up, embarrassed, an apology falling from your lips.

“You just squirted on me.”

You’re flushed, “I- what?”

Taehyung almost looks akin to a wolf hunting down his prey. “That was the hottest fucking experience of my life, holy shit I’m so hard.”

Well at least you didn’t pee on his couch. There’s a surge of overwhelming need for his cock to be inside of you. You’ve never felt this way before, it’s scary but so is this whole experience. It’s definitely one for the books.

Getting up on your knees you hold onto his shoulders, Taehyung raises a brow. “Fuck, I need to ride you, can I ride you?”

You think you just saw his dick twitch at your words. He grins, “just for practice?”

Your smile is sickly sweet, “of course, just for practice.”

His arms are strong when he shuffles into a seated position all while holding your hips above his awaiting cock.

He pauses, a flash of his normal self resurfacing. “You’re on the pill yeah?”

You peck his lips, “yes, now stuff me full.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s sinking you down onto his length.

You both let out moans of pleasure at the feeling of being complete. The stretch hurts so bad but hurts so good. He fills you up so well it has you speechless, the air trapped inside your lungs refusing to be released until your walls are comfortable around his impressive girth.

Mumbling a soft curse, you swivel your hips in slow circles, getting used to his large size. Taehyung watches you, hunger written on his face as he licks his lips and examines the way you fit so perfectly on his lap.

You test the waters, holding onto his shoulders for support. You lift your hips and settle back onto his lap. He groans at the wet squelch it makes and slaps your ass, grabbing it in his hand to squeeze it.

You pick up the speed, pumping up and down, whimpering at how well he fills you up. You keep your gaze trained on the image of his dick disappearing in your heat and pulling out with a wet sheen.

Taehyung tucks a finger under your chin, bringing you close to his face to push his soft lips onto yours once again.

It’s weird to say, but you don’t think you can get tired of kissing your best friend. He knows exactly what you want and knows exactly how to make your head spin.

With his large hands of yours, you pick up the pace, slamming your ass onto his hips. You leave his lips, kissing the side of jaw and suckling a few lovebites behind his ear.

His voice is deep and sultry, “fuck yeah, that’s it.” You wail in his hold, pushing yourself to meet his thrusts below. Your thighs burn but the pleasure burns so much hotter.

You feel your second orgasm of the night rising within you and can tell Taehyung is close too. Taehyung assists you, using his thighs to push up into you. Your juices drip down onto his pelvis and both of your breaths get heavier.

His thrusts are fast and rough, creating loud slapping noises that echo around his empty apartment. He grunts, folding his head into the crook of your neck. He’s about to cum and so are you.

With one final gasp your release hits you like a truck. Your thigh shakes in his lap and Taehyung bites at the delicate skin of your neck. His warm seed shoots inside of you, eliciting a small sigh from your lips.

Taehyung releases his hold to lean back onto the couch. He keeps his softening cock inside of you, lazily staring at your fucked out expression.

You play with his rings, “well, how did I do?”

The shit-eating grin is back. “Hmmm, I think you may need more practice.”

#ficswithluv #bangtaninn #bangtanuniversity #bangtansorciere #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #jimin #jungkook #seokjin #hoseok #namjoon #yoongi #h0neypjm #mine

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snappleapple · 3 years

Text

the bunny vs. the fox

dream x reader

hogwarts au

fluff and angst i suppose

warning - cursing, reader being a small b, simpy dream, underage drinking

word count - 6.8k

a/n: hi again! please enjoy this long boi while i go on another 8 month hiatus lol. also i legit had a heart attack cause i accidentally deleted this but i got it back so phew

the vibrant colors of your uniform stands out amongst the repelling amount of green present within the slytherin common room. you had been invited to the party on behalf of wilbur for their recent quidditch cup win against gryffindor, a game lost because of the carelessness and arrogance of your teammates. along with students from other houses, you stand next to the tall boy you had met when you got onto the train in your first year.

“wilbur, why am i here?” the question lingers in his ear as you point to your current attire of your uniform skirt, an oversized gryffindor sweater you borrowed from sapnap, your thick glasses and messy bed hair from taking a nap after the long game. “y/n? what are you doing here?” you turn your head to glance over at the younger boy, “that’s what i wanna know, tommy.” as you turn around to look at wilbur, another person bumps into you, “hey! watch where you’re going- y/n! what a surprise!” with the roll of your eyes, you dismiss him and reply sarcastically, “glad to see you’re not so shaken up from the recent failure of gryffindor, fundy.” he gives you a shit-eating grin before bouncing away to continue his search for pure alcohol.

as more students enter the already crowded room, a loud cheer begins to form as a boy is lifted into the air. “dream! dream! dream!” the crowd yells at the top of their lungs, which would probably attract a teacher soon, so you begin to sneak out of the room until a loud voice interrupts the cheers, “y/n! leaving the party so soon?” dream taunts with a smirk on his face, everyone’s attention turning towards you. “mind your own business, dream.” you spit out with venom, still bitter about your quidditch loss, as he scoffs and strides towards you, “i guess if you search up sore loser in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of y/n.” he mocks once again while you begin to get riled up from the obnoxious laughter erupting from the crowd. you turn around and begin heading for the door once more before hearing, “come on y/n. no one likes a sore loser.” turning around, you glare at the annoying boy, “come on dream. the only thing worse than a sore loser is a sore winner.” the both of you stare each other down while the whole room stays quiet. dream stands with an unsatisfied smirk on his face as he reaches into his pocket, possibly reaching for his wand. with the slight slip of your fingers and extra progression , you grasp your wand. but before you could fully pull out your wand, you get lifted into the air, over the shoulder of a ravenclaw. “we’ll be seeing you guys later.” he nonchalantly says while walking out of the room, giving you perfect view of dream, with a now satisfied shit-eating grin as he waves at you. you end your interaction with the slytherin with the show of your middle finger.

“techno! why? i could’ve totally won that battle.” the older boy shakes his head as he listens to your whines. “nope. i promised phil that i would keep you out of trouble.” you groan some more before stomping away back to the gryffindor common room, barely sparing a glance at the pink haired boy.

a week passes by and when you’re at breakfast, you lay your head against phil’s shoulder while he munches away on a buttered piece of toast, keeping conversation with fundy. dream hadn’t been bothering as bad as normal but he was still around you. you were a bit confused about his change in behavior but brushed it off, ignoring him and treating him as if he’s on his own menopause situation. twiddling your fingers, boredom begins to strike you in the great breakfast hall. well, once quiet hall, in which the silence is interrupted by the entrance of dream, sapnap and george. you would assume that since they are all from different houses, there would be a tolerance for peace, yet that never seemed like an option with dream. “hello y/n.” he smirks as you turn around to look at him with a stone cold expression. “what do you want?” you say with a scathing tone. ‘“nothing, just came to see how the most competitive person on gryffindor was doing after their recent loss.” with the use of your middle finger, you raise your glasses before giving dream an innocent grin, “i’m feeling good.” the hall goes quieter than it was before as dream sits next to you on the bench. as you leans closer to you, you put your hand under your head and turn your head towards him coyly. “and what do i owe the honor of being able to sit next to the dream? he rolls his eyes as sapnap and george laugh at your shenanigans. “i was just wondering if you would do me the honor of going out to hogsmeade with me?” shaking your head, you barely even glance over at the boy. “no.” dream’s expression remains stoic as he continues to look at you, “come on y/n.” you turn to stand up and leave. raising a stiff hand into the air, you wave to phil and fundy.

but before you could fully exit the great hall, a hand pulls you into the crevice of the walls. he puts his hand over your mouth to prevent you from saying a word. “y/n. please. please go out with me.” shaking your head once again, you give him a cheeky grin. “what will you do for me if i do?” dream pinches his nose bridge, “i’ll do your charms homework for a month.” he persuades with much hesitance. you fully extend your hand out to him and he wraps his large, warm hand around yours. the large grin on your face replicates the one on his face. “next week on saturday, meet me at the bridge to hogsmeade at nine am, sharp! but if you are even a minute late, i’m leaving and you’re still doing my charms homework.” dream closes his eyes and basks in the natural light from the bewitched sky, nodding his head.

the rest of the day, you go throughout your usual classes, occasionally listening to the gossip that spread like wildfire throughout the school. “oh my god, did you hear that l/n is going out with dream tomorrow?” or “i thought they hated each other?” in all honesty, you were beginning to get annoyed from all of the side conversations happening in all classes. luckily, you were in your last class of the day, unluckily, it was with slytherin, specifically dream’s class. a yawn erupts from your mouth as pull out a set of notes to get ready for your class. as the second yawn begins, a hand makes its way to your mouth. you glare at the boy who had already caused way too much mischief for your liking. he gives you a fake grin as he sits next to you. before you can retort to his stupid action, your professor struts into the room, quickly starting his lesson.

throughout most of the class, dream remains quiet, jotting down his notes or dragging his hand through his hair. but towards the end of the class, he leans his head on your shoulder. your body stiffens up as his hand makes its way to your thigh. “you better take your hand off my thigh if you want to keep it.” quiet chuckles erupt from his lips, “can i do this on our date?” you reciprocate soft chuckles, “do you want to die?” the grin on his face get replaced by a pout and puppy dog eyes. “why are you so mean to me?” you continue to scribble down notes, not sparing one glance at the boy, until he grabs your face with both of his hands, “look at me pout, y/n.” and when he turns you face towards him, your professor calls the both of you out. “miss l/n, please take your lovey dovey business outside of class.” your mouth hangs open but before you could protest, dream interrupts you, “will do professor.” his chuckles echo through the room as you slam your head into the table repeatedly until dream puts his hand on the desk, preventing you from bruising your forehead even more. “just let me bash my skull open and die.” dream pats your head, “i can’t have you die before our date.” cringing at his words, you frantically try to remove his hand so you could smash your head into the desk.

later that night at dinner, your face remains a disgusted pout as you imagine your date with dream. while you shudder in disgust, phil taps you out of your daze. “y/n, you really should snap out of it today.” he laughs jokingly along with fundy. your eyes roll as you turn back to your dinner plate full of random things phil stacked on so that you would actually eat dinner. after being forcefully fed one chicken leg and some mashed potatoes, you check the time which read eight twenty five, giving you five minutes to go to the black lake. “oh shit.” you exclaim as you grab all of your items while phil tries to stuff another chicken leg into your mouth. “phi-“ you shut up when the chicken successfully makes it into your mouth. as you sprint out of the hall carrying your school books, robe, wand and other unnecessary items fundy handed to you, your robe decides to slip out unbeknown to you.

when you arrive to the lake, you see him waiting for you already. you toss your items down next to him and sit down next to him. “you’re late. again.” heavy huffs of air erupt from your body as try to catch your breath, still holding the chicken leg phil stuffed into your mouth. “sorr-“ a cough leaves your lips, “sorry. phil was trying to get me to eat dinner.” the boy lets out deep chuckles as he ruffles your hair, “classic phil.” you lean back and balance your weight on the both of your hands as you stare out at the frozen lake. “techno, i don’t get why we have to meet outside in the freezing cold when there is a warm library open to us. i’m cold and i lost my robe on the way here. in a silent flash, a blue accented robe makes its way over into your sight, along with a bare arm. when you turn your head towards the boy, he says away and turns back to the lake, expressionlessly. a small smile erupts on your face as you turn back to the lake, wrapping the robe around your shoulders. before you could mutter a quick thank you, you get cut off, “don’t. lets not talk about this.”

after finishing whatever school work you needed to with techno, you walk back with him into the hallways, coincidentally just as dinner was ending. though you never found out where your robe was, you bump into a tall figure as you make your way through the hall with techno counting the tiles on the floor. a small oomf leaves your lips as the person puts his hands on your shoulders. “who’s robe is that? last time i checked you were in gryffindor, not ravenclaw.” you don’t need to look up to know who you were currently speaking with, “hello dream.” you could hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again, “hello y/n. take this off.” dream retorts with a hint of teasing, “no. i’m cold and i lost my robe. so techno let me borrow his.” the other tall boy next to you nods in agreement. “uh no. i don’t like the sight of this.” dream complains with an unsatisfied look on his face before tugging the robe off of your body, throwing it at technoblade and then proceeding to wrap his robe around your body, slinging his arm over your shoulder. “that’s better.” he doesn’t even spare a glance at the older boy as he leads you away while you try to at least say goodbye to technoblade. “bye- dream i swear to god, bye techno!”

while the both of you continue to the gryffindor tower, he doesn’t let his arm on your shoulders falter. “what’s the deal with you and that guy.” you stop in place, turn to look at dream and mime yourself zipping your lips as if you were saying, ‘you get nothing out of me.’ dream rolls his eyes before throwing you over his shoulder and continuing his way over to the common room. “okay this is unnecessary. put me down, i’m wearing a skirt.” lightly hitting his back with your fist. “don’t worry about it, my robe is covering it up.”

at the door of the entrance, the fat lady stares at you in confusion. “can you put me down?” dream lets out a grunt of disagreement, “no. just tell her the password so i can come in and snuggle you.” you take a breath in of anger, “no. i need to finish homework, plus i’m going to see you again tomorrow.” another grunt comes out of the boy before he says the password to your common room, the fat lady begrudgingly letting the both of you in. “what?! you know the password?” he chuckles before setting you down, “of course, sapnap told me. and i come in here all the time to hook up with different gryffindor girls.” your face of disgust makes a wheeze leave his lips, “i’m joking. i finish homework with sapnap in his room, not hook up with girls. i’ll have you know, i haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” you scoff before turning towards your room, “goodnight dream.” but before you can progress any further, he grabs your wrist, “no.” your face scrunches up. staring the boy up and down, another scoff leaves your lips, “what do you mean ‘no’. i’m not giving you an option.” he pouts and opens his arms, “i jus wanna cuddle.” your face scrunches up in disgust once more before you take a step back, “wasn’t it last week when you were being a bitch about my quidditch team.” his arms fall down in realization but the pout remains visible. slightly annoyed but empathetic, you walk over to him, awkwardly wrapping your arms around his waist, patting him on his back gently. while he embraces you back, he leans down to whisper into your ear, “can we cuddle?” you let out groans before letting out a deep sigh, “fine. but you have to promise not to be too grabby, like right now. i did not tell you to grab my butt.” dream sheepishly shys away from you and grabs the hem of shirt while he follows you up the stairs while you try to maneuver him so he can actually make it up the enchanted stairs that only the girl’s dorm.

when you enter your dorm, you’re met by the friendly faces of your roommates. “h-hey guys.” with the motion of their hands, they tell you scoot over to see dream standing behind you with a smirk on his face. before he could walk into the room, you shut the door in his face, wanting to speak in private with your roommates. “don’t tell anyone about this. he was begging to cuddle and would not leave until i agreed. he’ll be gone by midnight tonight and i promise i’ll make sure he’s quiet.” your roommates stare at you before bursting out in laughter, “you’re going soft y/n!” a look of shock rushes over your face before hushing them, “i am not.” they shake their heads in disagreement, making you roll your eyes. when you open the door to let dream back into your room, your roommates pack their homework and walk towards the door. one roommate holds the door open while the other still collects her things, “we’ll be seeing you later y/n. so have fun with dream.” you hide your face in your pillow, embarrassed from their current attitudes about your situation. when they leave, dream sits on your bed while you stand up and walk over to your closet and grab a change of clothes. “just lay on the bed and i’ll be out soon.” dream nods, boredly flipping through a random book he found on your bed.

in the bathroom, you tie your hair in a messy bun, change into some sweatpants and a random oversized t-shirt, you think its either sapnap’s or wilbur’s, take your contacts out and put your glasses on, before proceeding to brush your teeth and exiting the bathroom.

sitting on the edge of your bed, you stare down at dream, hugging your pillow. “y/n, can you replace the pillow?” your expression quickly shifts from a neutral face to a cringing face. you ignore his words, “scoot over.” you say while grabbing the book dream was reading before you came out, opening it and tucking your legs underneath your comforter. another sigh leaves your lips as you tap the top of your thighs twice, letting dream know that he can lay his head onto your legs, in which he gladly does. about thirty minutes pass and your hand drags itself through his hair, occasionally leaving to flip the page of your book. you stay super into your book until dream speaks up, “y/n.” you let out a mhm of acknowledgement, letting him know you’re listening. “i don’t want to cuddle your legs, i want to cuddle you.” a small okay is heard from you as you put the book on your dresser, tucking yourself into your bed. your back faces away from dream. a shiver rolls down your spine as he wraps his arms around your waist, resulting in him breathing down your neck. goosebumps arise on your body. in the awkward silence of the room, the only things you can hear are the loud thumps of your heart and the even breaths from dream.

when you wake up the next morning, you move your arms to stretch them, but fail to do so in the embrace of dream. staring at his peaceful face, free of any frowns he had shown last night, you brush his bangs out of his eyes. with a glance at the seeping sunlight, you slowly slip out of his embrace, walking to the bathroom to get ready for the day. before you exit the room, you glance over at the sleeping boy on your bed. you roll your eyes before walking over to his side and sitting down on the edge of the bed, gently caressing his messy hair. he stirs in his sleep for a few seconds and as he opens his eyes. the first things he sees is you before pulling you towards his chest with you going down with a yelp. “dream!” he nuzzles his head into your neck, mumbling something incoherent. “say that again?” he mumbles some more, “i don’t know what you’re saying.” you chuckle in-between each word, he moves his head away from your neck, “i said you smell good.” dream stretches as you pull away from him, walking over to the door leading to the common room. “go clean yourself up and come to breakfast.” dream sluggishly drags himself out of your bed before grabbing his robe and your wrist, proceeding to drag you towards the door, the stairs turning into a slide underneath him while you wait for the stairs to turn back, laughing loudly at him. at the bottom of the stairs, you meet the friendly faces of phil, fundy and sapnap.

“y/n, why was dream in your room last night?” phil asks just a bit sarcastic but with a joyful smile on his face. sapnap’s face morphs into a smirk as his eyes move from your figure to dream’s and then back to yours. “you,” he says while staring at you before turning to dream on the floor, “and you.” sapnap then proceeds to make kissy faces earning a smack from you and a chuckle from dream, earning dream a smack from you as well. “dream is leaving anyways.” you say while pushing him out of your common room. phil, fundy, sapnap, you and dream make your way down the hall, “dream. go to your room and change.” he pouts once again before wrapping his hand around yours. once phil notices, he walks between the both of you, separating you and dream, making you stand on either side of him. when you glance up at phil, he just gives you his signature kind smile before turning back to his conversation with fundy. before you notice, dream had disappeared to god knows where, you get pulled behind a pillar, not being noticed from the three of your friends. “shh, y/n.” his hand covers your mouth until he lets go, “dream! what was the point of this, we were with each other like five minutes ago.” he ignores your words and drags you towards the slytherin common room, finishing what he started earlier by holding your hand.

while you wait for dream to finish getting ready in his room, you sit in the common room, greeted by the not so friendly faces of other slytherins, disregarding wilbur sitting at your side, telling you about the dragon he was raising in the dark forest. when dream comes back out, the color of your uniform stands out so brightly in the dark green room. wilbur sits next to you with his beanie on. “wilbur, aren’t you tired? you have black circles under your eyes.” he shakes his head with optimism, “it’s for the aesthetic. don’t worry about them. oh hello dream!” your eyes shift from wilbur to dream. dream leads you out of the common room as the both of you walk down the quiet and empty halls towards breakfast. dream wraps his robe around your shoulders, “i know you get cold easily.” you look up at him with a small smile engulfed by sadness, “thanks.”

as you walk down the long hallway, you finally feel the courage to speak up. “dream,” you pause waiting for a response from the tall boy. he lets out a hum to let you know he’s listening, “why are you doing this?” the question slips from your lips with doubt and concern. “doing what?” dream answers back with his own question. “well for one,” you pause once again with uncertainty, “pretending to like me. just a week ago, you were being a jerk to me and all of a sudden, you just begin to pursue me. and i want to know why.” dream stops in place while you continue by yourself, “what do you mean pretend to like you? i do like you.” now it was your turn to stop, “no you don’t. you can’t just begin to like someone all of a sudden. nothing works like that. so, i’m going to ask you something and i want you to answer sincerely, okay?” dream’s face falls into a guilty expression as he stares at the floor, “how much?” you maintain the soft expression on your face while continuing to gaze at the tall boy, “fifteen galleons.” a tiny huff of air leaves your lips as you a soft small appears on your face in slight disbelief, eyes slightly tearing up. you walk away for a while before speaking once again, “i hope it was worth it.” you take off his robe and drop it on the floor as you walk away from him.

as you enter the great hall for breakfast, you sit next to phil quietly. with a small eye smile, you tell phil that you’re not that hungry and just take a sip out of your tea. “so , y/n. you and dream huh?” sapnap teases, “there’s nothing between us.” your cold tone resonates throughout the gryffindor table, “woah, no need to get your panties in a bunch.” he teases as the other boys around you laugh. angered, you stand up and grab his collar, pulling him towards you over the table, “i said there’s nothing. so fuck off and mind your own business.” your empty hand crunches up, turning your fist white. phil abruptly stands up and gently puts his hand on your shoulder as a signal to tell you to calm down. you could feel all eyes on you but could honestly care less. releasing his collar, the boy looks at you after being scolded by phil for butting into a girl’s business. “i’m sorry y/n. i didn’t mean to that insensitive.” you snap out of your rage induced glare and decide to mutter a small apology as well before walking out of the hall.

“y/n!” another glare arises on your face at you look at the culprit that made you angry. “i’m sorry for the bet, but i was just using that as an excuse because i kept denying the fact that i like you.” dream attempts to grab your hand like he did earlier that day but you snatch your hand away. “don’t bother lying now because i didn’t even believe you earlier.” your reply marked with extreme sarcasm. you turn around to stomp towards your common room once again. “y/n, please. what will it take for you to realize that i actually like you.” with a glance over your shoulder, you look at dream one last time, “leave me the fuck alone.”

as the week passed, it was the day of your date with dream. you stayed in your dorm for most of the day, eventually going out to eat at meal times. dream waited for you at the bridge that leads to hogsmeade for hours until finally leaving when sapnap came to tell him that you weren’t coming.

on the day of your quidditch game with ravenclaw, you lay in bed, staring at the spot dream had once been in with you. you’ve seen dream around but never even glanced towards him, isolating yourself quietly with your small group of friends. dream, for the most part, left you alone besides the points where he hangs out with sapnap in the gryffindor common room. you rarely spoke and only did when it was necessary. before you realize, you’re in the shower room, getting dressed in your uniform. sapnap leads you towards the field and your team flies onto the field. technoblade flies up towards you in attempt to speak to you for the first time that week. “hey munchkin. how’s it going.” you drag your hands through your hair, messing it up after phil had worked so hard to keep it neat. “dream told me he liked me. but his antics started after i confronted him about his bet.” techno’s eyes soften as he ruffles your hair, “i don’t want to sour your mood even more, but he’s sitting in gryffindor stands right now. just for your own information.” you roll your eyes and fly over to your side, bat in hand. the huffs of your breaths could be seen in the snowy weather of winter.

for most of the game, you played extremely aggressive. you nearly hit sapnap once and actually hit fundy while ravenclaw scored over and over again. “y/n! get down here!” you hear the rough voice of your quidditch captain call, “what’s wrong with you l/n? you never play this recklessly. sit out this game, we can have someone else sub for you.” dream watches you from the stands. you stare at your captain in disbelief before nodding and walking off the field.

walking down the hallways, dream follows you with silent steps in order to not attract any unwanted attention. “what do you want dream?” you ask without turning around to look at the boy. “y/n,” before he can finishes, he pauses, allowing time for you to interrupt, “i asked for what you wanted, not my name.” you let out the sarcastic and sappy reply. “y/n, i’m sorry i put you in such a shitty situation and because of that, inevitably hurt our relationship. the stupid relationship that makes me smile every time i think about you or when someone mentions your name.” dream walks towards you with caution while also watching your reaction. once he realizes that you’re okay with his presence, he pulls you into his embrace. your face gets buried into his chest. “i hate you. i hate that you made me believe you loved me. i hate that i like you despite you being an ass. i hate that we have an unspoken rivalry. i hate how you make butterflies appear with any spoken word and how you’re a touchy person that needs to hold my hand wherever we go.” dream’s chuckles echo in the hall along with his body. “i didn’t know you hated me so much.” you push away from him with a small smirk on your face, “i do. you just have a punchable face.” dream lets out an exaggerated gasp as he holds his hand over his heart, “i’m offended.” he pouts once again, a smile expanding on his face.

“but will you officially do me the honor of going out on a date with me on tomorrow? no bets, no money, nothing. just a boy in love.” you cringe at first then pretend to think about it for a while before finally making eye contact with him, “no.” his smile doesn’t falter, “okay then, i’ll see you at the bridge at nine thirty.” you raise your eyebrows in confusion as the boy walks three steps ahead of you, “come on y/n.” he taunts as if you are a dog. with the roll of your eyes, you skip up towards him and he wraps one of his arms around your shoulder. “you’re not busy right now, are you?” a small laugh leaves your lips as you stare at the tall boy, “well, i just kicked out of my quidditch game, so no? but then again, i’m sort of sweaty so i might need to take a shower.” he ignores you once again and continues walking towards your dorm. as he begins to sound out the password, you cut him off. “look dream, i like you okay?” dream nods with a sly smirk, “but not enough for you to come in.” patting him on his back, you tell the lady the password and walk into the common room. his smirk falters as you leave him standing outside the common room door. dream’s eyes stay on you until he fat lady closes the portrait door. “rejected!” she sings before dream walks away with the roll of his eyes.

the next day at around nine twenty, you walk up from your bed. “oh my god!” you yell checking the time. running to your bathroom, you turn the your sink on quickly, brushing your teeth and your hair before running out to go change. at nine twenty five, you run down the busy halls, occasionally bumping shoulders with some random people. “y/n? where are you going?” fundy asks while watching you run. you stop briefly, “date. dream. waiting. late.” breathing out each word slowly due to your lack of breath. as you begin to start running again, phil and fundy watch you receding figure. by nine thirty two, you make it to the entrance of the bridge, seeing dream standing there with a small smile on his face. “you’re late.” you let out coughs and heave out heavy breaths before speaking again. “sorry. i woke up later than expected.” while you try to catch your breath, dream stares at you lovingly before getting a mischievous glint in his eyes, “am i that breathtaking y/n?” a frown appears on your face before you begin to walk back towards the castle, “no, y/n. i was kidding.”he chuckles as he grabs your hand, the warmth from his hand immediately seeping into your cold hand.

after walking around for a while hearing the crisp crunch of the snow, dream’s hand remains in yours. to be honest, he hasn’t even let your hand go since the beginning of your date. while you were at honeydukes, he held your hand, at dervish and banges, he held your hand, scrivencraft’s, dream. hand. your. hand. he would constantly whine whenever you tried to let go and if you did, he would opt to putting an arm over your shoulder. you walk around with dream until finally reaching the three broomsticks.

you tell dream to get the two of you a table while you go to order drinks. while you wait to pick up the drinks at the counter, you turn around to see dream with a posse full of girls around the tiny table. with the role of your eyes, you dismiss his cocky attitude and turn back towards the lady making your drinks. “is that the boy you came in with?” you life your head off of your palm and look up at the older lady, “yes ma’am.” loud giggles could be heard from behind you as you continue to ignore them, your clenched fist turning slightly whiter by the minute. the older lady looks down at you with sympathy, “you’re jealous.” taken aback from her absurd comment, you look at her with disbelief and large eyes. “jealous? jealous of that?” you say while turning around to point at dream and the girls basically hanging off of his body. “there’s a certain amount of pride a lady can hold herself to and there is no way i’m stooping down that low. sure, call me jealous if you want, but don’t compare me to that mess over there.” you slam down one galleon and walk away from the counter and out the door. dream watches your whole interaction happen and abrubtly stands up after watching you exit the pub. “sorry ladies, but my girl needs some tending to.” he walks out, ignoring the symphony of pleads.

“stupid. stupid. how could i have gotten so mad. she was just making an observation.” you murmur to yourself, feeling apologetic to the older lady who was just as surprised as you after you went off on your tangent. you sit on a bench, which overlooking the mountains near the school. you hit your head with the palm of your hand continuously until a warm hand stop you. “why’d you run away bunny?” you slip your wrist out of his grasp, “not run. walked. and it was because of something that happened to me and the waitress. she may or may not have said something i disagreed with and i may or may not have gone off about it at her.” dream sits down next to you, leaving no space in-between the both of you despite the bench being able to seat four people. “oh bunny-“ once again annoyed, you interrupt him, “why are you calling me bunny?” he chuckles as he watches you stand up to walk off, “because,” dream reciprocates your action and stands up as well, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you into his chest. “despite you being in gryffindor, you’re like a cute bunny to me. you’re the smartest person i know and love being around people. despite those traits, you are also bratty, willful and vengeful. it takes a certain person to deal with me and you work with me. we’re like the modern life lady and the tramp.” hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his waist.

“now bunny, what did the lady say to you?” you let out a small murmur of no before pulling away from him. “you don’t need to know.” a mischievous smile erupts on his face, “but i want to know.” you shake your head in response, “but you don’t need to.” with a slight side step, you stare up at the boy. “bunny.” he replies sternly, “if you don’t reply in five seconds, something bad is going to happen to you.” he uses his fingers count down to zero, “five, four, three,” in the meantime, you begin to run away from the boy, “get away from me!” you yell as you try to the reach the sanctuary of the presence of other students. before you could, you get tackled to the ground, “i asked you nicely y/n.” a second before you could repent, he begins to tickle you. “no. i’m sorry. i’ll tell you.” you wheeze out, “its too late bunny.” he continues to tickle you for what feels like hours, on the cold snow on the ground, until he gets tackled off of you, “get off of her!” you sit up to see fundy on top of dream, pinning his hands down while sapnap grabs dreams legs. their interrogation of dream gets interrupted by your laughs. their attention gets turned towards you, “you dunces. he wasn’t attacking me, he was tickling me.” fundy and sapnap’s faces turns into a surprised look as they turn to look at each other before looking back at you and getting off of dream. “my bad bro. we didn’t know.” sapnap replies as he and fundy scurry off to the safety of philza.

you stare at dream with an amused smirk as he continues to lay on the ground, pouting at the sudden interaction. you reach your hand down to help him up, “why couldn’t you make friends with hot girls that would tackle me.” before he could grab your hand, you pull it back and walk away, teasing him. “wait y/n, are you actually offended from what i said?” dream stands up and jogs over towards you, “cause i love that you have friends in general.” your face scrunches up as you stare him, “okay, fox.” now it was time for his face to scrunch up, “what did you just call me.” he says, not stating it as a question but rather a statement. “i called you fox.” his eyesbrows raise in confusion, “i’m bunny and you’re fox.” dream stares at you before grabbing your hand and walking towards the castle, “okay, i’ll be fox if you’re bunny.” smiles erupt on both of your faces as you continue to joke around on your trip towards the castle.

the first time you say i love you back to dream is from the day he pouted the entire night and while also hiding from you in the safety of his room. “beau, what’s wrong with you today?” when he finally looks up at you, he tries to keep a stern expression, but it falls into a smile as he pulls you close to him. “why don’t you ever say i love you back?” small chuckles erupt from your body as you play with his dirty blonde hair, “because i thought you knew how much i loved you. but if you need confirmation, you could’ve just told me.” he groans in slight embarrassment, “i love you so much to the point that i would do anything you ask me to. i would even kill sapnap for you.” now it was dream’s turn to chuckle, “thank you y/n. i love you too.” for the rest of the night, he didn’t let you go, meaning, you had to sneak back into your common room at four in the morning, hiding from the watchful gaze of philza.

about five months pass, and your relationship with dream prospers. at any quidditch game, you or him would be spotted in the crowd, or actually versing each other. in that case, he would stay so close to you, occasionally throwing around flirty comments at you or basically handing you the bludger. other times, when you study in the library with techno or phil, he always sits in the corner of the library with george, never being secretive. “what george? say that again.” leaving you to ignore him. whenever parties occur, you always try to walk around and mingle while he attaches himself to your side, greeting everyone you talk to. when he gets deadbeat drunk, he becomes clingy times one million, “y/n, don’t leave me.” and you reply, ‘this is my room.” cries and loves to snuggles into your neck when you come back a minute later. you’re not gonna lie but man is in lsg, little spoon gang. he loves being little spoon when he’s drunk but sober dream is another story. always has to be big spoon to keep his reputation up and has absolutely no recollection of being little spoon, so its your little secret with drunk dream. when you do your homework, he lays on your bed, usually taking a nap despite his eight page essay being due the next day. weekly hogsmeade dates, will literally buy you anything you set your eyes on, not even caring about the price. sometimes you wonder where that money even comes from. in total, will chase you down nonstop while you run away from his antics.

your relationship is well known around the school as the complex bunny and the sly fox.

philza still doesn’t approve though.

740 notes · View notes

yslkook · 3 years

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red card - on the defensive (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader (soccer captain jjk) summary: you and jungkook run in the same circles, and yet after three years, he struggles to get your time of day. you think he’s cocky and he’s going to change your mind. word count: 5.1k warnings: cursing, alcohol/drinking (lots of it), suggestive content a/n: this story is for @cutechim, it went down in the DM’s and came to life. this is my entry into the blond jk foray!! enjoy<3

red card masterlist

“What should we drink?” Hana shouts over the music to you in the crowd.

“Uh… let’s do jagerbombs,” You shout back, even though you’re both relatively close to each other at the bar. You peer behind you at the group of people you’ve congregated with this afternoon, counting a total of four.

“Can I have… eight jagerbombs?” You request of the bartender, who raises his eyebrow at you.

“Why am I not surprised,” He says with a roll of his eyes, “You’re all gonna run me dry of my jager.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time it happened,” You mutter. And you’re right- it’s happened at least twice over this summer, when you and your friends made a weekly appearance to this bar. The bartender knows you and Hana by your faces at this point and you’ve jokingly asked why your usual order of jagerbombs or tequila shots aren’t ready upon arrival.

These weekly occurrences were sponsored by your job at a law firm near your university. And by sponsored, you mean that your bank account takes a minor hit on a weekly basis. Since university had let out, you’d made yourself available for as many hours as possible- after all, you needed a way to fund these days and nights out.

While juggling a summer class three days a week for three hours each day.

But you weren’t completely financially irresponsible- you drew the line… eventually. Certainly not after eight jagerbombs though (you’d stopped questioning how you could easily drop that much money on alcohol these days). At least it's summer happy hour and you’re not paying full price.

Besides, you and your friends rotate rounds. Hana will get the next one, and then one of the guys, and so on and so forth. You’d gotten two extra specially for you and Hana, but nobody needed to know that.

You love these summer days, when it’s nothing but you and your friends enjoying the breeze and the vibes of a fun afternoon (that inevitably leads to a night of more recklessness). Nothing can take the tipsy grin off of your face or the arm looped around your best friend’s shoulders, except-

Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook. You don’t mind Jimin as much (mostly because of Hana, who’s been harboring a not so secret crush that is definitely bordering more on love than a simple crush on him for who knew how long). But still, when all three of them are together, you make your disdain very known and obvious. At least you think you do.

Some of the star players from your university’s soccer team, and the captain himself, Jeon Jungkook. They walk into the crowded, noisy bar as if they own the place and you can already see heads turning. You roll your eyes and tell Hana to get it together when she starts giggling and waving at Jimin.

Your eyes seem to meet the back of your skull when all three of them saunter over towards you and your friends. It’s not that you have anything against them per se, it’s that you find them as a unit quite annoying and you know of their reputations. Or, you think you know of their reputations. Maybe you’re a little judgmental. But who cares, it’s not any of their business.

Most of your perhaps misplaced vitriol is reserved for Jungkook himself and the few interactions that you’ve had over the last almost four years of being in university together. You’ve had a few general ed classes with him freshman year, but after that most of your interactions were solely at parties and any excuse to celebrate. You had mutual friends (somehow) so it was inevitable that you saw him as much as you did.

Every fiber of him annoyed you- he was cocky and arrogant… Everything you intensely disliked in a person. Hana told you that you were being mean and judgmental (not as nicely), but if it meant not dealing with this boy who got a rise out of you for no reason, then it didn’t matter. Of course, he doesn’t take up space in your mind very often. Only when you have the misfortune of running into him.

You didn’t know him, and truly, you didn’t care to. You’ll remain civil though, only if he doesn’t annoy you. Which you doubt will happen.

Jungkook can sense your iciness towards him and his friends from half a mile away, from across the bar. And the bar itself is pretty big, with an outdoor area and an outdoor dance floor, and two bars inside with tables and booths and a dance floor. Despite the space of the bar, it’s crowded with college students, young professionals, and even older corporate workers who look like they work relatively close to the bar. He knows you and your friends come here often, and if that was why he had suggested to Jimin and Tae that they also come here then that was his business.

He swallows (not nervously). You look so pretty when you laugh, he thinks. He thinks you look pretty all the time, though. He lets his eyes wander to your tight black crop top shirt with cherries printed on it and your high waisted denim shorts. Jungkook’s throat goes a little dry when his gaze reaches your thighs, but he keeps it together somehow. He doesn’t know how, considering how nice that outfit makes your tits look.

“Hey Cherries,” Jungkook says smoothly, “Flattered you got this for me.” And he plucks the jagerbomb that you paid for for yourself and downs it in less than three seconds.

Your jaw drops. The audacity of this boy.

“First of all,” You narrow your eyes, “Who the fuck is a ‘Cherries’. And second of all, I know you didn’t just drink the drink that I paid for. Right in front of my fuckin’ face.”

“That’s a funny way of asking me to buy you a drink, Cherries,” Jungkook grins, and gazes at your chest for a second too long. You roll your eyes and swat his arm.

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. I’ll have a tequila shot, pretty boy,” You smirk at him and he smirks right back at you.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants,” Jungkook attempts, only for you to scoff.

“Congratulations,” You say flatly, “You’re lucky I’m not subjecting you to getting me two tequila shots for having to hear that line.”

“You don’t like my lines?” He’s pouty and his eyes are wide, mischief sparkling in them. You dare to think that he’s cute. Apparently all of the boys had dyed their hair blond this summer before the soccer season began and you must admit that it suits him. His hair falls over his forehead effortlessly, small hoops dangling from his ears as he smiles at you.

“Does anyone? Do your groupies?”

“Maybe I’m a little rusty…”

“Oh, I doubt that, Jungkook.”

“Well, you notice whether I have groupies or not, so maybe I’m not so rusty, Cherries,” Jungkook winks at you and you’re tempted to toss your drink at him. But that’s a precious waste of alcohol and perhaps you’re a little dramatic.

You only groan and accept the tequila shot, quickly licking your hand to place salt on and taking a wedge of lime.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks after doing the same.

“How lucky for me, that I get to do shots with our star quarterback,” You say flatly.

“That’s football, Cherries. I play soccer.”

“And I don’t care. Now, take this shot with me.”

As the afternoon blends into evening, you witness betrayal in front of your very eyes in the form of Hana inviting Jimin and his friends with you to the next bar. The ultimate betrayal.

But really, you’ve heard about those soccer boys. At least you think you have. Perhaps you know everything. Perhaps you know nothing at all.

And so the three boys follow you to the next bar as the night goes on. Nearly everyone was at least tipsy by this point, as you had all done a handful of shots following the boys’ arrival at the first bar.

You find yourself thinking that they’re not so bad, when they make you and your friends laugh easily and when being around them feels… fun.

It’s easy to blame on the alcohol and the darkness of the crowded bar. It seems like everyone is out and about, the streets filled with college students and young professionals looking to unwind and let off some steam.

You love the feeling of the music pumping through your veins, along with the swirl of alcohol. You’re not ashamed of enjoying a drink (or several) and having a good time.

Even if it almost always results in you crossing the line and being hungover the next day.

“Wanna do shots,” You suggest to your circle of friends, eyes landing on Jungkook without you meaning to. Maybe it’s a hidden challenge and he raises his eyebrows.

“Again?” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Don’t be surprised,” Jimin mutters under his breath to Jungkook, “She’s kinda crazy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes… six shots then?” You say cheerily, ignoring Jungkook’s groan. You vaguely recall that Taehyung doesn’t really drink. How considerate of you.

Hana’s arm is slung around your shoulders, a bright (drunken) smile on her face as you pass shots behind you.

The following week, on your usual day of happy hour drinking, Hana presents you with a proposition that has you gasping and gagging, nearly writhing on the floor.

“No, for your information, I do not want to pregame at the soccer house. Thanks for asking, try again later,” You say definitively, pouring Hana a drink.

“Jimin invited us! I wanna see him,” Hana complains and pouts at you, “He said they got good alcohol for the pregame-”

“Jimin invited you, because you both like each other or whatever,” You roll your eyes, “I’m content to drink here alone-”

“We both know you’ll fall asleep if I leave you alone,” Hana says flatly, “Besides, Jungkook asked if you were coming.”

“And what do I care if Jungkook asked if I was coming?” You scoff, taking a long swig of the strong drink in your red solo cup. You cringe.

“He specifically asked if Cherries was coming,” Hana says with a near maniacal grin, “Pretend all you want that you don’t like that shit. Now go wear that top with cherries on it that makes your tits look nice. Quit being difficult.”

In the end, you end up walking the four blocks to the soccer house and you wear the baby pink long sleeved crop top with cherries on it and denim shorts, much to your chagrin (and to Hana’s delight). You’ve only been here a handful of times (maybe two or three) as a freshman for parties and hadn’t been back since.

Everyone knew the soccer house was the place to party to get shitfaced. Usually, the sophomore and junior year soccer players lived in the house while senior year players moved off campus.

You don’t know who currently lives at the house, but Hana quickly fills you in. Apparently Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook lived together off campus (because of course they did).

The soccer house has been part of the campus lore for years. Allegedly, all of the craziest, most reckless things happened at the soccer house and all of the best parties were there. You and Hana never felt that way freshman and sophomore year, instead opting to party hop at the frat houses rather than the sports houses.

How the tables have turned.

“You made it!” Jimin exclaims, outstretching his arms for a hug from you. Which you (awkwardly) return. You need more alcohol to be here, you think.

“Yeah, only ‘cause Hana told me you guys got the good shit,” You say flatly. Taehyung passes a cup of something and you eye it suspiciously but ultimately take a swig of it.

“Pretty good, Tae,” You say, raising your cup to him.

“Oh, I didn’t make that. I’m only the messenger,” Taehyung shrugs with a sly grin, “Jungkook over there did.”

You turn your head, only to find Jungkook staring back at you, lips upturned in a playful grin. It makes you roll your eyes, as most of his antics do.

“Hey, Cherries,” Jungkook greets, standing next to you after a few long strides, “It only took Jimin asking you once to come here, huh? I should be offended, considering how many times I’ve asked you-”

“And when have you ever asked me to party here, Jungkook?”

He only gives you a small smile, almost shy, and it’s a stark contrast from the generally cocky aura that hangs around him. “You just don’t remember.”

You frown a little, wondering what that means. But he gives you another broad smile quickly, shaking you from your reverie. Jungkook leaves you to your devices, being pulled away by some of the younger soccer guys that you hardly recognize. Freshmen? Sophomores, maybe? They look at Jungkook and the older guys with a playful sort of reverence- it’s clear that the team is close even off of the field.

You briefly wonder what that’s like- having a group of friends like that. Hana’s always been the nicer, more outgoing one out of you both. She’s always made friends easily, with her sweet and genuine smiles. And then there’s you- you struggle to open up to others, always greeting anyone with the sting of sarcasm and holding people at arm’s length.

Sometimes, very rarely, you wonder how you and Hana mesh well together. When she could have a big group of great friends, you used to wonder if you hold her back somehow. It was stupid, and the first time you voiced your insecurity to Hana, she had smacked you upside the head and told you that you were stuck with her.

But still. You can’t help but feel burdensome sometimes. Maybe like you’re too much. Maybe not enough.

Hana pulls you out of your thoughts easily, an arm around your shoulder as she pulls you into conversation with Jimin and a few other girls.

You down about half the cup of whatever concoction Jungkook whipped up for you and tried to immerse yourself in conversation. There’s a new girl here that you don’t recognize, Sunmi. She’s a transfer and the last thing you want is for her to feel left out. So you make sure to include her in the conversation and ask her questions, too.

Jungkook is not surprised that you don’t remember how many times he’s asked you to come party at the soccer house. Granted, it’s only been a handful of times over the last three years and change. It’s not like you were a stranger- he’s known you through a few mutual classes through the years, and through Jimin, too. After all, Jimin and your best friend have had this weird on and off, together but not together thing going on since the summer before sophomore year.

Maybe one of these days, they’ll get it together. Jungkook loves Hana for Jimin and vice versa- he’s never seen either smile as much as they do around each other. If only they would just admit how much they like (love) each other and put everyone around them out of their misery.

Jungkook thinks it’s a little romantic. Being so in love with someone that labels aren’t needed. There’s something poetic about that.

But Jungkook doesn’t know why you act like you don’t know him at all. You always greet him with a near frown or a roll of your shining eyes.

He doesn’t understand but he pays it no mind, instead turning his focus to the pretty woman eyeing him from the other side of the bar with her friends.

(She’s not you, but it doesn’t matter. Jungkook pushes you to the back of his mind, instead choosing to focus on the velvet heat of the woman in his bed later that night.)

With your shift at the law firm starting at 9 AM the following morning, you decide to remain relatively sober for the night (you enjoy a good time, but you try to draw the line when you can. Though there have been times when you’ve gone to work hungover or possibly even still intoxicated. It happens every so often. You’ve never claimed to be the paradigm of a working college student.)

But also, you don’t really feel like being out tonight to begin with. You do enjoy nights like this, but you also enjoy your quiet time. And it seems like this is one of those nights.

At least someone’s having fun, you think dryly, your eyes glossing over Jimin and Hana. You do think they’d be a great match- if only either of them would make it official. This dance that they’ve been doing for years frustrates you and Hana knows it. You’ve voiced it to her many times but she always says it’s not the right time.

It makes you roll your eyes. You briefly wondered if you should host an intervention and scold Jimin for taking too long- after all, if they kept playing games like this then who’s to say one of them wouldn’t move on? But it seems like they both always gravitate to each other no matter what.

He rotates around her axis and she rotates around his. It’s sweet but Jimin still puts a sour taste in your mouth for a reason that you can’t verbalize into words.

Maybe it’s the company he keeps.

The music is loud in your ears as you dance with your group of friends, two of them in an impromptu dance off that you inevitably get dragged into. You sling your arm around Sunmi and nudge hips with her, getting her to come out of her shell a little bit and dance with her on the dance floor. She sings to the same songs as you do and gives you a bright, happy smile that you can’t help but return.

You buy a round of beers for your friends before the first yawn comes, not even at 1 AM. Hana looks at you quizzically.

You keep checking your phone for the time. Which in itself is pretty out of character for you. But you just need a recharge before the next outing…..

But you suck it up, not wanting to leave Sunmi by herself. You fight through your yawns and nurse your beer, twirling and swirling around with Sunmi.

And then you start to get hungry. Damn, you could go for some tacos right now.

“Hey,” Sunmi shouts over the music, “Wanna get food?”

“Wow, you read my mind,” You grin and chug your beer quickly. You and Sunmi both settle on the bar across the street (with the best tacos). You turn to find your friends and let them know that you’re heading across the street. Jimin and Hana both nod eagerly, Taehyung does, too.

You debate if you should ask Jungkook if he wants food- after all, it looks like he’s busy with a girl currently sending him sultry heart eyes.

“Hey, we’re going to get food. Wanna come?” You ask, “You, too.” You look at the pretty girl who looks familiar. She probably attends the same university as you and your friends.

Jungkook’s ears perk up at the mention of food, even with the girl currently standing in between his legs. She looks wary for a minute and before you can reassure her, Jungkook speaks up.

“Sure. I could go for some tacos,” Jungkook says, “Let’s get some tacos, Nari.”

“Are you sure, I mean I don’t want to impose. We can catch up later, Kook,” Nari says unsurely.

Jungkook will admit, this feels weird for a reason that he can’t place. The girl he’s trying to hook up with for the night getting tacos with the girl he might have a slight crush on.

Weird. But still, there’s no harm in just having tacos.

“Trust me, you’re not imposing, Nari. I barely even like this guy,” You joke, “I’m just a big proponent of tacos and tacos should never be eaten alone. Tell your friends too, if they wanna come.”

“Hey!”

You ignore Jungkook to reassure Nari and give her a bright smile. Nari looks at you, and then Jungkook before nodding slowly and returning your smile.

Jungkook walks Nari out with a hand at the small of her back, something you don’t miss as you chat away with Nari about anything and everything.

You even shoot Jungkook a wink when Nari isn’t looking. He groans internally- how poetic. His current crush giving him the approval of his hook up for the night (Nari knew what the deal was).

How incredibly awkward. Jungkook is capable of many things, always adapting to situations. But this is a new one and when Jimin and Taehyung catch his eye at the taco shop, they both give him a derisive smile.

Jungkook can only groan internally and eat his tacos.

Today’s Wednesday night is uneventful- Hana is with Jimin for the evening and they are likely going out with some friends. You had opted out, as you had an early shift at the law firm tomorrow morning. You’ve gone out the night before early shifts and early classes and more than half the time, you regret it the next day.

Does it mean you’ll stop those habits any time soon? Stay tuned.

But today, you just feel tired from a particularly long, difficult morning of class and your half shift that you worked until five PM. You hadn’t felt like cooking dinner (you had taken leftovers to work for lunch) and by the time you finished your homework for your natural language processing class, it was past 9 PM and your stomach was rumbling loudly.

You’ve been craving noodles, dumplings and chicken. So you place an order at the nearby restaurant by your apartment and order some extra for Hana for later or for tomorrow.

It’s only a fifteen minute walk from your apartment to the shop, and you plug your headphones in to begin your walk.

You sway on the heels of your feet as you wait for your food, saying hello to the couple who owns the small restaurant. They know you by face, from how many times you’ve been here. Your favorite comfort food (besides homemade food made by your parents) exists here. Your favorite aromas exist here and even just the smell of noodles and chicken has your tummy rumbling.

“I thought you would’ve been out,” A voice comes from your right side, “It’s the week before classes start.”

You turn your head at the voice, heart startling a bit. What in the world is Jungkook doing at your secret but not so secret restaurant?

“I could say the same for you,” You remark with a raise of your eyebrow, “I heard Jimin and Tae went out.”

You vaguely wonder if he’s still hooking up with Nari but decide it’s not your business to ask.

“Ah, well… I have work tomorrow,” Jungkook shrugs.

“Me too, they want me in at 7:30 tomorrow,” You complain, “What do I look like? A cog in the wheel that is capitalism?”

“Don’t we all?” Jungkook snorts.

“I didn’t realize you were working this summer, too. Thought you were just doing whatever soccer captains do,” You mutter, picking up your order off of the countertop.

“And what do soccer captains do, Cherries?”

“I dunno. Score touchdowns or whatever,” You shrug and laugh at the pained expression on Jungkook’s face, “And stop calling me that, Jungkook.”

“Whatever, Cherries. I’ve been working at this architecture firm as an intern. Figured it would help with post grad.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t know that was your major…”

“You definitely did, I’m pretty sure I’ve told you.”

“When-” You shake your head, not wanting to argue with him, “That’s cool. I’m working at a law firm, it’s about a fifteen minute bus ride from my apartment.”

“You wanna study law? Makes sense, because you always wanna argue with me-”

“No, I don’t really know if I want to go to grad school,” You trail off, “Hey! I don’t always argue with you!”

“You’re arguing now,” He says smugly, crossing his hands across his broad chest that you definitely do not ogle at.

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You roll your eyes, “You here for classes or anything?”

“Nah, not this summer. Just work and soccer,” Jungkook replies, “Gives me lots of time for other things.” The man has the audacity to wink at you and give you a big, bunny grin. You pretend like your stomach doesn’t flutter.

You roll your eyes, again.

“How about you, Cherries? Any classes?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this natural language processing class three times a week for three hours each day-”

“Wait, you’re a comp sci major?” He asks incredulously, “Why are you working at a law firm then?”

“I’m working half as IT support and half as the intern,” You reply with a shrug, “It pays well and it’s pretty easy. Half of the IT support comes in the form of telling the lawyers to restart their computers for software updates. It’s so funny, you should see their amazed faces when all it takes is a fuckin’ restart. Makes a girl feel smart as hell.”

“Smart and pretty, huh?” Jungkook says with a crooked grin, “Where you been all my life, Cherries?”

“Shut up,” You say flatly, levelling him with a glare that only makes him smirk even wider at you.

“Cute,” He breathes with so much conviction that it almost makes you flustered. You clutch your bag of food a little tighter to ground yourself.

“Me telling you to shut up is cute?” You raise both your eyebrows, eager to shield him from the heat in your cheeks.

“Among many other things, Cherries.”

“Share with the class then…”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Shut up, and why do you like calling me cherries so much,” You complain, lips jutted out in a pout, “I only wore that top once and now look. You’re referring to me as a delectable, juicy fruit. I mean I don’t blame you-”

“Cherries are my favorite,” Jungkook says, dark eyes swirling with stars. He unnerves you with his raw honesty and sincerity and he lets the implication of his words hang in between you both, your eyes wide by his statement.

“Well, your taste is questionable because mangoes are very obviously superior-”

You both share a laugh and you’re pleasantly surprised by how the silence that comfortably falls isn’t awkward when you deflect. His name is called shortly after, breaking his intense stare.

You let out a huff, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Hey, I’ll drive you home,” Jungkook says, pushing the door open for you to exit the shop.

“You have a car on campus?” You say, unable to hold back the awe in your voice, “That’s awesome. And uh, no, I mean, you really don’t have to, it’s only a fifteen minute walk-”

“It’s a two minute ride,” Jungkook says, “But I mean, if you’re not comfortable, I get it-”

“No, it’s not that,” You say honestly, “I just don’t want to inconvenience you-”

“You’re not, it’s a two minute ride. Now get in,” Jungkook says reassuringly, opening the passenger side door for you. He puts his own bags of food in the backseat before getting into the driver’s side.

You’ve never really been alone with Jungkook, but for some reason it doesn’t feel that strange. It’s easy to keep conversation (really, it’s banter) flowing with him- as if you’ve been friends for the entirety of the last few years of college. As if you hadn’t spent nearly every waking moment thinking of him a certain way.

He’s easy to talk to. It unnerves you, but you roll with it.

“You should come to a practice one of these days,” Jungkook murmurs. You raise an eyebrow. Why would he ask you to come to one of his soccer practices when you had only just started an acquaintance-ship? Isn’t that crossing some sort of friendship line that you both hadn’t approached yet.

It’s months later when you realize that everything Jungkook does and says is because of his kind, golden heart. He’s such a genuine person, sincerity always dripping from his warm, brown eyes. Everything he does, he does with love.

“Thanks for driving me home, Jungkook,” You murmur with a small smile. It makes his heart sputter in his chest and he easily returns it. “Text me when you get home?”

“If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask. Cherries,” Jungkook says smugly and you gasp, affronted. “Text me when you get inside your place.”

“That’s not- I didn’t-” You stammer, sighing, “I already have your number, stupid.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” You mutter, cheeks blazing as you hurry to get out of his car. Which coincidentally smells just like him. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“‘Night, Cherry.”

You roll your eyes but give him a small wave and a smile before entering your building.

cherries: I’m inside. Drive safe jungkook: you worried about me? cherries: no im worried about your nice car jungkook: uh huh… gonna leave now, text you when i get home? cherries: 👍🏾

It’s about three minutes later (you barely even have time to wash your hands and change into pajamas) before your phone lights up again.

jungkook: im home cherries: me too jungkook: wow you’re funny cherries: pretty and smart too, according to you jungkook: well i wasnt lying 😍 cherries: Uh huhhhhh

You put your phone to the side to put some of the food on your plate, your stomach still rumbling. You turn on the anime you’re currently watching and get cozy on the couch with a glass of wine.

And in the middle of your late dinner, your wine and your show, your phone lights up with texts from Jungkook. It surprises you that he holds the conversation even when you had given him such a dull response. Isn’t he tired of texting you by now?

He keeps you company through your dinner and you barely are even paying attention to the anime you’re watching, only giggling to yourself over Jungkook’s silly texts-

cherries: you’re so distracting, couldnt even finish this episode of fruits basket jungkook: cute cherries: i cant tell u if its cute, i barely watched it bc of you jungkook: no i meant u. Ur cute

Five seconds go by. Then ten. Your face is heated- you’re glad he can’t see you. Maybe you’ll reciprocate someday. But today is not that day.

cherries: shut up

tags: @kookdbean

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

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3mmafr0st · 3 years

Text

Hard to Hate Chapter 2

Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1678 Warnings: Swearing, angst, enemies to lovers, eventual smut? Taglist: @intpeach @aria-dne @allthebestmenarefictional Ask me if you want to get added to the list! Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15,

Read the Russian translation Here

The smell of cut grass permeated the air as I took a deep breath in. The moments before practice were always the best, the still static feeling in the air. Quidditch was my only escape from what plagued my mind. Suddenly I was jostled out of my state of calm by a rough hit to the shoulder by Marcus Flint.

“Get your head in the game, Lestrange, we’re gonna need it for the match against Gryffindor.”

“Like I’m the one whose going to need it, Flint.” Everyone knew that I was the best chaser on the team, but Snape, as much as he loved me for being a Slytherin who was good at potions, he was a raging sexist. He probably had some trauma or something, but that was no excuse, and for that reason, Flint was captain. Sadly, I had to take orders from this absolute asshole. We ran drills for about an hour. I was just getting into my groove. Every drill was executed perfectly. We were going through drill number twenty-eight again, which was my favorite, as it meant Flint had to relinquish the quaffle for the first time in a while. Warrington passed it to me, and I quickly zoomed down the pitch towards the goal posts, faking twice and then throwing it right through the hoop as Flint caught the rebound. Everything was perfect and I gave Warrington a quick high five. I celebrated a little as we set ourselves up for the next drill, when all of a sudden, something struck my chest.

The force of the bole made me lose my grip on my broom for a split second and I tilted over, plummeting out of the sky. Panic began to set in as I reached out for my broom, quickly grabbing it and flying back down to the ground, back to safety. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, and I finally looked down at my chest to process what had happened. A splattering of red and gold paint littered the front of my uniform. I turned around to see Cassius hitting the ground, hard, and I ran over to him. He groaned, turning towards me, the same red and gold patterning splayed over his uniform. Marcus flew to the ground, being covered with paint as well. I knew immediately who it was.

“You absolute dicks!” I screamed, looking around frantically. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as my top two suspects, along with a few others, ran towards the exit that headed to Gryffindor tower. I looked to Flint to make sure that he had Warrington, and then ran after them, abandoning my broom, wand in hand.

I was already so far behind them, but I knew exactly where they were going to be. I stormed my way up to Gryffindor tower, but came to a problem getting in, the painting that guards the entrance of their common room. It took me a minute to figure out exactly how to get her to let me in. Her singing could be heard all the way down the hall, and everyone in Hogwarts knew that flattery would get you everywhere with the Fat Lady. I walked up to the portrait and began the compliments, telling her all about how amazing her voice is, how good she sounded.

“Well, clearly you aren’t Gryffindor but I like you, come in,” She told me. The minute I passed the portrait, the facade fell, and my fury settled.

“Weasley, get your ass down here this instant!” I yelled, making one of the younger kids, Creevey I think, stick his fingers in his ears. I hear shuffling upstairs and it didn’t take long to see Percy Weasley, Head Boy of Gryffindor, dragging his two younger brothers down the stairs. It amazes me that the two of them are somehow related.

“I know they did something obviously, but what happened?”

“These two almost killed Warrington with their stupid prank!”

“Oh come on, Lestrange, he wasn’t that high up,” Percy smacked Fred in the back of the head and looked back to me.

“I’ll be taking them back to McGonagall right away, thank you for letting me know.”

“That is not what’s going to happen here, locomota wibbly!” All three of the Weasley boys fell to the ground, as their legs failed underneath them.

“That’s it Lestrange, you’re in for it!” Percy exclaimed, his voice cracking from the sheer anger halfway through the sentence.

“No, Weasley, I don’t think I am,” I mused, as I left the common room, shutting the door behind me. I said goodbye to the Fat Lady, before hurrying off to my own common room.

Once I made it back, I shut the door behind me quickly, and leaned my back up against the door, just a little out of breath from sprinting down that many stairs.

“What the hell happened to you?” Melody was sitting in the common room as always, waiting for me to come back from practice so we could study and get our homework finished. “You’re early, and a mess, so something must have happened.”

“The Weasley twins decided to grace us with their presence during practice, took Warrington right out of the sky,” Mel’s hand immediately goes to cover her mouth in shock.

“They really did that, that’s a lot coming from them.”

“Not really, it’s only a step further than what they normally do. It was only a matter of time before they pulled something as stupid as this.” The two of us laughed and talked for a little while, just like normal, with dumb contemplative questions and talking about muggle stuff. Ever since the third year, Mel has been teaching me all about the muggle world, everything out there is just so interesting and amazing. Strange, if you think about it, the daughter of the two most prolific Death Eaters known and a muggle born witch being best friends. The two of us jumped out of our seats as loud knocking and banging could be heard from the outside of the Slytherin common room. I looked around for a minute, my eyes wide.

“Ms Lestrange, you are to come out here this instant!” The shrill, angry voice of Professor McGonagall was muffled by the stone walls.

“What the hell did you do?” Mel’s voice was in that whisper yell that kinda made you panic a little more than you should.

“I may have made a stop at Gryffindor tower before I came back here.” Mel smacked me in the back of the head and I couldn’t help but whisper yell a little “Ow!”

“You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that? Go and answer McGonagall, running and hiding is only going to prolong the inevitable, hell, it’ll probably make it worse.” I rolled my eyes at her, even though I knew she was right. I sighed and got up to open the door.

“Good evening, Professor, what can I do for you?”

“My office, Ms Lestrange, immediately.” And with that, she turned around and began to walk towards her office. I followed behind, internally panicking about the inevitable punishment that I would be getting because of what I did, not that I regretted a thing, it was totally worth it.

The minute I stepped into the office, the fog of tension was so thick that if it was real, I wouldn’t be able to see three feet in front of me. Percy, Fred, and George all sat on the other side of McGonagall’s desk, each with their own brand of scowl. I walked over to them, but just far enough away from the brothers to feel comfortable. McGonagall walked behind the desk and sat in her chair, the same color of green velvet as her robes.

“So does anyone want to explain to me why we’re here, or do I have to do that as well?” Her eyes were accusing, making me yearn to just walk out that door. Of course, Percy spoke up.

“Earlier this evening, Ms Lestrange stormed into the Gryffindor common room yelling for quote “Weasley.” So by default, I thought of the twins, who are known for causing general trouble and mischief. When I came downstairs with the two, she informed me that the two knocked Cassius Warrington off his broom during a prank the twins pulled at their quidditch practice. When I told her that I would turn the two of them into you, Professor, she proceeded to hex all three of us and leave us in the common room.”

“Thank you. Mr Weasley, now, does anyone else wish to add to the information being presented?” I tried to hold my tongue, but.I couldn’t help it.

“Professor, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but with how high up Cassius was, combined with the paint filled balloons being launched at us, the two of us both fell off of our brooms. I was quick enough to get back on and land safely, but if Cassius hadn’t landed like he did, he could have been seriously injured or worse.” Once I started the sentence, I just couldn’t stop. Fred looked as if he was going to try and say something but George gave him a look that said,’don’t you dare,’ and he stopped in his tracks.

“Mr’s Fred and George Weasley will both be getting two weeks detention for this, and Ms Lestrange, one week, is that clear?” McGonagall said, clearly not wanting to deal with this any longer. I wanted to argue that two weeks detention was not an equal or fair punishment for near murder but I held my tongue, just wanting to leave.

“After classes, you will all be reporting to the Transfiguration room, is that clear:” I nodded and so did the twins. The professor dismissed all of us, and I left as fast as I could, not wanting to be near them for longer than I had to.

I guess I had five hours of the Weasley twins to look forward to tomorrow, absolutely bloody brilliant.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader smut #Fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter imagine #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #smut #angst #fluff #fanfiction #writing #Hard to hate series

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

Team ZITS mischief? >:D

Team ZIT mischief! AKA: what might have happened if Impulse and Xisuma weren’t so quick to solve their dispute over the height of Xisuma’s building.

(note: it was agreed via DM that the prompt has been changed to team ZIT instead of the full team ZITS)

Hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this ngl

Writing requests still open! Please read pinned post for details.

...

“This is a bad idea,” groans Impulse, clutching his sword as tight as he can. “Ooohhh, this is a REALLY bad idea.”

“Stop saying that,” Tango says from his spot atop a nearby tree. “You’ll be totally fine. I have total faith in your ability to be an acceptable decoy.”

“Acceptable?!” Impulse rolls his eyes. “All I gotta do is not die and I’m not even above “acceptable”? What’s a guy gotta do to graduate to “good”?”

“Let’s see you not die first, Bait Boy,” Tango teases. “Zed, you in position?”

Zedaph’s voice comes over their communication channel. “I am currently perched at the very top of Impulse’s tower in Aqua Town, nametags in hand. Dunno if this is where I’m supposed to be.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,”Tango snickers. “Just keep a lookout and be ready.”

“Eight ninety-two, good buddy.”

Tango frowns confusedly. “Uh… what?”

Despite his nerves, Impulse can’t help laughing. “Do you mean ten-four, Zed?”

“Probably? I dunno radio codes, dude; I’m just making up numbers.”

“Focus, guys,” Tango says tiredly, rubbing his bleary eyes. “It took us all night to find these stupid things so let’s not blow it now that we’re close to the end, alright? Anyway, Impulse, are you ready?”

Impulse takes a deep breath in and out. “Ready.”

Tango shoots an arrow at the pressure plate, activating the door. The ravager inside the makeshift trap immediately spots Impulse just a few blocks away and charges towards him. He backs up a few steps, before hopping onto the block above the minecart. “Goooood boy. Goooood ravager. Get in the minecart.”

Unfortunately, the ravager does not get in the minecart. Instead, it lunges upwards, attacking Impulse with its horns.

Impulse screams as he’s catapulted off the two-block-high pillar. He scrambles to his feet and takes off running, pursued by the ravager.

Tango winces as he watches them go. “Uh oh! Stuff’s gone wrong.”

“What’s gone wrong?” asks Zedaph’s voice in his ear.

“Ravager did not want to go for a nice minecart ride. Oh, and Impulse… Don’t look now but I think you’ve got more on your tail.”

Impulse looks.

Tango suspects that his best friend’s subsequent scream at finding out he now has three angry ravagers pursuing him can be heard all the way in Aqua Town.

“WHY DID I THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO PUT MY ELYTRA AWAY?!” Impulse shrieks.

Tango takes off using his own wings. He soars over Impulse and the ravagers, looking desperately for a way to save his friend.

Back in Aquatown, Zedaph glides over from the top of Impulse’s tower to the window ledge of Xisuma’s half-finished building, his eyes fixed on the place in the distance where his friends should soon appear.

“What’s going on?”

Zedaph involuntarily leaps to the side with fright, causing him to topple off his perch and tumble to the ground. Thankfully, he lands on the grassy verge, so his landing is softer than it could have been. He quickly grabs his dropped nametags.

Xisuma jumps down and lands neatly next to him. Even though the thick visor, Zedaph can see a raised eyebrow. “Why are there rails going into my new shop?”

“Um…” Zedaph pauses, giving himself as much time as he dares to think. “That’s a good question. We’re… um…”

“We?” repeats Xisuma. “Who else is here?”

Zedaph blinks, his mind racing to come up with something on the fly. “Um… G-Grian…? And… And… Etho?”

“Good job, bud,” comes Tango’s sardonic voice in his ear. “You’re killin’ it.”

Zedaph can tell from Xisuma’s expression that his friend isn’t buying his obvious lie. “Mmhmm. This wouldn’t have anything to do with my dispute with Impulse over the height of my building, would it?”

“What building?” asks Zedaph innocently.

Xisuma takes a step to the side. “The building you just fell off.”

“Oh.” Zedaph gapes at his friend in a panic, unable to think of a reply. “Um…”

“Gah, my elytra broke!” Tango yelps at that moment. “This cannot get any worse!”

“IT’S WORSE!” shrieks Impulse’s voice, not over the communication line but real, in the distance. “IT’S WORSE IT’S WORSE IT’S WORSE!”

Xisuma spins round to find Impulse rushing towards him, followed by three angry ravagers. He lets out a screech and goes to activate his elytra but it’s already too late.

Zedaph manages to nametag one of the ravagers before scrambling out of the way as the three beasts bear down on Xisuma, who is cowering in the doorway of his shop. Scrambling into the BOVE offices, Zedaph runs right into Impulse, knocking both of them down.

Seconds later, Tango appears and manages to slam the door shut before his foot catches on Impulse’s leg and he ends up joining the two in a heap on the floor.

The three lie on the ground in silence for a few minutes, gasping for breath and listening to the terrifying ravager sounds outside.

After a long time, a message flashes up on their communicators.

Xisuma was slain by You’ve Been Bove’d!

Impulse and Tango very slowly crane their necks to look at Zedaph, who is staring straight up at the sky with wide eyes, pretending not to notice his friends’ gazes.

Finally, the two simultaneously burst out laughing, and after only a moment, Zedaph joins in.

“I feel like I had an explanation for that name but now I don’t remember what it was,” Zedaph gasps out through his laughter. “It doesn’t even make any sense!”

Impulse reaches over to pat his friends on the shoulder. “It’s very Zedaph. Oh, boy… Well, that did not go according to plan.”

“It really did not,” Tango exhales. “But we kinda achieved our goal in the end anyway.”

“Xisuma’s gonna kill us, right?” asks Impulse.

Tango snorts. “Oh, absolutely. But I don’t have the energy to run anymore so I’m just gonna lie here, maybe take a nap, and hope he has mercy on me.”

“Oh, a nap sounds pretty nice right now, not gonna lie.” Yawning, Impulse tilts his head to rest on Tango’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “I’m so tired…”

Zedaph laughs quietly and leans his own head on Impulse’s shoulder. His eyelids are so heavy that he can hardly stay awake anymore…

And that is how, fifteen minutes later, Xisuma finds them when he finally manages to dispatch the last of the ravagers. He goes to push open the door but spots the three sleeping in a pile on the floor through the window, and he lets out a fond sigh, most of his annoyance already dissipating.

“I’ll deal with you three morons later.”

#hermitcraft #impulsesv #tangotek #zedaph #team zit #xisuma #Vaunna writes

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ifuckinglovestvincent · 3 years

Text

THE FORTY-FIVE: ST. VINCENT

Sleazy, gritty, grimy – these are the words used to describe the latest iteration of St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s alter ego. As she teases the release of her upcoming new album, ‘Daddy’s Home’, Eve Barlow finds out who’s wearing the trousers now.

Photos: Zackery Michael

Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.

The video for the single, which dropped last Thursday, features Clark in a blonde wig and suit, channeling a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie. She twists in front of too-bright disco lights. She roughs up her voice. She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society. “So I went to the park just to watch the little children/ The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome,” she coos, and you immediately recognise the scene of a free woman threatening the post-nuclear families aspiring to innocence. Clark is here to pervert them.

She laughs. “That’s how I feel!” From her studio in Los Angeles, she begins quoting lyrics from Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Red House’. “It’s a blues song for 2021.” LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,” she says of the place she coined the song ‘Los Ageless’ about on 2017’s ‘Masseduction’ (“The Los Ageless hang out by the bar/ Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs”).“The best that could be said of LA is, ‘Yeah it’s nice.’ And it is! LA is easy and pleasant. But if you were a person the last thing you’d want someone to say about you is: ‘She’s nice!’”

On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. Sleaze is usually the thing men flaunt at a woman’s expense. In 2021, the proverbial Daddy in the title is Clark. But there’s also a literal Daddy. He came home in the winter of 2019.

On the title track, Clark sings about “inmate 502”: her father. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his involvement in a $43m stock fraud scheme. He went away in May 2010. Clark reacted by writing her third breakthrough album ‘Strange Mercy’ in 2011; inspired not just by her father’s imprisonment but the effects it had on her life.“I mean it was rough stuff,” she says. “It was a fuck show. Absolutely terrible. Gut-wrenching. Like so many times in life, music saved me from all kinds of personal peril. I was angry. I was devastated. There’s a sort of dullness to incarceration where you don’t have any control. It’s like a thud at the basement of your being. So I wrote all about it,” she says.

Back then, she was aloof about meaning. In an interview we did that year, she called from a hotel rooftop in Phoenix and was fried from analytical questions. She excused her lack of desire to talk about ‘Strange Mercy’ as a means of protecting fans who could interpret it at will. Really she was protecting an audience closer to home. It’s clear now that the title track is about her father’s imprisonment (“Our father in exile/ For God only knows how many years”). Clark’s parents divorced when she was a child, and they have eight children in their mixed family, some of whom were very young when ‘Strange Mercy’ came out. She explains this discretion now as her method of sheltering them.

“I am protective of my family,” she says. “It didn’t feel safe to me. I disliked the fact that it was taken as malicious obfuscations. No.” Clark wanted to deal with the family drama in art but not in press. She managed to remain tight-lipped until she became the subject of a different intrusion. As St. Vincent’s star continued to rocket, Clark found herself in a relationship with British model Cara Delevingne from 2014 to 2016, and attracted celebrity tabloid attention. Details of her family’s past were exposed. The Daily Mail came knocking on her sister’s door in Texas, where Clark is from.

“Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,” she says. “They were looking for it. Clark girls are a fucking impenetrable force. We will cut a bitch.”

Four years later, Clark gets to own the narrative herself in the medium that’s most apt: music. “The story has evolved. I’ve evolved. People have grown up. I would rather be the one to tell my story,” she says, ruminating on the misfortune that this was robbed from her: a story that writes itself. “My father’s release from prison is a great starting point, right?” Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.

There’s an ease to Clark’s interview manner that hasn’t existed before. She seems ready not just to discuss her father’s story, but to own certain elements of herself. “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you,” she sings on the title track, alluding to her common traits with her father. “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.” Her father’s release gave Clark and her brothers and sisters permission to joke. “The title, ‘Daddy’s Home’ makes me laugh. It sounds fucking pervy as hell. But it’s about a real father ten years later. I’m Daddy now!”

The question of who’s fathering who is a serious one, but it’s also not serious. Clark wears the idea of Daddy as a costume. She likes to play. She joins today’s Zoom in a pair of sunglasses wider than her face and a silk scarf framing her head. The sunglasses come off, and the scarf is a tool for distraction. She ties it above her forehead, attempts a neckerchief, eventually tosses it aside. Clark can only be earnest for so long before she seeks some mischief. She doesn’t like to stay in reality for extensive periods. “I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years,” she says. “Who wants to be themselves all the time?”

‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack” [Jack Antonoff, producer for Lana Del Rey, Lorde, Taylor Swift]. Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies. “We’re simpatico. He’s a dream,” she says. “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.” The pair let loose. They began with ‘The Holiday Party’, one of the warmest tracks Clark’s ever written. It’s as inviting as a winter fireplace, stoked by soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers. “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.” Clark speaks of an unspoken understanding with Antonoff as regards the vibe: “Familiar sounds. The opposite of my hands coming out of the speaker to choke you till you like it. This is not submission. Just inviting. I can tell a story in a different way.”

The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”

On ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ she has a delicious time creating a psychedelic Pink Floyd odyssey while exploring the path tread by her heroes Marilyn Monroe, Joni Mitchell, Joan Didion and Nina Simone. It’s a series of beautiful vignettes of brilliant women who were met with a hostile environment. Clark considers what they did to overcome that. “I’m thanking all these women for making it easier for me to do it. I hope I didn’t totally let them down.” Clark is often the only woman sharing a stage with rock luminaries such as Dave Grohl, Damon Albarn and David Byrne, and has appeared to have shattered a male-centric glass ceiling. She’s unsure she’s doing enough to redress the imbalance. “There are little things I can do and control,” she says of hiring women on her team. “God! Now I feel like I should do more. What should I do? It’s a big question. You know what I have seen a lot more from when I started to now? Girls playing guitar.”

If one woman reinvented the guitar in the past decade, it’s Clark. Behind her is a rack of them. The pandemic has taken her out of the wild in which she’s accustomed to tantalising audiences at night with her displays of riffing and heel-balancing. Instead, she’s chained to her desk. Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs. “I made sure that nothing I wore was comfortable,” she recalls. “Everything was about stricture and structure and latex. I had to train all the time to make sure I could handle it.” Is she taking the heels off when live shows return? “Absofuckinglutely not.”

Clark is interested in the new generation. She’s recently tweeted about Arlo Parks and has become a big fan of Russian singer-songwriter Kate NV. “I’m obsessed with Russia,” she says. In a recent LA Times profile, she professed to a pandemic intellectual fixation on Stalin. “Yeah! I mean right now my computer is propped up on stuff. You are sitting on The Gulag Archipelago, The Best Short Stories Of Dostoyevsky andThe Plays Of Chekhov. I’m kinda in it.” The pop world interests Clark, too. She was credited with a co-write on Swift’s 2019 album ‘Lover’. At last year’s Grammys she performed a duet with Dua Lipa. It was one of the queerest performances the Grammys has ever aired. Clark interrupts.

“What about it seemed queer?!”

You know… The lip bite, for one!

“Wait. Did she bite her lip?”

No, you bit your lip.

“I did?!”

Everyone was talking about it. Come on, Annie.

“Serious? I…”

You both waltzed around each other with matching hairdos, making eyes…

“I have no memory of it.”

Frustrating as it may be in a world of too much information, Clark’s lack of willingness to overanalyse every creative decision she makes or participates in is something to treasure. “I want to be a writer who can write great songs,” she says. “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”

More than a decade into St. Vincent, Clark doesn’t reflect. She looks strictly forward. “I’m like a horse with blinders,” she says. She did make an exception to take stock lately when the phone rang. “I saw a +44 and that gets me excited,” she says. “Who could this be?” Well, who was it? “Paul McCartney,” she says, in disbelief. “Anything I’ve done, any mistake I’ve made, somehow it’s forgiven, assuaged. I did something right in my life if a fucking Beatle called me.”

Now there’s a get out of jail free card if ever she needed one.

Daddy’s Home by St. Vincent is out May 14, 2021.

#‘I HAVE NO MEMORY OF IT’#LOOOOOL #WHY ARE U LIKE THIS #st vincent #full of shit #annie clark #Annie Clark on beds #yellow is the color for dull ache of bad penetration?

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seriouslyhooked · 3 years

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The Bast Bad Idea (Part 2)

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Part One Here. Story available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hello everyone! First and foremost, I want to start with a huge thank you to all of you who have reached out about this story. The response was so far beyond what I was expecting, but I am thrilled to know that all of you enjoy a CS Doctor AU as much as I do. As someone who grew up watching Grey’s Anatomy, it’s essentially engrained in my DNA to love a medical romance, and this story is one I have wanted to write for a long time. I’ve had more than a month away from writing thanks to my busy schedule, but finally my muse came to play and add a bit of fluff to this sweet short story. Chapter two picks up with a critical question – what was Dr. Jones going to propose to Dr. Swan…? Without further ado, here is our answer. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

His eyes strayed down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from Killian. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across a summer sky. The instant attraction was breathtaking. It felt almost out of time and space.

“We could…” she continued, nudging him along and hoping he would elaborate. She wanted so badly for him to say aloud what she herself was wishing for.

Yet where Emma expected words, she was instead met with action, tantalizing and surprising, but inspiring something in her she never expected. Before she knew it, Emma was in Killian’s arms, aching for this moment, kissing him and knowing she was positively senseless. All that existed was this kiss, this touch. It was electrifying and invigorating, a blaze rushing through her blood stream that emboldened a part of her she’d always held back. Desire. That was what this was, and it was luscious and intoxicating.

Following his lead, Emma broke away from the kiss only to gasp for air as he crowded her body against the wall. The hardness of the cement blocks behind her, coupled with the heat and definition of Dr. Killian Jones was too much to handle. She arched into him, striving for contact, and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers. The only problem was these damn clothes between them. Never in her life had she been irritated at this doctor’s coat she’d worked so hard to earn. For years she studied and poured everything she was into medicine, all for the authority this coat portrayed, but she practically purred when Killian stripped hers off and tossed it to the ground. Pushing his off of his body in return made her mind race. The muscles of his chest and arms were driving her to distraction. Then they flexed, and she swallowed harshly, earning a deep, decadent chuckle from this man who drove her crazy.

“See something you like, Swan?”

God that cockiness. They’d never had any kind of real conversation before now, but the way he smiled spoke volumes. His air and his persona were dripping in assuredness. Emma used to think that she hated so much confidence, but when it came to Killian, she craved it something fierce. It was somewhat infuriating, the way his eyes shone with mischief and conceit, but it was also hotter than anything she’d ever known. Still, part of her would rather die than admit that aloud. She had her pride, no matter how wrapped up in this moment she may be.

“It’s hard to say,” she replied, her voice sounding out with a shredded silkiness that she’d never heard before. “I haven’t seen much of anything yet.”

“My apologies, love. Allow me to rectify the situation.”

Emma watched as this ridiculously attractive man purposefully teased her. With deft fingers he reached for the base of his scrub top, inching the material higher up his body. The trail of dark hair he revealed was evocative, but it held no candle the shape and tone of those abs underneath. Sweet Jesus, were those real? Emma bit back a groan at the sight, her lip pressed tight between her teeth. It took everything in her to keep her hands from reaching for him. She lay them flat on the wall behind her at her sides instead, but they balled into fists unconsciously as Killian eventually tossed the shirt away.

His black hair was mussed now, both from removing the scrubs with that always-present swagger, and from her fingers having run through it during their never-ending kisses. His eyes were dark navy blue, but still they shone with hunger and delight. His grin was a mix of charming and predatory, but instead of inciting a fight or flight response, Emma only wanted to surrender. This was a man who knew he was in complete control. He had hooked her, totally and beyond any shadow of doubt, and all she wanted was for him to have his way with her.

The curses he whispered while helping her shed her own scrubs were like prayers on high, a sweet song to her ears that only added to his allure. Killian’s eyes never strayed from her, but his reactions were so open and transparent. He hid nothing, allowing her a glimpse to the world inside, and it caused the power between them to shift. If Emma was being hunted, then she was also hunting in return, and Killian seemed ready to be caught.

“Emma, I -,”

His voice faded out, and she struggled to hear him. Instead, there was a blaring alarm. Was this a fire drill? Why had the light in the room gone hazy? Still, Emma heard herself whisper his name.

“Killian?”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screech of the sharp, incessant chiming by her ears wrenched Emma’s eyes open, and immediately she groaned in disappointment. All of that – every exquisite moment – was a dream. Ugh, of course it was! Because this was her life now: fantasizing about a hot trauma surgeon ceaselessly and wishing that her memories of him were more than mere imagination.

“Damn it,” she muttered aloud, covering her eyes with her hand in frustration. With her vision blocked, Emma was more aware of the feeling that her body was wrapped up in her sheets. She’d obviously been tossing and turning through the night, restless in ways she rarely was before seeing Doctor Jones. These freaking dreams just felt so real, and they’d only gotten worse since officially meeting him.

That was three days ago now, but things had been chaotic in the meantime. The level four trauma that came in when they’d been formally introduced totally swamped the ER. Emma was called down for consult on multiple patients, needing to give life and death assessments and treatment plans for half a dozen people. While down there, Emma had the chance to see David and Killian in action. She was struck, even in the grips of adrenaline, by their cohesion and capability. They were cool and collected, battling odds that were dire to say the least, but they prevailed. Emma had worked for years to hone her craft, to heighten her skills, and to meet the moments of medicine that her work provided. But the energy in the ER had shifted, and she felt her own abilities elevated by the camaraderie and collectiveness of everyone in the hospital.

That shared experience only lasted a short while, for after initial inspections and emergency consults, Emma was quickly rerouted to the surgical wing. For 16 hours straight she worked to save the lives of four people, and through something that felt like magic, or maybe divine intervention, she was successful each and every time. That good fortune held, not only for her, but for all of her colleagues as well. The hospital had managed something next to impossible – they had saved every victim of the horrible accident, but the work had been backbreaking. When she’d finally scrubbed out of her last procedure, Emma admitted defeat, heading home and sleeping for twelve straight hours.

Her next shift was markedly slower, and Emma had the chance to see the progress of her post-op patients, and to connect with the others in her unit. It was critically important that the doctors, nurses, admins, tech teams, and other staff were all feeling strong and secure. Patients needed everyone working as a collective whole, and Emma took it upon herself to monitor that. It was unusual for a Doctor, especially one who wasn’t overseeing daily operations, but it mattered to Emma. Saving lives took so much more than her medical degree and steady hands. She needed each and every person in the cardiac wing to be successful, and she valued every one of them for what they brought to the team.

Unfortunately, while Emma’s day was slower and steadier, there was also a favorite element now lacking. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d willingly joined Ruby on the daily trip to the coffee cart. Actually, she’d been the one to page Ruby this time, earning more than a bit of teasing from her best friend, but Killian and David never showed. Only later, when Emma was at the tail end of her workday and helping with a consult in the ER, did she learn why.

“He was here for sixty-eight straight hours,” David said bluntly, after having confirmed his diagnosis for a patient presenting with a blood circulation issue.

“I’m sorry?” Emma asked, confused for a moment at David’s turn of topic.

“Killian,” David said, prompting Emma’s face to heat. Here she was, hoping it wasn’t totally obvious that she was looking for a man she hardly knew beyond imaginings, but David had seen through her in a matter of moments.

“Oh, um – that’s, well that’s… crazy. Sixty-eight hours?” That beat even her record, and she’d been called a workaholic on more than one occasion.

“Mhmm. We were on the end of a twelve-hour shift when the call came in and he stayed, until every last patient in the trauma department was seen and attended to. I left for eight hours and was dead to the world the entire time. Still felt laggy when coming back. Meanwhile, he caught maybe four hours sleep total interspersed between rounds, crashing in on call rooms. You’d never know though. He was totally unfazed. Brilliant as ever. It was like being back in the field again.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, amazed at that. She was no stranger to long shifts, but to work that hard for that long was a herculean feat. Somehow, though, she wasn’t surprised to hear Killian had pulled it off.

“Yup. I had to force him to go back to his hotel. Actually, Regina had to. I tried, but until the Chief said something, he wouldn’t budge. She had to spew all sorts of protocol and legal jargon at him to get him to go. Even then, I could tell he was debating whether to stay or not.”

“He has a real connection with his patients,” Emma commented, vocalizing a fact she’d ascertained by watching him in action. Killian cared deeply, and while his main job may be all about stemming the flow of crisis, and bouncing around from one case to the next just to keep people holding on, he kept track of all those he helped, and invested in each patient no matter what.

“Maybe. I think it had more to do with the fact that it was only eight am and you wouldn’t be at the coffee stand yet.”

Before Emma could respond, David was paged for something else. He’d left her with a polite goodbye, but also a knowing smile. Another time, Emma might have tried to fake that she wasn’t interested or deny that there was something between her and Killian, but instead she was too busy fixating on what she’d just heard. Emma carried David’s assessment around with her for the rest of the day, well after leaving the hospital and heading home. She spent the night wondering if what David said was true. Was Killian as interested in her as she was in him?

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

“We could what?” she whispered, getting out of her car, heading inside to her next shift. “What was he going to ask me?”

“Did you say something, Emma?”

Emma jumped at the unexpected question, senses on high alert as she stood before the elevator in the parking garage. When she found Mary Margaret only a few feet from her, and clearly the orator of the previous question, Emma relaxed slightly. She tried her best not to show her embarrassment, but it was difficult. Now she was talking to herself? Jeez, she was truly losing it at this point.

“Oh, uh, nothing. How are you today?” she asked her friend. Mary Margaret smiled widely. Her excitement was palpable, filling up the elevator car as the two of them stepped inside.

“I’m great! Just eager to get to work.”

“Any interesting cases on the schedule?”

“Oh, uh, sure, there’s a few, I guess. Well really most of my day is going to be in consult with the Chief’s office.”

“Wait a second, you have to spend a prolonged period of time with the Evil Queen and you are smiling? Who are you and what have you done with Mary Margaret?” Her friend now looked flustered, clearly trying to grasp at an explanation and then it dawned on Emma. “This is about David isn’t it?”

“David?” Mary Margaret asked, her pitch higher than it had been just moments ago. Emma laughed at her friend’s terrible play acting. Trying to pretend that this wasn’t about David Nolan was a lost cause. Eventually Mary Margaret realized that, and she sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she exhaled. “Okay, yes, I am seeing Dr. Nolan today.”

“Let me guess, he’s also going to be at the admin meetings.”

“They’re about coordinating long term therapies better with our emergency protocols and treatments. So yes, the head of the ER is likely to make an appearance.”

“I see,” Emma said, biting back a smirk so as not to make Mary Margaret too uncomfortable. In the end though her curiosity won out, and she had to ask. “So, any movement there?”

“Movement?”

“Has he asked you out yet?”

“Not exactly.” Emma waited for her friend to explain herself. Mary Margaret held off for a few seconds before blurting out the truth. “I actually asked him.”

“Really?” Emma was shocked. Not because she thought any less of Mary Margaret. In fact, quite the opposite. She was proud of Mary Margaret for going for what she wanted. She just had never ever seen Mary Margaret step outside of a comfort zone like that, and certainly not with a hospital colleague. “Good for you. And he obviously said yes.”

“Why is it obvious?” Emma rolled her eyes, but in a teasing way.

“Come on, you know you two were making heart eyes at each other the other day. There was a definite spark. We all saw it.”

“I’m honestly surprised you noticed since you had your own, what did you just call them? ‘Heart eyes’? Well, you definitely had heart eyes for a certain trauma surgeon.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush, and what perfect timing, because the elevator doors had just opened to the lobby. They exited the quiet of the elevator to a hustle and bustle found only at a top tier hospital. It felt like a swarm of people, buzzing every which way, on their own individual paths.

“David and I going to dinner tomorrow,” Mary Margaret said quietly, looking around and finding no eavesdropping colleagues. When the coast was clear, she smiled, looking back at Emma with excitement all over her face. “That’s all I know though. I may have asked him out, but he made it very clear he had plans for how our first date was going to be.”

“I have a good feeling about this guy,” Emma said, referring to David. She had known Mary Margaret for a long time, and she knew how much her friend wished for a real and solid love in her life. Few people desired and deserved that kind of connection like Mary Margaret, and for Emma, there was a real satisfaction in seeing her friend’s instant connection with a stand-up man. Based on past experience, there weren’t too many of those to go around.

“Which one?” Mary Margaret asked. Emma stammered something non-committal out, causing her friend to laugh once more. “And that right there is all the answer I need. See you later, Emma. Oh, and when you see Killian again, just go for it. Believe me, it’s so much better than waiting and wondering.”

With that, Mary Margaret headed towards the wing of the hospital where the Chief and her admins worked. At the same time, Emma turned her attention to the cardiac unit. She had a ways to go to get there, but while still in the main entrance of the hospital she was stopped short by a gruff, and somewhat uncertain voice.

“Excuse me, Doctor Swan?”

“Yes?” Emma replied, looking to the young man who approached her. Taking in his features, she realized she knew him peripherally. He was one of the new interns cycling through the hospital this year, but he hadn’t worked in the cardio wing or in a surgical capacity. Taking in his lanyard, which bore his ID card over plain clothes, she saw he was an ER intern. Interesting. “Can I help you?”

“This is for you.” The young man offered her a paper box. Emma accepted, thoroughly confused before the intern elaborated. “Curtesy of Doctor Jones.”

“Oh,” Emma said, suddenly incredibly interested. Unable to resist, she opened the box. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but what she found made her smile widely. “These are flowers. Paper flowers.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not entirely sure of the significance, but Doctor Jones told me there is a note inside as well. He wanted me to be sure to mention that.”

Emma was more than excited to read what this astonishing man would write to her, but something the intern said reminded her of the awkwardness of this situation. Had Killian used his authority over the interns to have this delivered? It wasn’t a crazy assumption. Many of the residents and attendings here saw interns as the low rungs on the ladder. They were meant to be learning and training, but often they were sent on coffee runs and foolish errands. Emma never believed in that though. She found it unkind and unnecessary.

“To be honest, it was hard to convince Doctor Jones to let me bring these,” the intern said, perplexing Emma further while eerily reading her mind. “I had to offer about a half dozen times. My shift was ending, you see, and I’ve been looking for a way to thank Doctor Jones since he got here. You know he created extra hours in the ER skills lab? He’s working with first years too. We get very little access usually, because the third years are prepping for exams and stuff, but he convinced Doctor Nolan to extend the hours. He’s even hosting classes himself. Cool right?”

“Very cool,” Emma said with a nod, and another smile. She breathed out a sigh of relief, genuinely happy to realize this man she’d been thinking of was good to others. It also made accepting this thoughtful gift so much easier.

From there, Caleb said goodbye, heading out for whatever interns did with down time these days. Oh, who was she kidding? Sleeping. That’s what she’d done, and no doubt that was what all interns still wanted most of all. Emma though, felt more awake now than she had in a long while. She found a quiet corner in one of the corridors leading to the cardio unit and took a seat, opening the box away from prying eyes.

Inside the box there were six different types of what looked like origami flowers. They were beautiful and delicate, and she wondered where he could have bought them. Only when she opened the note did she realize the truth.

Emma,

As you know, I’ve been away for quite a while, out in the field in a completely different world. In the desert there’s not really that much to do, except survive and keep as many of your people as well as you can. The downtime is long and hot and quiet. I picked up these tricks from a fellow soldier. It kept my hands at the ready and my mind clear, and there’s an honest beauty in them that reminds me of you.

Truth be told, there’s a flower for each time I’ve tried to catch you at the coffee cart since our meeting. Clearly my missions have been unsuccessful, so this calls for a change in tactics…

Emma smiled at the thoughtfulness and felt the pull of butterflies low in her chest. He thought she was beautiful, and he said it without fear. Had a man ever said so much? Had it ever mattered? Certainly not like it did now. Reading on, Emma laughed at the lightheartedness of the note and the bit of cheeky humor that accompanied it. His easygoing candor and transparency enchanted her, drawing her in even more than she already was. Then she memorized the time and place he suggested that they meet at the bottom of the page, knowing nothing and no one was going to keep her from this meeting.

Only after reading through his handwritten thoughts three or four times did she realize an added layer of perfection: these flowers weren’t just handmade and crafted with intention. They were also safe for her to take with her to her ward of the hospital. Being in and out of the ICU and cardiac units, Emma couldn’t bring real flowers into her offices without putting some patients at risk, but she could have these. From within the box she selected a bright yellow blossom, beautiful and intricate and folded to perfection. Wordlessly she tucked it away in her pocket. The others were deposited for safe keeping in her office as soon as she arrived back in the East Wing, and displayed on her windowsill, brightening the space.

The hours between the start of her shift and the time she was meant to meet Killian passed by slowly. Her rounds usually distracted her, but not today. While she still gave all due attention to her patients, Emma had that sense in the back of her mind that this afternoon would bring so much more to the forefront. The promise of seeing him again kept her heart pattering faster than it should be, and by the time the clock was minutes from their meeting, she was positively bursting with anticipation.

“Okay, usually I would give you a hard time and pretend to tag along, but even I can’t mess with a smile like that.” Ruby’s words snapped Emma’s focus back to the hallway where she was standing, pretending to read a chart. As she looked to her friend, however, she would never be able to recall what was on the screen in front of her. Ruby grinned when their eyes met. “He gave you the flowers, didn’t he?”

“You knew?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“Yup. Ran into him at the cart a couple of times. He was really starting to piss off the kiosk guy with all his loitering. Had to give him a hundred dollars just to shut him up.”

“He didn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t let him. I told Boris to shut it unless he wanted a hospital wide nurses strike. Guy knows better than to cross me. He just acts tough for clout.” Emma laughed, knowing her friend truly ran this place in most ways. But then the apprehension of the moment caught up to her again, and Emma’s brow furrowed in worry. “Oh no you don’t. No doubting this, Ems. I’ve vetted this guy. Run all the background, checked all the sources. He’s a good one, a one in a million, needle in a haystack, diamond in the rough kind of man. And, to top it all off, he’s crazy about you.”

“You think?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“I know, but that’s all I’m saying. Let Killian speak for himself, okay? And, even though it’s hard, try and trust this.”

“I think I already do,” Emma whispered. “Trust him, I mean. But that’s crazy, right?”

“Love tends to be that way.”

“Ruby.”

“Emma,” her friend parroted, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Just go for it. Go for it and see for yourself.”

With a nod, and the validation that she needed to hear from a trusted friend, Emma headed off. It felt natural and expected to make her way towards the center of the hospital once more. This time though, she passed the coffee cart, with only a fleeting glance. Killian wasn’t meeting her there today. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure where they were meeting. She followed the directions he’d given her, up a few more flights of stairs and through the wing with pediatric patients and newborns. She had been here many times before, for consults and comfort. It was a draw here in the hospital – the cuteness of babies just starting their journeys in the new world. Emma looked at them today, noticing the vibrancy inside the nursery, but didn’t linger. Instead, she followed the last of the route that Killian had given her and ended up somewhere she’d never been before. A place that must have just finished being renovated.

“Wow,” Emma whispered, walking into the sunlight on the open terrace.

With the glass surroundings and the plant life everywhere, this place was beautiful. There were pergolas and hanging vines, topiaries and flowering plants, daffodils and tulips, all breathing in the spring. It felt like a park, floating in the air, with the sounds of the city barely audible below. Emma could imagine the kids and the families who would come here someday. She hoped it would be a space for them to find some peace and happiness while staying in this unfamiliar and often stressful place. Hospitals were rarely any fun for patients, necessary as they may be, but this space was beautiful enough to distract from that.

“You made it, love.” The deep rumble of that familiar voice sent a shiver through Emma’s whole body. She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding Killian, leaning against the stone façade of the building behind them. In his hands were two coffees, and as he moved towards her, he offered her one with a boyish smile. “This is for you. Didn’t want you missing a routine caffeine fix for my sake.”

“Thank you,” Emma said automatically, feeling his fingers brush across hers, sending a zing of awareness through her. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she knew he felt it too. Suddenly she had no want or need for this coffee. She cleared her throat slightly before continuing on. “Where exactly are we? And how, might I ask, does the new guy know about it before I do?”

“It’s the Hubbard Family Wellness Gardens, gifted by one of the hospital’s most loyal benefactors” he said, full of knowledge. Emma was shocked that he actually knew what this place would be but then he smiled, gesturing to the plaque bearing that information. She bit back a laugh. “And as for how I found it, that’s easy. I never leave well enough alone, and I’m curious by nature. I’ve been nearly everywhere in the hospital now, but this place seemed the best for what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Emma asked, her voice hitching up as she repeated the words.

“Aye,” Killian murmured, his tone dipping sensually low. She swallowed harshly as he entered into her space, and he tracked the motion. She felt the heat of his closeness, and caught his scent in the air, clean, and male, and with a hint of spice.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he said, close enough to kiss her. God, how she wished he would kiss her. Emma vocalized her first thought.

“Really? I did. Like a lot.”

His smirk told her she’d said that aloud even though she never meant to, but before she could react, he took hold of her cup once more.

“I meant these,” he gestured to the coffee in her hand. Oh, right. “May I, love?”

Emma nodded, and shakily let go of the cup she forgot she was holding. With deft hands, Killian placed their drinks back on a table beside them with far more poise than she could muster at the moment. When that was done, he stepped towards her again, looking at her with a glint in his blue eyes that made her heart skip. His hands came to her body, one to her hip, the other to cup her cheek. The rightness washed over her, and so did the realization that none of her dreams could actually prepare her for real intimacy with Killian Jones.

“Last time we spoke I intended to ask you something. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from wanting this so badly. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and he caught the action, letting out a groan that mixed pain with passion and pleasure. Then he cursed, a totally British ‘bloody hell’ falling past his lips before dipping his mouth to hers and giving them both a taste of temptation.

The kiss was… beyond incredible, but Emma was so deep in it she had no ability to comprehend anything at all. She was consumed with the moment, arching against Killian, feeling the silky strands of his dark hair and the scruff of his beard. His kiss was assured and passionate, dominant and indulgent all at once. She succumbed to the sensations, and let the rightness surge within her, not caring at all that they were outside or at work or that they’d just met. Instinct took over, and her gut, which Emma had always trusted, was telling her that this man was even more than she imagined, and someone she should choose to let in.

Pulling back from the kiss, Emma and Killian stayed close, and Emma took stock of all the places they were touching. His hold on her was firm but caring, like she was precious, and he wouldn’t let her slip away. In his eyes she saw so much emotion, and again she was struck by his transparency and trust. He wasn’t shying away from her or the moment. He was in the depths of desire with her, and their kiss, that perfect, sexy as all hell kiss, had left him tongue tied. The quiet wasn’t awkward, but assuring, and Emma felt secure here, safe even, while also being filled with more unknown wonder than she’d ever been before. Like someone at the start of a glorious adventure, she took a next step born of passion and hope.

“I’m off at six tonight… so, you want to pick me up at seven thirty?” she asked, referencing a date he hadn’t actually asked her out on. She feigned ignorance even though she could read him like a book. “Unless you were going to ask me something else…”

His hold on her tightened, and he shook his head immediately. She was right. He wanted a date – and she saw no reason to wait when she wanted one just as badly. She grinned at him, loving how the tables had turned. This time he swallowed harshly, and she was oh so tempted to kiss him again and see if he’d stay shy or rise to her challenge.

“It’s a date, Swan,” he said dazedly.

Emma hummed out her agreement, going in for one last fleeting kiss. But where she meant to only tease, he took the reins again, kissing her senseless and leaving her breathless when they finally broke apart. Only when her pager beeped with an incoming call did they end their inevitable interlude, and as they did, Emma felt a pang of longing, wishing this moment could last so much longer than this.

“Tonight, love,” he whispered, running his thumb against her lips. “Far away as it may seem, I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Good,” she replied, nipping his thumb ever so softly, and bringing the fire back in his eyes, before taking a step back. And with that, and just enough presence of mind to grab her coffee, Emma headed off, back through the hospital to the work that awaited her, knowing she could and would get through anything today for the promise of tonight.

Post-Note: Ah!! Finally!! I got the words on the page!! I did the thing!! I wrote the story!! And honestly, it’s such a relief. It felt, at some points, like I may never get this chapter written, but finally today it came. I know many of you were waiting, and I cherished every comment and review and message along the way. I hope all of you who wrote me, and those who read along with chapter one, all enjoy this installation. I write these stories for me and to brighten my world ever so slightly, but also in the hopes that they’ll spark joy for others too. In a time like this, a little joy goes an awful long way. Anyway, thank you all for reading, sending you the best, and hope you’ll join me next time for the final chapter of this CS AU! xE

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 00627: Scorch

Kix glanced up at the familiar sound of the medbay doors opening, frowning as he saw two commando troopers walking in. Their distinctively styled helmets gave an air of uniformity, but the designs painted on them spoke of very different personalities.

The commando wearing the helmet marked with red, jagged lines - almost suggesting a handprint - was half-supporting, half-dragging another commando with a simple, gray-green helmet painted with white and yellow details. Kix studied both new arrivals, but couldn't find any visible injuries on either.

"What happened here?" Kix asked, already starting toward the men.

"Scorch here blew himself up," the red-painted commando answered, with a motion of his helmet that clearly said he was rolling his eyes. "Di'kut."

"I did not!" the injured Scorch said defensively, turning to address Kix. "I had a minor disagreement with a wall."

"Yeah?" the red-painted commando asked, "What were the arguments?"

"Whether or not the blast from a thermal detonator plus my own fabulous aim would make the wall go 'boom'," Scorch replied, clearly grinning under his helmet.

"Congratulations on winning your argument, sir," Kix said dryly, already promising himself to blow up the Resolute and everyone inside before he would let Scorch and Hardcase meet. "Let's shed the armor and see how much damage that wall's rebuttal caused."

The two commandos completed their half-walk, half-drag journey to the first bunk in the medbay and Scorch leaned up against the mattress, stifling a pained groan. The red-painted one, obviously fed up with his brother's antics, unceremoniously lifted and deposited Scorch on the bed.

"Come on, Sev!" the commando complained loudly. "You know I'm injured and delicate."

"It doesn't count as an injury if you've always been stupid," Sev told him. "I'm going to report back to Boss."

"You're going to leave me here, alone and hurt?" Scorch asked dramatically. His only reply was the medbay door closing behind Sev. He shook his head and told the door, "Well, that was rude."

The door seemed unsympathetic.

Kix cleared his throat, wondering if he should crank the scanner high enough to scan for brain injuries, when Scorch turned back to him. He pulled off his gray and white commando helmet, grinned, and stuck out a hand. "Scorch."

"I gathered," Kix replied. "I'm Kix."

"Good, I'm in the right place," Scorch said, heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief as he began stripping off the rest of his armor. "But what is the best medic in the GAR doing attached to the 501st?"

"The best medic," Kix repeated skeptically, scanning the now de-armored commando.

"Oh, yeah. I've heard the stories," Scorch told him, eyes wide and sincere, though they sparkled with an edge of barely there mischief. "Granted, mostly from the pilot on the way here, but still."

"Troopers like to talk. And as for why the 501st…" Kix let some of his constant fond exasperation come through, "no one gets in more trouble or hurts themselves in stranger ways than them."

"And you like to treat them," Scorch summed up, the look on his face more intense than the situation called for. Kix was on-edge before the commando spoke again. "Makes you feel powerful, doesn't it? Makes you feel like you're better than them, more than just a regular trooper."

"Makes me feel like I've got one more living brother," Kix corrected sharply.

Scorch raised his hands in a gesture speaking of an innocence that his sparkling eyes belied. "Hey, I had to make sure you weren't one of those power-trip troopers."

Kix shook his head and silently went to gather the supplies he would need to treat his patient, unwilling to continue an insulting conversation. However, since the commando had started it… He turned to meet Scorch's eyes. "If we're asking uncomfortable questions, let me ask one."

Scorch made a beckoning gesture with his less-injured hand, as if he were inviting Kix to continue.

"Why do you sound different from every other trooper, but look exactly like the rest of us?" It was something he had been wondering since Scorch took off his helmet, but he had been too polite to ask. At least, until the commando had accused him of treating men for the ego boost. As if it did wonders for his ego to be vomited on, covered in blood, to need to help his brothers to the 'fresher, to hold their hands as they took their last breath-

"I'm an excellent mimic," Scorch answered, using Kix's own inflection. Kix stared at him steadily until he continued in his normal offbeat voice. "Sometimes, a situation calls for a voice to be different so we don't sound like normal clone troopers, no matter how much we look like them. Delta Squad is full of differences. Boss has a thicker accent than most native Mandalorians, Fixer has worked to speak the most pure Basic, and Sev's vocal cords are damaged. Me, I just talk this way because I want to."

"Yeah, you can never meet Hardcase," Kix muttered to himself, fighting a shudder at the ridiculous accent the 501st trooper would be sure to put on as a result.

"What was that?" Scorch asked.

"I said, oh excellent mimic, that you've bruised your ribs, pulled a hamstring, and most of the left side of your body will be covered in bruises for the next few weeks, maybe less if you can take a couple of days to rest up." Kix frowned down at the datapad showing the scanner's results. "You managed not to break anything, which is - frankly - a miracle."

"Commando armor," Scorch told him with a sharp rap on his chestplate, wincing as the movement strained his injuries.

"Bruised. Ribs." Kix repeated, biting the end off each word so that the commando would be sure to understand him. "I'll issue you some pain meds, but the most you can do to improve your recovery time is to sleep as much as possible and stay hydrated. Most importantly-"

Kix cut himself short as the medbay door opened and Scorch instinctively turned to see the new arrivals, hissing in pain at the twisting motion. "-don't twist or move your body in unusual ways," Kix finished, giving a perfunctory salute to the commando sergeant who stepped up to the bed.

"How is the patient?" the sergeant asked. Despite Scorch's overly casual manner, Kix had to admit that the commando had given an accurate description of his squadmates and their voices. This one with the thick Mando'a accent must be Boss.

With a shrug to answer the sergeant's question, Kix told him, "Not much I can do, actually."

"Told you those thermal dets would kill you some day," the rough-voiced Sev said to Scorch with no small amount of satisfaction.

"What? No," Kix told him, nettled by the idea that a patient of his could die from such minor injuries. "Scorch is covered in bruises and he pulled a few muscles. Nothing life-threatening, but they aren't injuries I can do much for. I'm issuing pain meds, but he could stand a few days of bed rest, sir."

Boss nodded while Scorch looked horrified. "I can't stay on bed rest!"

The last commando, the non-accented Fixer, sounded irritated by his squadmate. "Six-Two, you can't just choose which orders to follow. If Three-Eight says you're on bed rest, that's where you'll be unless you want a court-martial."

Scorch looked pleadingly at Kix. "I could die from my injuries, right, Kix? Even Fixer wouldn't try to boss around a dying brother."

"Er... " Kix trailed off, glancing around at the group of commandos. "Bruises have a notoriously low fatality rate, Scorch."

"I think his vocal cords may have been damaged," Sev observed. "Could you order a total lack of speaking for the foreseeable future? For medical reasons?"

"We'd make it worth your while," Fixer wheedled.

"Is it too late to say I don't want any visitors?" Scorch asked, though even that sounded like a joke.

"We probably should leave," Boss agreed, cutting through Sev and Fixer's gloating with a simple reminder of, "Lots of reports to write."

"Ugh. Really, sir? For a self-inflicted injury?"

"I was having a good day, Boss."

Before he left, Boss patted Scorch gently on the shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay, Scorch. Rest up or we'll leave you behind on our next mission."

"Kix?" Kix glanced over at the commando sergeant, one brow lifting in silent question. "Make sure he rests. Sedate him or strap him down if you need to."

With one last threatening look in Scorch's direction, Boss left the medbay. Kix silently held out the pain meds for Scorch, passing him a cup of water at the proper time.

"You're good to sleep now," Kix told the commando. "If the pain gets bad again, let me know and I'll increase your dosage."

Scorch nodded and had just settled back against the pillow when the medbay door opened and Kix's heart nearly stopped. He walked briskly to the front of the medbay, making small pushing motions at the new arrival. "Hardcase, get out of here. You're fine."

"You don't even know what's wrong yet," Hardcase pouted.

"Hardcase?" Scorch asked, sitting up with a manic interest gleaming in his eyes.

"Yeah?" Hardcase asked, leaning to peer around Kix's shoulder. "Whoa, a commando! I heard you guys get to deal with more explosives than anyone!"

"You ever juggled thermal detonators?" Scorch asked, giving Kix an innocent shrug when the medic glared.

"No!" Hardcase said, pushing past Kix to perch by Scorch's bedside, wearing a look of utter fascination.

In only moments, the two were swapping stories, each trying to outdo the other while both seemed impressed by the other's exploits. Kix groaned. Force willing, he wouldn't have much to do with Scorch after this, but he already expected a wild number of injuries in Hardcase's near future.

---

A/N - First off, I want to apologize to... well, just everyone. For those who are not familiar with Republic Commando, you're probably a bit confused about who these guys are and why they're here. I read a fic featuring the characters in a minor role and proceeded to inhale everything I could find with them in it. For those who are familiar with Republic Commando, I would like to apologize for any errors in characterization, background, etc. Sidebar: if you know of a good fic featuring Delta Squad, please share the name of it with me!

Please reblog this work! It helps me grow my readership!

#Nobody Listens to Kix #star wars the clone wars #star wars #republic commando #clone trooper kix #republic commando scorch #republic commando sev #republic commando fixer #republic commando boss #sergeant boss #clone trooper hardcase #clone troopers deserve better #one-shot #but part of a series #more to come #please reblog

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years

Text

Humans are weird: Calling out stupid

"Why is there a human in my command bunker?”

The question was the first thing Marsov spoke upon entering the room. Staff and aides looked around them in confusion as they milled about the room while guards lining the walls clenched their weapons a bit tighter.

The human in question had been lounging in a nearby chair reading a book as the commander had entered and seemed little interested in him as he continued reading.

“GUARDS!” Marsov’s voice boomed and as one every guard lining the dimly lit chamber brought their weapons to bear. One of them broke ranks and approached Marsov and saluted. “Great one, he is a guest from your father.” At the words Marsov reached out with his hand and grabbed the guard by the throat, hoisting them into the air as if they were nothing but a paper weight. “Why,” Marsov tightened his grip as the guard struggled in his grasp, “would my father have a human as a guest?” “He would not.” Marsov turned at the voice and saw the human put down their book and stand, straightening their black overcoat and smoothing out the wrinkles. “It would be better to say that I am more an adviser than a guest.” The human stopped and cupped their chin with one of their hands. “No, no; even that is not right.” The human walked back in forth muttering to themselves in a hushed voice as the rest of the room remained silent save for the frantic gasps of the choking guard.

Finally throwing up their hands the human turned to Marsov. “I guess it doesn’t really matter what I am. All that is important is that your father wished me here.” “For what purpose?”

The human clasped their hands behind their back and let out a small grin. “Why to take command of course.”

The sounds of a dozen inhaling breaths darted the room as all eyes darted to Marsov. His people were known as the Tugunda, a humanoid race of beings roughly standing roughly three meters in height and muscles thick as tree trunks powerful enough to smash a hole clean through three feet of reinforced steel.. Their skin bore many resemblances with snakes save for a third eye nestled just above the right one.

Marsov pondered the human for a moment before letting out a laugh with the deepness of a roar. The laugh made several aides take two or three steps back as the guards eyed the door nervously. Marsov was from a the royal family and if he desired could kill everyone in the room without reprisal.

Tossing the guard aside Marsov stomped towards the human, shaking his head as his laughter died down. The little fleshling didn’t even come up to his waist and yet they assumed that they could take away his command.

“By what right do you think you can take away my command .....” Marsov paused as he realized the human had not introduced themselves. Sensing this the human put a hand to their chest and spoke. “You may call me Yuri.”

“Then please, tiny Yuri;” Marsov laughed as he turned to face the surrounding aides who joined in, “I ask again by what right do you think you can claim my command?”

“By your father’s right of course.” Yuri said as he casually flicked a speck of dust of his coat.

The laughter ceased immediately and Marsov rounded on Yuri. “You dare lie to me!?!” He stomped towards the human intent to strangle the life out of him when Yuri reached into his inner coat and removed a data pad and activated it. Marsov froze and those around him went instantly to one knee with their heads down. Hovering before them was the royal families crest known only to Tugunda as they never displayed it outside of their people thus making it impossible to forge.

Marsov looked at the crest and then back down to Yuri would calmly deactivated the data pad and returned it to his coat. He looked up at Marsov, his expression still one of a faint smile but no sense of mischief behind it.

“To make the long story short as my people say, your father is not pleased with how the war here is progressing.”

“Nonsense!”

Marsov was now more frustrated than he had ever been since coming to this wretched world. “I progress the war with great fervor and will soon bring victory to my people AND my father!”

Yuri shook his head and muttered something under his breath.

“The only thing you are progressing with “great fervor” is the complete annihilation of your forces here.”

More intakes of breath came from the onlookers as Marsov bristled. No one dared question the royal family, even if what they said defied all reason. Before he could reply Yuri picked up the book once more and removed what appeared to be a small data pad from within.

“This is a report of the last three months of your progress on this world. I read it several times until it became so dull I began using it as a book marker for something more interesting and less sad.”

Words became stuck in Marsov’s mouth at this tiny beings insolence but Yuri continued anyway despite the growing anger towards him.

“In the past three months you have launched eight major offenses against the enemy. Each one has used numerous armored vehicles, troop transports, artillery, aircraft, and most importantly troops. In total you have sent nearly three hundred thousand soldiers against the enemy for a gain of...” Yuri paused as he read the data file ensuring he was exact, “four meters of enemy held territory.”

“Do not speak to me as if you understand our doctrines!” Marsov smashed his fist into a nearby console and crushed it like a tin can.

“I don’t need to understand your doctrines to recognize an incompetent leader.”

Marsov slowly turned from the ruined console to face Yuri. “What did you just say to me?” His every word laced with malice and murderous intent. “I said you are an incompetent leader.” Marsov couldn’t believe what the tiny creature had just said to him. As if to further confound him Yuri began walking towards Marsov, his boot heels clacking against the tilted floors like gunshots.

“You think that if you throw enough soldiers and tanks and bombs at your enemy they will simply break. When that did not work rather than learn from it you attempt the same attack again and again. My daughter of seven, bless her tiny heart, does nothing but play video games all day long and even she would be a better tactician than you! I am here because the organization I represent has invested considerable funds and material into your families rule; material that you have pissed away into the wind to such an extent that you now risk the total collapse of your families rule over your people should the events of this war make it back to your home world.”

Yuri was standing in front of Marsov now, his smile gone as he fixed Marsov with an icy gaze. It was like looking down the barrel of an executioners gun Marsov thought.

“Your incompetence has endangered years of hard work and were you under my command I would simply line you up against that wall,” he spoke pointing to one of the walls of the bunker, “and blow your brains out with a gun until this entire room was redecorated with whatever shit you call for a brain.”

More gasps came as now it seemed Yuri had just openly claimed he would murder the royal family member. Guards looked between themselves as they were unsure what to do as though Marsov was of royal blood the human had come with the royal family’s crest thus giving him equal status.

“Your father requested we lend assistance to resolve this matter quietly and thus I am here.” Yuri walked away from a still dumb looking Marsov. “I will take command of this army, deliver you a victory, have you take all the credit; and thus resolve this hell hole of a situation we now find ourselves in.”

He looked back at Marsov as he turned on the command bunker intercom. “Now, would you kindly introduce me to my command staff?” Marsov gritted his teeth as his eyes wandered the room. He could feel them all staring at him and though they would not dare speak it aloud he knew that on some level they agree with this human.

Yuri tapped the intercom once more. “Kindly.Introduce me, to my command staff.” With a grunt of disgust Marsov approached the intercom. He gazed down at Yuri, his every fiber of hatred filling his stare only for Yuri to meet him unflinching.

With a heavy heart Marsov reached down and activated the Intercom and spoke.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

Isn’t It Delicate?

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Summary: Will Draco find the courage to ask you out? And what happens when you two have class or lunch together? How will your worlds collide?

A/N: More of a intermediate chapter but ya know it’s still cute and a bit saucy toward the end. I love you guys so so much! Please don’t stop with your comments likes and reblogs, they mean so much to me you have no idea. Also don’t be afraid to come and chat! I’m mostly always here. Love you guys. Stay safe and creative.

Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings @coffee-addicti @ilikestuffproductions @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @dolphincommander @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi @katsukink @takemetothekingdom

I was glad that Hermione was my partner in Herbology. I had forgotten to go over today’s lesson last night and I wasn’t ahead or prepared as I normally was.

“This is the only time I letting you slide on this.” Hermione warned. “Draco or not, you still need to keep up on your studies,”

I nodded and watched as she handled the flutterby bush, pruning it successfully. I followed her suit, mimicking exactly what she did and reaped the same results. Professor Sprout seemed pleased with both of us and awarded Gryffindor ten points for each of us.

I watched Harry and Ron struggle across from us, and giving in, I went over to help. Harry’s eyes met mine and something passed between us: a truce of sorts.

With the end of herbology came lunch: when I would see Draco again. The three seemed to realize that.

“Are you going to sit with him then?” Hermione asked innocently.

“I’m... not entirely sure. I mean we do have Creatures together after so... maybe? If he asks?” I offered. “He could always sit with us,” I commented.

I could tell that both Ron and Harry had something to say about that but refrained from it.

“He’d be more welcome at our table than I would be with the Slytherins,” I pointed out. “And I’d rather not get into it again with Pansy,”

They both muttered agreements and I felt that it was a small step in the right direction.

“Has he asked you yet?” Ron changed the topic. “To the ball, ya know?”

“No,” I sulked. “I think he tried this morning though,”

“What? Did he chicken out?” Harry snickered.

“Yes, I think he took a page from your book Harry,” I smirked. “Are you ever going to ask anyone?”

Harry and Ron both looked down, grumbling their answers.

We entered the Great Hall that was buzzing with the usual chatter. AS every year, it was decorated for the upcoming holidays that held a certain warmth and excitement to them.

My eyes scanned for Draco, not seeing him. Feeling a bit defeated, I sat at the Gryffindor table, half-heartedly making my way through the warm soup that was served for the chill of the day.

________________________

Draco almost stumbled into the Great Hall, his History of Magic class having run late because apparently the goblin uprising was more importing than a time schedule or a bell.

And he saw you, sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing with your friends as if you didn’t have a care in the world, despite what was hovering over them both. He paused a moment, watching you before your gaze followed Ron’s and your eyes met his, an amused smirk on your face; caught staring.

“Are you okay?” You mouthed.

He nodded and recovered, making his way over to you, his nerves growing with every step. He was determined to ask you to the Yule Ball if it was the last thing that he did today.

He could do this. What were you going to do? Say no?

Well, you could totally do that and well, he’d have to accept it, but you wouldn’t say no would you?

As he neared your table, you stood, untucking yourself from the bench and facing him.

“Hi,” You breathed out. “You’re late,” There was mischief in your eyes.

“Binns,” It was more than enough of an explanation as your face scrunched up in pity.

“Sorry,” You sympathized. “Another goblin war then?”

He nodded; words caught on his tongue.

“Do you want to sit with us for lunch?” You looked to him earnestly, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, but... before that.” He grabbed your hand. “I... I wanted to ask this morning but didn’t.”

He took a deep breath, distracted by you catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Did you know you were trying to kill him when you did that?

“Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”

A laughed bubbled through your lips as you lit up.

“Yes, of course I’ll go with you,” You threw a side glance to Ron and Harry, and he felt as if he was missing something.

You didn’t let go of his hand as the two of you sat at the Gryffindor table and had lunch together. His nerves were eating him on the inside; he didn’t belong at this table... he was hated at this table if anywhere.

Yet, with you by his side, no one said a word to him that had malice intent behind it. Instead the conversation shifted and flowed between classes, and homework, the upcoming Ball, the Triwizard cup.

He didn’t speak up as much as he would have in his group of friends, but he eagerly watched you animate the conversation. It was different, watching you up close, and being a part of your own little world here at school.

Every once in a while, you’d squeeze his hand and pull him from his thoughts, or simply reassure him.

Traitor, his father’s voice hissed.

He had a sinking feeling in his chest when he thought about his father and that no doubt, he already knew about what he had been doing and that he had been with you, defending and choosing you over all else. It was a box of anxiety that he kept locked tight to worry about at a later date.

Walking down to Care for Mythical Creatures, he still held your hand, and, in the snow, you huddled closer to him, fearing the cold around you.

“Afraid of a little chill?” He teased.

You gave him a sharp look, your teeth all but chattering and your nose and cheeks flushed red.

Be a gentleman, His mother scolded.

He stopped you, tugging your hand and momentarily set his bag down and slipped his robe off, draping it around your shoulders, all the while you protested.

“I-I’m okay,” You shivered. “You don’t have t-too.” “Wear it,” He nearly ordered. “I’ll be okay. I’m used to the cold,”

You pouted a moment but gave in, slipping your arms into his Slytherin robe and almost curled up into it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he loved seeing you in Slytherin colors.

“You’re staring,” The quip left your lips as you took his hand wand continued with the rest of the students down to Hagrid’s.

“You look good in Slytherin,” He retorted, smirking when you turned a deeper shade of red.

_________________________

In Creatures, I all but huddled into Draco, feeding off of his warmth, now that mid-winter was approaching quickly the weather turned for the worse. His arm was around my shoulders, shielding me from the cold, rubbing now and again when I shivered too much for his liking.

I could see the glances exchanged between the Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s at the two of us together—and me in his robe no doubt, but I was too keen on listening to Hagrid and trying to get something (anything) useful from it.

Getting nothing from Hagrid’s lesson, my mind drifted to the upcoming exams on Friday and I zoned out, trying to figure out the best study plan on the subjects that I was struggling with, moving Herbology to the top of the list since I had missed today’s lesson’s notes and had to do double tonight. No doubt Potions should be high on the list, next to the dates and people of History of Magic, but I had that subject understood pretty well—save the dates.

“Maybe he isn’t too bad,” Harry muttered as we entered the Gryffindor common room.

“It was nice of him to give you his robe wasn’t it,” Hermione sighed dreamily.

My cheeks flushed again as I stayed quiet.

The week passed and I honestly don’t remember most of it. It was hell: studying, working on essays, the weather not letting up. I was shivering more than not, and it was hard to concentrate. It left me in the warmth of my room, dreading to go anywhere in the drafty castle other than class and some meals.

Y/n,

You haven’t been to dinner in three days, please come down and eat with me. I’ll meet you outside your common room in ten minutes.

I’m worried about you,

Draco, ~

The letter came Thursday evening as I was once again reading through the Goblin Revolutions trying to keep the dates straight. I had most of them down but kept mixing up a few of them and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get them straight.

Giving up, I closed the books and ordered my notes before slipping on a sweater and changing my socks before slipping down to the common room where Draco was waiting.

“You need to eat,” He scolded, handing me his scarf, knowing that I’d be cold.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, wrapping it around my neck, reveling in its warmth and how it smelled strongly of him.

“No, you’re not. Now stop being stubborn. You can’t study all the time. You need breaks Y/n,” He sounded truly concerned, his fingers weaving through mine.

“I can’t fail these tests Draco,” I insisted, feeling warm with the seconds that passed.

“And you’re not going to. But you have to take care of yourself too.”

I huffed as we entered the Great Hall. It was lulled and almost silent, many students studying or overworked from the exams already taken.

“Hey Malfoy!”

I stiffened as I recognized the voice. It was Pansy.

We both turned, his grip on my hand tightened and I wasn’t sure if it was in reassurance or if he was holding me back. It could have been both.

“Still hanging with her I see,” Pansy sneered. “I don’t see why you bother. We all know how this is going to end. You’ll realize she’s not worth it and this madness will end.”

“I thought I told you to leave her alone,” Draco hissed.

“What? She can’t take a little teasing? Isn’t that what the two of you always did? She didn’t mind it then...” Pansy grinned wickedly. “Why should she care if I do it?

“Because you don’t hold a candle to who Draco is,” I snapped.

“Oh, and you’re so confident that you know who he is?” She laughed something that sounded like a hyena. “You don’t know anything about him princess. Your mommy hid you away from the real world for too long.”

“She took me away from freaks like you. I guess she didn’t want me to grow up to be a bitch,” I sneered, and Draco chuckled beside me, tugging on my hand.

“Let’s go,” He murmured.

My eyes met his and I could see the same fire behind them. He wanted to lash out as much as I did, but something stopped him, and I wasn’t sure what it was...

I took a deep cleansing breath and nodded. She wasn’t worth the time to ruin my night with Draco.

We took our seats at the Gryffindor table, far from Pansy and her posse and had a quiet dinner for once. We only exchanged a few words, talking about our two exams tomorrow. My thoughts resided with what Pansy had said.

After dinner, Draco led me once more to the Astronomy Tower where we watched the stars side by side. I was in his robe again, shielded against the chill that the night brought.

“You know she’s wrong,” Draco piped up. “I’m not going to leave you.”

My eyes didn’t leave the vastness of the sky. Sometimes it was nice to imagine words like that were real, and promises could be kept...

“Y/n,” He pressed.

“What if she’s right?” I mumbled. “I... I didn’t grow up like you did... I don’t know you that well, other than...” I shrugged and gestured vaguely.

“What do you want to know?” He pulled me closer and spun me so that we were face to face.

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “What does it mean to know a person?” My hands wrapped themselves around my midriff.

Draco rolled his eyes and tilted my chin up with his hand. My eyes met his.

“My birthday is June 5th,” He smiled, his face pensive. “I never really had a favorite color... my middle name is Lucius,”

I giggled into the back of my hand, giving into his attempt to cheer me up.

“What, is that funny?” He raised an eyebrow.

“A little bit.” I admitted. “It must be a pure-blood thing. My middle name is a family name too.”

“Oh? Would you care to tell me?”

“Nope,”

“And why not?” He almost pouted. “Am I not allowed to know?” He shifted so that I was pressed against the window ledge and he was a few inches before me, his hands on my waist.

“I mean, sure,” I drawled.

“Well?” He asked, drawing closer to me so that I could feel the warmth of his breath fan across my face; electricity flowed between us again, the same nervous potential energy.

“It’s not Magdalene is it?” He asked, his lips brushing against mine.

It was a good thing that I was leaning against the window ledge, because I was all but putty in his hands.

“No,” I breathed out, my hands running up his arms as my fingers laced themselves together behind his neck.

“Won’t you tell me?” Another soft fleeting kiss.

I shook my head, my voice gone with his kiss.

“Please?”

His lips captured mine before I could answer. The kiss lingered and grew to something stronger. One of his hands left my waist and caressed my cheek before sliding into my hair, cradling my head. My hand followed suit, running into his hair, pulling him closer.

A gentle gasp had his hot breath mixing with mine because he used his hand that resided on my waist to pull me flush against him before lifting me so that I was propped up on the ledge. His hand moved to support my back, but I wasn’t afraid to fall with him near. And despite the chill of the air, cold was the last thing that I was in that moment.

As the kiss deepened, I made a soft sound, my hand trailing down his shoulder and chest. He hummed a response, pulling away softly.

“This is coercion,” I murmured into his lips. He was so close; it was hard to find a place in my mind where he didn’t exist.

“Is it?” He mused, pressing his lips back to mine, picking up where we left off.

“Yes,” I breathed out, cupping his face, my thumb stroking his cheek softly.

“Is it working then?” He chuckled.

I pressed my lips back to his, kissing he deeply for a moment more before totally giving up and giving into him.

“Elizabeth,” I whispered.

Part 10

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painted-crow · 3 years

Note

Do you think house pets can have primaries and secondaries too? If so, do you think they might reflect what their owners have?

They definitely have Sortings! This is an excellent ask 😂

I don't think the owner has a whole lot to do with it, though. They influence the way their pet's Sorting shows up in behavior, but the animal's personality itself is their personality, you can make them more or less stable and confident but I don't think they mold themselves after you.

Sorting my family's pets

My folks have eight animals in the house. Eight. My mom is “slowly” turning into a crazy cat lady and I’m absolutely fine with this. However, this post is actually long (and silly) enough that I’m switching to my laptop to put it under a cut.

Lots of cat and dog stories incoming :D

Tesla (my cat)

Double Slytherin, easy. He's ridiculously sweet towards me and mostly ignores everyone else unless they have food. (He's warming up to my mom though.) He's also a great actor. He's tricked everyone else into thinking he isn't cute and affectionate because he only acts needy and adorable when he's alone with me.

Funny story: he badly pulled a muscle in his back leg from a missed jump the year before last, and he REALLY liked the attention he got from me while I was nursing him back to health. I had a kind of kitty painkiller/anti-inflammatory stuff that came as a paste and could be mixed into wet food, which he normally only gets as a treat because too much upsets his stomach, but he was getting it every day for the medication. I also set up a special bed for him with a heating pad and kept checking on him and giving him attention.

He took a long time to heal, and the vet said I was doing the right thing, but I think I might have made it worse by being so nice to him because he really didn't want to get up and move around! He kept up the "I'm completely helpless, keep babying me" act for a year.

My mom finally took him to the chiropractor, who clicked his tail back into place and gave us some kitty physical therapy stretches for his leg... which he did NOT like, and unless someone was petting him at the same time to distract him, he'd scream like we were murdering him.

So, yes. Slytherin secondary 😂

Aardman (my brother's cat #1)

Huffleclaw. Loves everyone, including kids and babies--he's not only very patient with them, he's really enthusiastic and affectionate with them.

Knows EXACTLY how to get into mischief. Will grab your butt as you pass on purpose to get your attention. Often found in weird places, looking proud of himself: "look, I figured out how to get on top of the kitchen cabinets! I'm gonna knock stuff over now."

Thaddeus (my brother's cat #2)

Double Gryff. He's got big jock energy. This cat actually greets people with a loud meow and that upwards "sup" nod. If he wants attention he isn't subtle about it, and if you don't give it to him he'll play attack your toes. Very charismatic and friendly. He's also kind of an idiot who will fall off of things if he gets distracted while lounging.

He's a Gryff primary because when strangers come into the house, he'll vibe check them and decide if he's going to hide from them or smother them in love and cat hair. My mom was talking to a few different contractors about fixing something in the house, and Thaddeus was totally spooked by one and loved the other. I'm not saying that's why we chose the one he liked, but...

Gracie (my mom's cat)

Slytherin primary. Definitely my mom's cat, reluctant to interact with anyone else but very possessive of Mom's lap.

Possibly a Gryff secondary, or neutral state Slytherin. This house has a lot of cats in it and Gracie is tiny, but she takes zero crap and will smack the others in the face if they think they can push her around.

Isador / Izzy (pack mama cat, doesn't have a favorite human?)

You could make arguments for both Slytherin and Hufflepuff primary for Izzy. She loves all her humans and will yell at any of us for pets. We don't know how old she actually is (all our cats are rescues) but she looks and sounds like a prim old lady, which is appropriate since she's the matriarch of the house.

She does have favorites among the other pets, though. The dogs are her babies, she's known them since they were puppies and is very protective of them (which is pretty silly, since they're 65lbs apiece). She does NOT like Tesla, who is the biggest cat and full of ego, and doesn't really respect her lol 😂

She also didn't like the kittens at first. Gracie and Thaddeus were both kittens, only a few weeks old, that were abandoned in our neighborhood a year ago. Gracie showed up in the back yard, mewling, and Thaddeus was brought over by a neighbor who had found him but wasn't prepared to get up several times a night to bottle feed a kitten. My mom took both of them and we ended up keeping them. Izzy was a little bit hostile towards them at first, but she came around and now they’re part of her pack.

Hufflepuff secondary. If any of the other cats talks back to her, she hisses at them and the dogs come running over to check on her.

Maybe she's a Ravenclaw with a very Loyalist looking system? She cares a lot about keeping the peace. Yeah, you know what, Ravenpuff Izzy sounds about right.

Shawn (my mom's cat #2)

Slytherin primary, I think. My mom was visiting the shelter for dog tags or something basic like that, went back into the cat room to give the strays some love, and this gorgeous gray-and-white long-haired kitten climbed up her shoulder and wrapped himself around her neck and wouldn't let go. She had been Chosen.*

Shawn is also kind of a status hound within the house! The boys keep score of who's top cat... well, I don't know if Thaddeus cares (and Izzy knows it's actually her). Shawn likes to play dominance games with the other cats. He'll pick on Aardman and play wrestle with Tesla (who is twice his weight, but Shawn is very fluffy and he clearly thinks they're the same size, which is hilarious).

One of the Improvisational secondaries. I think he's a Gryffindor.

*Tesla also did this. The shelter lady took him out of the crate and within minutes he'd stretched out on my lap, belly-up, so relaxed he almost fell off. This is how you get a cat. I was actually looking to adopt on purpose, though, which my mom wasn't 😂

Rowan (my dad's dog)

This idiot dog. This absolute buffoon of an animal.

Actually, my mom is convinced he's not all that dumb, and he's tricking us all into believing he is so he doesn't have to be an obedient dog. If so, he's a VERY good actor. Slytherin secondary. (He also weaponizes the 🥺 eyes and my dad falls for it every time.)

Slytherin primary. Every time he misbehaves, my dad insists he's my mom's dog, but we all know better: he waits for my dad to come home and runs up and wags his entire body. He's SO affectionate with my dad and doesn't really care about anyone else's opinion. My dad lets this 65 pound, made-of-elbows idiot creature sit on his lap in the least comfortable positions possible, and baby talks to him.

Alex (my mom's actual dog)

Double Ravenclaw. I know, right? I haven't been Sorting many Ravenclaws in this list.

Alex is a very smart and fairly obedient dog. He is also a border collie (both he and Rowan are). He has also decided that Tesla needs a babysitter, and will follow him EVERYWHERE, doing that border collie staredown thing they normally use to herd sheep.

Yes. This dog tries to herd cats. He's very good at it, actually. All of our cats are indoor only animals (it's dangerous for them outside) but Shawn used to be a real escape artist. I'm not sure how we discovered that the dogs could do this, but we can call the dogs and tell them "get the kitty!!!" and they will work as a team to literally herd the cat back into the house. We didn't train them to do this. They're purebred border collies and they just know.

Anyway, Tesla and Alex get into drama. If I'm holding Tesla, Alex is ALWAYS staring at him. I think it's that, although he likes Tesla, he doesn't trust him and he's trying to make sure Tesla doesn't hurt me. Tesla is Very Dramatic and will yell or pretend like he's going to bite me if he's stuck in a position he doesn't like on my lap or he thinks another cat is going to try to steal my attention, and Alex Does Not Like That. Tesla won't actually hurt me on purpose, but he puts up a front in public that he's only tolerating me.

Alex doesn't care if I tell him to go lay down somewhere else. He is going to stare at this cat no matter what. Sometimes, the thing Tesla is yelling about is that the dog is staring at him and he's not in the mood for that nonsense (or, he also just likes when I scold the dog on his behalf), and this doesn't help matters. Alex has decided he Must Protect, and that dog code is more important to him than my opinion 😂

Alex is a Ravenclaw secondary. He's put in the effort to learn to communicate with humans, and he's very expressive with his body language and pointing with his eyes/nose. I think if we got him a set of those word buttons people give dogs so they can "talk," Alex would pick up on it right away and use it a lot.

That’s all the animals for now! Will update next time my mom finds a cat xD

#sortinghatchats #meta #asks #paint speaks #q

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ninjakitty15 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7: Ain’t Nothing But A Horned God (Loki x OFC Pairing)

"You know, super strength and natural parkour aside, that kid is really living up to his second identity," I mused as Peter popped in right after Loki and I got dressed in our daywear clothes and were about to binge watch the Orville.

"Why do you say that?" Loki asked, eyeing Peter as well.

"If you get rid spiders the humane way and just release them into the wild again, they will still find their way back in. Hand me that newspaper over here, I can fix that."

"I thought you said he was cute, isn't that a term of endearment?" he teased.

"He lost that effect when he killed the mood I was about to build up here. The fuck you want, kid?" I barked at the energetic idiot Tony loved so much.

"Mr. Stark's not here?" Peter squeaked.

"Hell if I know, ask Friday or better yet, beat it."

My trying to get rid of the kid seemed to somehow have the exact opposite effect I had hoped for, not unlike when a person that can't deal with cats walks into a room with one in it, that cat will instantly greet the hapless person and never leave them alone. Peter apparently grew a pair and turned his attention on me specifically, seeing as he apparently had met Loki while I was in captivity.

"So you're one the team now, huh? Where you from?"

I blinked at his sudden confidence. "Lynn, Lynn, the city of sin," I sang the old tune of my town.

"Where's that?"

"Near Salem," murmured Loki beside me. "No wonder you wanted to go there yesterday, you were homesick."

"You've been in my position before I'm told so I'm guessing you know how I felt."

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"That would mean admitting I actually feel things and I'm not one to catch feels here, gross."

"Have you got a superhero name yet?" asked Peter eagerly.

"I'd have to be a hero first for that to work and I'd rather not."

"Why not, its the funnest! Get to meet all kinds of people and everything!"

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "That's supposed to convince me? Really? Tony told me you were clever too, Loki you're the god of lies, how could you let that slide? I hate people, if anything that'd push me toward antihero or even villain. Kill em all and then add em to the undead army, who's with me?!"

"You said so yourself that would take a lot of energy and convincing to make your victims part of your army," mused Loki.

"Sshh, he doesn't know that. Why are you still here if Tony's gone?" I asked Peter.

"He told me I'm welcome to hang out with the team in his absence," Peter replied confidently. "What were you two doing before I got here?"

"Having passionate s/m sex in every room we can get into, you look a bit too young to join but you're welcome to watch," I teased.

"No one gets to watch that," Loki stated stiffly. "That's for our eyes only. Don't you have homework that needs doing about this time?"

"All finished, Aunt May says I can't go out and be Spiderman till its done. Hey, Mr. Loki, Tony says you're not actually from Asgard but a planet of frost giants, is that true?"

"How astute of him to bring that up," grumbled Loki. "Yes, what of it?"

"What do Frost Giants look like?"

"Pete, hun, you don't go asking gods questions like that," I warned the kid, seeing Loki get all tense and serious. "Didn't your aunt ever tell you to stop sticking your nose in places it's likely to get broken in?"

Loki however had other thoughts though didn't look too pleased in acting on them as his once fair skin started to turn blue, green eyes became red and curious markings formed on his head and face. Peter looked absolutely excited being the obnoxiously curious kid he was but made no move nor questions and just tried to his best not to piss off the god while studying him at the same time. I however couldn't help but reach over to touch his face though he caught my wrist.

"You'll burn with frost bite if you touch a frost giant or one touches you."

"Sweety you are touching me," I noted. "My flesh is dead, hydra already tried extreme temps on me, no sweat."

He quickly let go despite my reassurance in fear he was freezing me with his touch, a blackened handprint remained where he held me for a moment before my necro-magic healed it and I was back to simply being a reanimated walking dead girl. I gently touched his face, my thumb brushing over the markings.

"People seem to think red eyes always means evil here," I mused. "Yet theres a fuckton of superheroes wearing red elsewhere, Tony, this little arachnid that needs to be swatted with a newspaper, Thor's cape. Red doesn't mean evil, it means power, anyone wearing red is displaying a power move."

"You don't wear it," Loki told me.

"Weren't you listening during my many rants? I don't make a habit of displaying what I'm capable of, that totally gives me away before I can even attack. It's all about subtlety, something spiderling here needs to work on before asking gods sensitive questions." I glared at the kid who had the grace to look a little ashamed, it was almost cute. At that point, just for funsies, I snatched the newspaper on the coffee table, quickly rolled it up and started smacking the poor boy with it. "Bad spider!" Peter made little move to defend himself though didn't seem too bothered by being whacked by a dead woman either.

"Don't break him or Tony will kick you out," Loki warned though I could tell he was just as amused by my antics as I was smacking around Peter.

"Dude can catch a bus with his bare hands while some people can barely catch them on their feet, he's fine. Ain'tcha kiddo."

"Stop calling me kid, I'm a teenager," mumbled Peter.

"Which is just another term for a kid that thinks they're an adult so really you're not helping your case here. It's adorable how easy it is for you to dig your own grave, even if it with a beach shovel."

"Maybe he's more likely to break you if you keep teasing him," Loki noted.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

At the reference, Peter seemed to perk up again. "You've seen those movies?"

"Sweety, I might have been locked up for 5 years but even I know that everyone's seen at least one of them that's still alive."

"Why were you locked up, are you a criminal?"

"What did I tell you about asking sensitive questions, Loki, give me back my spider smasher."

"She was kept by Hydra, no you will not be beating on Tony's favorite project, especially not when there's surveilance everywhere in the tower."

I rolled my eyes at Loki and glared at him. "Meaniepants."

"Do all necromancers look like you?" Peter piped up.

My glare shifted to him then. "Look like me? You really wanna go there? I might be dead but I can still kick your ass, Spiderboy."

"It's spiderman," he grumbled.

"Not with that attitude it ain't."

He shot a web at me angrily and while I knew he never actually meant any harm and I wasn't quick enough to dodge it, I really hated spiderwebs since the first time I walked into one face first, unable to see it. Death magic rushed to the spot he hit me and essentially dissolved/rotted away whatever the hell the webs were made of so they fell apart and off me. Loki looked at me curiously while Peter looked just a little bit horrified. "Try that again, Pete, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker." My eyes went white while blackened veins popped up around them. That got Peter more than horrified and he backed away with repetitive squeaky apologies. Seeing as he got the message, my face relaxed back to its normalness. "I fucking hate spiderwebs."

"I'm curious, if that was an enemy in front of you and not Peter, what would you have done?" asked Loki.

I turned over to the god and smirked maniacally. "Point me in the direction of one and you might find out."

"You didn't do this when we raided the Hydra base the second time."

"They weren't enemies, they're minions of them. Peter you're really cute but your curiosity is harshing my buzz here, lay off on the sugar and either buzz off or calmly wait for Tony to return. You're like ice cream to me right now, so good but so not worth the brain-freeze it comes with."

"If you're always getting a brain-freeze then you're eating it wrong," countered Peter smugly.

"There's hardly a wrong way to eat ice cream, kiddo."

"Um yeah there is, any way that's not right from a cone. Surely you jest."

"Prefer it with a spoon so I don't make a bigger mess of myself than I already do...and don't call me Shirely."

"Call me biased but I believe the spoon is the better option if we're talking the same food she was wolfing down right after she moved here," Loki noted. "I can't imagine a better way to eat it out of its original tub."

"Plus you can fend off intruders and late night food thieves with a spoon, kinda defenseless since you'd eat the cone after and then you got nothing but a sticky mess to contend with," I added.

"Hold up, that was you that ate my moosetracks ice cream?" Peter squeaked.

"Tony said he bought it and therefore it was his ice cream but he also said his helado es mi helado so not yours at all. Also Thor was the one that finished it because unlike some other Asgardians, he asked nicely."

Loki scoffed and playfully glared at me with crossed arms. "I do and take what I want, there's no need for formalities." His response was a well aimed throw pillow to the face because why else would you call them throw pillows if not for their intended purpose? "Are you sure you want to do that, love?"

"Am I sure? Kinda late to be asking that after the fact, init? But seeing as it already happened, I'm gonna go with yes I am, whatcha gonna do about it?"

"I have to ask if you're sure you wanna challenge the God of Mischief like that?" Peter asked me worriedly.

"Firstly, what's with people asking me if I'm sure, of the three of us which one here is still a virgin and learning the ropes of kicking ass and taking names? Secondly, if you're calling him that based solely on Norse Mythology he's also the goddess of eight legged foals and father of a world ending snake and thus far the only thing close to those myths is the bigass snake in his pants but that's none of my business."

Loki looked beyond amused at me both calling him out on his mythology and representation of it and that not so subtle compliment that may or may not have boosted his ego to the size of Yggdrasil and all the nine realms combined. "While I'm pleased with the last statement about me, I can very much assure I'm the master of mischief, that much of the myth is 100 percent true, Thor can attest to that and any surviving Asgardians besides him that know of me."

"Just because you are known for something specific does not make you the master of it. By that logic, I'm the Goddess of Zombies."

"Hela beat you to that by at least a thousand years," Loki argued.

I glared at my lover and eyed the nearest throw pillow in contemplation, maybe I should hold it against his face gently and then apply pressure. "Sure, if there really was just one realm of gods to go with that might work in your favor."

"What do you believe in then? Where does your faith lie if not in yourself?" he challenged.

"In my life, in my experience and in my line of work there is only kind of gods I follow in faith and those are the gods of death."

Whether he caught onto it or knew my line of thought somehow or not, I couldnt tell but his next response was damn near perfect. "And what do you pray to the gods of death."

I grinned wickedly. "Not today, bitch."

"I'm hurt you wouldn't consider praying for me on your knees," purred Loki.

"The only way to get me on my knees is by taking away what keeps me standing and at the moment you've become my reason to stand these days," I replied smoothly, catching him off guard with the claim of more mortal devotion. "Would think that's obvious considering I come alive at your touch."

We stared at each other for a long silent moment, Loki looking somewhere between admiration and something else I couldn't quite place, his eyes shining like freshly cut and polished emeralds. He also looked torn between wanting to shove me against the nearest wall and makeout or reply with a smoother, wittier comeback because this dude was as desperate to have me as he was to have the last word and prove he was the master of mischief. Men in a nutshell, doesn't matter where they're from or how hard they are to kill. Speaking of things hard to kill, the arachnaboy was still present in the room, watching the two of us verbally spar/flirt before something apparently clicked in his head and he frowned, turning toward me.

"H-how exactly would you know if I was a virgin or not?"

I cackled at his attempt to call me out and act at least a little more confident. "Elementary my dear Parker. Besides the fact you both look and act a day before you're legally of age in this country? It might have something to do with your reaction to Loki's pants snake- there it is! You look different shades of uncomfortable hearing about just the size of someone's dong. Guys usually are either confident with what they got or pretend they are long enough to snag someone to use it on and hope for the best...There's also the fact regardless of age and powers you're radiating with life unsullied, I can sense it on you. Lemme know when you are legal and I might be able to help you with that though." I winked at him, causing yet another priceless reaction from Peter and a scowl from Loki.

"I'm not overly fond of sharing."

"Don't knock til you tried it, besides, I could be six fix under by the time he's open for business, right Pete?" I nudged the poor kid with an elbow for good measure, it was too much fun messing with him.

"I'm sorry, I'm just getting so many mixed signals from you right now I gotta sit down and um wait for Mr. Stark."

I watched the kid scoot away to another room, leaving us alone for once and I grinned and relaxed, turning my attention back to Loki. "And that is how you get rid of a spider properly, if you can't kill it, make it wish it never came in."

"That whole charade was to scare him off?" asked Loki incredulously.

"He's just so precious and innocent, his ears must be burning from the naughty stuff by now. I mean yeah, if he was legal I still wouldn't mind corrupting him physically but I doubt he's got the stones to take me up on that should I be around then. Besides, there's more than one way to sacrificing a virgin these days, isn't that what you gods demand all the time?"

"I'd rather just take you on the sacrificial altar several times over till I'm the only god that can give you what you pray for," he growled.

I blinked in surprised, he was usually a little more clever and subtle in his suggestions and I somehow activated the animal in him with my incessant sexual teasing between him and Peter. "Would the couch do? I don't think the coffee table would survive despite it being solid mahogany." An uncharacteristic squeal of surprise escaped me as his response was a low growl followed closely by a master of mischief pouncing on me.

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #lokixofc #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #nell the necromancer #necromancy #loki x nell #avengers #necromancer

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