#you do not need to nor should you ever be hung up on passing totally | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

Hayloft p.4

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, death, abuse, and sexual assault (depictions of none, though), alcoholism/ drunkenness, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of infidelity, murder

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Pretty lightly edited, just a warning

Read the Previous Chapters!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“Hey, hun, what can I getcha?” You leaned into your popped hip, pen and notepad in hand.

A man you hadn’t met before, clearly someone just passing through town, was sitting across the diner bar in a light blue button-up and suspenders. He was fairly clean cut save for the day-old scruff across his face. He studied the menu intensely before setting it down and looking up at you with a sweet-as-pie smile. “Can I please have coffee with some cream and the grits?” He asked with a southern drawl.

You scribbled down his order on the notepad, “That all?”

“Mhm, I think so. Thanks doll.” He slid the menu towards you before reaching for a newspaper that had been left on the counter beside him by the last patron. You turned around to pin the man’s order on the little turnstile for the chef when the little bell on the door rang.

Tucking your notepad back into the apron tied around your waist, you grabbed the pot of coffee from the counter and poured the man a cup of the rich black liquid. Next, you prepared a little ceramic cup of cream and walked back to set them on the counter in front of him. His polite thanks were only the background when you saw Arvin walk behind the man and shoot you a smile before settling down in a seat at the bar only a few seats away.

You walked over to him and leaned on the counter with a smile, “Well, hey there stranger. You on lunch already?”

Arvin nodded, looking to you hopefully, “Yeah ‘n I was hopin’ you might be too so I could grab a bite to eat with my favorite girl.”

“Shh!” You hushed him with exasperated wide eyes, like it should have been obvious that he needed to keep his voice down, because in your mind it was. You nodded your head to the other patrons in the diner. “Y’know word travels fast in little towns like this ‘n I don’t need my daddy findin’ out ‘bout us,” you whispered to Arvin who sighed in annoyed understanding. You knew he wasn’t annoyed at you but the situation was less than ideal.

He tapped his fingers on the counter and his knees bounced under the bar, “So is that a no for lunch?”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the clock that hung on the wall. It was only eleven in the morning but maybe you could ask Charlene if she could cover so you could take an early lunch. “Let me double check real quick.” You held up a finger to excuse yourself into the back to find your coworker.

No more than ten minutes later, you and Arvin walked out to his car with two take-out boxes of burgers you had managed to swipe from the kitchen in hand. He slid into the driver’s seat while you planted yourself beside him in the passenger’s. You handed him one of the boxes of food before opening your own and

digging into the small handful of fries. “So how is your day going so far?”

Arvin took a large bite of his burger, covering his mouth with his hand has he tried to speak and chew at the same time, “Ain’t too bad. I got an engine to rebuild for an old Ford when I get back but nothin’ too terrible. How ‘bout you?”

“Ready to go home already,” you chuckled, popping a fry in your mouth, “But it ain’t too bad here either. Just would like to not be here.”

Arvin laughed a little beside you, “I know how that feels. Thanks for the burgers by the way. I appreciate it. I don’t want you gettin’ in no trouble for stealin’ food.”

You shrugged off his concern, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. If people don’t eat it, it just goes in the trash anyways. I ain’t gonna get in any trouble.”

He let out a heavy breath, resigning to your insistence, which he really just found an adorable confident stubbornness. A comfortable silence fell over the unmoving car as the two of you ate your lunches in the parking lot. When you finished chewing your bite, you looked over at Arvin, “How long you been livin’ with us?”

Arvin looked up at the brick wall straight ahead in thought, “Maybe five months now. Longer than I meant to-"

"I didn't mean it like that! I was just wonderin'...." you got awkwardly quiet for a moment, "Havin' you 'round has been the best five months in a really really long time."

"For me too. When I came into town, I thought I'd be livin' in my car. Didn't know how lucky I'd be gettin' to live with the most beautiful girl in the world." His hand reached over to your thigh, squeezing lightly.

Even after all of his sweet affections and compliments, they never failed to make your cheeks ache from trying not to blush and smile like a schoolgirl. “You really think flattery will get you somewhere?” you giggled teasingly, turning towards him and nudging his leg with your hand.

“Well it got me in your house so…” He teased back, something that he had been doing more often in the last few weeks. Arvin had never been the most humorous of people, aside from the occasional chuckle or hidden smile. That had been changing since the two of you had gotten closer though.

“Uh, no! It might get you kicked outta my house though if my daddy ever finds out.” It started as chuckle but the words faded into concerned worry as you realized how true they could really be.

Arvin sensed the shift, “You really think your daddy would kick me out if he found out ‘bout us?”

You nodded, “Without a doubt. Would probably throw me out too.” You shifted so you were sitting on your bent leg, suddenly uncomfortable.

He began cautiously, “I mean… would that really be such a bad thing?”

You whipped your head to look at him, “I ain’t got nowhere else to live right now. I been savin’ up for a year to move out but it ain’t enough to buy a place of my own yet.”

“How much you got?”

That number was in your head immediately, one that you kept a running total of with every paycheck. “$4,317.” It wasn’t enough, though, and you knew it. Even the old run down houses around town cost $12,000, which meant you weren’t even halfway to the fixer-uppers, not that you minded buying a fixer upper. “I don’t need a mansion or nothin’ but it ain’t nearly enough for even something small.”

Arvin chewed his lip, thinking about the box of cash he’d been stashing away with each of his paychecks as well. He knew exactly what it was like in your position, struggling to save up the money to get on your own feet. He hated relying on others and, even though he really liked you, he hated depending on your and your father for shelter. “You ain’t gonna be stuck in this ol’ town forever,” he promised you and it came out just like that. A promise. “You’re too good for this place.”

Another smile forced its way onto your face at his words of hope, “I’ll get outta here eventually…”

Suddenly, a familiar male voice yelled your name and you flinched. You turned towards the voice to see your boss, Harold, standing at the backdoor of the diner with his hands on his hips. He gave you a stern look and tapped the watch on his wrist before pointing at you then jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

“Shit! I totally lost track of time!” You scrambled to gather up the trash from lunch and stuffed it into the paper bag you’d brought it out in. “I’m sorry, I have to run!”

Arvin had nearly jumped out of his skin when your name had been yelled, the only person he’d ever heard calling you that way being your father. He crumbled up the paper wrapper for his burger and stuffed it in the paper bag for you. “‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your boss.”

“Nah, he’s fine,” you waved off the worry dismissively, “He acts all tough but he ain’t nothin’ but a softy.” You opened up the door and began to slide out when you stopped and took a quick glance around. Nobody was in the parking lot, or really anywhere in sight for that matter. In an impulsive swift action, you grabbed Arvin by the collar of his greasy shirt and pulled his lips to yours quickly before pushing him before anyone could see.

He looked stunned, big brown eyes wide and shocked by your courageous kiss. Your heart raced and your cheeks flushed with the exhilaration of actually sneaking a kiss to Arvin in public. It was a dangerous move but your dad was at work and there was nobody else around to see. You tried to hide your excited smile by chewing your bottom lip but it didn’t work. “Thanks for lunch, Arv.”

“Uh - y-yeah. Thank you for the burger.” Arvin stumbled over his words while you slid out of the car and closed the door behind you, leaving the poor boy struggling to make his brain catch up to reality.

“See you at home!” You waved one last time before turning. Arvin watched as you jogged back to the entrance of the diner, your little dress bouncing with every movement. You turned to give him one last glance before you disappeared behind the door.

Work had passed rather uneventfully for you. You put in the last few hours of your shift, went to the grocery store, and then headed home to start on dinner.

Arvin, on the other hand, the rest of his day at work had shaken the good feeling he’d had since his lunch break with you. He had found himself with a wrench in hand, trying to bolt back in the engine he’d been rebuilding for the last few hours. Grease smeared across his shirt, pants, and face despite how hard he tried to keep his dirty hands from ruining his clothes. Even if they were work clothes, he didn’t have that many sets of outfits nor the money to go out and buy more.

“My cousin lives o’er there with his wife. Said the sheriff up and disappeared for a while but they found him dead in the woods.”

Arvin’s head nearly hit the hood of the car that was propped up when he heard those words. He looked over his shoulder to see Davis and Fred, two of the other guys that worked at the mechanics shop, talking over two cans of beer.

“You hear anythin’ ‘bout that, Arvin?” Davis asked, sipping his can.

Arvin’s heart twisted in panic but he shook his head like hadn’t heard what they were talking about, “Hear ‘bout what?”

“Few months back, the sheriff in my cousin’s hometown turned up dead. Someone shot ‘im in the woods outside o’ some small town nearby. His name was like Lodeck or Bodecker or somethin’ like that.” Davis explained the story to both of the guys.

“Eh, pro’lly had it comin’,” Your dad came entered from the storage room with a handful of bolts, “I know I’ve met some sheriffs that deserved a bullet between the eyes.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “Yeah well you’re an angry drunk so I’m sure you’d say that ‘bout anyone who took a drink from you. I’m sure this guy wasn’t that bad. What kinda sick fuck you gotta be to shoot a sheriff? This ain’t no wild west movie where you go gunnin’ down the law.”

“Nah, I heard he was a no good son o’ a bitch. Guess his sister and her husband got murdered the day before. Found tons of pictures o’ them kissin’ on some dead guys. Some real sick shit, Fred. Sheriff might have been in on it too. Regardless, my cousin said he ran into ‘im one time with his wife and the sheriff really was a bastard,'' Davis shrugged off Fred’s comment, refuting the tragedy Fred was trying to make Bodecker’s death by tarnishing his name.

Arvin’s heart was racing and he began to feel dizzy. The images of those few days had haunted him since they had happened but he had found himself thinking about it less and less as the days passed.

“Arvin?”

Arvin shook his head out of the clouds and snapped back into reality, “What?”

“You came into town ‘round the same time all this happened. Did you hear anythin’ about it?” Fred questioned, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans.

The young man just shook his head, “Nah, I ain’t heard nothin’ ‘bout it till now. I heard ‘bout the sister though. Sounds like she and her boyfriend were no good.”

“You know what I think?” Your dad began, picking up a wrench and pointing it in Arvin’s direction, “I think our man Arvin here did the sheriff in!”

Arvin stiffened up, “What? Why would you think that?”

“You come strollin’ along through town with nothin’ but a backpack and no backstory ‘bout the same time four people turn up murdered. Mighty suspicious.” Arvin tried his hardest to stand tall and not allow his fear to show but the tension in his jaw was bordering of painful now.

Davis swatted at your dad, “C’mon, leave the boy alone. There’s gotta be thousands of people in that area that coulda murdered them. Can’t imagine Arvin doin’ such a thing.”

Arvin was grateful for Davis’s trust. If only he deserved it.

“I’m only jokin’! Y’all a bunch of whiny little girls, can’t take a fuckin’ joke.” Your dad grumbled to himself, swatting his hand towards his coworkers.

“Ah, shut up.” Fred stood up from the table he’d been sitting at and laid back down on the dolley before sliding under the jacked up Chevy he had been tasked with. “Ain’t nobody ‘round here takes you seriously.”

Arvin watched as your dad walked past Fred, kicking him in the leg and earning a loud exclamation of annoyance, but it was as if he were disconnected from the whole scene. He had tried so hard to forget what had happened back in Knockemstiff and Coal Creek, though it seemed damn near impossible considering it had uprooted his entire life. This tiny town a few hours away was his safe haven, his new beginning. He never would have imagined that anyone this far away would have heard about the murders.

Hearing Davis and Fred bring up Bodecker’s name made Arvin’s blood turn to ice in his veins. What kinda sick fuck you gotta be to shoot a sheriff? Fred’s words played over and over in Arvin’s head. This was just what he was worried about. This was why he ran. Nobody would believe Bodecker was trying to kill him first. Self defense didn’t mean shit when it was against the law. The same with Reverend Teagarden. A man of the word? Arvin didn’t stand a chance if anyone found out what he’d done.

“Hey son,” Davis’s soft voice made Arvin nearly jump out of his skin, “Don’t take nothin’ that ol’ man says to heart. I’m sure you know since you been livin’ with him that he’s just a cranky ol’ drunk who don’t know when to shut up. You’re a good kid, Arvin. Ain’t none of us actually think you did it.”

Arvin looked down at where Davis’s hand rested on his shoulder, the same way his dad used to touch his shoulder when he was reassuring him. He forced a small appreciative nod and a strained appearance of being unbothered, “It’s alright, Davis. I know he’s just kiddin’ ‘round. I ‘ppreciate it though.”

Your father arrived at home before Arvin, much to your dismay. Elvis Presley’s Blue Hawaii album was spinning on the record player when he came into the kitchen, kicking his boots off by the door.

“Hey, daddy! How was work?” You asked, mashing a bowl of potatoes for dinner.

He made a line directly to the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the tab off with no effort, “It was alright. Damn Gilligan blew out the transmission on his truck so I been stuck fixin’ that up all day. Lookin’ forward to this right here.” Your father lifted up the beer bottle and sipped it with satisfaction. Yeah, I’m sure you were, you thought, rolling your eyes with your back turned to your dad.

“Well, if you wanna get cleaned up, dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes. More than enough time for a shower,” you offered with a cheerful voice. Lunch with Arvin today had made your day good in a way that was hard to ruin.

“Yeah, I might go do that. What’s for dinner?” Your father walked over and peeked over your shoulder to see what you had cooking on the stove.

“Mashed potatoes, green beans, and chicken.” You cut in a few slices of butter and added them to the bowl of mashed potatoes, sprinkling some salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste.

Expecting some words of discouragement like you usually earned from your father, he just nodded contently and disappeared out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. You turned to watch him walk away, your mouth fallen open in pleased surprise at the fact that you just had a semi-pleasant interaction with your father for the first time in several weeks. You turned back to mixing in the now melted butter into the mashed potatoes when the front door opened yet again.

You looked back to see Arvin walking in through the living room, “Hey, Arv!”

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and judging by the way his eyes shot up to you, as if he hadn’t expected your greeting, he had been staring at the ground when he walked in. “Hi,” he answered low and short with no emotion one way or the other.

Your brows furrowed, “Everythin’ alright?” Leaving the food on the counter and wiping your hands on your apron, you walked out into the living room towards him.

Arvin visibly took a step back and his eyes widened a little, his shoulders squaring up, “Yeah, ‘m good. Just wanna take a shower.”

Before you could get the words out, he had already begun walking away. “My dad’s already in the bathroom,” you called out after him, finally getting him to stop.

Arvin didn’t turn back to you though, only half glanced over his shoulder, “Oh, alright.” He turned back to continue his walk back to his room.

“Dinner will be ready soon!” You attempted to add, only earning a small thanks in response and the sound of Arvin’s door closing. “O-oh… okay.” You stood alone in the living room, the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and Elvis Presley’s voice filling the room but not loud enough to drown out your concern.

Dinner went by just as uncomfortably. You poked at your mashed potatoes, keeping your gaze stuck down at the food on your plate except for when you glanced over at Arvin who seemed to be actively looking anywhere except for you. This only made you roll your eyes out of frustration and stare back down at your food.

Your dad talked about his day, mostly grumbled complaints, “I don’t get nearly ‘nough respect ‘round here. Damn Fred and Davis callin’ me a drunk. What? A man can’t enjoy a damn beer without being called a drunk! Damn prudes.” When you didn’t respond, he reached over and tapped your arm, “Hey? You even listenin’?”

“Hm?” You tried to make yourself focus on what he was saying this time, “Sorry, long day. What happened?”

“See? I ain’t get no respect at work and I can’t even get no respect at my own damn house from my own damn daughter!” He grumbled, the feet of the wooden chair scraping against the ground as he stood up forcefully, swaying a little side to side but bracing himself on the wall to walk out of the room.

You didn’t even possess the mental capacity to care about his little tantrum. Your mind was swimming with confusion and, honestly, anger, at Arvin’s little unexplained silent treatment. “Okay, what’s wrong?” You asked, leaning towards Arvin.

“Nothin’.” He answered simply, taking a sip of his water. His voice was low and he still refused to make eye contact, despite nothin’ being wrong.

“That’s a lie. Everythin’ was fine this mornin’ and now you’re suddenly not talkin’ to me. Won’t even look at me! What the hell, Arvin? Did I say somethin’ wrong?” Thinking back, there wasn’t anything you had said earlier that you could imagine warranting such a negative response from Arvin so your confusion and concern had quickly turned to frustration.

Arvin shook his head, “No, no, you ain’t did nothin’ wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You practically begged him to tell you. You hated being upset at him when clearly something was bothering him but this felt like he was just playing some broody guessing game with you, something you got enough of from your dad.

Stress shone through Arvin’s eyes and he met your gaze finally, if only for a second, before looking away again. You could see there was a flicker of something you hadn’t seen in him before but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Whatever it was, it was really bothering him and you felt guilty for being upset. You just couldn’t understand why you suddenly were being ignored for something that apparently had nothing to do with you.

“I can’t tell you.”

Arvin’s admittal just made you more upset. “So you’re not mad at me but you’re ignoring me and can’t tell me why?”

Arvin hadn’t seen you look at him this way. At your father, yes, but he was unaccustomed to that raised eyebrow and frustratedly desperate crack in your voice being directed towards him. He hated it. He hated knowing that he was causing you to feel upset and helpless when he was supposed to be your escape from those exact feelings.

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth. You’d think he was a monster. You’d hate him. He’d lose the one good thing he had in his life because-

Arvin shook his head, “‘M sorry.” He looked anywhere but at you because he couldn’t stand to see the way your face fell, though he could practically feel your heart fall from across the table. He didn’t need to see it. He knew.

“Fine.” You stood up and grabbed your plate, scraping the rest in the garbage and setting the plate in the sink. Your appetite was gone and your patience had snapped, not that you had been the most patient thus far anyways.

Arvin watched as you stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed your coat off the coat rack by the front door, and walked out of the house. His head hit his hands. No matter how hard he tried to protect those he cared about, he only seemed to hurt them more.

You hadn’t expected Arvin to find you here so when the door opened to the old barn, you turned around in surprise. You were curled up in your coat, sitting on an old wooden crate that had been untouched in this unused barn for God knows how long. A large window looked out over the large field that had once been the family farm but was now practically a glorified dirt lot. Your coat was wrapped tightly around your body, held in place with one hand while you held a lit cigarette with the other.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Arvin took a few steps in, his hands shoved guiltily in the pocket of his denim jacket.

You blew out a large plume of smoke that you had been holding in and looked away, “I don’t too often.”

Arvin closed the barn door behind him as he approached you and you had to fight the urge to get up and leave but you knew that made you no less immature than the way you felt he was acting.

“‘M sorry. I really am.”

You took another drag and turned to him, the moonlight illuminating his features - somehow so boy-like but so rugged - and it was hard to stay mad at him. “I am too. I don’t mean to be dramatic but I just… I don’t understand, Arv. If somethin’s wrong, you can tell me. This whole silent treatment BS with zero explanation doesn’t cut it.”

Arvin let out a heavy breath. While doing the dishes from dinner for you after you stormed off, he had had time to contemplate what to do. And he had decided. “If I tell you, it’s gonna change how you look at me.”

Your head tilted up at his cryptic opener but you said nothing, only urged him to continue with your eyes.

With a deep shaky inhale, he started his story, “I ain’t a bad man but I’ve done some bad things. Things that I thought I could run away from. I been livin’ a lie for a long time, actin’ like I ain’t hurt nobody, but it ain’t true.” Arvin paused for a moment to gauge your reaction and all he saw was fear in your eyes, just as he had feared.

A million thoughts of terrible things people were capable of ran through your head as you tried to figure out which one Arvin could possibly be guilty of, though they all felt so out of character for him. Was it murder? Assault? Rape? Thievery? The man you had come to care for so deeply now swam in a murky pool of doubt and distrust. Arvin saw all this and more in your deep, worried eyes.

“What did you do?” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be, cracking with fear. Until today, you hadn’t imagined Arvin capable of doing anything that could real harm to anyone, maybe aside from a stupid fight in high school or something along those lines, but you could see it in his eyes that whatever it was he was trying to confess to really was that bad.

Arvin lost his ability to speak for a moment. He had resolved to tell you everything before even coming out here to talk to you but the fear shining in your eyes already had his heart breaking. It was as if every new line of moonlight reflecting off the growing whites of your eyes was a new stain that he managed to tarnish your view of him with. Arvin had to look away because he couldn’t bear to look at you when he finally admitted his crimes, couldn’t stand to watch your face contort in fear when you realized what a monster he was.

“Y-you remember that preacher I told you ‘bout? The one that hurt my sister?”

You nodded, “Y-yeah…”

Arvin swallowed hard and he gripped his thigh tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Well few weeks after we buried Lenora, a police officer came up ‘n told me the coroner had found out she was havin’ a baby. None of us knew before. I don’t know how but I just knew it was that no good preacher. I didn’t have any proof though so I started followin’ ‘im ‘n found out he was worse than I thought. He was no good to his wife ‘n I saw him out takin' advantage of another girl in town who was even younger than my Lenora was. He was doin’ nothin’ but hurtin’ people ‘n I… I killed im.”

Your mouth fell open, “You- You killed him?”

Arvin looked down at his feet, “I shot him.”

It was silent as you processed the information. This preacher sounded like a terrible man, abusing young girls and leading one to commit suicide. The infidelity to his wife was a moot point against his other indiscretions and even that was unacceptable. It honestly sounded like Arvin had done a service to the world, taking this monster out of it, but it was still difficult to look at him the same after knowing that he had actually shot someone.

When you didn’t respond, Arvin had decided to continue, not thinking he could cause much more damage, “I ran. Left a note for my grandma and uncle and disappeared. I tried hitchhiking my way out of town when I got picked by this couple. They seemed nice ‘nough at first but the husband, he started actin’ real weird. They pulled us way off the road. Said he wanted to take some pictures but then I saw him pull out a gun and then he tried pullin’ me outta the car. I-I panicked and I kicked the door into him ‘n I shot ‘im before he could get me.”

Arvin’s voice was cracking as tears began to fall down his face. It was one thing to replay the memories in his own head but it was another thing entirely to actually confess his sins to someone he cared so deeply about, knowing the truth would most likely hurt you. “The wife, she pulled out a gun and pointed it at me ‘n I pointed mine at her. I begged her to put the gun down. I-I didn’t wanna shoot her. I really didn’t. I was so tired of killin’ but then she apologized ‘n I knew she was gonna pull the trigger. We both shot at the same time. I got no clue how she didn’t shoot me. I fell out the car without a scratch but I when I got up, I realized I got her through the neck 'n she was gone. I panicked ‘n searched the car. Found all these pictures of her all naked and huggin’ up on some naked dead guy ‘n I knew… I knew I was gonna be next.”

Your brain sprinted a mile a minute to try and keep up with the trauma Arvin was confessing and you didn’t know whether to hug him and let him cry on you or run as far away as possible.

“Then-”

“There’s more?” You wanted to beg him to stop talking, to stop telling you about the blood on his hands, to stop telling you about all the suffering he had been through. You sounded shocked and heartbroken and yet none of these tragedies were yours.

Arvin hiccuped and sniffled in a failed attempt to hide a sob. Red had taken over his features, both physically and metaphorically. Obviously distraught by his past and now your reaction, he felt like he was beginning to spiral down that hole of darkness that he had tried so hard to claw his way out of. There were nothing but snakes down there, ready to bite him and poison his mind with the words he had fought so desperately to keep out. Murderer. Stalker. Liar. Sinner. All of these and so many more.

Yet, he nodded, feeling as if he’d still be lying if he didn’t finish telling you everything. When he nodded, you made a small squeak of disbelief.

“I-I ran,” He sniffled out, “I hitchhiked my way back to my old hometown. I didn’t know why at first but I just needed to go home. Felt like maybe I could fix what had been broken there. Went there to find it all burnt down but then this sheriff came lookin’ after me. Turns out he was that lady’s brother - the one who shot at me and had the pictures of the cut up dead guys. He was all angry and wanted to kill me for shootin’ his sister. I tried… I tried to tell ‘im that she was no good and that she was gonna kill me but he didn’t wanna listen. He was shootin’ at me and… and… I ain’t had no choice.”

It was silent, aside from the ambient bugs chirping outside. You had tried so hard to focus on Arvin’s face but you had long since zoned out visually, only able to focus on the words he was saying. How could he have gone through all of this? How could your wonderful, amazing, beautiful Arvin Russell have survived so much suffering and been forced to murder people? Murder.

“Please say somethin’.”

Your lips quivered as your vision came back into view and all you saw was a tearful, fearful, remorseful boy before you on the brink of falling apart. Arvin’s hair was messy from having run his hands through it, his eyes were red and puffy from the tears, his breathing was shaky from remembering. There were no words.

You threw your arms around his neck and held him tightly to you. You didn’t know what else to do. How does someone respond to information like this? There was so much trust that Arvin needed to put in you to tell you - you couldn’t freak out.

“You don’t hate me?” His hands flew to your arms, prying them off his neck so he could see your face.

Your head shook, “How could I hate you for what you did?”

“I murdered four people.”

“You took out a disgusting predator who practically killed your sister and was harming who knows how many other girls. Then you killed a couple of murderers who pulled guns on you first in self defense. And then, yet again, you were put in a life or death situation with a sheriff who was shootin’ at you for killin’ his murderin’ sister. Three of those were self defense and I’d dare say that first one was a public service. You have nothin’ to be sorry for. You have nothin’ to regret. You did what you had to do to survive.” You squeezed Arvin’s hands tightly, running your soft thumbs over the lightly calloused skin of his knuckles.

Arvin looked down at your hands on his, hands that were so much smaller than his own but right now felt so encompassing and comforting, as if they wrapped his own in a blanket of protection. He couldn’t believe you were okay with this. He was barely okay with it. “I don’t regret it but I didn’t wanna have to do it. If I coulda let that lady go, if she only woulda listened to me ‘n put the gun down I wouldn’t o’ had to pull the trigger. I coulda let the cops deal with it. Same with the sheriff. If only he woulda listened… I only wanted to shoot the preacher. I was okay with havin’ that on my conscience. But I had no idea how outta control that day was gonna get. All those cold dead eyes starin’ up at you, watchin’ the life drain from someone’s face ‘n knowin’ you’re the one who caused that... Even if they were real fucked up people, it ain’t a sight that’s easy to see.”

“I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like, Arvin.” Your hand slid up his arm to rest on his bicep and you leaned your forehead onto his shoulder. His arm snaked around your body and held you close but cautious, like he was scared if he held you too tightly that you’d be scared he’d hurt you too. Of course, you weren’t. The thought did cross your mind that perhaps it was unwise to trust a man who just admitted to killing four people but that wasn’t Arvin and you knew it. “You may have killed people but that does not make you a killer. You’re just someone who was put in some really hard situations and had to make some tough choices.”

You pulled back and put your hand on his cheek, slightly scratchy from not shaving that day, and you spoke gently, “You are wonderful, Arvin. You are caring and hard working and loyal and willing to stand up for what is right. You are everything good in this world-”

“I hurt people-”

“You protect people,” you corrected, “‘N if some bad people had to get hurt to keep the good ones safe, well maybe they shouldn’t have been such bad people.”

Arvin could have melted into a puddle at your feet, and likely would have if you hadn’t been holding him. Never had he expected to tell anyone his terrible deeds and in every imagined scenario in which he did, it had never ended well. He had imagined you running for the hills, screaming at him to get out, maybe even threatening him physically out of fear that he’d hurt you now (which he’d never dream of doing).

But you didn’t do any of that. Gentleness and understanding were far from the reaction he’d expected or even felt like he deserved but nevertheless here you were holding him and reassuring him that he wasn’t the monster he’d called himself for so many months.

“I love you.”

His admission surprised you but Arvin felt fully confident in his words. He had never known what love felt like - romantic love at least - but this was damn near the closest thing he could imagine to it. You occupied his thoughts every waking moment, your face and your voice swimming around his imagination in a beautiful ocean of warmth and kindness and goodness that he would gladly drown in. You were strong and responsible and understanding and oh so beautiful. Much like him, you’d been handed a shit hand by life and struggled each day to make the best of it. Arvin cared about you so much it scared him because he had not felt this compulsion towards anyone since Lenora had passed. After losing everything he’d ever loved, he was scared that if he admitted that he loved you, life would take you away from him as well. If there was one thing that you did, though, it was take away Arvin’s fear.

“I love you too, Arvin.” He pulled your body flush against his when you responded, a heavy sigh of relief leaving his chest. Much like Arvin, you hadn’t known what real love felt like. You’d even started believing that maybe you weren’t meant for such a luxury.

Now you and Arvin felt like the richest people in the world, despite having almost nothing to your names. As long as you were in each others’ arms, you had everything. You were each others’ trust, honesty, comfort, compassion, and protection.

_______

Taglist:

@peterswebshooters

@thisisparadisemylove

@justapurrcat

@tomsirishgirlx

@peterswebshooters

@femmme-xxx-fatale

@kittyformannn

@aidinniram

@minejungwoo

@mathletemadison

#arvin #arvin russell #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel imagines #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x you #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #the devil all the time #tdatt smut #tdatt fanfiction #tdatt imagine #tdatt x reader #hayloft

291 notes · View notes

cyoc49 · 3 years

Text

HIMBO Magazine: The New Hire

23 year-old Barry Allen looked across the street at the office building of HIMBO, a lifestyle & fashion magazine targeted at gay men, and the site of his job interview. After graduating last May, Barry has tried for months to find a communications job with no luck, until he saw HIMBO’s advertisement for an entry-level social media position. The pay was unbelievably good, and they reached out to him about applying which made the whole situation seem very promising. He was a little uncomfortable about the idea of working at a gay magazine. I don’t have any issue with gay people, Barry thought, I just don’t understand a lot of the culture and I’m not really trying to. Still, the job was too good to pass up without at least interviewing.

Barry walked into the lobby of the building and was directed on how to reach the HIMBO’s offices. Stepping into the elevator, Barry thought about how sharply dressed everyone in the building was. It made him feel a little unprofessional, in his blazer, checkered shirt, and jeans. But the email had told him to dress “Appropriately for his position,” so he dressed the way he knew modern social media teams did.

As the elevator opened, Barry was greeted by the bright offices of HIMBO. The personnel working there (all male, he noticed) were dressed in a mixture of ridiculously eccentric business wear, speedos and harnesses, club outfits, other other bizarre fashions. “I’m guessing those are models?” Barry wondered, before walking over to a desk attended by a swishy receptionist.

The twinkish secretary looked up at Barry, and his eyes widened in excitement. “You must be the new applicant!” He exclaimed, jumping up out of his seat. “Oh, you’re perfect! He always knows the right people to pick. Well knock on wood, but I’m excited to work with you!” Then in a swift motion, the man darted around the desk and grabbed Barry by the hand. “Here, I can take you to him! He’s been waiting for you. I’m James, by the way! I work the desk!” And with that, Barry found himself being dragged along through the HIMBO offices.

“Uh, I have a question. Who is ‘he’?” Barry called along as he tried to keep pace with the fast-paced James.

“Christian Le Maître, the Editor in Chief! He’s brilliant. He does all the interviews and hiring himself. He’s the one who reached out to you.”

Wow, he picked me out himself, Barry thought, I must really be promising.

Barry spoke up “That’s pretty cool, to have a boss that cares that much.”

James nodded enthusiastically “Oh yes, he cares for us all so much! We’re all his boys here.”

Looking past the odd use of “boys”, Barry continued “I’m, uh, applying for a social media position.”

“Oh okay, interesting,” James said with less enthusiasm than usual, “He’ll sometimes try to figure out a different position for you during the interview. Just go along with what he says. I promise he has your best interests at heart.”

Before Barry could ask what that meant, James came to a sudden stop in front of a large heavy door. He knocked on it several times, before a deep muffled voice called out “Send him in” from behind the door.

James turned around, grinning ear to ear “Okay, best of luck! Remember: you’re gonna fit in here.” With that, he pranced back down the hallway, leaving Barry alone in front of the door.

He took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing,” he thought, and opened the door.

Walking into the office, Barry looked behind the desk and saw one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen.

His face was rugged and handsome, with insatiably curious eyes, perfect white teeth, and a beard that was just the right amount of stubble. His hair was parted with gel into a professional, clean, and gorgeous haircut. His toned muscles perfectly filled out his expensive looking business clothes: a light blue silk dress shirt, grey pinstripe pants, suspenders hung over his shoulders and pressed out by his chest, gorgeous-smelling black leather dress shoes, and a sterling silver watch. He was an absolute alpha male, so perfectly handsome and successful that Barry couldn’t help but feel awe, jealousy, and a hint of... lust?

The man looked at Barry and smiled a perfect smile. “Barry, is it? I’m Christian La Maître, but everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.” The man stood up, revealing his daunting 6’4 frame, and extended a muscular hand to Barry

Jesus, his voice is intoxicating, Barry swooned. It was so smoothly deep and inviting. With just the few words Barry already felt like he could listen to the man for hours. He reached out and took hold of Mr. M’s hand for an extremely firm handshake. As their hand touched, Barry felt a jolt, and found himself unable to take his eyes off the powerful man before him. And more importantly, he had no desire to move his eyes away.

Mr. M sat back down again. “So Barry, tell me about yourself. College graduate?”

“Uh, yes. Digital Communications maj-“

“Have you ever read HIMBO before?” Mr. M cut Barry off.

“No, sir” Barry said, neither objecting to being interrupted, nor noticing the “sir” he just said.

“Are you gay?” Mr. M examined Barry’s body up and down, never making eye contact.

“No, sir. I’m straight.” He paused “Is that okay?”

Mr. M let out a hearty laugh, and Barry found himself laughing along with the man too. It just felt right. This brilliant, perfect businessman that Barry was lucky enough to be in the presence of, anything he did had to be right.

“Ahhh, Barry. You’re a fun kid. Now unfortunately, that social media position was filled earlier this morning by another applicant. But I would be a fool not to bring you into the HIMBO team, Barry!” This filled Barry with joy. The approval of Mr. M felt so good.

“Now if I think about it...” Mr. M paused for a few moments, giving Barry another thorough looking over, “I think we have an opening in the accounting department.”

“Yes! I accept!” Barry shouted out. He didn’t even care that it was a totally different position than he had come here for, nor did he care that he had zero accounting experience. If Mr. M said he would be a good accountant, then Barry had to be the best accountant for his boss.

The man chuckled again. “There’s just a little on boarding we’d have to do to get you ready for the position. Beginning with dress code, for starters.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes, sir?” Barry asked eagerly. He would do anything for this man, who was offering him a coveted job at HIMBO magazine. Barry would change anything about himself.

“Well, you just dress so... cool. I mean look at that outfit! You are a hip young man who is ready for a good night out. And I love that for you, but I think a good accountant would dress a bit... sharper.”

The “sharper” bounced around in Barry’s head. Visions of men in suits and ties flooded his mind. He began to feel attracted to the idea of being a finely dressed man. In fact, he couldn’t imagine ever dressing down, not even in his free time. As Barry listened to Mr. M’s words, his plaid shirt rippled into a crisp white dress shirt. It tucked itself into his jeans.

“A good smart accountant would look his best at all times.”

Barry’s jeans turned into tight fitting grey dress pants, and a brown leather belt cinched itself firmly around his waist. His casual wool blazer morphed into a clean grey suit jacket matching his pants. Underneath, a gray sweater materialized and hugged itself to Barry’s slimming build.

“A good, clean-cut accountant.”

Barry felt his feet shift as his shoes changed into well-polished brown leather dress shoes, with wing tips. His socked changed to clean white socks, and inside his pants he felt briefs take form around his shrinking manhood.

“A good, nerdy accountant.”

A red bow tie wrapped itself around Barry’s neck and tied itself into a perfect knot. Large round glasses popped up on Barry’s face, which he knew he needed to wear every day. Barry’s hair ruffled as if wind was blowing through it, before settling in a clean side part, well-combed and maintained.

Barry stood before the incredibly powerful man before him looking totally different. Just 10 minutes ago Barry had dressed like any college graduate, but now looked as if he wore a suit every day of the week. But as for Barry himself, he had never felt better. As his clothes changed, Barry’s thoughts realized how right this felt. Barry now perfectly remembered his 2 hour morning dress routine. He knew exactly how much pomade to use to achieve the perfect side part, he remembered tying bow ties for six years now. His home wardrobe, all of it, had been replaced with suits, sweaters, shirts, dress shoes, and bow ties of every material, pattern, and color imagineable. This was the way he had dressed ever since he got to college and felt he could express himself truly. The truth was Barry loved the feel of a suit. The cleanness and dignity were an intoxicating feeling, and he couldn’t imagine himself in anything else.

Mr. M smiled a big smile. “There we go, an absolute perfect fit for our accountant opening. Welcome to the HIMBO team, Barry. Or should I say Bartholomew.”

That was right. Bartholomew Pippin, and he couldn’t be happier. He was a timid, nerdy kind of guy, sure, but he felt on top of the world. Bartholomew was an avid HIMBO reader for its good guides on men’s formalwear (and also so he could jerk off to the photos of shirtless guys), so to work at the magazine he loved, doing the job he loved (accounting) was a dream come true.

Mr. M stood up and walked over to Bartholomew, getting extremely close to him. “There’s just one last step in the hiring process...”

Barty shook a bit as he looked up at the domineering man before him. Mr. M was a tall man to begin with, but at his new height Bartholomew was 5’9, and the taller man encompassed him.

“I seal all my contracts... with a kiss.”

Barry’s knees quivered. He had realized he was gay at a young age, but aside from a few “almosts” in college, he had never gone farther than holding hands. Bartholomew had always reasoned that he would meet the right one eventually... and looking up at this man, Barty knew he had found it. Mr. M was all Barty would ever need. This man would control his work life and his sex life, dictating when Barty could pleasure himself, when he could come, and when he got the ultimate privilege of spending the night with Mr. M.

Bartholomew wrinkled his note and nodded eagerly “Of course, sir. I would be honored to kiss you.

As Barty stood on his tip toes to kiss his new boss - god, his lips were smooth and perfect - Barty felt all his changes lock into place. This is who he was. Bartholomew Pippin, mild-mannered accountant of HIMBO magazine, and one of Christian La Maître’s very good boys.

The two parted, and Mr. M gave Bartholomew another killer smile. “Bartholomew, I can already tell you’re gonna fit in here perfectly. And as a signing bonus, how about you stop by my place tonight. 7 PM sharp.”

“Oh thank you so much, Mr. M! I’ll be there at 6:45, I promise.”

“That’s a good boy, Barty. Now get settled in, your desk is at the end of the hall.” He gave Barty a spank on his bubble butt, and sent him on his way, to his new job and new life.

#gaytf #preppy #gay #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #nerd #suittf #bowtie #the flash #barry allen #the flash tf #grant gustin

364 notes · View notes

lightsinthedistancee · 3 years

Note

Congrats!!! Angst 11 with Frankie? I can totally picture one of the boys asking him that and calling him out when he’s in denial of his feelings for f!reader

Thanks! Hope you enjoy!

“Is she really just a friend?” - Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Secrecy

Words: 1.6k

Excerpt: “You’re the one who always knows how to keep him up when he begins to spiral, begins to drink a little too much, begins to think of certain substances he’d once abused in order to forget.

“You’re the one who always knows what to say when he feels his exterior cracking, feels events of the past begin to seep through in anger, grief, or pure instability.

“In uncomplicated terms, perhaps you’re simply the only one who always seems to know him.”

Warnings: Very Mild Smut, Language

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.

Present

You’re simply staring.

Out the window of the living room, into unremarkable space. Onto the street where car after car passes by, each one seemingly blending into the last. Upon overcast skies that drain the colors outside of their saturation.

“You gonna say something or not?” says Frankie, breaking the silence. An air of hostility lies between the two of you. He sits on the couch, back hunched, forehead propped against his fist.

The main event of the past few hours lays heavy in the background, fogging both your minds—storm clouds that threaten to bring carnage upon everything.

It’d been a statement by Frankie in the company of the guys—just the mere beginnings of one, one with enough information behind it for you to intervene, to cut him off and shut it down before anything was heard.

The statement…it was one that would’ve told a lot. One that would’ve told of the many times Frankie’s hands had woven into your hair before his lips found yours, one that would’ve revealed numerous long nights together.

Not officially a secret, but never a relationship mentioned nor told.

“Why don’t you want to tell them? Why don’t you want to tell anyone?” His voice is profound in the quiet, loaded with hurt and confusion and a desperate need to know. “What’s the harm in it?”

And still without a single word, without a single glance towards him, you walk from the room.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Past

“F-Frankie….”

His name is a stutter from your lips as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, practically panting into his skin as his hips work against yours.

The wall you’re pressed up against painfully digs into your spine, yet the ache is an afterthought, buried in the shadow of the pure pleasure coursing through your veins.

The sounds of the guys in the kitchen below faintly travels through the floor. It makes a thrill as well as a menacing nervousness spike hot in your mind.

It was a simple weekend get-together among friends that had brought you here, you and Frankie being sent up the stairs of the house to get something, somehow ending up in this situation.

You groan at a particular movement, knotting your hands tighter into his locks, pulling hard enough to make him groan. He’s muttering filth in your ear, your legs gripping his waist tighter and tighter.

“Did you find it?” Benny’s voice echoes up the stairs all of a sudden, piercing the haze you and Frankie had been lost in together. Your mind is in an incoherent state, entirely forgetting what you’d been sent up here to find. “What’s taking so long?”

You stare at Frankie, whose eyes are wide open now, his movements frozen. The corners of your lips beg to turn upwards, and you nearly giggle at the absurdity of it all, and you slowly raise your index finger to your lips, signaling for him to stay quiet.

“Still looking!” you call out. “Should find it soon.”

An affirmative response sounds back, and despite everything going on, Frankie feels all his emotions diminishing to one thing, one sensation that sets every inch of him alight.

The feeling of you clenching around him, your index finger to your lips, a hint of a smirk on those beautiful lips of yours—the secrecy of it all…it’s exciting.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Present

“Sweetheart….” His voice is a whisper as he approaches you from behind.

You’re in the kitchen now, hands shaking as you pour yourself a glass of water. Exhaustion is seemingly the main product of the tension that had hung between the two of you.

His hand rests gently on the side of your waist, the rest of his body refraining from even grazing yours. An acute worry runs through his head in circles. “I know you’re not leading me on with whatever this whole thing between us is—“

“I’m not,” you whisper, saying your first words in a while.

“—so talk to me. Why don’t you want to tell?”

The ever-pervasive question. Again.

You sigh, turning around to face him. Your hips gently settle on the edge of the counter, your eyes tiredly shutting. “I…I just…I really like you, Frankie.”

He raises an eyebrow, the confusion written across his face nearly comical. “I-I should hope so? I mean, you’re not really explaining anything, cariño.”

You laugh weakly, the sound pathetically dying out near the end, lacking the conviction to even resolutely finish. “What I mean is….” You draw in a deep breath, your eyes finally flicking to his. “…I don’t want what I have with you to fail, and I’m terrified of that happening, and…isn’t that only possible when something is officially real?”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Past

“C’mon, ‘Fish. Is she really just a friend?”

Frankie laughs, shaking his head in a perfect lie of denial. “You’re an idiot. Of course she’s just a friend.”

The small bar the four of them are in—him, Santi, Will, and Benny—possesses a unique calmness and comfort to it, a place they’d been going to for ages.

“Friends who fuck, then?” Santi continues his barrage of questions, the beginnings of an infuriating smirk on his face.

Friends who fuck really fucking well. “No,” Frankie insists, even as the other clumsily-formed thought sounds in his mind.

The other three guys practically shake their heads, returning to their previous conversation. The questioning is nearly a ritual at this point, said repeatedly, as if they’re determined to wrench what they want to be said out of him.

Frankie can vividly recall the things all of them had been saying over and over for months, in one way or another.

She knows you entirely too well.

What is it with the two of you?

You cannot possibly fucking tell me there is nothing going on.

And perhaps they’re right.

Frankie had risked his life with these guys, almost died with them, made last confessions and regrets in the near certain face of death. He’s inexorably bound to them till the day he dies. But despite that, when it comes to Frankie, even in competition with his closest friends, you always seem to be just one step ahead when it comes to knowing him.

You’re the one who always brings up the subject of leaving when places grow too crowded for his liking, striking a subtle discomfort across his face that no one else notices.

You’re the one who always knows how to keep him up when he begins to spiral, begins to drink a little too much, begins to think of certain substances he’d once abused in order to forget.

You’re the one who always knows what to say when he feels his exterior cracking, feels events of the past begin to seep through in anger, grief, or pure instability.

In uncomplicated terms, perhaps you’re simply the only one who always seems to know him.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Present

Your words shock him.

Isn’t that only possible when something is officially real?

He doesn’t know what you’ve been through to develop this level of paranoia, this level of reservation, but god, does he want to know. He wants you to let him in all the way, wants to be able to kiss you whenever he likes, wants to say three words that’ll officially cement things as serious.

But, even then…looming over all of that is a more menacing question that demands to be answered, one that makes him want to shrink into nothing.

“You don’t think this is real?” he whispers, his voice cracking at the implication—that what the two of you feel even in secrecy is not enough to make it so.

“What?” Your eyes snap up to his with the urgency of distress. “No, of course I think it’s real.” The statement is a near desperate exclamation as you watch him, looking for any sign that he believes you, that you haven’t destroyed even more of this with a single sentence.

His features relax, back to a quiet concern.

A long, drawn-out stretch of silence passes, filled with relief and more questions to be asked.

“Then why does telling make it more real?” he finally asks.

You falter, searching for an explanation beyond a simple feeling of fear. “I…I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe it’s just conceptual, maybe something I’ve just made up in my head and refused to go back on, but…but it just scares me, the thought of this being real and then failing. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but—“

“—I think it makes sense,” he interjects. More tentatively this time, he leans into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, rubbing soothing circles over the small of your back. “And why are you terrified this’ll fail? Do you think it will?”

“I…I don’t know,” you respond softly, brow crunched in apprehension. “Things just happen…I suppose.”

He hums in contemplation, fingers pulling your chin up to look at him. “Well, that’s not a very good reason,” he muses, a signature humor to him that you’re all too familiar with. When you laugh quietly, it’s a real laugh, one that delights his ears. “Things just don’t happen, too, y’know.”

You press your face into his shoulder, the slightest act of affection, an unsaid agreement. It feels different now that he’s in it with you, now that he knows and can challenge every absurd thought you’ve entertained.

“We can start just by telling the guys,” he proposes quietly. “If you want to…. It’s just them.”

His hand squeezes yours assuredly, a promise that everything is going to be fine. Your response is soft, a little hesitant-sounding at first, but ultimately decided. “Alright.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

A/N: I’ll admit I’m not super sure about this one since this is a little different from what I usually write but it was so much fun to write and such a fun challenge to create. And @hnt-escape, so I…umm….obviously changed the “Frankie in denial of feelings” part of the ask, so I hope you didn’t mind that?

Taglist: @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl @princessxkenobi @djjarins @jitterbugs927 @whovianayesha

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, let me know or do the form on my masterlist. If you’d like to be removed, don’t be afraid to ask!

100 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Thanks for reading!

#frankie morales x reader #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #francisco ‘catfish’ morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #ugh i really hope this was good #lightsinthedistancee’s 100 follow celebration

74 notes · View notes

ilikemesometaetaes · 3 years

Text

Forbearance

Kim Seokjin Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: Give him a break, okay? Finding out his girlfriend’s bias wasn’t him is a pretty hard hit to the man’s ego. He has a right to be a little... possessive.

•••> Pairing(s): Seokjin/Reader

•••> Requested by Anon: “Hey love, I was wondering if I could request a oneshot where the reader is dating Seokjin, but he accidentally finds her old fangirl stuff and discovers he wasnt her bias and jhope was? And ya know he gets all jealous and possessive;) btw I love youu”

•••> Word Count: 4.41k [Unedited]

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), forced orgasms, oversensitivity, dirty talk, our jin is a jealous boy, possessive!jin, idol!jin, cursing, alcohol use

Thank you for the request, anon! I thought it was just going to be a drabble, but I guess not! I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Seokjin called for you from your old bedroom, feeling insecure about going through the things in your closet.

“It’s okay, babe! It should be in there somewhere!” You yelled back, obviously busying yourself with tonight’s dinner before you moved your stuff into your boyfriend’s home.

Seokjin’s lips spread into a tight line, clearly uncomfortable with the action of prying into your life before you met him. He was never one to judge character nor the one to actively seek out every detail about you. He respected your privacy and your boundaries enough to never ask, waiting until you were the one speaking about it.

It was what sparked the relationship between you two in the first place. A respect for privacy and the skill of having patience.

You had met him at a fishing beach; the sun was almost fully set and it seemed that Kim Seokjin needed some time away from the boys and the spotlight.

You were sitting in a camping chair, waiting for the telltale signs of a fish nipping at your line when you noticed the man walking over to the next open slot of shore rocks just five yards to your right.

Conversation was minimal, but being in a setting where patience was what kept a person sane meant that you were fully capable of waiting.

It was strange how you hadn’t noticed it was him. Of course, he wore a mask and sunglasses along with a baseball cap, but Kim Seokjin’s personality was seemingly unique and quite noticeable. The man who sat next to you was someone completely different.

He was quiet, patient, reserved, and outright plain. After a short conversation with him about how the fish were biting that day, you understood that the man went there for quiet- same as you. So you gave it to him.

You just couldn’t help but notice that he continued to sit next to you for the days to come. He would come out every other day or so and sit next to you, regardless of the amount of spots available around. You would talk about the weather affecting the fish, ponder over the current position of the moon to judge the tide, and then resume the silence. It was almost as if you were basking in each other’s quiet presence.

His voice, a familiar tone of inflection, was evasive. It seemed as if he was purposely lowering his voice to distort it, but you could never bring yourself to ask why. Instead, you settled on listening to him speak as his beautiful brown eyes cast a wistful gaze into the bay.

From what you could see, he was handsome. You could see his eyes when he took off his sunglasses at night and the occasional tuft of hair that stuck out from under his ball cap. His shoulders were incredibly broad, stretching every jacket and sweatshirt he wore almost to the extreme.

He sat in his chair like he had run a marathon, slouching so far that his long legs were almost entirely off of the seat. It looked as if the man was dreadfully exhausted.

Light conversation seemed to pick him up from his slump but you didn’t want to press too far, knowing that the man was undoubtedly hiding his identity. You were okay with this, practicing the patience you had learned from fishing throughout your everyday life.

Each time you spoke, the conversation slowly got further and further. The day that you got to talking about what he did for the day, you learned that he lived an active and busy lifestyle. He came to fish for the calm and relaxation- a break away from it.

After a little over a month of meeting with the man to enjoy the silence, he disappeared.

You never got a name; never got an age; you knew next to nothing about him.

You continued to show up in your usual spot, hating when someone else sat where he would, but you couldn’t be rude and tell them to move.

You weren’t going to stop your hobby of fishing just because he did, but it seemed as though your reason for going to fish had shifted. You had gone expecting to see him walk up with his tackle box and fishing rod at his usual time. You only found yourself disappointed when he didn’t.

Several months passed with no sign of your mystery man. Eventually, you had forgotten about him, his presence a mere, fleeting thought whenever you looked at his old spot.

The day he returned, he was almost unrecognizable under the light of the moon.

The cool spring weather had morphed into hot summer evenings and transitioned to chilly, late-summer-early-fall nights while he was absent. Instead of the basic black street clothes of the usual fashion that the young men of Korea wore, he was dressed professionally and warm.

A long, beige peacoat hung from his shoulders in a way that the width of the shoulder seams did not stretch and, instead, looked perfectly fitted as the length fell to his knees. He wore a black turtleneck that was tucked into black skinny jeans, secured into place by a brown belt with a pair of brown leather dress shoes to match.

He didn’t even wear a hat, revealing his light brown hair. All that remained of his old style was the black mask that he wore to cover his face.

The man held no tackle box in his hand; a cooler hung from his fingers and a camping chair was nudged under his arm. In the place of his fishing rod in the other hand was a small bouquet of flowers.

“Oh, thank god.” He breathed. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I’m still here.” You chuckled. “I’ve been coming here for years.”

He sat as you spoke, repeating the same actions with his chair as you had pictured him doing countless times in the past months. Your fishing buddy was finally back and looking as handsome as ever.

“Have you?” He huffed as he sat back in his chair. “I only just found out about this place back in April. It’s quite nice.”

“Yes, it is.” You agreed, turning your gaze to watch the lights from the nearby city reflect off the surface of the water. He wasn’t changing his voice anymore and you couldn’t help but recognize it immediately.

For a moment, you processed his presence- he was actually here. Then, you turned to him again with your eyes trained on the cluster of yellow flowers sat atop his small cooler, attempting to keep your cool.

“What’s the occasion?”

“A celebration of friendship.” He laughed to himself as he grabbed the bouquet and raised it to you, avoiding your gaze.

“A friendship?” You asked, taking them from his grasp and looking down at them. “These are very pretty. Thank you.”

“I figured it’s been a while since we met and you seem to be incredibly kind, so why not be friends?”

“I don’t mean to be rude- I’m totally cool with being friends with you- but I don’t even know your name.” You laughed, hoping that this would finally be the day he revealed himself.

“I’ll only tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Easy.” You laughed. “My name is Y/N.”

“Please don’t... freak out or anything...” He muttered, raising his hand to take his mask off his face. Your heart beat wildly in anticipation.

As soon as he peeled the loop from his ear, your mouth slightly fell open on its own accord and you were suddenly starstruck by the fact that Kim Seokjin sat next to you.

“My name is Seokjin.” He kept his gaze lowered as if he was ashamed of his identity.

“I’m a huge fan.” You were speaking impulsively, unable to think about your words with the beautiful man so close to you. What else could you say?

“Oh, are you?” He asked, slowly lifting his gaze to meet your own.

“I am. It is very nice to meet you, Seokjin.” You were keeping yourself under control and you had no idea how, practically vibrating in your chair.

“And it’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.” Reaching into his cooler, he plucked out a bottle of soju and two shot glasses. “Care to share a drink over our newfound friendship?”

Grateful for the distraction, you took one of the glasses. “I’d love to.”

Your friendship with the idol bloomed. Under the strict condition that you never told anyone of your meeting spot- not that you wanted to or anything- you and Seokjin would continue to meet up on occasion and fish, sharing a drink or two and learning about each other.

When he found out about your love for his own band, he laughed and teased you for being a fangirl. When he continued to show up after the revelation, it exhumed ultimate trust that you couldn’t resist returning.

The other strict condition of your friendship was that you couldn’t meet anywhere but the beach. Six months of seeing the man you were gradually falling for in one spot became exhausting, but you couldn’t complain. Sure, you couldn’t go out for coffee or see a movie because of the fact that there were eyes everywhere, but you were okay with having your own little secluded paradise away from society.

It seemed that patience wasn’t one of Seokjin’s better traits, because even he came to complain about hanging out with you anywhere away from the brackish water.

One signed confidentiality agreement and an established set of rules later and he was being sneakily rushed into your already open front door so that the neighbors wouldn’t see him. It sort of reminded you of your younger days when you were sneaking a boy in so that your parents wouldn’t catch you.

His schedule wouldn’t allow you to see him more than two times a week, but it allowed for the two of you to retain a certain level of privacy that taught him more patience. Despite the lack of consistency, each time he came to see you sent butterflies into your stomach and a need to grow closer.

It only took a month of him visiting you before the media began getting suspicious of Jin’s whereabouts. His disappearances from his home to undisclosed locations drove the world into speculation of a solo career or a new music video- or a woman.

The more the rumors ran around, the less you saw of your friend.

It was hard to be apart from Seokjin, fully aware of the fact that you were falling for him. The idea that he could possibly have feelings for you was next to impossible to believe; all you were to him was a break away from the fame and cameras. Even as he rest his head on your shoulder with an arm around your waist while you watched a movie from your couch, you found it hard to believe there was a possibility for more.

You had the world in your embrace. How could you possibly ask for more?

A year of being friends with Seokjin proved to be the ultimate trial to test your patience. You never stepped out of line, hardly ever let yourself dream of being with him, but always imagined what it would feel like to press your lips to his gorgeously plump ones.

To say you passed the test was a decently literal way of putting it.

Exactly one year and two months of knowing Kim Seokjin, not including when he was a nameless man who you sat with, was all it took for him to start showing signs of more.

You sat in your usual spots on the beach, drinking soju, when he turned to you and asked if you ever thought of dating him.

“All the time.” You blurted in response, cursing under your breath immediately afterwards at your lack of hesitation.

Instead of responding, Seokjin burst out laughing. He tipped his head back and guffawed to the night sky but all you could do was laugh cautiously with him in confusion. Worry raised in your heart at the chance that you finally crossed the line even as you swooned over his endearing laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” You built up the courage to ask after he calmed a bit.

“I promise you that I am not laughing at you. I’m actually laughing at myself.” He wiped a building tear from the corner of his eye.

“Why?” You asked.

Instead of responding to your question, he turned to you with all hints of joking wiped clean by the serious expression on his face.

“Do you want to date me?”

You stopped breathing for a moment at his question, heart seemingly skipping a beat and fingers gripping your chair tightly in disbelief.

“W-what?” You stuttered.

“Please let me know if I’ve crossed the line, but would you like to go on a date with me?” He grabbed your hand in his and held it close to his body. Even in the cold weather, his hands were as warm as ever.

Kim Seokjin thought he was crossing the line? He thought he was shooting his shot to someone he had a minor possibility of dating? Being patient couldn’t have been more rewarding than in that moment.

“I’d love to.” You smiled.

Of course, the media was all over your first date with the man.

Even from inside the fancy restaurant you sat in, you could see the camera flashes from across the room in your secluded corner. Seokjn simply waved them off and continued to sip on his wine, telling you to pretend that they weren’t there.

For you, the pressure was intense. The entire world sat on your shoulders as they tried to scare you away from the man you loved.

Despite the harsh scrutiny and the offensive comments, your time of waiting on Seokjin had thickened your skin and reinforced your resolve. Your ultimate test of patience left you with a sense of serenity in the tense world.

You could wait for the attacks to die down. You could be patient- Kim Seokjin was worth it.

As time went on, people cared less and less about your relationship after realizing that you weren’t going anywhere. You had predicted as much.

To celebrate your two-year anniversary together, your boyfriend finally asked you to move in with him.

He was nervous, to say the least. Seokjin wanted you to live with him because he found your apartment to be quite small- it was about time to give you more.

Now, two days after the proposal to move in- on his free weekend- he was helping you move out of your apartment.

Everything was going smoothly, as he expected, up until the moment you told him to go into your closet and grab the box of clothes you had set aside to donate.

He wasn’t expecting to find a small box stuffed into the back of your closet with BTS in large sparkly letters decorating the top. After he pulled it out and dusted it off, he opened it to find photocards and trinkets of his brother, Hoseok.

Gingerly, he dipped his fingers into the box and pulled out a tiny, pink pouch that perked his interest- Seokjin never faired well with fighting his curiosity of material things.

Pulling out the small chain, he let a grimace riddle his features whilst he surveyed the six silver letters of Hoseok’s name adorning it.

“Oh.” He heard from behind him, causing him to jump and quickly drop the pouch and bracelet back into the open box in his lap. “So you found those.”

“What is all this?” He asked while gesturing to said box, an ugly inferno of jealousy beginning to curl inside his stomach and snake its way up his throat. All Seokjin could think about was the fact that Hoseok was your bias and not him. Sure, he never asked, but you could have at least told him that he had competition.

“I- uh-“ You stuttered. Your hesitation to answer warranted him to stand and approach you with an eyebrow cocked and a storm brewing in his eyes.

“Am I just a ploy to get to him?” Seokjin’s anger was obvious, yet you couldn’t help the lick of excitement as he became possessive over you- a trait you rarely saw on the man.

“No!” You were quick to answer his question, closing the space between the two of you to grab his hands in your own. “Babe, I swear! Those are from years ago! Before I met any of you!”

Although Seokjin knew that you were telling the truth, he still seethed in response and let his jealousy show. You seemed to like the jealous side of him, so he decided to maximize his advantages of the situation. It was also hard to ignore that he was growing slightly uncomfortable in his pants.

“Then why do you still have them?”

“Because my friend made them for me and they’re special!” You defended, wanting him to hold your hands. His fingers wrapped around yours tightly and pulled you so that your body was flush against his. You were left to stare up at his towering frame.

“Well,” He chuckled, letting go of your hands and bending down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise but he only growled and smacked you on the ass with so much force that you yelped out in pain.

Seokjin threw you down on your tiny bed and you looked up at him in anticipation when you noticed the sly smile thinning his plump lips. He leaned down, placing a knee between your legs, as his gaze locked with yours.

“I’ll give you something fucking special, J-hope stan.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, bringing your arms up to wrap around your shoulders as he pecked you on the lips and trailed his lips down the side of your neck.

Once he placed a kiss on top of your clothed nipple, Seokjin wasted no time in lifting your shirt over your chest to press his tongue and lips against you. You sighed, letting your eyes flutter closed as you tipped your head back and let him work over your areola.

“Does Hobi know how sensitive you are here?” He asked, licking your nipple immediately after. He brought his thumb to the other one as he kissed it again. “Would he even figure it out?”

Instead of answering, you threaded your fingers into his hair blindly, wrapping your legs around his waist while he lowered his mouth further down your body. The notion left you quaking in its wake.

His nose feathered down your stomach while he whispered his next question.

“Does he know how soft your skin is?” Seokjin pressed his lips to the skin of your waist and you craned your head up to look down at him, catching his gaze promptly. Seeing his lips against your skin had your legs pressing against his sides even tighter. “Would he even appreciate it?”

He backed up and pulled your underwear and shorts down your legs to bare your pussy to him, not wanting to tease you at all. He was on a mission and you wouldn’t stop him.

By the time he got his face between your legs, you were already spasming and dripping.

Your boyfriend looked at you with a smirk on his lips. “Could he get you this wet?”

His tongue pushed between your folds and flattened to rub against your clit to lap up once with a groan building in his chest before he pulled away. “Would he even taste you?”

You whimpered, dependent on Seokjin for pleasure as he pressed his tongue on your clit and slid two fingers into your depths to scissor you open. For a good minute, he pumped his two fingers into you and shoved his tongue onto your bundle of nerves as if trying to completely lick it off your body.

Your first orgasm was sharp and intense, causing you to cry out and dig your fingers into your boyfriend’s scalp. He pulled his lips away from you for a moment to look up at your heaving body.

“Could he even find how sensitive you are right-“ He brushed his fingers against the spot that had your mind reeling. “-here? Could he make you feel good? How would he even begin to try?”

The oversensitivity had your senses dulling and your lips babbling. “He wouldn’t. God, Jin. He wouldn’t.”

He continued to sink his fingers into you, harshly laving over your clit with his tongue in between his words as if he were fucking you already.

“You just-” Slurp. “-taste like-” Suck. “-fucking candy, baby.” You gasped at the loss of contact and squealed every time he returned his tongue and covered you with his plump lips to wildly swirl the hot muscle into you.

Being forced into more orgasms wasn’t new for you, however, it was always on his dick that you sobbed your way through countless climaxes. The pleasure of being pushed over the edge by his tongue was completely new and unabashedly erotic.

You screamed and writhed against Seokjin’s hand splayed possessively over your stomach, trying to get away from the contact but helplessly struggling against him. One after the other, you were painfully shoved into cumming, but it’s only when you squirted onto his chin that he finally let up.

“I bet he couldn’t make you squirt like that.” He darkly chuckled.

You, sweaty and breathless, lay under him with a bead of drool beginning to collect at the corner of your mouth. Mindlessly, you affirmed his statement.

“He couldn’t. He couldn’t.” It was almost as if you were chanting now.

“You’re damn right, he couldn’t.” Seokjin stood on his knees and quickly pulled his jeans down just enough for his dick to pop out before eagerly settling himself between your shaky legs once more.

Pussy raw and throbbing, you needed him to fill you properly to balance out the sensitivity on your clit. It was almost painful.

“This pussy is mine.” Seokjin grabbed his dick and looked down to slap his tip against your clit repeatedly. Your legs jerked in result, body responsive to the slightest touch on your nub. “You’re all mine.”

“Jin,” You whimpered. “Please.”

“I know, baby. I know. Be patient.” And he slid in slowly.

You dug your nails into his shoulders and threw your head back into the pillow again. The pleasure was blinding and you tensed your entire body at the sensation of him stretching out your insides.

“He could never know how tight you are.” Seokjin grit his teeth as he bottomed out. “How fucking warm-” You gasped and your eyes rolled back as he nudged his hips to try pushing himself further inside you, succeeding in dipping slightly deeper into your walls and crowding himself against your womb almost uncomfortably. “-you are.”

At this point, all you could do was sob in confirmation. “He couldn’t.”

“I’m not gonna lie.” He pulled out and thrust into you once, then twice, and then paused while heaving above you. “You got me all worked up with how cute you sound so I won’t last very long. I’m going to need you to cum one more time. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded almost immediately, knowing that all he needed to do was toy with your clit to send you over the edge.

With a harsh beat, your lover ferociously fucked into you and grabbed one of your thighs to widen your legs. With each clap of his skin into yours, you let out a small huff while he literally fucked the air from your lungs.

“Cum, baby. Cum right now.” He strained.

“I-” You cried, holding onto him for dear life as you desperately needed that last nudge to send you hurtling towards ecstasy. “I can’t. I n-need-“

“Hobi can’t fuck you like this, Y/N. Can’t fill you up and make you scream like I can. But you can’t cum for me?” He smashed his swollen lips onto yours and messily pushed his tongue into your mouth. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected the two of you. “What do you need, baby? What do you need me to do?”

Your clit practically screamed for attention from your prior orgasms, but you were too focused on not actually crying to tell him. Instead, you snaked your hand down your body towards yourself and Seokjin followed your trail down to where your bodies joined, noticing immediately how swollen and red your clit was. His expression softened in realization.

“Oh, does my girl need her pussy touched?” He crooned roughly.

You nodded feverishly, sniffling.

“Okay, love. I’ll touch.” And he did.

Your orgasm was almost instantaneous. Your body, battered and exhausted, trembled as it seized up to accept his thrust for the last time that evening. In all its pain and bliss, your climax was glorious.

“Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck-” Seokjin growled as he dropped his head to the crook of your neck. “Squeezing me all tight like that. You’d never squeeze Hobi like that.”

Even through your pleasure, you felt him clutch onto you tightly, slowing his thrusts and sinking himself deeply to empty his release into you.

“That’s my girl.” He groaned after he stilled, slumping against you. For a moment, the two of you breathed and relaxed in each other’s presence.

You chuckled, turning your head to kiss his head. “That was pretty hot, babe.”

His head shot up from your shoulder immediately. “Not at all! How could you stan Hobi and not me?”

“Babe, I was so much younger. Of course, the one who is a literal ball of sunshine was my bias. You can’t get enough of Hobi.”

“But I’m your boyfriend…” His eyebrows turned up at you and pouted all the while his dick still lay wedged between your legs. Slowly, you pushed him off of you so that you could go clean up.

As you stood, you walked to the bathroom and laughed again. “Yes, you are.”

Even as you were walking away, you heard him mutter under his breath.

“Hobi would never walk away from me like that.”

All you could do was giggle at his statement, knowing that he would eventually get over it.

Kim Seokjin was the one you loved. Who was Jung Hoseok?

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Masterlist!

390 notes · View notes

heliads · 3 years

Text

Neighbour

Bucky first moves into the apartment building because it’ll provide him a safe home away from the dangers of his work as an Avenger. He doesn’t plan on meeting Y/N, the girl down the hall.

masterlist

The apartment building is the perfect fit. It’s four blocks across and three blocks down from the Avengers Tower in New York City, far enough away that Bucky can easily walk to the building and close enough that the tower’s shadow still chills his back. It’s nice to be able to have a place to live that isn’t a part of the Avengers, like almost every other aspect of Bucky’s existence.

It also doesn’t hurt that it seems to calm Tony down to have Bucky away from him- he supposes the Civil War situation and the unmentionable crimes he’d committed as the Winter Soldier still tighten an invisible noose around Tony’s neck whenever the billionaire looks at him. The more time Bucky has away from the entire Avengers world, the better. The separation of church and state; except, in his case, more like the separation of government secrets and any potential relaxation at home. Although Bucky’s never been one for relaxation.

His few meager possessions have finally been moved into this new apartment building, and they decorate a few sparse shelves. The rooms aren’t quite luxurious, nor bare, more somewhere along the lines of furnished. This isn’t due to lack of funding- no, Steve and everyone else had made sure Bucky had more than enough money to support himself. This was all his choice- maybe born from a habit of only needing a few things so he could pack up easily for a life on the run, maybe even from before then, when scrimping and saving for wartime efforts were commonplace.

Money didn’t form the decision as to why Bucky chose to live in an apartment building, though. That was purely for protection. The thoughts had spiraled into his head as soon as Bucky had begun considering a future living situation. A house by himself was no good- even with neighbours, he would still be easily targeted. And if he lived alone, with few neighbours? Even worse- he could be singled out and killed by any decent strike team. Living without anyone around would cause Bucky to be a lone wolf, separated from the protection of the pack and left to the mercy of a none too benevolent world.

An apartment complex, on the other hand, would do nicely. There are 15 stories, about 275 total apartments but only 260 in use. There are enough people in the building to hide Bucky, enough inhabitants coming and going to ensure that one war-worn soldier in particular would be disguised in the crowd. No sniper, no matter how well trained, would risk firing into the building at him. No strike team could excuse a raid on his room, and thus Bucky ensures his safety as best he can by living here.

This being said, Bucky still flinches at the sound of a knock at the door. No one should know he was there, and any coworkers would only speak to him at the Avengers Tower or some other S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters to guarantee no suspicions were raised as a result of high-profile government agents coming to his apartment. Bucky walks slowly over to the door, back hand moving silently to grab a knife hidden in a discreet pocket on his belt. His hand closes around the ridged rubber handle and the blade shines in the light from an open window. Bucky glances once in the peephole in the door, then groans under his breath, putting his knife away hurriedly before opening the door.

Standing before him is a cheerful young woman, holding a cloth covered plate in her hands. When she sees him, her smile grows even broader, if that was possible. “Ah, you must be Mr. Barnes. I’m Y/N, your neighbour from down the hall. The door next to the window?” Bucky forces a smile, still confused as to why she was there. “Bucky. Uh, I go by Bucky.” The woman nods. “Bucky it is. Well, I always bring new neighbours some freshly baked cookies. I figure it’s a nice way to start off your first few days here, right?”

She carefully unwraps the cloth from around the plate, revealing a small mound of chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven based on the steam just beginning to emanate from the plate. Bucky tries not to stare- he hasn’t had homemade cookies in what feels like years. Could be decades.

He takes the plate from her after standing there for a moment. “Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it.” Y/N smiles at him again. “No problem! Hey, if you ever need something, even just someone to talk to, I’m right down the hall. Apartment on the left of that window there. Just knock.” Bucky nods slowly. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” The woman waves goodbye, then heads back down the hallway once more, leaving Bucky standing in his doorway holding the plate of cookies. So that was his neighbour.

After Bucky manages to make it back inside, he sits down in one of his newly purchased chairs, thinking. He hadn’t planned on speaking to any of the other inhabitants of the apartment building- he’s always been taught that friendships with non-Avengers or other agents were risky. Too big of a chance of them being double agents or hurt because of him, so Bucky had decided not to talk to anyone else in the building. Yet here he was, already telling Y/N his name. Hey, at least her cookies were good.

Bucky finds himself stumbling up to his apartment building after a long, rough day. The problem with his line of work is that it constantly left him questioning everything he did. When he helped use his skills to track someone down, was it worth it? When he had to go in on missions and infiltrate HYDRA bases, who was benefiting from it? When he looked into someone’s eyes and pulled the trigger, was he killing a criminal or murdering an innocent?

Bucky’s head is a swirling mess by the time he finally gets to his floor, and his feet drag him out of the elevator without being directed by a single thought. His eyes latch on the shape of his front door, but Bucky realizes that the last thing he wants right now is to be alone. Unconsciously, his head turns to face another door, one near him. It’s bathed in a light from the window right next to it.

Y/N.

Her words rise, unbidden, from some unknown depths of his memory. If you ever need something, even just someone to talk to, I’m right down the hall. He doesn’t know why he stops by her door, doesn’t know why his hand rises to knock twice on the hard wood, doesn’t know why the door knob twists open under the guide of his fingers when she calls for him to come in.

Y/N’s apartment looks a lot like his. It faces the bustling streets of the city, the junctures of the streets. She has art hung around the walls, and tall bookcases are wedged in the corners. A faded blanket is draped across a pale green couch, and light from an antique lamp paints the room in a bright coat of gold. After a second, Bucky’s eyes find Y/N, bent over her kitchen counter. He can see now why she couldn’t answer the door herself- her hands are covered in flour, busily kneading a mound of dough in front of her.

She smiles when she sees him approach. “Hey, Bucky! Sorry about this- I’m just finishing a loaf of bread.” Bucky chuckles softly in spite of himself. “Didn’t realize you like baking this much.” Y/N laughs, a soft sound like the chiming of bells. “It’s a habit.” Her hands methodically fold the dough in front of her, pushing it forward only to pull it back over itself once more. Light motes of flour occasionally drift up from the counter.

It takes Bucky a moment to realize she’s looking at him expectantly, and he clears his throat. “Right. I just wanted to- I remembered you said something about-” Y/N glances up at him with her lips curving into a smile, and he suddenly can’t finish his sentence. She reaches into a tall plastic container next to her, and dusts her dough with a pinch more of flour. “Well, no matter the reason, I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve been meaning to ask someone about this program I’m supposed to be reviewing for work. It’s not that long, only ten or so minutes. If you don’t mind, I’ll put it on while I finish up the bread and you can tell me your thoughts.”

She crosses the kitchen to rinse off her flour-powdered hands, and after dashing a towel about them, pulls up a short video on her TV. It’s actually quite interesting, some overview of a project regarding city planning. Towards the end, Y/N puts her bread in some warm drawer (“to proof so it will rise!” or whatever that means) and cleans her hands once more before perching on a chair next to him.

Once the screen fades to black, she turns to him. “So, what do you think? I’ve got to decide in a few days whether or not to support this guy and his project, but I’m not sure. I mean, more space for the hospitals would definitely be useful, but if it keeps encroaching on park land like that, it won’t be great for the environment.” Bucky frowns. “What if he extended it in the other direction instead? He’s got more room around the east side of the building.” Y/N furrows her brow in concentration, playing back the video so she can see what he’s talking about.

He ends up staying for half an hour more, spending almost the entire time discussing the proposed project. He didn’t mean to stay that long, but it’s so easy to talk to Y/N that he barely felt any time pass at all. When he eventually heads out, after promising to drop by again soon, he closes the door behind him with more reluctance than he had realized. His chest feels strangely light, and there’s an odd expression on his face. A smile.

The weeks fly by in his new apartment, coming and going far faster than Bucky had expected. He ends up visiting Y/N often, and they quickly become fast friends. For someone who’s not supposed to be engaging with civilians, Bucky’s breaking his own rules quite easily.

He’s at work at the Avengers Tower when he first hears about it. Bucky had noticed a sudden increase in commotion outside of his station, and he hadn’t considered it much before Steve had come bursting into the room. All his friend had to do was hold out the case file in his hand and Bucky’s heart rate had gone through the roof.

Y/N was missing. No, Y/N was captured. By HYDRA agents. Because of him. There were photos of her in some cell, hands tied behind her back. She was being held ransom to hurt him, to punish him for defecting from his title as HYDRA’s Winter Soldier. It hadn’t taken long for Bucky to put together a team and find out where she was being held, but the entire time he was preparing Bucky felt a constant twist in his stomach, a pain like a knife being slowly stabbed through him.

The HYDRA outpost where Y/N is being held is small, barely large enough to trigger S.H.I.E.L.D. sensors. Yet there it is, guards posted outside the door and everything. Bucky barely says a word to his team, already taking out the guards and storming inside. It’s strange- enemy soldiers in the halls look terrified at the sight of him, and Bucky doesn’t realize why until he comes face to face with his own reflection in a polished metal door. He looks like a wild animal, emotionless and cold, seconds away from a kill. He looks angry- no, furious. Beyond furious. What was dear to him had been taken away, and he was ready to do anything to get her back.

The HYDRA structure is small, and so it doesn’t take long for Bucky to find Y/N. She looks up when she sees him, and he can see the confusion and relief warring in her eyes when he walks through the door. He doesn’t say a word while they’re leaving the building, and neither does she. It’s only when they’re both alone in a closed off room on a Quinjet leaving the HYDRA compound that Bucky finally opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m leaving the apartment building. I’ll probably never see you again.” Y/N jerks her head up, shocked. “Because of the attack? Why wouldn’t you see me?” Bucky methodically takes off his armor, removing mics and thick pieces of armored uniform. “It’s not safe for you. I’m not putting you in any position when you can get hurt.”

Y/N laughs harshly, a strange, discordant contrast to the bubbly laugh he’s used to hearing. “Bucky, you not seeing me won’t make a difference. I knew that when I first met you, and I decided to get to know you anyway. I was the first one to take this risk, and I’m not letting you walk away from me because the consequences have been made real.” Bucky looks at her, confused. “What are you talking about? You knew who I was?”

Y/N nods, turning her head away so Bucky can’t see her face. “I knew you were the Winter Soldier. James Buchanan Barnes. I knew that being anywhere remotely near you would be dangerous to me, but I stayed because you were important to me. Please, don’t give up on me because of what might happen.”

Bucky throws his hands in the air, frustrated. “What might happen? Y/N, it already did happen. You could have been killed-or worse- all because of me. This is for the best. Don’t think I want this to happen, because I don’t. I just-” His voice cracks on the last word. “I just need you to be safe.” Y/N walks over to him, gently taking his hands in hers. “I will be safe. If you’re there with me. Bucky, we both know they won’t try something like this again, not for a while. Not after their first attempt went so badly. It’s alright to be worried, but please, don’t leave me.”

Bucky looks at her, earnest eyes meeting his tense ones, then sighs. “Fine. I won’t go. Just promise me you’ll be careful? You’ll contact me if anything seems wrong?” Y/N smiles at him. “Of course I will. As long as I’ve got you, I know I’ll be alright.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagines

197 notes · View notes

the-silentium · 3 years

Text

Home Sweet Home

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 7569 words

Warnings: Angst, sexual innuendos.

A/N: Last “soft” chap before the action come back ~

**Words in bold are words said in French, which means the clones can’t understand it.**

Taglist: @clone-rambles / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @lackofhonor / @gaymasonjar / @depthsreturn / @koskareevesismyqueen / @leonidas-banana-phone

____________________

Nothing changed. Not the obnoxious people, not the earthy smells, nor the heavy atmosphere. The loud locks of the gates closing behind your group still resonated through your ears, sounding too much like the last nail sealing your coffin shut and not like a protecting device. Was it your instincts telling you that you made the wrong decision? Or was it just the dread of returning somewhere you never wanted to return? Either way, it was clear that you didn't feel any bits of nostalgia at being back between these rocky walls.

Hells, even the council's room was giving off unpleasant vibes with its tall bookcases carved directly into the walls that protected way too many old books that weren't all redacted in French nor in Basic. A map of the planet hung on the furthest wall of the room, the different villages identified with their respective symbol to help with trades, hunts, fights. Frabas' name crossed out in blood-red ink to remind everyone of the overnight genocide that happened there.

The lanterns were the only nice things in the room. The soft green and blue crystals contained within the glass enclosure bathed the whole room in their light. Maybe if you focussed on them long enough their glow would soothe your mind.

"Excuse me? You spit on it?" Tech's sudden high pitch tone was surprising enough to pass through your incessant flow of thoughts

"Yeah. Right there." He pointed at an intergrown knot close to the far extremity of the table where the heads usually sat. "What? Did you want me to piss on it? That's a bit too animalistic." Kayden added as soon as he noticed Tech's offended expression that quickly morphed into a disgusted one.

"Honestly, with you people, I wouldn't have been surprised." Crosshair's jeer traveled the room in a second. It took even less to drop Kayden's mood.

His hand tightened around yours and without losing a single second, you matched his grip to keep him from expressing his frustration through anything physical. Now wasn't the time to start a fight between your own team members when several other players might want to hurt you.

If tonight's bad luck could turn into good fortune at least once, now would be the time. The 'diplomats' were out of harm's way, Kayden had technically done what he was told and thus was not considered a traitor, leaving you alone on the spot.

"Look who just found his voice again." He caught your message and used his words instead. "I was sure you'd swallowed your tongue when you ran like a chicken back there."

"And who ran the fastest in the group eh?" The sniper walked to the table. His hands fell flat on the wood to support himself as he leaned forward, daring the brunette at your sides to make a move.

"The fastest is usually the one to survive." He pointed out as he scratched at his clothed chest with his free hand, his right one still prisoner of your grip.

"Crosshair." Hunter slightly pulled him backward by the pauldron and away from the incoming confrontation. "Enough." He added with a growl, clearly remembering how this wasn't his brother. Not fully.

Against all expectation, Crosshair did back off, although he quickly moved his animosity towards the new source of irritation, clear proof that this wasn't the man with whom Hunter had shared so many memories, good or bad. He was a total stranger that didn't respect him at all and lived to push his buttons. Why he stayed with you all was a mystery, although you weren't complaining. Keeping him restrained while in the jungle would have been a true challenge.

It was like waiting for a storm to explode. The dark grey clouds were there, the strong winds blew away everything in their wake, the thunder resonated in the distance, yet there wasn't any droplet of rain. The men faced each other just like in the cave, mere centimeters separated their chest plates and anytime now, the first blow would mark the start of a colossal downpour.

It was nerve-wracking. Even Wrecker and Tech were watching, clearly pondering if they should intervene or if by doing so they would aggravate the situation. You started getting up as the door opened and startled you into seating down again.

Never had you thought that seeing Arlan enter a room would make you feel relieved, yet, this was exactly how you felt at the moment. It seemed like the sudden entrance of an outsider was enough for Crosshair to back off. You subtly crossed your fingers that he wouldn't lash out at the leader even though the scene would very probably make you feel so much better. The consequences of going against Arlan just weren't worth it.

Before the dark-haired leader could notice it, you separated your hand from Kayden's, both your backs straightened and your unbothered masks came back on. Wearing the well-worn suit of this fake cocky personality was deeply uncomfortable but truly necessary. Over the years it became your best shield and Kayden your best ally.

"Take a seat." Arlan waved towards the table as he walked deeper into the room, passing Hunter and Crosshair like they weren't even there. It took years to be able to read the black-haired leader, but it definitely came in handy now.

His calm tone hid a deep irritation that showed through the tightness gripping the muscles around his eyes. He quickly tamed his features as he took place at the end of the table, his elbows immediately meeting the hardwood of the armchairs to allow his fingers to interlace before him.

Soon the 4 seats opposing you were occupied with rigid troopers. Their helmets still firmly on would have been seen as an enormous lack of respect if only Arlan's attention wasn't already focussed on two nasty boots dripping mud onto the piece of art that was the table.

Arlan only needed one look to communicate thoroughly his thoughts. The hard gaze that could easily be misinterpreted as a constipated one transpired enough threats that Kayden removed his boots without any further delay. The ultimatum was clear and you both knew that there was nothing Arlan despised more than repeating himself. Well, maybe you two were the firsts on his list, but that was especially because you loved to make him repeat himself.

If only he didn't look like there was an entire fire-ants colony in his pants, Kayden would have kept his feet up for a bit longer just to raise the man's blood pressure a little. You swore he got more grey hair each time he had to talk with the two of you.

The disapproving sigh accompanying the stormy grey hues boring deeply into yours was a true gift to Kayden whose smirk widened in consequence.

"Do you know why you're here?" The question resonated within the room with utmost seriousness, a seriousness that you forced yourself to shrug nonchalantly in response.

"Surely not because you missed me." You placed a smirk on your lips to copy your sidekick and complete the infernal duo act.

His dark-grey sleeves rode up his arms as he bent forward, his elbows now resting on the table, to get a closer look at you, 3 chairs away. Whilst being very tempting, flinching under his hard stare was out of the question. Four months in a medbay with kind people almost made you forget what the world was really made of; selfish people who always looked out for weaknesses to exploit and were eager to beat others down in hope to raise themselves up.

"We are here to talk relations between the Republic and your planet." Hunter sharply stated, cutting short the staring contest. "My team was sent in a preliminary manner to inform you of the Republic's intentions seeing as your representatives couldn't be reached through official channels. In the following days, two senators will be coming here with adequate troops to talk in the Senate's name."

How the room got hotter in a second was a mystery. All you knew was that even though his tone was borderline too crisp to be qualified as diplomatic, Hunter's words were so perfectly chosen that you wondered if he'd done this kind of job before.

As the silence following Hunter's declaration stretched, Arlan's gaze moved to the hard visor of the commando trooper. The intensity of his stare left you thinking that maybe he was able to see through the shade. Unfazed, Hunter stared right back as you did just moments prior.

You nearly missed it. If you hadn't been watching Arlan as intently as you were doing, the minuscule flash in his eye would have been overlooked. A muscle jumped in his jaw, filling you with dread. Something was wrong. Somehow he had the upper hand and he was internally relishing his win.

"A very well executed lie, but I am sorry to announce you that the Republic won't come here, Sergeant. Not after the Jedis signed a treaty to never come on this planet ever again." You were sure he paused just to get a reaction out of the commando. Hunter's helmet hid his expression perfectly. If he'd reacted or not was totally lost on everyone, unfortunately, it wasn't the same for Kayden whose eyes grew as big as saucers. "No Jedi, no clone, no senator, no Separatist, no outsider is welcome here."

Say what now? Never before had you ever heard of Jedis ever landing a foot on Fors, even less signing a treaty.

Hunter's helmet slightly dipped in your direction, surely to get some answers through your body language. Surely, he got the message when you gulped, wariness filling your eyes as you continued to stare at the man in his mid-50s. His message had been pretty clear from the very beginning. That he felt the need to add that the clones weren't welcome caused doubts in your village ethics to creep into your mind.

As far as you knew, no one had ever been executed in cold blood. Sure, you'd heard stories as a child about how people who were a tad bit too disturbing in the community would vanish overnight, obviously thrown out into the jungle to be feasted on by some hungry creature. Without knowing if they were true events or simply a way to make children behave, you took a habit of sticking with Kayden as soon as the firsts Furants that created their nests in the crooks of the walls circling the village entered the gates to hide, signaling that 7 pm had recently passed and the Nightmares would show up in under an hour. After all, there was no better nuisance in Alryan than the two of you.

Knowing that Arlan's smugness was carefully hidden under layers of practiced indifference, a very tantalizing urge to break your knuckles once again send tingles into your dominant hand. Breaking his nose for a second time would definitely help your mood as well as everyone else's in the room, you were sure of it.

"The- the Jedis? But they never-"

"It is not common knowledge." Arlan archly cut Kayden short and rolled his eyes with that very particular expression that made you feel like the stupidest idiot in the galaxy. In response, the tingles in your hand intensified. "This treaty is way older than me after all. We never needed the Republic's help in any way, not then and certainly not now." He at least had the decency to meet his eyes as he talked.

"And what do you think of the Nightmares? Frabas-" You piped up, the image of a traumatized red-head girl shaking in her bloody clothes popped in your mind. "They could've helped with that."

"They are protectors." He closed his eyes in exasperation and pinched his nose like he'd repeated the concept over and over again to a child that never retained anything.

"They don't protect shit! They kill us!"

Where had he been his whole life? Every night they came and howled, screeched, hissed, yapped and laughed on the other side of the gates in hope of having some juicy flesh and fresh blood to appease their hunger and thirst. Some even went as far as hitting the gates repeatedly in hope of breaking their way in. 10 hours per night, 368 nights a year, every year.

"They protect the Core that's in you--" He interrupted himself as soon as he noticed the irritation breaching his mask, allowing venom to drip through the closing cracks. His rage fit only lasted a second but it was a second too much. He gave you more than he wanted you to know.

"What do you mean? In me?" You could feel yourself starting to shake. In apprehension, anger or fear you couldn't tell. There was too much going on at the same time, assaulting your already tired mind.

"Nothing that you need to know." His tone was definitive, his grey eyes conveying the same message.

"Bullshit!" You jump to your feet just as he pushed his chair to get up. "If it's in me like you say, I deserve to know!"

Your yell must have triggered something, because as soon as the words flew from your mouth, Rhian and his troops entered the room, bows fully bent and ready to shoot in your direction. Elijah had his hammer in both hands, fully prepared to use it against a clone- your money went on Wrecker- if needed and Pete was ready to blow a tranquilizer- or it could easily be a fast-acting poison- into someone's neck.

The answer to the intrusion was immediate. Wrecker's chair went flying behind him at the impact of his legs when he followed his CO's movement. All four troopers stood on their side of the table, imposing and totally ready to enter a fight if need be. You and Kayden though? Totally not ready. You were unarmed and by the time you took hold of Kayden's bow, at least three arrows would have found their way into your body.

"All you really deserved was to die on Murphy Day." He snarled in your direction as his impatience once again showed through his slipping mask. "Throw them in the slammer."

That's it. Goodbye knuckles. Always the perceptive, Kayden grabbed your upper arm, right below the Algax's clean-cut, and pulled you back to his side even before you made the first step towards the bastard. Always there to keep you alive for another day. What a nice friend.

"Hands behind your head." Rhian barked as he approached you and Kayden from behind.

Doing as you were told, you noticed the troopers hesitating before doing as ordered when you nodded at them. Tech lifted his good hand, the other keeping hold of Crosshair's cage. One of the archers went to seize it, but a sudden shoulder to the sternum kept him away.

He's not just a nerd. You smirked as the archer stumbled.

"Let them keep it." Rhian waved off the fuming archer who definitely wanted to go back and win his fight. Too bad. "Walk ahead. You know the way." Rhian nodded towards the door after getting a hold of Kayden's bow and quiver, his very own bow aimed at the floor. The string was stretched just enough to cause serious damage if he needed to defend himself quickly, but he seemed to know that it wasn't needed.

Kayden led the way with you in tow, Elijah and Pete moved away from the door to let you pass at a safe distance. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Rhian breaking formation to move up to Arlan, who surely waved him over.

You sighed as you remembered that he didn't even tell you why he wanted you here.

The clone's boots resonated against the rock floor at each of their steps, close enough to appease your mind.

"Do you know a way out of here?" Hunter's voice emanated softly within your ear.

You moved your shoulder blades in a circular motion as if you were stretching the muscles and nodded your head at the same time as to not look too suspicious to the archers escorting the group. Good thing that they didn't notice your earpiece yet.

Wrecker must have been the one right behind you because he relayed the message to Hunter through the private line.

"Now?" You rotated your head from side to side like when you needed to crack your neck.

"No." Came Wrecker's whisper.

"In the slammer?" A small nod.

"Yeah."

"Then we wait and we get out as soon as possible." Hunter told his half-plan to the Batch who hummed their approvals.

Once again the unusual parade that you formed along with the armored men attracted many curious eyes. Ignoring them was easier this time around, the familiarity of their chary gazes finally coming back to allow you to concentrate on something else.

This part of the village was carved so deeply into the mountain that even the occasional howls coming from the jungle couldn't be heard. There couldn't have been better protection for a population of more than 700 people than a natural barrier of rock. Sure, this very convenient refuge could easily become a tomb for a lot of villagers in the event of a breach, but several emergency tunnels were created for this very situation. They were maintained at a perfect condition in case a repeat of Frabas' catastrophe ever came to happen.

Every Alryan learned the location of every single tunnel at the youngest of age. They were only to be used in emergency cases and right now, it was an emergency. It all depended on the perspective.

"It never changed." You stated quietly as the slammer's entrance came into view, the dark purple glow emanating from its depths was a stark contrast to the lively colors of the main area.

Goosebumps rose on your arms as you followed Kayden down the tunnel. The nearby natural well raised the humidity in these parts of the mountain and thus caused the air to become colder. Just my luck, you thought as the fresh air infiltrated your clothes by the multiple tears in their fabric.

"In there." Rhian speed-walked to catch up with Kayden and direct him to a cell carved into the wall on his left.

You were locked up with him, Wrecker and Hunter got situated in the cell facing yours, Crosshair and Tech on the one right beside theirs.

Right as Tech got in after a growling Crosshair, Rhian took hold of the cage and kicked Tech inside who landed in a yelp. You weren't even gripping the bars yet that the heavy door closed behind the engineer.

"Give him back!"

"Sorry 'bout that." He threw the cage in the air twice, the flame within shaking frantically as it hit the bars. "Orders are orders." He ignored the yells of his name bouncing in the detention center and walked out unbothered, his men in tow.

"How quick can you get us out of here?" The urgency in Hunter's tone only added to your own raiding anxiety. What would Arlan do to Crosshair? He was totally defenseless.

"Couple of minutes. But we'll need Back-Up. I hope you have it." You turned to Kayden who scoffed in mocked offense.

"You have back-up?" Tech wondered out loud, tilting his head. "I thought no one would help you here."

"Jeez. Thanks for the vote of confidence." Kayden held his heart before reaching for his chest pocket. "Back-up is my Godot." He pulled a hand-sized lizard from his pocket to show the Batch.

The Godot's orange scales shone softly at Kayden's contact, their light reflecting onto the soft line of baby blue leaves growing on each side of its spine. Its three-fingered paws grabbed fingers and clothes to remain in place while two black eyes moved independently from one another to take in what was happening around. Its long tail wrapped around Kayden's wrist as he lifted it up to show off, the small leaves at its end shining brightly in surprise.

Wrecker gasped and lifted his helmet to get a better view of the animal. "That's what I saw the first time, Tech! It's the lizard that disappeared!"

"Nothing disappeared Wrecker. There was nothing there." Tech rebuked.

"Don’t be so sure about that! They can camouflage themselves, right Back-Up?" At the half-baked order, the tiny lizard shut off its light and changed its skin pigmentation to copy its environment to perfection.

"It disappeared Tech! See? That's what I saw and you didn't believe me!" Wrecker's tone raised as he pointed to Kayden's seemingly empty outstretched hand.

"Wrecke-" You tried to warn him to keep his voice down but heard steps coming your way.

"Back-up, go get the master key at home." Kayden hurriedly whispered to the Godot and quickly kneeled to allow it access to the ground so it could wander away and get the required object.

A guard appeared at the end of the corridor just as Kayden got up and threw himself onto the upper hammock fixed to the walls. He moved around to get comfortable and into the right position, hands under his head.

"So, I've heard that Stockholm syndrome was hard on you." Brett, a particularly annoying scout, mocked from behind his beard.

"Nope. Still don't like y'all." You replied nonchalantly despite the urge to punch him through the bars.

"I was talking about them." He pointed to the two cells containing the clones and you lifted a single eyebrow.

"Tech, definition of Stockholm syndrome please." You asked, maintaining eye contact during the whole process.

"Stockholm syndrome," You saw the genius perked up at your request. Sadly, he didn't lift a finger in the air while he recited the meaning of the word. "Is a psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands." He ended with a nod and the movement satisfied you enough to let the lack of a finger go.

"That means you dumbass." You spat as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I'm with them willingly."

"Get fucked!" Kayden shouted with a laugh that got half a smile out of you.

"You? Our captive? It sure felt like the other way around." He finally switched to basic and the hate coating his words told you that he wasn't talking about the pranks and snarky attitude, no, he was talking about something bigger than that.

"What are you talking about?" Maybe you could get more answers out of him than you did with Arlan.

He scoffed. "Stop trying to play the idiot. Between the two of you, Kayden's the best at it."

You ignored said idiot's thanks to press the matter. "Okay and let's imagine I really don't know what the hell you're talking about. What in the damn world did I do?" You remembered Arlan's word and almost added what is wrong with me? but Brett was already dropping the three medicine canisters to the ground, out of reach from either your cell or the clones' and went away.

"You live."

You sat on the ground, drained of every ounce of energy you once had. What was wrong with you? Why did everyone want you dead? The fear you felt at Arlan's words came back as you thought about what it could all mean. The Nightmares who stopped appearing when you left and came back when you did. Whatever the Core was that supposedly resided in you and the fact that the Lumsin knew what it was while you didn't. That the villagers never saw you as an annoying brat but a vile oppressor.

You faintly heard Kayden talking with Tech about Back-up, but couldn't make out the exact words, your own thoughts being way too loud for you to clearly hear anything outside your head.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it." An arm fell on your shoulders and pulled you into Kayden's side who now sat next to you on the ground, successfully pulling you out of your own mind. Yet, as comforting as his gesture was supposed to be, you only felt guiltier. Even when everyone else pointed their fingers at you, he was still there to keep yourself up even after you'd vanished on him.

Kayden scratched the clothes over his heart again and cut off your incoming guilty declaration.

"Question. If the half-skull one was to break my jaw or somethin' and that you didn't see it happen, would you believe me if I told you it was him?" Kayden asked, frowning too deeply for you to brush the question off as one of his stupid ones.

"Wha-?" Then it dawned on you. "Did you threaten him?" You asked Hunter, voice raising in octaves.

You knew Kayden probably deserved it, but he was your best friend. You've been helping each other for more than 15 years and there was no way you'd let him get beaten for a stupid jealousy tantrum.

An invisible hand squeezed your heart as you felt Kayden relaxing against your side. He doubted that you'd listen to him. More importantly, he doubted that you'd trust his word over someone else's. Sure it was Hunter's word, but you knew the Sergeant was not in his right mind and not only because of the irrational feeling.

"He wouldn't stop talking." The unbothered tone in which he answered shocked you.

"Yet you've never threatened Tech."

"That's not the same." Why must he sound like he truly believed that he did nothing wrong?

"You may not value his life and health, but I do. A lot." You emphasized the last word so he got the message. "And his word is the only single one in the galaxy that I never ever doubted."

Kayden's breath sharply filled his lungs and Hunter's fingers curled into fists. You still deeply loved the dark-haired Sergeant and seeing him frustrated at your words made a real number on your insides but that rational part of your brain told you that he would tire of you someday and would leave, whereas Kayden had shown countless of times that he'd be there to hold your hand, push your back and pull you up whenever needed.

"Good to know."

Why did his acknowledgment of your words make you sick? You'd said those words yourself and they were true, so how could they hurt that much? If it wasn't of the half-circles traced on the back of your right hand, you certainly would have had a physical reaction. It could have been hiding in your hammock or tears leaking from your eyes, you didn't know.

"You don't trust us?" Wrecker's hurt translated in his low, nearly inaudible tone if it wasn't of the earbud deeply pushed into your ear canal.

"I do Wrecker. I really do. It's me that I don't." Damn. For someone who wanted to avoid feelings-talks like the plague, you found yourself right in the middle of the deepest one ever.

"I don't understand." He admitted.

"I-" You sighed, trying to find the words that would explain something you didn't know how to explain. "I don't myself Wrecker. I make people despise me and-" The words escaped you. Out of exasperation, your free hand moved up to rub your closed eyelids and drag the pads of your fingers down your cheeks.

"When they don't you persuade yourself they do and you tell yourself that they'll give you up so you start to doubt them even when there's nothing to worry about." Kayden shrugged at your wide eyes looking at him. "Don't be surprised I know you better than yourself. You did the same shit with me but I didn't let you."

"Then why did you doubt yourself against Hunter?"

" 'cuz you love him." He answered in your native tongue and you were grateful for it. You weren't ready to say the words out loud and if Kayden, the person who just demonstrated that he knew you like the palm of his hand, said those words himself, then he'd throw your feelings out in the open and you couldn't have that. Not when your brain still expected the Bad Batch to get back to their ship and leave you on Fors, where you belonged.

"You were there longer."

"Yeah, but that was because you couldn't escape me. Give them their chance. You might be surprised." He patted your shoulder like an old man who gave advice to a youngster.

"We wouldn't give you up. You're our friend!" Wrecker added once the conversation in a foreign language died.

"If you still doubt our friendship, then you might want to remember that we passed hundreds of hours training you to be our pilot and that we lied to our superiors to keep you." Tech pointed out, this time with the finger in the air. It brought the tiniest of smiles to your lips.

"Or remember the moments shared." Hunter surprised you with his quiet words that Kayden definitely couldn't hear without a comm device. Had he realized that he was fighting a non-existent enemy? Or did he feel as bad as you following your exchange?

"Or you can remember that you're a freak." Tech slapped his lean brother's shoulder

"So I belong with you guys? Yeah, I'll- I'll do my best to remember all that." A chuckle escaped your lips. "Thanks." You added under your breath, to which the boys nodded and Wrecker smiled brightly.

"Is your chest okay?" Tech asked and pointed at Kayden who was still scratching his torso.

"Yeah, 's just itchy. I think Kerth put some poison Ivy in my clothes. I wouldn't be surprised." He pulled his shirt forward to look at his skin. He winced. "That does look like it."

"You never get tired of looking at yourself?" A soft feminine voice chuckled from down the hallway.

Soft brown eyes shone behind fiery red locks, their owner walking straight to your cell where she stopped to pass you a hot container. You'd recognize that smell everywhere and apparently so did your stomach who growled loudly in anticipation of receiving some soup.

"Good timing, I see." She chuckled, put her pack on the ground and offered you a container. "It's not poisoned, I promise. I did it myself." She assured in basic when you kept watching her hands without making any move towards the food.

Still unmoving, Kayden took it upon himself to grab two containers and let the redhead give the clones their servings.

"They wanted me to only feed the soldiers but I slipped some for you two as well. For all the spare crusts." She nodded at you, who kept watching her in silence. Before turning around to go back to where she came from, the woman had the kindness to grab the discarded medicine canisters and offer them to Kayden. "Take care."

Wait. You had to tell her. It was like your brain forgot how everything worked. Opening your mouth wasn't hard compared to finding what to say. Even then your throat constricted in an attempt to shut you up, but you couldn't let her go without telling her.

She deserved to know.

"Fleena." Was all you managed and it was enough to stop her in her tracks. When she turned, your hand was already fishing around in your pocket for the small piece of wood.

She came back as you brought your closed fist forward and dropped the dirty necklace on her open hand.

She stared at it, surprise taking over her soft features in a flash as soon as she recognized the symbol. She turned it to inspect the back and now was the right time for the earth to open beneath your ass and take you away.

"Where did you get that?" The tremors in her voice send a knife through your heart.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you made sure to choose your words better than with Hunter. "Nixon was a Wanderer."

"He-" She started with hope until she registered your sentence. "Was?"

There it was. The moment to own what you did finally arrived.

"What did you do?" She pressed as you kept silent, unable to say it out loud.

"It wasn't him anymore, Fleena. He hadn't grown up and kept walking in circles on his bleeding feet. He was tormented."

You freed him. You helped him. Now that her horrified hazel eyes bore into yours, Crosshair's words that were so helpful before held no sense.

"He was still my brother." She clutched the necklace to her chest, tears running down her cheeks.

"Nixon was gone."

"I don't expect you to understand. You don't know anything about having a sibling."

The silence following her retreating steps was even heavier than before. No. That wasn't true. The boys spoke in the background and in your ear, prompting you to remove the device to have some peace.

"You're right, I don't." You grumbled in your knees that were now up to your face to hide your features, your arms tightly wrapped around them to keep them close.

"That's the biggest bullshit that ever came out of your mouth." Kayden scoffed next to you. "What do you think I am then? Your friend?" He puffed like it was the stupidest joke he'd ever been told. "Fuck no. We've been family ever since your dad died so cut the crap or I'll hit you."

I should be punching you for saying such stupid stuff.

"For real. I'll hit you so hard you won't ignore me again." He shuffled around to better position himself, arm lifting-

"I've abandoned you." You spat more at you than at him.

"Siblings sucks but we love them anyway." He shrugged. "You're no exception."

Tears gathered in your eyes. Even after leaving him alone to fight for himself, Kayden still loved you as much as before and never once held a grudge against your actions. He was a true god-given gift and you'd treated him unfairly.

Pain exploded into your shoulder and you found yourself colliding with the ground.

"The fuck?" Four spots on your shoulder hurt so deeply that it didn't take long for you to realize that he'd hit you with his knuckles.

"My monthly quota was not yet achieved." He smirked, watching you massage the beaten skin.

"Don't you think I'm hurt enough already?"

"Stop whining, we have Biogel." He shook the metallic container before your face.

"That thing hurts like hell." You groaned, pushing his hand away to sit straight.

"When did you become such a baby?" You shot him the deadliest glare you had in reserve. "Hey. It's a very small price to pay for completely healed wounds in under 30 minutes."

"Completely healed?" Tech inquired, eying the matching container in his hands that Kayden pushed him.

"Yeah! One good layer and bye-bye! Works for sprained stuff too, just takes a little longer." Kayden answered as he helped you apply the cold sticky gel onto your arms. "Little tips: let someone else put it on you." He added as you hissed and groaned under the burning feeling that came with the product.

Your hands closed and opened repeatedly to keep from hitting Kayden in retaliation for the pain he was putting you through. The raging fire led to intense stinging that you could describe as white-hot needles poking your damaged skin.

"Please remember that you love me." Kayden said right before he dropped a huge blob of Biogel onto the hole in your leg. Had he not jumped away, your elbow would have connected with his chest at high speed. Instead, all that got injured were your nerves, your vocal cords and Hunter's head.

"I'll murder you if you do that again." You whimpered while clutching your upper thigh in hope of cutting every pain transmission from your leg to your brain.

"Good thing it was the last one!" He laughed from his side of the cell, Biogel discarded to the profit of the warm bowl of soup which he was already drinking like he'd been starved for a week.

Wrecker's gasp and groans filled the air. A quick glance his way showed Hunter applying a coat of the translucent substance on his burnt hands and neck as well as on the cuts on his arms. Then came Hunter's turn who covered some scratches from the Yappians and after some thought applied some of it on the side of his forehead. No sound escaped his throat, the only proof of the pain assaulting his nerves being the scrunching of his face, unlike Tech who yelped when Crosshair carelessly applied the gel on his wrist and arms. Then, like pain didn't affect him at all, he splattered some on his swollen ankle and it was done.

"I'm sure no one really wants to eat right now, but it'd be good to eat the food until Back-up comes back and we have to leave." Kayden reminded.

"What's that?" Crosshair asked, more worried about the soup than Wrecker was. The tank was already slurping the soup down, mindful of his sensible fingers.

"In basic I guess it translates as bone soup." Wrecker stopped abruptly, mouth still scotched to the bowl. He eyed you in distress, pondering if it was safe to swallow or not. "It's good, despite the name. Hunters usually eat that before a hunt to boost their systems, right Y/N?" Just for the sake of the game, you nodded. It was true anyway.

"And eh… what's in it?" Tech moved the container in small circles to try and identify what was floating in the light yellow liquid.

"Roots, meats, some veggies, guts and ground bones." You kept your poker face as Kayden enumerated the 'ingredients' and Wrecker lost all colors. "Where do you think the name comes from?"

Wrecker spat his enormous gulp and you laughed to the point of tears, soon joined by your best frie- brother.

"He's just fucking with y'all, Wreck. It's called bone soup because there's bone marrow in it to help with our joints. And there’s no guts. We're no savages." You did your best to control your laugh before digging into your soup eagerly. How Kayden always managed to get your mood up was a total mystery, but it always worked and you were grateful for it.

"Could've fooled me." Crosshair taunted.

"Ya can choke on it." You said at the same time Kayden did, getting a laugh out of it.

The delicious soup filled your stomach in less than 10 gulps and it wasn't until you put your bowl down that you realized how good it made you feel to fill that emptiness in you. The soup wasn't enough to make you sleepy after a nice meal and provided just enough nutrients for everyone to be able to face the fast-approaching escape without a problem. Mixed with the Biogel, you were back at the top of your games.

Arlan really made an error in taking care of the group.

"What now? What's your plan?" Hunter wondered, posing his container on the ground.

You met gaze with Kayden and he nodded confidently. "How well can you all swim in your armors?"

"In calm water, we are fine but slow. We can't go in strong water. The current will catch in the plastoid and will drag us down."

A hum resonated from within your throat and you pucker your lips. "You can't give them up. That scratch out the underground well and the waterfall." You taped your lips in thought. Watching Tech who still drank with only one hand, you knew that hiking wasn't an option as well. For now at least.

"Then it's the dark pit." Kayden pointed out.

It indeed was the last possible option. The other remaining one would be to use the front gates and it was the least possible one.

"Yeah. The other tunnels would take too long to get out and then we'd lose too much time walking back at the Old Man's cave." You recalled from your mental map of the jungle. "I'm fairly sure we have two hours until dawn. The Old Man's Cave is 15 minutes away from here if we run."

"Then we run." Hunter agreed.

"Now, to get out… Hey, big guy." Kayden called. "What's the name?"

"Wrecker." He answered proudly, almost puffing his chest out.

Kayden scoffed. "Obviously. Should'a figured." He turned to you. "Is it too late to change my name?"

The moron was too far for a shoulder slap, so you showed your exasperation with a roll of your eyes. "Stop screwing around and tell us your idea."

"Yeah yeah." The childish tone wasn't surprising on his part. He turned his attention back to the tall clone. "So, Wrecker, I bet you're experienced with big shafts so how good are you with pulse-hammers?" In a flash, you threw your empty container at his head with utmost precision that you knew Crosshair would be proud. The flying object was as unexpected for him as the inappropriate sentence was for you and hit him square on the forehead.

"I'll strangle you." You threatened.

"Kinky." He winked while nursing his forehead.

"With what?" Wrecker inquired, too focussed on the unknown term to pick up at the dirty joke.

"Her han-"

"Not that, morron." You cut him off. "The big hammer that exploded that tree back at the pit." You clarified for Wrecker.

"Oh! I've never used one before, but I'm sure it can't be that hard!" Excitement glimmered in his eyes at the perspective of using the powerful weapon.

"Oh believe me it's hard." Kayden smirked way too smugly for your taste.

"Okay. Time out. Planning is paused." You poked the palm of your hand with the fingertips of your other hand. "I call pervert veto card." You deadpanned.

"Oh hell no you can't!" Was there panic in his voice? Yes. Definitely.

"Oh heck yes I can! Once a year for 24 hours and I'm using it now." Thank the gods you'd not used it before.

"But-!"

"No but or butts. No sexual reference in any form, implied or not. 24 hours starting now." He glared at you from his spot two meters away. You could have laughed at his face that perfectly mirrored a kid who just got his Christmas gift stolen directly from its small weak hands.

"You're fucking me in the ass." He grumbled like an overgrown petulant child.

You lifted an eyebrow. "Try again. You can do it."

"Party pooper."

"There you go." As you turned to the rest of them, a laugh escaped your lips at the clones’ expressions.

Crosshair, despite his feelings blockade, was covering his mouth, Wrecker was laughing his ass off, Tech looked relieved behind his horrified eyes and Hunter chuckled. He appeared to be pleased and somewhat totally used to the situation, which grabbed your curiosity.

Later. You forced a cough to get everyone's attention. "Let's continue. To answer your question, Wrecker, handling a pulse-hammer is not hard. Only remember to not touch the head," You had to stop to point at Kayden in a threatening manner when you sensed a perverted comment about to escape his idiotic mouth despite the veto card being used. "And hit with the glowing side. If you hit with the other side, you'll damage the hammer and it'll be useless."

"I can do that!" Wrecker enthusiastically nodded.

"So we plan into exploding our way out of here? What do we do about Cross?" Tech pointed out what he thought was a flaw in your plan.

Right at this moment, Back-Up appeared before Kayden, its fluffy leaves puffing out in pride as Kayden removed the Master key from its belly pouch. What a marvelous creature they were. Being able to fit your own size in an extensible pouch that covered your body from your collarbone to your pelvis was truly amazing and more than practical.

"We'll split. Kayden will guide you guys to the emergency tunnel and I'll go get Cross. I'll meet you all as soon as I can."

You nearly hadn't finished that Hunter inevitably rejected your plan. "No. We stay together."

"We can't. You guys will be the decoy I need to sneak around and find him and having one of you with me will catch attention and slow me down." You cut Hunter as he still looked like he was about to be opposed. "I still have my comms and earbud. I'll contact you every 5 minutes." You offered in an attempt to compromise.

Silence stretched and you got up, already ready to depart. The tingling in your arms and leg had subsided some time ago and to your sweet surprise, applying weight on your leg didn't hurt as much as before.

Kayden unlocked the cells and a hand softly grabbed your forearm. "Fine. You comm every 5 minutes and you take this." He moved to Tech to rummage through his belt and hand you a pistol. "Use it if needed."

You took the pistol with a steady grip despite the uncertainty shaking your guts. It was the very first blaster you've ever had in your hand and it was heavier than you thought. "Don't worry. I will." You assured him, voice strong and unwavering.

But… could you really?

#bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #tcw #star wars #clone force 99 #sergeant hunter #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper crosshair #Good Night Good Luck

70 notes · View notes

thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

Note

Hey! I always loved your writing and you actually inspired me to write some myself so I want to request if it’s alright…

Can I have Hanako x f!reader who doesn’t believe in love (this having to due with her parents never getting along). She says that it’s just a little word people say to make them feel better about themselves and it’s a waste of time.

But she can’t help but fall in love with Hanako and gets on flustered when he’s around but tries to tell herself it’s not love. Oneshot please!

Thank you and feel free to ignore if you want!

hanako x f!reader

a/n: hello hello!! thank you so much for the compliment- that’s really sweet, and it genuinely means the world to me;; but, sure thing! (ahh, the fact that i wrote a rengoku fic about the reader feeling that way not long ago- this is a topic I’m familiar with, so I hope that it makes it turn out even better? haha) thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this turns out alright!!! <333 also, if you ever want to share your writings, do feel free to tag me/let me know somehow! I’m sure they’re amazing, and I’d love to read them, should you be comfortable with it!! :DD

bro i guess this request resonated with me bc i genuinely like,,, went off. So it’s,,, pretty long- i hope that’s alright haanofnaoinf-

warnings: implied parental issues?

word count: 2,363

Love was ridiculous. It was a stupid idea. An overused word, thrown onto any situation in which you felt something other than anger, fear, sadness, or disgust. If something made you even a little happy, you’d claim to love it. If someone showed you basic human decency, you’d claim to love them.

You hated it. It made you feel sick.

It’s not like you could control what everyone else did, you supposed. So, you’d continue on normally. If you didn’t fall in love, then there was no worry about falling out of it- that’s what you figured. That’s what you told yourself. Love wasn’t real in the first place- how could such an overused word hold any true meaning? It was like a 1st grade pinky promise. It was easily broken, as if it held any truth to it when the kids exchanged a deal. No matter how much either part of it trusted the promise, it made it no more real or true.

Yep… love was best put as a 1st grade pinky promise.

Maybe not-

Still, such a strong opinion on love, an unmoving opinion, with your own “proof” to back it up… made it hard when you thought that it may be put to question. You walked near the bathroom, the girls’ bathroom, and heard a girl from your class shout something. You couldn’t tell what, but you did notice her slightly annoyed expression as she left the bathroom.

Ah, the girl who seemed to be constantly head-over-heels for boys- particularly Minamoto-senpai, you had noted. It wasn’t like he’d return the feelings, you figured. It’s not like her “love” was anything more than an obsession.

Still, you figured there must have been some other girl in the bathroom. Yashiro probably had friends- she talked to Aoi a lot. Maybe the school’s princess was teasing her friend. You pushed open the door, noticing that all the stalls were empty. The only other entity in the bathroom was… a floating, slightly-transparent boy. He was laughing, and you went ahead and assumed it was at Yashiro’s annoyance.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Honestly, you just needed to pee, but it shouldn’t have surprised you. Little mokke running around the school constantly, weird things happening, a boy in the girls’ bathroom wasn’t life-changing. Or so you figured.

You grumbled, making some comment you weren’t even sure you got, as you stepped into a stall. Not acknowledging him would surely be best. You were fairly new to the school, and it wasn’t like you were insanely fond of public restrooms anyway. You’d never have to see him again. Plus, if he was anything like the other supernaturals, you were sure he’d be a handful. That was your thought process, as you washed your hands, glimpsing up at the mirror hung above the sink- you caught another glimpse at him.

An old uniform. Brown, almost shaggy, hair. His eyes were amber, and rather large- the way he held his hands, you silently compared him to a puppy. Innocent face, playful eyes- almost too alive for a ghost. He turned his head, nearly making eye contact, but you continued to study his appearance. A white… bandage? Sticker? Something- stuck to his face, the kanji for “seal” written in red.

Weird.

“My, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” He spoke, bringing a hand to his mouth, as a mischievous smirk came to his face.

A pain in the neck.

Your eyebrows furrowed, as you looked back down, turning off the sink and drying your hands.

“Oh? Gonna pretend you didn’t see me? How cruel,”

Still, you ignored him. He couldn’t be serious. How was he so sure you didn’t simply think you caught something out of the corner of your eye? Was he messing with you, or trying to lighten the mood?

“I don’t think I want to associate with a pervy ghost,” You said, shutting the door behind you. As if right on time, the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over. With that, you made your way to class, hoping to not have to deal with any more paranormal things.

…

Unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. As the rest of the day took it’s sweet time to pass, you sat, spacing out as you thought about that boy. He was one of the first humanoid supernaturals you had seen at the school- honestly, you half-hoped that all of them were cute little bunnies. Not… strangely eye-catching boys… how weird.

You sighed, clicking your pen, letting the quiet sound drown the teacher’s ramblings out a bit. Ca-click, click-click, ca-click, click-click.

“Y’know, people find that little sound annoying sometimes. It never bothered me, but teachers seem to be so sensitive about it.”

Jumping, you turned your head a bit, only to be practically nose-to-nose with the boy from the bathroom. Your heartbeat increased from the surprise, but you placed your hand on your chin, pretending to not have seen anything. Not only did you not want to give him much of your time or energy, but you definitely didn’t want to attract negative attention from the normal kids around you. Your eyes scanned the room, and you noticed Yashiro looking in your direction, most likely at the boy. Yes, she definitely saw him too.

“Waaah, Yashirooooo, the new girl’s totally ignoring me!” He sighed, floating over to her. She looked away as well, focusing intensely on whatever the teacher had to say. You weren’t even sure by this point, watching the two out of the corner of your eye. You stopped clicking your pen, watching as he stood behind Yashiro, leaning against her as he peered at her notes.

He glanced at you again, and you looked away. The boy, who you were now curious as to what his name could be, floated back over to your desk, glancing at your notes.

“You really aren’t paying attention, huh! Yashiro’s not much better- her page is mainly doodles. How on earth do you plan to pass like this, haha?”

You glared at him slightly, before lifting your pen, and clicking it open. Annoyed, you flipped to another page, and scribbled something down. He leaned forward a bit, looking at whatever it is you wrote.

“Leave me alone, toilet boy.”

He laughed, patting your back. “Toilet boy? What’s with all the insults, I barely know youuuuuu- plus, I have a name. I’m Hanako. School Mystery Number 7, Hanako-san of the toilet! Not ‘toilet boy’, nor a pervy ghost.”

You raised your eyebrows, writing once more.

“Wonderful. Now leave me alone, ‘Hanako-san of the toilet’.”

Days passed, and he certainly didn’t leave you alone. In fact, you grew to find yourself spending more time than you expected to with him. You assisted with supernaturals from time to time, even meeting his two other friends properly- Kou Minamoto and Yashiro Nene. You all slowly, but surely, became friends.

“I’m done wiping the mirrors,” You said, tossing the dirty rag into the bucket.

“I’m done mopping!” Yashiro exclaimed, sighing as she leaned against the mop.

“I’ve finished dusting too,” Kou added.

Hanako nodded, clapping cheerfully. “Great job, everyone! Can’t wait to see the same enthusiasm tomorrow!!”

The three of you collectively groaned, rolling your eyes. “Yes, yes, just like that,” Hanako laughed, moving his legs to sit in the air in a criss-cross fashion. Light conversation picked up, Kou talking to Yashiro, and Hanako throwing in a comment every so often. You stood, leaning against the sink, watching your friends look so happy. Hanako glanced at you, closing his eyes as he grinned.

Your heart rate picked up, and you felt your face grow warm. Your eyebrows furrowed just slightly, as you glanced away. It wasn’t the first time a little action like that made your heart go haywire. Not just your heart- your stomach, your legs, your arms. The moment Hanako grinned at you, hugged you, or emptily flirted, you felt as though you lost the ability to function. It couldn’t be love… no, you didn’t want to fall in love.

“Right, but it's getting late, guys. I should really head home,” Yashiro spoke, putting the mop up as she did so. Kou nodded, glancing over at the clock. “I’ve got to get home and work on dinner,” He said, putting the duster away, and grabbing his things.

Hanako glanced at you.

“I don’t really have any plans. I finished homework in class, so I think I’ll linger around for a bit more.”

“Alright! Be safe when you head home, (Y/N)! I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Yashiro spoke, waving as she left the room. “Bye guys! Be safe!” Kou added, leaving not long after she did. Silence filled the room for a moment, the only thing breaking it being the sound of your shoes as you made your way to the window seal. Taking a seat, you looked at Hanako expectantly.

“Well? Any more stories of the things I missed out on?”

...

“The Confession Tree?” You questioned, the other two humans long gone by now, leaving Hanako to recount to you previous adventures they had gone on.

“Yep! Yashiro and I took care of that one- it was honestly easier than most of them were. He’s still around, just nothing bigger than one of those pre-cut broccolis. The rumor was, you’d confess under him, and he’d make the feelings mutual~, buuut, it obviously got way out of control.”

“That’s so stupid.”

Hanako raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a distasteful tone of voice. “What is?”

“A supernatural forcing some kids to ‘fall in love’,” You made air quotes, before continuing, “it’s pretty gross. Love’s nothing more than some overused word. It’s tagged onto everything, and it’s basically used to make you feel better. It’s all a waste.”

For once, he was silent. Several questions began to circulate in his mind, but a part of him was… somewhat hurt.

“But what if I love you?” He questioned, tilting his head. His face felt warm, but he tried to steady his heartbeat. It wasn’t a direct confession. No, just a question. A ‘what if.’

You blinked, your face feeling warm. You understood- of course, it was nothing more than a ‘what if.’ “It wouldn’t be love. You’d be interested in me, only for the interest to go away eventually- even if it took a week. Even if it took years. Just… trust me, Hanako. I’m not the smartest person in the world, but- once you see it happen to the two people who are supposed to be there for you forever, you get the memo. It isn’t love. Never was, never will be.”

Those words you spoke… you didn’t like the fact that you questioned their sincerity. Especially when you were blushing, the boy who made you question those words looking at you with his big, rather beautiful eyes. “Or… that’s… what I think,” You added, the heat rising to your face only making you feel worse, as he blinked. His undivided attention on you- on what you said- made your heart beat much faster than you wished it would.

And suddenly, he was closer. Too close. Way too close. His eyes began to shut, as his face drew closer to yours. Your heart began to beat quicker than it had before- your face grew hotter than it already was- your eyes widened, as you silently questioned what on earth he was going.

One of his hands grabbed your wrist, and you looked over at your arm he was holding, then back up at him. His face was still close, so close you were sure you’d smell him if he still had a scent. So close he could probably feel the heat radiating off of your face, if he could still distinguish hot from cold.

“Then why is your heart beating so fast?” He finally questioned, thumb pressed against your radial artery, as if the warmth of your face wasn’t enough of a sign.

“Because- you’re… way too close.”

“But you aren’t pushing me away? I’ll scoot back if you want. I’m not a mind reader though, so just use your words.”

Your mouth felt dry. Why weren’t you saying anything? You could speak. Open your mouth and tell him to move. Take your free hand and shove him.

But… a part of you didn’t want him to move.

Hanako smiled once more, his eyebrows drawn together slightly, as if he were saddened by something. “I’m sorry that you were dealt a hand like that in life. It’s easy to look around and find all the negatives in life. But,” He leaned forward a bit more, nose nearly touching yours, “you aren’t your parents. You don’t need to follow in their footsteps. Don’t let their problems influence you so heavily to where you miss out on potentially great things. It’s okay to be sad about it. It’s okay to be scared. But it’s still your life, not theirs. If everyone’s overuse of it bothers you, then only say it when you mean it. Still, if you feel love, embrace it.”

Your eyes felt slightly prickly, as they watered up a bit. His sincerity… your racing heart. Maybe, just maybe… you were in love.

“I… think I love you, Hanako,” You muttered. You were scared. You were scared that he’d tell you he was joking- or that maybe this wasn’t love. Scared of so many things, stemming from one little word. Yet, you tried to embrace it.

“I love you, (Y/N). And nothing will change that,” He said, his smile widening. Quickly, he closed his eyes, closing the distance between the two of you. His lips were… cold. His touch was the only thing that reminded you that he wasn’t alive. Still, the warmth of his words made up for it, as you closed your eyes into the kiss.

His encouragement wouldn’t drown out the fear completely. He couldn’t take the memories away. But he tried… he told you that he loved you, so… you’d believe him. After all, you hadn’t heard him overusing the word. It only made that moment feel that much more genuine.

#anon #request #x reader #f!reader #x f!reader #oneshot #tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #hanako #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #hanako x reader #amane yugi x reader

45 notes · View notes

courtlyharlequin · 4 years

Note

Hey!! I was wondering if i can have a candied rose frappuccino with floyd please. Thanks 😊

Sugar Addict

Warning(s): mild spice, lowkey spicy ending

A/N: I went feral. What is plot? I ended up writing more than expected. Also, I was too lazy to proofread so I apologize for my horrible grammar. Feel free to correct me! I should probably get a beta reader...

Context: This is an AU. Yes, a coffeeshop AU, but some things are different. These characters are aged up and NRC is actually a college.

It was unexplainable, this feeling. Twilight. The sun was setting. Traffic ensued streets as people poured out of work and into their vehicles, all with one destination: home. But for you, home was the last place you wanted to go. You were a student who did not need to fret over something like a job. You had the convenience of asking for a ride or traveling by foot to reach local destinations not far from your oh so prestigious school. At this moment, at twilight, you were experiencing the convenience of the latter. Well, a normal person would not call it a convenience. These days made taking a stroll an absurd pastime. But right now, it was both a convenience and a pastime. The roads were clogged by a massive sea of cars. Your nose crinkled at the stench of gasoline. Choosing to traverse by foot was more pragmatic. You were in a rush as well. Your destination might close any minute now!

From the inside of any of the vehicles on the street, you were akin to a hooligan. A scrambling, mad hooligan. Not only were you running in the opposite direction of where these cars were going, you were also running as your life depended on it. Therefore, you were a crazy person who was running into the city suburbs at a somewhat late hour rather than going home. Mothers in said vehicles shook their heads in dismay, praying their children were safe at home. But, you could not care any less. Night Raven College’s headmaster was very lenient on curfews and was susceptible to bribery if all else fails. But to be fair, your destination was not something to be frowned upon. It was something to laugh at, really. The place you were so desperate to get to was none other than a café.

More specifically, Café Rosé . Cheesy, chessy, yes, you were aware. The café was notorious for their supposed love potion of a latte, but you weren’t coming for that. You wanted to try their Candied Rose Frappuccino. You were a lover of all sweets; You could never live with yourself if you didn’t try it. Of course, this coffee shop was not going anywhere nor was this beverage a limited one. You simply were in the mood for it. It was craving, a whim, a last minute decision.

You sighed heavily, leaning against the café’s exterior walls. With one deep breath, you pushed the rose-tinted glass door open. The chime signaled your entrance. You braced yourself for a barista to question your hazed, flushed state… but it never came. Still heaving, you scanned the shop. You made your way to the counter to check for employees in the back room.

Thud!

“Hey, Shrimpy! Café’s closed,” a voice glowered.

You spun your heel, making eye contact with a barista with a disheveled appearance– his aquamarine hair was slightly unkempt, his tie was unraveled and dangled loosely around his neck, dress shirt unbuttoned down to the point where his collar bone was exposed with his sleeves rolled up which furthermore accentuated his lean yet muscular figure. It was all too much to take in. He put his weight onto the nearest table. Ah, the thud came from a chair he just stacked… but nevermind that-!! The moment he moved into that position, he exposed a bit of his cleavage. Hot damn he might be lean at first glance, but he was built like a Greek god. This should be illegal! A barista should not be dressing– let alone be looking– like that. Everyone would suffer from a cardiac arrest from such a heartthrob! You quickly averted your attention to the café’s schedule.

“The business hours sign says you guys close at seven. It’s six fifty-two right now,” you said, holding up your phone.

“Close enough. Get lost.”

He walked over to you suavely, leaning over you and against the door frame to flip the open-closed sign over so that it’s closed side faced the streets. It was meant to be a gesture of mockery and intimidation, but holy hell… you were flustered more than anything. He was tall from afar but up close he was huge!! You even got a better look at his chest. Well defined, if you don’t say so yourself. Wait–

You shoved him back, “Not even for a to-go order?”

“Nope. Don’t feel like it.”

“But you’re not closed yet!”

“But I don’t wanna,” he whined.

“Why?”

“What?”

“I asked you ‘why’?”

“Can’t you just come back tomorrow and let me call it a day? I’m tired.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I ran all the way here just to get something–”

“Should’ve done it earlier,” he shrugged, returning to his chore.

“Okay. Fine. Is there anyone else here to serve me? Since you’re too ‘tired’?”

“Sorry, Shrimpy, but they all went home.”

“Ugh! Don’t call me something that makes us seem so familiar. I’m not that short anyway...” you huffed.

He snickered, walking behind the register, “Alright then, Shr-im-p-y~! What would you like to order that you just had to come in at the last minute today?”

While you were relieved he gave into serving you a drink, the way he enunciated your unwanted nickname was irksome.

“I’ll have one Candied Rose Frappuccino.”

“Oh thank god it isn’t that latte.”

“You mean the Rosé Latte?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, loudly tapping on the cash register, “Everyone has been flocking here and only ordering that. I’m so tired of making the same order everyday.”

“Sorry, I’m not into hot beverages. Just a person who likes sweets.”

“Cute,” he cooed, handing you your receipt.

You watched as he messily wrote “Shrimpy” onto your cup.

“Can I get your name?” you asked.

“My name?”

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

“Somehow you’re slowly becoming my favorite barista.”

Partially a lie, partially the truth. He was your favorite because he was so fine. You only wanted his name in case you ever decided to write a review on your bitter first meeting with him or if you came across the manager. Petty, yes, but it annoyed you that much.

“Floyd, Floyd Leech,” he grinned.

You checked the receipt and sat down at the barstools in front of the barista’s worktable, watching him intently as he began to work on your order. Well, half your attention was actually on his hand movements. Your mind was having an internal battle about how shameful you were to fantasize about his back muscles, mentally undressing him. The fact that there were only you two in the coffeehouse did not help either. The silence, at its surface, was calming, but, at its core, it was awkward. With the occasional clinks of utensils and the sound of coffee being brewed and blended into a frappuccino, the lack of noise left your mind to wander.

“Just because he’s good looking does not make up for the fact that he was rude,” you chided yourself.

Floyd cocked his head: “Hey. What are you staring at?”

He looked behind him as if there was actually something of interest. You saw your drink in his hand. He held it close to his chest, withholding it, waiting for your answer.

“Oh? Um.. nothing? I was just zoning out. I’m tired from running all the way here.”

“Shrimpy’s no fun,” he pouted.

“My name is (y/n), not Shrimpy.”

“You’re short, jumpy, and huggable like a shrimp~”

“I am not that short!”

“Oh-!!! You remind me of Goldfish. You both get so mad for some reason,” he laughed.

“Listen here–”

The barista took a swig of your order. He didn’t take the dome-shaped lid out. He didn’t even drink it with a straw. He just… straight up… put his lips on the lid and drank the contents from the rim. You halted your rant, appalled by his audacity.

“You talk too much, Shrimpy.”

In this total silence, someone, if there were someone here, would have heard your sanity and patience snapped.

“Listen here, Floyd Leech. That was awfully rude of you. Actually, from the beginning, you were so rude! From getting into my personal bubble to calling me names when I told you to stop. And now you drink my order? And right in front of me too?! So, so, rude-!!! I just–”

“Wow. What an expansive vocabulary you have,” he glared, twiddling with the collar of his shirt and somehow exposing more of his collarbone.

You leaned over the counter, reaching for your beverage, heat traveling up your cheeks, “I’m not done yet! Just because you’re hot does not mean you can dress like that and automatically get a free pass to do these things! Do you have any idea how distracting that was?? Now–wHAAA!!”

You pounced at him. Your toes hung on the edge of the barstool, your left arm wrapped around Floyd’s neck, and your right arm stretched out in an attempt to reach the drink in Floyd’s hand. Much to your annoyance, he raised it higher than you could ever hope to reach. If he took anymore steps back, you would most likely flop onto the barista’s side of the table face-first. With the drink in his left hand, his weight (and yours) was shifted onto his right arm which conveniently propped itself against the countertop behind him. You wondered what people on the road thought when they saw what was going on inside the café.

It was early evening with a decent amount of cars on the street before the storefront. Nearly twenty minutes since you came into the café and here you are– without your order, curfew approaching steadily, and no sign of getting your frappuccino anytime soon. Instead, you were sprawled across the counter, a test of your flexibility and modesty.

“I didn’t really think Shrimpy was this bold, this naughty,” Floyd chuckled.

Ah shit. Your anger got the best of you. Your verbal filter was removed and all of your thoughts slipped past your conscious and common sense. His sly grin did not help at all. Your close proximity enhanced your blush. The way you clung onto him caused his shirt to slide off his left shoulder and with the position you were in, you had a front seat to all his glory. What a sticky wicket this was.

“I just wanted something sweet to drink,” you panted, fisting his shirt in your petite palms, frustration washing over you.

You were on the verge of tears. Floyd sighed, lowering the cup just a bit, and took a few steps back as he carefully let you slide onto the barista’s side of the counter. However, your beverage was still out of reach.

“You’re such a snowflake,” he mumbled.

You clung to him, still, using him as leverage to reach your order, “Am not. This wouldn’t have happened if you just let me have my coffee!”

“You mean this hell of a sugary confection??”

“Yes? I mean I wouldn’t know because I haven’t even tried it yet,” you grunted, jumping at it like a fish trying to catch the bait.

“Oi, (y/n), can I kiss you?”

That was the first time he used your actual name instead of “Shrimpy” ever since you met. You would rejoice, but the following words were out of the question. His tone made it sound more like a demand than a request of consent.

“Excuse me?!”

“You wanted to try the drink right?”

“Yes, but it’s right there in your hand! So if you would just let me have it, I’ll stop annoying you!”

“The taste is lingering in my mouth. It’s so sweet. I wanna get rid of it…”

“Get some water.”

He squeezed his right arm around your waist, bringing you closer to his face, “But I want to kiss you~!”

“Well, since you drank out of it, if you let me have it, then we can have an indirect kiss!”

The temperature of the coffee shop was just unbearable at this point. And worst of all, this was self-inflicted. You didn’t have to tolerate him. Frankly, you should have left the moment he told you the café was “closed”. You didn’t have to pounce on him and end up in this painstakingly uncomfortable position either. Moreover, you were sweating from embarrassment from your suggestion. An indirect kiss! That was such a childish thing to fret about and here you were, regretting your own words.

“That’s no fun,” Floyd said, taking another sip of your frappuccino.

“Hey–mmpff!!”

Despite how he manhandled you thus far, he kissed you very tenderly. His lips were soft, warm even. As much as you wanted to push him back and scold him for taking away something as precious as your first kiss, you couldn't. Everything just… felt right. Your grip on his shirt loosened. Before, you held them in your palms in anger, a way of intimidation, a sign to show him that you weren’t going to back down even if he was teasing you with no mercy. But now, you held Floyd’s collar to close the space between you two. You were this close to each other, but it wasn’t close enough.

You gasped as he nibbled your lip. Floyd took it upon himself to invite his tongue over to your wet cavern. A sugary substance flooded your taste buds. Ah… he never swallowed your drink.... Not that it mattered. You gulped it in one breath, continuing on with your tango of tongues. If Floyd wasn’t supporting your waist, you might’ve melted away into this temporary bliss. You momentarily broke away from him to catch your breath. The distance between you two was barely five centimeters. He growled lowly, taking two steps forward, pushing you towards the bar. He smashed his lips against yours, a clear sign for you not to do that again. A fire lit in his eyes. Floyd hungrily bit your bottom lip, earning a whimper in response. Without breaking away from your mouth, only turning his head to take you at a different angle, he hoisted you up and set you and the beverage down on the countertop. Now, with both hands free, he cupped your cheeks. You responded by wrapping your legs around his waist and grabbing his wrists, drawing away his hands.

“W-Wait…” you exhaled.

“...did you not like that?” he cocked his head.

“No... No… I liked it… I liked it a lot… I just… S-Slow down…”

Floyd reached for the ends of your hair, twirling with the strand, “Take your time…”

Perhaps it was purely the heat of the moment or lust, but you judged him too soon. In this brief period of time, he was being considerate of you. He traced your figure with his eyes, grinning from ear to ear at your bruised lips, bright pink from the dozens of kisses he gave you. You were just as disheveled as he was.

“...More..”

“You sure?”

“I’m thirsty,” you pouted.

Floyd let out a chortle before sipping your coffee, “Alright, then Shrimpy.”

You prepared yourself for yet another rough session. Before he took your lips, he smoothed back his hair, revealing his forehead. The gesture caught you off guard thus you stiffened as he brushed his lips against yours. By gods, it was as if he wasn't even trying to be provocative. Was it possible for someone to be this seductive without actual effort? At this rate, you were going to miss curfew..

“Floyd…” you moaned, intertwining your fingers with his as he pushed you down onto the counter.

“I’ll be gentle, don’t worry...”

“Floyd… No… T-There’s people watching-!!!”

“So?”

“Does that not bother you?!”

“Not when they’ll know you’re mine~”

You sat up, “I’m a bit too shy for that. A-And I would like for my first time to be private…”

You left the last part trail off in embarrassment, fiddling with his necktie which somehow managed to stay on his person despite everything that just happened.

“Oh? Is Shrimpy a virgin?” he teased.

“So what if I am?!”

“Nothing. Just thought a cute Night Raven College girl like you wouldn’t be since you were really good~”

He earned himself a playful smack on the shoulder to which he responded with a sarcastically scoff. This was so unfair...

“How did you know that I went there?”

“Hmm must be because of the shirt you’re wearing underneath that hoodie,” he said, feigning innocence.

Oh. He’s the perceptive type. You didn’t think much of his ministrations (other than them being tantalizing). It seemed that he took note of every detail about you. At this point, you were crimson as a tomato.

“Also, because I go there as well,” he snickered.

You smacked his shoulder once more.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“Different years, probably.”

“Maybe..”

“Also, I’m always stuck at the Mostro Lounge so you can find me there,” he winked.

“Ahhh! Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Giving me two answers and mixed signals.”

Floyd tilted your head upwards and pecked your lips, holding you as if you were a figure of glass: “What about this is mixed?”

“You were terribly rude before… and you probably just want someone to bed with for the night,” you puffed your cheeks.

How your body was betraying you… Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and the fervor was not going to dissipate anytime soon.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time, (y/n).”

He raised your hand and pressed a chaste kiss on each individual knuckle.

Oh god. Your heart couldn’t bear it anymore. The way your name rolled off the tip of his tongue made honey taste like summer– hot, overwhelming, but still something to look forward to.

“Since when?” you exhaled.

“Since your first visit to the Lounge.”

He switched to your other hand, continuing the ritual.

“I’ve only been there once.”

“You were such a cute Shrimpy that I couldn’t forget about you~”

“That can’t be right–”

“You just have to accept it!”

“It doesn’t make up for how you treated me before.”

He placed your hands on his cheek, “Sorry, Shrimpy. The scent you released was too irresistible.”

Instinctively, you sniffed your clothes, “I don’t smell anything.”

“It might be just an eel thing*, then. But just so you know, I’ve been trying to find you for a while now. I’m so happy that I did. You’re mine now, Shrimpy. Your smell is intoxicating,” he cooed, leaning closer to your ear, “It makes me go feral~”

You squealed at his sudden remark, unable to regain your composure. Your words melted into gibberish and murmurs as you buried your face into his chest once more.

“You’re such a creep,” you whined.

“You don’t mean that~”

“I don’t…”

“We should get going before curfew though. Help me clean up, will ya?”

“Okay.”

Floyd planted a kiss on your forehead, “Thank you, Shrimpy.”

That nickname wasn’t as obnoxious as it was before, huh.

“I’ll reward you once we get to my room,” he snickered over his shoulder as he left for the back room.

Wait– WHAT?!?!?

“H-Hold on-!!”

“Relax, Shrimpy, ’m not gonna do anything to you… not yet, anyway. I’m just sayin’ in case we don’t make it before curfew. Azul needs me for Mostro Lounge tomorrow, he has no choice, but to let me in. If anyone can convince the headmaster, it’s probably him,” he gave you a thumbs up.

“Good to know. But… I’ve been meaning to ask about Mostro Lounge and this café. If you work for Azul then why work here too?”

“He doesn’t pay me. I’m just helping out of obligation.”

“What? How come?”

“He’s my friend?”

“You sound unsure.”

“You made it sound like I’m gullible,” he laughed, stacking the last of the chairs.

“Well? Shall we go, Shrimpy?”

You took his hand without hesitation. This feeling– it was addicting. You only knew him for a less than a day, but it felt right. It felt meant to be... as if you were soulmates.

Bonus:

“Oya? Floyd, what happened to your back? There’s scratches all over it. Are you alright?”

“ s’nothin’, Jade. I just… had a fun night~”

“Please. You and (y/n) were so loud. Please reserve those kinds of activities for somewhere more private– not a dormitory with thin walls,” Azul chided.

His brother’s eyes widened, but he didn’t question it any further. Jade curtly closed his gym locker and headed out towards the field.

Azul followed in suit with a huff.

* Note: Female moray eels release an odor in order to attract males to mate with them

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland oneshot #twst oneshot #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #event fic #cafe rose event #mild spice #god help me

433 notes · View notes

dangerous-mess · 3 years

Text

Breakeven (Kirishima x Bakugo x reader) Part 2

Characters: Bakugo, Kirishima, gender neutral reader, Dabi, mentions of Twice, mentions of Toga

Contains: Polyam relationships, language, implied that someone is drugged, implied of torture, kidnapping, nightmares, implied ptsd, arguing, manga spoilers (chapters 290 and 293), mentions of Bakugou’s hero name, mentions lov, filled with a lot of angst for a while, eventual fluff and happy ending I swear, time skips

Word Count: 6K+

Months had passed since the encounter you had with Kirishima, and since then you had not heard from either of your ex-boyfriends. A part of you enjoyed the break, finally able to focus on yourself and your job. You slowly started to work longer shifts just to keep yourself busy, not sure what to do with the extra time on your hands. Though you would never admit it or say it out loud, you felt like you were missing a few pieces. You tried to fill the void that was left from the breakup, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, you gave in to your mom’s constant pestering and decided to try the whole dating scene again.

During this time you felt drawn to call or even text the two pro heroes who had stolen your heart all those years ago, but you knew it wouldn’t be worth it, afraid of being hurt once more by the two heroes. So with your busy schedule and being having the advantage as you did in high school, you did the only logical thing. You downloaded a dating app and before clocking into work for the day you made sure to have a profile set up hoping to match with some people during breaks.

You felt giddy, to say the least when you went on your first break of the day. You sat down and quickly pulled out your phone and opened the app. You began looking at profiles, swiping left or right depending on whether or not you felt you two would connect. One profile stood out the most to you, a young man, who appeared to be a bit older than you, You swiped right in a heartbeat and saw that the two of you had matched. You felt your heart skip a beat, quickly checking the time. You had five minutes left before you had to return to work, so you quickly typed out a message to this handsome stranger whose name was Touya. You made sure to apologize in advance for any daily, explaining you were currently at work and about to get off your break.

The rest of your shift went by quickly and you didn’t dare check your phone until you got home. You opened up the app as soon as you closed and locked the door to your apartment, happy to see that the man had replied. He was sweet and kind, and surprisingly wasn’t trying to force anything upon you right away. You texted him late into the night before he excused himself saying that he had work. You bid goodbye as he made a promise to message you when he got the chance. For the first time in a long time, you fell asleep happy, a smile plastered on your face.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next few weeks were amazing, to say the least, in your eyes anyway. You finally felt like you found the piece you were missing and felt like things were finally falling into place. You and Touya had talked more often the past few weeks, even going as far and exchanging numbers and calling on the phone. You weren’t in love with him by any means, but just hearing his voice, definitely caused some butterflies to form in your stomach. His voice was just soothing and relaxing. It was calming you down after the intense days at the hospital and a part of you so desperately wanted to meet him, to go on a date with this sweet stranger. So that night when he called you, you took a chance and decided to take a chance and ask him.

“Hey Touya,” You whispered out, as you laid in bed, not wanting the moment to end. You heard him let out a small grunt as a response and you continued on with your question, “Can we, I mean, would you like to go on a date sometime?” You knew your voice quivered and you knew he heard it. There was silence for a moment and you began to shake and feel the tears well up in your eyes.

Finally, he spoke out, apologizing for the delay, he was just so caught off guard, before continuing on, answering the question. “When were you wanting to go on this date, cause if you aren’t busy we could go now? I know a café that just opened we can go to if you’d like.”

You quickly wiped your eyes, a smile growing on your face as the butterflies danced around in your stomach. “That sounds perfect, I’ll get ready if you wanna just text me the address.” You replied as you started to push yourself out of bed.

“Oh, I can give you time and just come pick you up, if you are okay with that.” He mumbled out, and before you could truly process the statement, you agreed. You gave him your address and he gave you a time he would be over, and with that, you hung up and began getting ready for the date.

Now, you weren’t an idiot, and as someone who had dated two pro heroes in the past, one would think you would be smarter than to give a random stranger whom you’ve never met in person and haven’t seen minus his dating profile your number, nevertheless your address, but you trusted this man. Though you would soon learn that was a mistake, and you should have taken better precautions, but alas it was too late.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had gotten ready in no time, texting Touya that you were about ready if he wanted to start to head over, to which he replied that he was almost there. You felt your stomach fill with butterflies at the thought of meeting the guy who had brought light back into your life and made you feel like you mattered once more. You were brought back to reality by the sound of your phone going off, letting you know you had a new text, of course, you weren’t surprised to see it was from Touya. He said he was outside and you said you were on your way out. You were smiling like an idiot as you made your way out of the apartment and down to the lobby and front door. As you were about to walk out he said he parked in the alley beside the apartment complex. You thought that was a little weird but shook off the feeling and went out the door and towards the alleyway.

As you approached the alleyway, you didn’t see any car nor did you see anyone either. You called out for Touya before you felt an arm wrap around you from behind.

“Hey Doll,” The voice whispered out and it didn’t take you long to piece that the voice belonged to Touya. You went to turn around, hoping that this was all some prank he was pulling on you, but instead, you were met with a face you didn’t recognize.

“Touya?” You whispered out, your voice cracking at the end, fear starting to settle, as you began to realize what was happening. You started to try and get out of his arm, but his grip on you only tightened. It was a time like this you wished you kept up the training Bakugou forced you to do back at UA.

“How now, little mouse, don’t fight. You’ll only make this harder than it needs to be.” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You started to feel sick to your stomach and realized how big of an idiot you really were. Based on what you knew, you needed to get away or get help now, as your chances of survival decreased by half the moment you are taken away.

You opened your mouth to scream, but was quickly met with a cloth covering your mouth and nose. You tried to hold your breath and not fall victim to this man, but in the end, you failed. You felt the world slowly start to spin and everything starts to go black. The last thing you heard before you were met with total darkness was ‘Touya’ speaking. “Guess you wanted to do things the hard way.”

You woke up what felt like hours later with a massive headache. You tried to move only to realize you were bound to a pole. The room you were in was dark and it was hard to make out anything. You tried to make out some noise, to hopefully call for help or to grab the attention of your capture. You only were able to let out a small groan which wasn’t that loud but clearly loud enough as you heard a voice start to speak from within the darkness.

“Well, well, well. Finally, you are awake, was getting a bit worried for a moment there that the batch was too strong, and killed you.” The voice spoke and before you knew it you were blinded as light filled the room. Your eyes began to readjust and there you saw him, ‘Touya’. You tried to move away from him as he approached you, but you couldn’t, you were just stuck. He stood in front of you for a moment, looking down at you, as if you were beneath him, and honestly, at this moment, you were. He crouched down, making sure he was eye level with you, and slowly lifted his hand, placing it on your cheek. You tried to move your head away from his hand, but that did no good.

“Touya…” You whispered out, your throat dry, making it difficult to get any words out. You looked at him, only to see him pull his hand back before it collided with your cheek. You flinched and fought back the tears that you could feel forming.

“Don’t you dare ever call me that. You’re lucky I let you use it this long. It’s Dabi, do you understand?”

You quickly nodded, fear just continuing to grow. You needed to get out of here or at least find a way to call for help. You had the next few days off work so it would be a few days before anyone even noticed you were missing unless of course, your mother decided to drop in and check on you, but that was a slim chance. You tried to think through a plan, your thoughts drowning out Dabi’s voice. You kept trying to remember everything Bakugou and Kirishima taught you in case something like this happened, but your mind was just going blank.

You were drawn back into reality by a sharp pain on the other side of your face. You looked at Dabi, who appeared to be growing annoyed and pissed off. “Listen to me when I'm talking to you, got it? Trust me you don’t wanna mess with me or anyone else here. We will be your worst nightmare.” You nodded and looked down, too afraid to make eye contact with him. But at least you learned something, he wasn’t alone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next few days were long and torturous. Dabi came to visit often, mostly to degrade you. You slowly began to piece together why you were here and who this group of people were, based on interactions you had with others that Dabi had mentioned on your first day. They were called the League of Villains, which you were familiar with, though you were told that heroes had handled and defeated them years prior, but clearly, that was all a lie. You questioned if the pros knew of this and secretly hoped and prayed that they did and someone would find you sooner than later. You could feel yourself growing weaker every day and as much as you tried to play the hero, it did no use. You were useless against Dabi and the league.

As days turned into weeks you could feel your mental state deteriorating, you won’t be able to hang in much longer. One particular day, one that was quite different than the rest before. You were left alone. No one came in to bring you some scraps and water, no one came to suck the life out of you. You just were met with silence, at least until you heard things crashing from up above. You assumed Twice or Toga had pissed off Dabi again and just ignored it, that was until you heard a familiar voice. A voice you hadn’t heard in so long and you were so grateful to hear it. You tried to call out and get the attention of those on the floor above, but you were weak and couldn’t muster anything louder than a whisper. You began to cry, knowing this was possibly the only chance you had to gain freedom and to be saved from the hell you were in. You kept trying to scream out, to call out for the pro heroes above, but nothing seemed to be working. Even as you heard someone fidget with the door handle at the top of the stairs, you couldn’t make enough noise to get anyone’s attention, at least so you thought.

The door eventually opened and the sound of footsteps came down the stairs. It was dark in the room and you were afraid it was Dabi and could feel your whole body begin to shake, your mind only thinking the worst. Had the heroes lost and you were forever stuck here, with the league. You were going to die here, you would never get to see Kirishima and Bakugou again. You would never be able to tell them how much you still loved them, how much you wanted to try again. You cried harder than you were before, when you felt a pair of hands touch your shoulder, you tried to move away before you heard a comforting voice.

“Y/N, is this you?” It was Kiri’s voice, you tried to let out a yes or something, but just nothing came out. “Dynamight, have you found the light switch yet, it’s hard to see who this is.” He spoke out into the dark, which you heard a voice grumble out, curses flying out. Suddenly the room filled with light and once your eyes adjusted you saw red eyes staring at you. He gave you a sad smile before telling you what he was about to do, as he moved to undo your bindings.

Everything started to happen too fast. You felt the bindings come undone and you were lifted off the ground. You could see Kirishima, or at this moment, Red Riot’s mouth moving but you couldn’t process what he was saying. You wrapped your arms around him tightly as he carried you out of the League’s base and to the ambulance that was waiting outside. He handed you off to the paramedics. You could tell he wanted to go with you, and you desperately wanted to call out to him, and to Bakugou to come with you. They were the only thing you wanted right now, but before you could, the doors slammed shut and your check-up began as you were taken to the hospital. You don’t remember much after that as you could feel your eyelids getting heavy as you passed out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything was bright, almost too bright and it hurt your eyes. You woke up in the hospital to the sunlight filling up your room. You could hear monitors beeping, letting you know that you were alive. You looked around and saw you were connected to a few machines as well as had an IV drip. And to your surprise, by the windows, you saw two men sleeping. The two men you had been yearning for, deep down, for some time. You cleared your throat, hoping to be able to get their attention, and it worked. Both of them shot up from the chairs, rushing to your side. You offered them both a small smile as they both just stared at you. It was silent for a moment before Kirishima excused himself to go get a doctor or nurse, to let them know you were awake. That just left you and Bakugou alone, and as glad as you were to see him, the last time you were alone with him, things didn’t go well. So needless to say, you were nervous. He glanced down at the bed and back at you as if he was asking permission to sit, so you moved your legs some so he had a room as he sat on the bed, his eyes never once leaving yours.

“Y/N, listen. I’m not good at this type of thing but I just want to say I’m sorry.” He shifted his eyes down, now staring at his hands. He was picking at the skin around his nails, his hands clearly shaking. “I’m sorry for how I treated you that day in the hospital, I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry for making you feel so left out and like we...like I didn’t care or love you. Cause I did, and well still love you.” You tried to reach out and place your hand on him, but due to all the wiring and the IV, it was nearly impossible.

You watched him, as he kept messing with his fingers, his head down. “I worried about you when I got the word you were missing and fuck Y/N, my heart dropped when I heard the league had gotten a hold of you. My mind just kept replaying the last time I saw you, the last thing I did was hit you and I was so afraid that would be the last memory you would have of me, of us.” He turned his head, looking at you as tears ran down his face. You had never seen him this upset before, not like this. He was never one to truly express emotions the same way as others did, so seeing him in this state, made you just want to comfort him. To let him know you forgave him for the wrongdoings, and most importantly that you still loved him more than anything else. But you didn’t get the chance as the door to your room opened as a doctor and Kirishima walked into the room.

You watched Bakugou quickly wipe away the tears on his face and move to the other side of the room, where Kiri soon joined him. The doctor went over everything but you couldn’t focus on what he was saying, you only kept glancing over at the two men across the room. You were going to be in the hospital a little longer, just to make sure you were truly fine, which you weren’t looking forward to. After the doctor left, both of the men stared at you, none of you saying a word. You worked up the strength and courage to speak up, quickly taking a small sip of the water nearby.

“Eijiro...Katsuki..” You spoke out, your voice shaky, just barely above a whisper, but they both still heard you as they made their way towards you. You felt tears start to well up in your eyes as you looked at them. “I...I’ve missed you both so much.” That was all you managed to get out before you started sobbing. Kiri gently wrapped you in a hug as Bakugou held one of your hands. You tried to get more words out, but the tears kept coming and you just could not form any words. The three of you stayed like that for a while, just comforting each other, putting all of your hearts at ease for the first time in a while.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were discharged from the hospital in no time and slowly readjusted to normal life once again. You weren’t allowed to return to work quite yet, which did throw off your routine a bit, but it just gave you a chance to settle back into a safe environment. Which was a lot harder than you thought. During the day, things were fine and you went about your day, but by the time night settled, you couldn’t fall asleep without having nightmares from your time with Dabi and the league. And though, the three of you had started to form a friendship again, you were nervous to call them up during the late hours. Worried that you would be waking them from a well-deserved rest or from a patrol. There was also a part of you that was afraid of being pushed away once more, the fear of being the third wheel or shoved aside just to keep up an image, you weren’t ready for that heartache again.

One night, in particular, it got worse. You woke up to yourself screaming and crying, your body completely drenched in sweat. Before you could even process what you were doing, you grabbed your phone and texted the group chat you were in with the two of them. You were quick to receive a message back, but before you could fully read it, your phone started to ring as Bakugou was calling you. You answered the phone, hearing both of the men on the other line, asking if you were okay. All you could do was cry out before they said they were on their way over. Kirishima talked to you on the phone the entire time, as you learned Bakugou was driving. You couldn’t process or even fully comprehend everything that was being said, it even took you several moments to understand that you needed to go let them into your apartment once they arrived.

You let them in, and it took no time for both of them to be at your side, comforting you any way they could. Kirishima tried rubbing your back and offering affection and his support that way, while Bakugou sat beside you, whispering that he was there to listen when you were ready to talk about it. It took a while, but eventually, you calmed down. You quietly thanked them both for coming over, not sure what else to say or do, as you didn’t want to talk about the nightmare, even if it would do more good to do so. It was just difficult, to form into words and then not be seen as weak or receive pity for how you were feeling. You bid them goodbye and thanked them again for coming over, as you made your way to the kitchen to make some tea, as you had decided to stay up a bit longer, afraid of what twisted things awaited you once you closed your eyes.

You weren’t in the kitchen very long before you saw two figures walk in and join you, causing you to sigh. “You two can leave, I’m fine now.” You said, carefully putting the kettle on the stove, before turning it on. It was quiet for a moment or two before one of them spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Y/N, don’t push us away, talk to us. We wanna help any way we can, even if it is just listening to what is going on in your mind.” You recognized the voice to be Kirishima’s and you swiftly turned around. Your emotions were all over the place, due to lack of sleep, and the images of the nightmare still fresh in your mind. “If anyone has the right to be pushed away, it’s you two. You both shoved me away, don’t you remember. And just because we are talking again doesn’t mean I’m going to be stupid enough to spill out everything to you both again.” The words spilled out, and though you didn’t mean for it all to come out so aggressive and filled with venom, it did. You were tired, hurting, and trying to recover from the things that had happened to you. It didn’t excuse you for what you were doing right now, but you had the right to speak your mind and speak the truth.

“Y/N..” Bakugou started to speak, but you shut him down.

“No, don’t you dare ‘Y/N’ me. I can forgive you for some of the shit you both did to me, but it doesn’t mean I am going to just let you back in and trust you with my entire being, how can I? Even if I tried to explain it all to you, you wouldn’t even understand, want to know why? Because it’s always Kirishima and Bakugou, having each other’s back. Kiri and Bakugou protecting each other from everything. Red Riot and Dynamight are always there for each other, no matter what. So just do me a favor and leave.” You let out a sigh as you finished talking, hoping they would just turn and leave, yet they stood there not saying a word. If you had more sleep and were in a better place, this situation won’t upset you, but right now it made you angry.

The two of them just standing in front of you, silently, filled you with rage. You couldn’t explain why, maybe it was from the lack of sleep or maybe it was because the three of you had yet to really address what had happened all those months ago. You quickly turned the stove off as the kettle whistled, leaving the water on the stove, no longer wanting it.

“It used to be us, Eijiro, Katsuki, and Y/N, back in UA. We were inseparable and sure we had issues but we always talked about them. Then you two were heroes and rising up the charts and I was left in the dust. And then it was more of you two, and I was the third wheel. Fuck, you two didn’t even care when I left after ‘Suki proposed. You could have stopped me or called or something, but I was met with silence. Just like I’m being met with the same silence now, you both are here but it’s almost as if you aren’t at the same time. It’s like the both of you two are completely blinded by everything going on with other people.” You made your way out of the kitchen and made your way to the couch. You sat down and all at once everything that just happened and what you said to hit you, hard. You didn’t regret what you said, for it was the truth, though you were sure you could have phrased or worded it better. A few moments later, both of the boys were on the couch, sitting on either side of you. It was silent once more before one of them spoke out.

“Listen Y/N, we should have talked about this sooner, as it’s obvious now that what happened months ago is still affecting how you see and view both of Katsuki and I.” Kirishima started speaking, you waited for Bakugou to chirp in some smart-ass response, but he was silent, allowing the red-haired man to continue speaking. “We should have reached out to you sooner after you left. Fuck Y/N, we should have reached out and spoken to you the moment we thought you were pushing us away. We were stupid for not doing so and there isn’t anything I can say that’ll make it better or not sound like some sorry excuse. You deserved better, you still do, whether that is from us or not.”

Kirishima stopped and looked at Bakugou, who was quick to join in. “We were, and still are dumbasses, as you’ve probably noticed. And I know, we should have reached out to you sooner, I should have talked to you sooner. I should have explained the whole engagement thing to you before it happened, or even told you that day in the hospital. You were our partner, and we totally excluded you.”

You lifted your head, glancing at both of the men, thoughts running through your mind. You had questions that needed answers, questions that for weeks after the initial breakup kept you awake most nights. You cleared your throat before asking the first question, the biggest one you had. “Why didn’t either of you call or text? Why did it take weeks upon weeks to hear from you Katsuki and Eijiro?” You could see them both exchange looks before Bakugou started speaking again.

“Truth be told, I didn’t notice the note until a few days after you were long gone. I figured you were working extra shifts and work was keeping you busy. When I saw the note, I was pissed and hurt and just assumed you would come back and when it became clear you weren’t I blamed you for leaving, I didn’t want to think it was my fault. I ended up coming to the hospital, hoping to sort things out and well, we know how that went.” He nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. You turned your attention back to your hands, trying to keep yourself grounded as you felt a part of your heart break. You wanted answers and knew you won’t like what you hear, but god you didn’t expect it to hurt this badly.

“I was hardly home for a while after you left. I got busy with hero work and taking in students for work-study, I just slept at my office. ‘Suki texted me while I was at work, saying I needed to come home. He found the note, and I wanted to go after you, but I thought maybe time apart would do us some good, and well, I figured you would come back. After the incident at the hospital that you and Katsuki had, I needed time. And when I was ready to talk, I expected you to be with your parents, and after some explaining to your mom, she told me where to find you.” He paused for a moment, before quickly adding in, “Speaking of your mother, she is quite a fierce woman, to say the least.”

The room filled with silence once more, causing you to drift into your thoughts. So you got the answers on why it took weeks for them to come to talk to you about the note, but they never explained why they didn’t text or even call, which just hurt you more.

“Why didn’t you call or text, you didn’t answer that part, and I need to know.” You practically cried out, looking between both of them, watching as their heads fell. The room filled with silence before Kiri spoke out, he was quiet and you couldn’t make out anything he said, you asked him to repeat and instead had Bakugou practically yell out.

“We didn’t know what the fuck to say dumbass.” That was all he said before it filled with silence once again. You wanted to speak up, tell them both they could have said anything, just something to let you know they cared and mattered to them, and without hesitation, you did just that.

“You could have sent anything, I wouldn’t have cared what the hell you said. Just a sign from either of you would have been enough. I left because you pushed me away, I was the third wheel and I hoped that maybe with me leaving that you both would realize your mistakes and come running after me. Pleading through texts and calls to come home, but instead, I was met with silence.” You stopped, feeling tears run down your cheek, silently cursing at yourself. You wanted to be strong through this, but you couldn’t. “I fucking loved you both and thought you felt the same, but it became very clear that you didn’t.”

“Y/N…” They both started to speak out, tears starting to form in both of their eyes.

“No, I don’t wanna hear it, you can’t fix that now, it’s too late. And god to top it all off, you both are engaged, and I had to find out with the rest of the fucking country. My own boyfriends engaged as I was at home clueless, never hearing a word about it.” You were quickly cut off by Bakugou who had started to speak over you.

“I didn’t have time to talk about it with you, the commission made me. They wanted something big and exciting in the news, and since fucking Deku is always shining, they wanted us to bring some news. They told me to go get a ring and propose, and I can’t argue with them, they do control my job!”

You just stared at Bakugou, unable to form any sentences or coherent thought, for that matter. Sure, you understood that he had no choice, but you just wished he would still have talked to you about it, even if it was a quick text 30 seconds before the entire country saw it. You just wished and wanted things to be different or even how they were before you all were adults and they were pro heroes, but that would never happen, and you knew that. You all sat in the living room for a while, no words exchanged, just silence. You eventually caught yourself dozing off as the sun started to peek through the curtains and for once you just let your body rest.

You woke up hours later, content to have gotten some sleep, nightmare free. You glanced around and didn’t see or hear either man in the house, meaning they left while you slept. You knew they had to, they were heroes, but you still wanted them here. You wanted to apologize and just...no that would be silly. You pushed the thought away, and got up from the couch, stretching and going into the kitchen. Upon entering you were surprised to see Bakugou at the stove, scrambling some eggs. You cleared your throat and he turned around and offered you a small smile, which was a rare sight, even for how close you two once were.

“I’m not sure how good these will be, but I figured this would be a good start to make things up to you and to apologize.” He spoke softly, staring at you before turning his attention back to the stove. “Oh, Kiri, went to the store to grab a few things, he should be back soon.” He said, almost as if he knew you were curious as to where the other was.

“‘Suki, don’t you have work today? Correction, don’t you both have work?” You questioned, going to the fridge and pouring yourself some juice before sitting at the table.

“We both called off. We called off for a while actually, on-call if any huge villain attack happens but everyone will be fine for a while without Red Riot and Dynamight. Eijiro would be better at this than me, but we know we can’t fix the past and what we did and how we treated you, but we want to make up for it. We want you to know we still love and care for you, that you matter to us.” He spoke, his voice growing quieter as he went on, but you still heard every word to it. You went to go speak up, but you were cut off by the front door opening and Kirishima walking in.

He walked into the kitchen, bags in his hands, and smiled at you before apologizing for taking the key to your apartment. You smiled at him, chuckling, letting him know it was okay. The two of them finished making breakfast, a huge one at that, before joining you at the table where you all ate. Things wouldn’t be easy, but for now, you knew this was a start.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks had passed and both pro heroes had practically stayed at your apartment the entire time. You enjoyed the time with them as you had truly missed this You had missed them so much more than you realized. And you knew that soon they would have to return to their own apartment and return to the life of being a full-time hero, but at the moment you didn’t want it to end. Sleeping became easier with them near, as the nightmares slowly became fewer and farther apart. You knew they couldn’t cure what happened or your mind, and you may always experience nightmares about all that happened with Dabi, but with them? With the two of them, it was so much easier to handle, for you weren’t alone. You were by two people who you had come to love again, and a part of you could only hope they felt the same about you.

You were all cuddling in bed, just talking and laughing about who knows what, when Bakugou broke the news. He told you he had to return to work tomorrow and Kiri the day after. You couldn’t help it and just cried, both of them holding you close. You knew this was coming but it still hurt. Both of the heroes comforted you the best they could, calming you down, whispering promises of staying in contact and visiting often. It then crossed your mind and with tear-filled eyes, you looked at them both and realized it had crossed theirs as well. The big question, what were you three. Would they even allow or want to be in a relationship with you or was this all some platonic friendly thing happening between you three.

“Katsuki? Eijiro? What….what are we?” You whispered quietly, and for a moment you weren’t sure if they heard you. You had begun to get nervous as you waited for some sort of answer. You were caught off guard by Bakugou chuckling and you turned yourself so you were looking at him. “And what is so funny?” Slightly offended with why he thought now was the perfect time to laugh. You were asking a perfectly reasonable question, that had to be on all your minds.

“God Y/N, you are such a dumbass. I don’t know if I speak for Kiri over there, but I assumed we were dating again. Like I know platonic cuddles are a thing, but uhh when have I been known to do that?” He laughed even more as you pushed your up and out of the arms of the men. He had a fair point, you couldn’t argue with that.

A smile formed on your face as you looked between the two, “Well that’s good to hear, I wanna be with you both again. If you’ll have me, of course.” At this point, they were also sitting up and staring at you, a cheesy grin on both of their faces. They both nodded and you started grinning from ear to ear. “That’s good to know, means I can finally do this again,” you spoke quickly before kissing them both.

The road ahead of you three won’t be easy, and there were bound to be challenges you all would face just like before. But this time, you all were prepared and could better handle anything that was thrown at you.

Taglist: @candybabey @peachiikichu

116 notes · View notes

sly-merlin · 4 years

Text

killing me- 9

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings of this chapter : smut, drinking ,mention of weapons

words :: 7k

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: (not tagging the old ones because they have read it already bt if u want , lemme know! ) @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @suhweo @exfolitae @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424

@kafenetwork @neowritingsnet

K.M masterlist

K.M 8 next

note:: unedited! i’m a bit busy so i’ll try to edit it before sleep!

“yuta.”

“bake up.”

Yuta groaned at the foreign force shaking him repeatedly. He moved, crashing his face further into the sheets, swatting the alien hands away from himself.

“wake up you horse!” this time yuta heard the gurgling voice a bit more clearly. Someone was trying to disturb his sleep. Staying on his stomach and titling his half body to face the uninvited guest, he made out a face that matched johnnys. His face fell flat on the mattress again until he realised what or whom he has seen! He jolted upright, squatting, to face johnny.

“what are you doing here.” He mumbled with eyes still closed, stretching his arms on the sheets.

“it’s 1p.m!why you still sleeping dude?” johnny’s exasperated voice sounded too loud to yuta’s morning self. Or afternoon!

“It’s m-” a long yawn stretched his mouth into an oval shape, that he didn’t mind covering “its my house. I’ll do whatever I want but what are you even doing here?” he completed quietly.

“why are you still sleeping. You weren’t even drunk. Get up and tell me where is y/n!”

“so you are not here for me!” yuta pouted at johnny before throwing himself on the bed again, covering himself with sheets.

“what the fuck yuta! You are not a baby and tell me where is she? Did you even drive her back?” johnny asked sternly, removing his layer of protection.

“the only thing I can assure is that I wanna sleep more. And about your big fat crush! She certainly came back with me but she was crying so I won’t be surprised if she left already.” As soon as yuta’s almost inaudible words reached johnny’s ears, he jogged outside the room, checking the lock of your room. He sighed in relief at the secured lock. You didn’t leave and he was glad.

Johnny noticed your movements when you signed those papers. He was cursing at himself for not interfering but not like it’d have made any difference! The best he could do was to make sure you were fine at the end. Regardless of the fact that your phone was switched off, he was trying it continuously since yesterday night. Countless phone calls and messages but all were futile. His anger on taeyong was just fuelling by your ignorance.

Annoyingly, he fisted his hair before going for yuta’s room again.

“is she in university right now?” he asked yuta, who was looking like a dead body with an open mouth.

“bloody hell nakamoto! Wake up!” he shouted at him, this time the sheets were tossed on the floor.

“johnny babes, just track her. Don’t shout at me. I didn’t do anything this time.”

“you seriously ate your ethics yuta. I’m not needed there so I’m staying until she’s back.” Johnny declared, making his way outside on the couches.

“not needed my ass john suh. Ate my ethics! Says the one who’s seducing his own sister-in-law.” He only muttered before drifting back into paradise.

johnny just sat there in front of the t.v, mindlessly waiting for you, unknown guilt corroding his mind and heart.

***************

Doyeon and mingi’s whispering felt like a hammer to your head. The incessant pounding was the result of some expensive alcohol and the stupid tears. If exams were not approaching in two weeks, you’d have stayed longer to sulk but their future was as important as yours and only one more week was left so you just sucked it up. Now you were eating the lunch brought by mingi while testing them for exam.

“civil laws suck.” Mingi exclaimed, hitting doyeon on the arm.

“no! your brain sucks.” Doyeon reiterated, poking his head with her pencil.

“wtf doyie! My brain is totally packed up to the brim. if you love it so much, then tell me the answer of question 6!” a smug smile made its way to mingi’s lips.

“what’s wrong with no.6 mingi?” you questioned, perplexed as there was no difficulty in the paper yet he was still looking here and there.

“umm. Non bis in idem! It’s not given anywhere. Right?” he hesitantly asked for he knew he was wrong, somewhere.

“what was the paper you wrote last time?” you tried not to unleash your anger on them, so you kept your voice as low as possible.

“double jeopardy!”

“and?”

“what the heck mingi! Didn’t you mention the legal maxim of dj?”

“maybe not!”

“what kind of law student forgets about legal maxims duffus! Non bis in idem means double jeopardy.” You reprimanded him tiredly, not in the mood to put up much fight with him.

“sorry” he said, head hung low.

“don’t be mingi. I won’t gain anything from this. you need to study for yourself. now complete this before I give you a subjective test. Double prep is always good. Hurry up!”

A collective musical groan leaves them both, as they tend to their paper again, you drowning yourself in your own books.

*******************

Johnny and yuta were engrossed in a football match when you entered the hallway. Upon noticing you, johnny sighed in disbelief, before making his way to you.

“why is your phone switched off?” he fumed at you, hands on his waist as you poured water for yourself.

“It wasn’t charged so I left it here.” he knew he wasn’t doing his utmost in containing his irritation and your casual tone just took him off guard.

“you jus- you should have charged it dammit. I was fucking worried that something happened to you and what kind of girl travels without a phone these days!” his hand ruined his already messy hair as he ranted, the reason of which was beyond your understanding.

“it’s not that big of an issue besides I’m not clearly out of reach right!” you scoffed at him, pointing to your arm where the bracelet was hidden, under the sleeves. You didn’t mean to sound rude at his concern but his position was no better .You had every right to be querulous!

“i-you don’t understand. i just wanted a reply from you. it’s the least I deserve! Or don’t i?” his voice went down as his face lost the previous stern expression.

“I saw my phone only this morning and I was getting late so didn’t bother!” you shrugged your shoulders at him, making your way for the room.

“where are you going?” his voice rose a bit as he held onto your arm.

“in my room!” you replied, matter of factly.

“yeah! I thought you were going to greet your dear husband!” he joked, tilting his head towards the couches where yuta sat previously but he was not there anymore.

“I don’t wanna talk johnny!” you said curtly, jerking your hand away. But he was quicker as he pulled you into him, backing you into a counter.

“just leav-

“no tell me what’s the matter with you. what have I even done?” his voice was barely above a whisper, meant only to be heard by you. the rise and fall in his speech was already shaking your resolution.

“nothing! just turned a normal student into a deadly underground member. But it’s nothing big so yeah!” you replied, mock evident in your words. As you tried to leave again, his hands caught your waist as he picked you up, stationing you on the counter. He secured you against his body, restricting your movements. His hard orbs found yours as he hands tightened around your waist, making you gulp in the process. You stared back with same intensity, as if reading his next step. He lowered his front, demanding eyes never leaving yours,

“this is the first and last time I’ll be explaining myself. I don’t know a shit about why he did that. But those papers won’t be used against you. I won’t let that happen. Ever. I promise that with my life. Just have some faith in me” He whispered. Besides it being the precise validation you sought, suspicion couldn’t be helped!

“and why would you do that. Do you also have some hidden agen-

his lips felt soft as they collided with yours with urgent need to shut you up. You froze, so did he. The only movement in your control was of your hands that were tightly gripped to the counter. The silence in the air being tense, his lips stayed still and contrary to yours, his eyes were completely shut. Johnny’s light breaths fanned your upper lip as his chest heaved up and down. Neither of you made any effort to further it nor any to pull apart. Few more seconds passed and he finally detached himself, the bodies still connected. Your lashes fluttered as he palmed your left cheek, speaking in a low husky whisper.

“I promise. Just believe me and when I say taeyong won’t hurt you, I mean it. With all my heart. Can you trust me on this please?”

He was insisting yet pleading and you merely nodded, lowering your head. His delicate fingers brushed the line formed between your brows, smiling softly.

“you have nothing to worry about. with unparalleled record that we have! You ain’t getting rid of me anytime soon. Yeah?”

His breathy laugh tingled your insides and something like awe transformed his face as he felt the warmness of your cheeks under his hand.

“by any chance, are you flustered?” your face went blank at his shameless comment when he was the very reason for your current state.

“n-no!” you pushed him hard while standing straight. He staggered a bit, giggling uncontrollably at you.

“lying suits you y/n. just like your soulmate jaehyun.” You scrunched your nose at the mention.

“don’t talk about him! He’s so annoying, i’m gonna hang him upside down someday o-or turn him into a stew!”

“and feed him to yuta!” he completed. You gawked at him for a moment before joining him in his laughing session.

“there is food?” yuta entered the kitchen, dimming the commotion.

“not for you!” you snarked.

“we have food y/n?” it was johnny this time. you had almost forgot about the sandwiches that were now probably rotting in your bag. As realisation dawned, you hurriedly retrieved your bag from counter, opening the plastics from the sandwiches with a last hope to save them.

“do you know that you don’t have to be ramsey to stuff cucumber and tomatoes in a bread?” johnny shifted, taking the packages to heat them up.

“I was out of bread. So I just took the easy route.”

“lame excuse! Work better!”

“not everyone got time john!”

You strolled for your room, passing yuta in the way, totally missing the frown and cute smile on yuta and johnny respectively. Though yuta’s internals were screaming at him to open his shitty mouth, his main focus was on his empty stomach that was growling like never before.

“pass me one john!” he whisper yelled to johnny, purposely stretching the last word to satisfy himself.

“no! it’s her lunch or snack or whatever it is.” He warned, hiding the oven with his front.

“oh so you have turned a part time servant for her!” he spewed, crossing his arms against his chest.

“no dude. She’s actual-

he was about to tell yuta but he halted his train of words for he was not in the place to tell any of your secrets to anyone , especially yuta.

“she’s what? Your girlfriend?”

“I swear I’m gonna fry you someday!”

“whatever. Now give me a sandwich before she comes out. Hurry up!” yuta looked over johnny’s shoulders to count the stacked portion in the device.

“one, two-

“three. They are just three yuta! Fuck off.” Johnny knew throwing abuses wouldn’t work but hitting him with his shoulder wasn’t either! He glanced at yuta and he seriously looked miserable. Hungry miserable!

“come on-

“are you done john?” your voice echoed from the hall as you approached wearing your famous tank top and cotton shorts. Yuta cursed under his breath, opening the fridge to get himself something.

“here” johnny handed you the plate. He hit yuta’s arm to grab his attention who was practically trying to sit in the fridge.

“renjun and jaemin are cooking their special ramyeon. We’ll eat there, come on!”

“huh!” he excitedly passed johnny to pick his things up.

With yuta out of sight, his focus shifted again on you. “don’t you get sick after eating takeouts?”

“yup I do! My gut is not the healthiest one in the world. But I’ve fewer options and I do check their health certificates so no need to worry.” Your humorous reply didn’t get more than a shit face from him. He leaned again causing you to take a step backwards.

“your hair!” He pointed and you rolled your eyes like you’d see what was happening up there.

“what my hair?”

“umm. Nothing kiddo!” he said before ruffling your hair.

“aah. I’m not a kid johnny!” you shouted at him though he was just standing by your shoulder.

“oh yes you are!” he pouted dramatically and ran but not forgetting to throw a flying kiss your way. “charge your phone, I’ll call again.”

“eww!” you snapped your head to catch yuta standing behind, making faces at johnny who was standing at the front of hallway.

“oh come on you shit.”

At johnny’s comment , yuta just followed and you totally missed the way he scoffed at both of you.

****************

You were truly jumbled by johnny’s actions, innocent yet calculated. You had maintained your calm but he was aware that you were not blind towards his growing attraction. why didn’t you push him away! What was he aiming at? Questions, questions! From the very first day, all you have are questions with no concrete answers.

But Johnny was not the sole occupier of your worries, taeyong held a significant part of it. If what johnny said was true, if his intentions were not so malafide then he’d easily have skipped it. Despite johnny’s assurance, you couldn’t afford trusting him anymore. Not like you could protect yourself from losing anything but your walls would always be enclosed for him.

Your wandering mind was pulled back into reality by a message from your classmate. The date of thesis topic submission was moved to an earlier one, a week earlier to be specific. In reality, you were all starting it a few months earlier just so the pressure could be minimised but it instead felt like a strategy for your doom. You all were supposed to submit the topic and a little introduction even before the qualification exam! And obviously you were behind the so called ahead-of-time schedule. You could have wrote a ph.d worthy book on mafia and their ploys but sadly criminal law was not the option available for it. So that’s how you ended up in the small balcony, sitting on the cold floor, enjoying the evening cool breeze. Search results on both naver and google had varied from “50 best topics of dissertation in international law” to “how to know what is my area of interest?” but every try had gone to a blank page.

************

By late evening, you got bored of sitting in the balcony and room, so you decided to study with a change of setting and the only place available apart from your room was the hall. After computing various possibilities, you dragged the single seater towards the hall windows and angling the book on the window still, a much comfy makeshift study space was ready. With the newfound determination to complete the task at hand, your eyes browsed every means of information to stumble upon anything you missed earlier, ignoring the blue skies switching to the darker ones.

***********

Yuta noticed the way he was experiencing more fatigue as the days passed by. He never trained this much until he was suspended. He looked forward for it to end so he could feel the same thrill again but two weeks wouldn’t just pass in a blink! He claimed the basement as his new home trying to ignore the activities transpiring upstairs. The desire to stay with his dear roommate jungwoo was irrepressible but his ego didn’t allow him to give in so easily. He wanted to show his anger to taeyong and that was the only reason he found himself coming back to the new home more often.

He languidly passed the kitchen to use the washroom. Only when he was about to enter his room, he noticed the lightening in the kitchen and living room. He groaned at the thought of your imprudent habit of multiplying the electricity bill which eventually he had to pay! Or maybe you were just trying to instigate him! When he was about to put out the lights, he spotted the sofa and a pair of legs perched on the widow still. He took light steps to reach your sleeping figure and suddenly he felt his annoyance melting into astonishment. Your face was covered with the open, visibly heavy hardcover book whilst your half body was on the seat and half in the air with feet placed on the window still for balance that was clearly very very comfortable place for napping at midnight. unconsciously, his hand extended for the book and as he picked it up, you stirred. Panic took over him as he lost the hold leading the book to fell on your face instead. He ducked, cupping his mouth with both hands to stifle the laugh that was about to escape. Luckily you were dead to the world. Hearing no movement, he crawled for the room , getting up only when he was at a safe distance. Without wasting another moment, he did what he was there for in the first place and went to sleep, with a thumping heart that was probably due to the initial dread he felt or that’s what he thought!

**********

The bus stop being far away, you began the long trudge for neos’ house. Taeil had requested your presence two days ago , but being too busy with studying on the first few days of the week ,it was delayed. You’d have never accepted the offer if it was taeyong but taeil suggested you to take your time even though what he wanted to ask or said was important. His readiness to prioritise your convenience warmed you and it were the emotions of the moment that you agreed to him. And now the heat was burning your exposed legs and you were cursing his sweet tongue.

You knocked on the opened door to announce your arrival despite the fact that the main door had automatically detected you to lead you in. you stood there like a statue, moving your neck like an owl, waiting for an invitation but nothing. you banged it again only to hear someone’s cursing from inside.

“who the fuck knocks when it’s op-

A screeched scream met your ears as a man came into your sight. He abruptly started bowing, apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry noona. I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry. This won’t happen again. I-

“hey, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even hear you in the first place.” You lied, saving him the mortification.

“can I come in?”

“this is your own place. You don’t need to ask or knock noona!” you entered as he gestured you to sit.

“can you call tae-

But before you could say it, he ran inside. You didn’t know or remembered his name but his face looked familiar. Maybe he was sicheng or hyuck or someone else cause you were sure you had met hyuck before!

“I was making coffee for taeil hyung. But he’s late so it’s yours now!” he exclaimed with his eye smile. it was cute and friendly.

“what was your name again?” you asked smiling back at him, noticing the little red on his neck.

“jeno.” He immediately settled on a seat, his focus fixed on you. “I’m making snacks. Do you wanna join?”

You chuckled at his innocent suggestion, “If you meant joining for eating, then I’m all in but if you want my help in actual process, then you’d die hungry today!”

“I’m aware of that but you are never late to learn anything right!”

“wow. Your enthusiasm is admirable but I don’t wanna burn your kitchen.” Your eyes were blessed with another series of his eye smile. it was contagious.

“you are here!” you saw taeil sprinting towards you.

“I’m sorry. I got caught up in the office.” His words came out breathy as he was still panting from the jog.

“no worries but I don’t have much time. I have to study for exams.”

“yes, studying is important.” He nodded before requesting jeno to get him the coffee and water, to which the boy grumpily complied.

“why the fuck is air con off! I’m gonna roast!” He whined and got up again to close the front door.

“now. I’ve two things to tell you or rather order you. you wanna eat first orr-

“no I’m fine really. Just tell me what taeyong ordered this time!” you had no doubt that it was taeyong’s doing.

“forget about that shit. Here, veto power is mine. JENO, STOP MELTING THE ICE AND GIVE ME SOME WATER!” he screamed at jeno who came out hurriedly with both water and coffee.

Jeno took a seat beside taeil but his one glare made him go back. Sighing in relief after quenching his thirst, he continued in a polite voice. “yuta told me about the card. Why didn’t you take it?”

“because I don’t want his money. I’m good with what I have. Besides every transaction related to him would lead me in trouble so why take the risk!” you sounded harsher than you intended but it wasn’t in your control anymore. Mention yuta and you’ll obviously bite!

“the account is already open. Yuta’s gonna transfer same amount of money every month so why don’t spend his money or better, give him a heart attack by paying everything with the card. He’s gonna pay and I promise, he has no say in this so he won’t even scold you!” he sounded quite cheerful which clearly indicated that none of them understood your language.

“no thanks taeil. staying away from his shadow is much safer.”

“shadow runs with the man y/n.”

“the man himself avoids me like a plague so it’s a win win here.”

“what you see is present. Nobody can ever escape a tomorrow! You are evading it today, but one day you’ll eventually face it.”

“I don’t speak quotes!”

“simple! You both collide only to cause harm to each other. For how long do you think this can work. You’ll get tired and I suppose he’d too. when you’ll stop to rest, you’d find him there but at that time you won’t have enough energy to fight off anymore. Placebo is deadly y/n!”

You absorbed his vague statement full of philosophy but your mind couldn’t harmonise with what he meant!

“honestly, I stopped hearing the moment you mentioned yuta so can we continue!”

“yeah sure. Take the card, keep it for emergencies and I’m not taking no anymore. You aren’t hearing me so I’m doing the same. and secondly, can you defend yourself?”

“defend from who exactly?”

“drunken bastards, thieves, goons or whoever comes at you with a knife!” you were puzzled at the sudden mention.

“my personality repels violence and I’ve two strong best friends.” You declared the obvious. The only drunkards you met were outside the clubs and you never went alone so the thought never crossed your mind.

“first is a lie and second is insignificant here. I need you to learn some basics so you won’t need anyone else or just to hold until help comes.”

“what the! Are you actually recruiting me or something? I don’t wanna be a party in your gang wars.” you announced, now clearly understanding what he meant in the first place.

“I’m not telling you to fight with us. You don’t have an ounce of brain do you? it’s for your own safety.”

“safety from what? I live in a rich and peaceful neighbourhood, my dear husband is a corporate of first class, I myself never even go for a simple stroll in a park then who would I even fight?”

“here ,we all are used to the danger that we face everyday. Each and every man you see here is able to dodge anything that comes their way but you.are.not. Just because they are acting like school kids with no care in life doesn’t mean they are any safer. Jeno was making coffee a few minutes ago but after dinner, he’d be going for protection fee collection with others. If shit goes down, you might not even see him again but we won’t let that happen in the first place. It’s not same with you though. god forbid if you attract the attention of wrong people for all the reasons you stated, then how are we going to help you. even if you press the bracelet , it’d take us some time to get there. till then what would you do? You can’t even probably run for more than a mile! can you?”

You just shook your head at him, too baffled to form any words.

“do you devote any time to exercise?”

“I walk enough I guess and some planks when my stomach is out too much.”

“you are no better than these boys seriously.” She rolled his eyes at your statement.

“but despite the exercise or whatever, my strength is nothing against jeno or johhny. I’ll never b-

“if you fail in strength , atleast you can be swift. Or better you can learn to handle a gun or a knife. When do you get free?”

So, that’s why he called you!

“I don’t have a minute to spare for the next 15 days. Prep and exams are more important for me.”

“no worries. We can start after that. But don’t remove the bracelet band under any condition. Some rival mafia has hired a contract killer for you. so run fast if you notice someone following you, press it and we’ll be there. till then just hang on.” Nervousness got hold of your senses as you heard his warning.

“you are fucking kidding right! was I being followe-

“yes, I’m kidding.” he chuckled dryly. “You should see your face. If it was outside the parameters of the room, you’d have passed out already. Panic only leads to death and I don’t want you to die. so do it just for my peace of mind.” You released the breath you were holding till now, feeling relaxed again.

You just nodded at his words. He sounded like some motivational speaker luring you into his lifetime guarantee program but you knew he was right somewhere. you couldn’t depend on the boys to save you from creeps for whole life.

he was good at reading minds, you thought but despite that you wanted to pour the coffee on his head for the heart attack he’d gave you a minute ago.

“it’s risk free and beneficial. What you say?”

“ok. but I don’t wanna spar with the 6 feet ones. I’ll rather learn from you.” it was your turn to cackle!

“we’ll see about that.” He rolled his eyes to the back at your obvious attempt of poking fun at his short stature

JENO, I DIDN’T ASK FOR A COLD COFFEE. MAKE ME A NEW ONE.”

********

Meeting with taeil had benefitted you in every way. The most useful presently was the topic of the thesis he randomly suggested you. “ effect and consequences of veto power in relation to international peace and human rights”. even mr. kwang, your thesis mentor liked it as it was almost near original. Now you were just left with exams that were just a week away. Fortune was playing in your favour as yuta had been missing from past few days that saved you some extra energy and headaches that you got with his repulsive energy towards you. then there was your newfound love for the sofa that you had permanently dragged by the windows. It helped a lot in relaxing and studying and you ended up sleeping on it, nearly getting used to the cramped neck.

Unbeknownst to you, he did come back, daily. But you were just so occupied that you never noticed the slight shuffling in the midnight. it went on for days until you woke up with a blanket covering your bare legs, evidently not yours!

****************

How to start the finals? By getting wasted? No. certainly not. But birthdays are important, sometimes more than those stupid grades!

The venue for yeong’s b’day celebration was a night club, as expected from yugyeom! He need no reason to get drunk and when his s/o was herself cutting the chains, then it’s the finest deal one could get!

Loaded with university students, the party at the first floor was thundering. The hoots and roars of slightly drunk adults became deafening as soon as the cake was consumed.

“why your classmates are so fucking loud” you screamed in yeong’s ear. You both were seated at the corner on leather seats, drinking away the reality.

“with your dolphin voice, you are in no place to judge them bitch!”

“lets blame this on your drunkard mumbo jumbo!” she jumped in joy at your lame attempt, alcohol speaking out for you.

“btw where’s your boyfriend?” she questioned leaning into your ear.

“who?” you wondered who she was referring to.

“wonwoo! Who else dumbo. His whole army was invited by gyeom but I haven’t seen him yet!”

You just shrugged in response, not wanting to face him. The farther, the better. His possessiveness only elevated your fears. Now that you were bound on taeyong’s mercy, wonwoo would be calling for a danger by being with you, especially when you were incapable of returning his love.

But fate had some cruel plans stored for you. when you were ordering another drink, strong hands gripped your waist. Though beyond tipsy, the moment you touched the protective hold, you knew it was wonwoo. It was always him afterall.

“you could burn me while wearing white and I’d say thank you baby” He whispered, nibbling on your ear, shivers running down to your bare thighs at the sudden action. everyone knew how much you loved white and that’s why yeong had designed this short white satin dress which just screamed “you” and barely left anything to the imagination of the viewer. “and nothing turns me on more than your covered arms.” He continued as his fingers slowly traced the collarbones down to the cleavage, your drunken self melting into his chest. His hands worked swiftly and he guided you into a secluded part to drown the excessive noise. Your back hit a wall as his nose brushed against yours, his slender fingers siding your sling bag to hook at your hips. He bent into your lips, love filled kisses slowly smoothening into hungry ones. The taste he left on yours was of the infamous vodka that he sure had consumed in plenty of amount ,leading him to you. the pledge to keep yourself away from him broke down in figures as he rolled his hips into yours, lips syncing with the movements. His grip bruised your body, hunger lowering from lips to the bare neck. Throwing your head back, savouring his touch, you clutched his shoulders for some control. Scheduled moans became more filthy as his one hand gripped your thigh in a try to hike up your dress. He didn’t do much work as it was already climbing up your hips. A Single move and his fingers graced against your core, tingling sensation burning your whole body. The open mouthed kisses left marks on your cleavage and neck as he fingers fucked you mercilessly.

“I missed you so much baby.” His wavering yet soft tone met your ears but everything seemed hazy as he drove in and out of you. you felt euphoria in your stomach hitting you once again as he rambled on. “ don’t ever leave me again. you are my only lu-luxury. Don’t you ever dare snatch away the only hope I have! I love you. i fucking love you!” his sped up his actions under the dress but before he could provide you the final pleasure, you came back to the reality he had divorced you from. you didn’t love him and never would. To his disbelief, you separated yourself from his body, him staggering back with the push.

“wha-

“I don’t love you woo. This-

Your hands filled the space between you two.

“this was never about love. We need to stop. I don’t love you woo. And don’t expect anything better from me. We are over. This is over.”

Your drunken slurs made evident that though you were loaded, the senses were still intact somehow.

“no y/n. don’t do this to me. I’ll wait more if you want. A lifetime if you say. But don’t say you are done with us. I’d die without you.” his words rang like a bell as you attempted to corrected the panties and dress, waving slightly.

You jumped away from him as his words got registered in your head. Ignoring him completely, you turned to enter the blast again but his strong hold on your arm stopped you. you squirmed under him, requesting him to let you go but his confession never halted.

“let go of her wonwoo!” you circled to see jungkook standing there , anger clear in his eyes. “I am not gonna repeat.” Jungkook was indeed dangerous when he was boiling.

“why was he enough and NOT ME!” you shuddered at the raise in his voice as he jerked you away. Timely, jungkook caught you and instructed you to go inside to wait for him. And you complied but not completely.

you were hot, bothered, angry and helpless at the same time so you did what you felt like. It felt like eternity when jungkook found you gulping some shorts in the bar. His brain went haywire for he realised you would’ve reached your peak by now. He cautiously approached you, checking the level of warmness on your cheeks. You were gone and so was he.

“what did you do with woo?” you asked him in the delightfully lovable voice that he found nothing but scary. You acting cute meant it was end of the life for anyone who would witness it. He had tried to record you a few times before in the said condition but it never ended up well with the screen of his phone meeting your wrath everytime. He helplessly dragged you from the bar towards the parking area, ignoring your initial question and the urge to scold you for the whole ruckus with wonwoo.

“I’ll drop you home cutie” he exclaimed, checking the level.

“I’m no cutie! And what about minjunie. And I don’t wanna go with you. I wanna be alone.” He giggled as you pouted at him, a rare sight to behold.

“yeah yeah I know you wanna be alone and blah blah but its past 11 already -

“soooooo. The protocol shall be followed despite the severi-

“shut up! You are not in a class dude. N hurry up, I’ve to pick minjun’s drunk ass as well!”

The discontent in his tone was apparent while he showed you the way forward. continuously wrestling against his strong hands, he finally gave up when you almost tripped over nothing.

“stop annoying me y/n!”

“am i?” you pouted at him. “I don’t wanna go with you. don’t you understand!” he rubbed his temples in desperation.

“fine I’ll call someone else. But you can’t go alone.” But as he was fishing out his phone, you were gone.

After five minutes he spotted you outside, waving for a taxi.

“why are you so difficult?” his words fell to deaf ears. Watching you continue your frolics, he thought about giving up as a scheme formed in his head. Stopping a taxi , he ushered you in the back seat, moving to talk to the driver instead.

“no you aren’t coming!” you cried, showing your head out of the window. He grabbed his hair in annoyance, narrowing his eyes at you, “I’m not coming with you my mother! Let me give the address to the driver or else you’ll end up nowhere.” He pleaded, clasping his hands, bowing at you.

You giggled pleasantly at his gesture, hands flailing at him. “I don’t live in campus. I’ll give you the address. Wait!” after searching for your phone, you showed him the address saved in the notes app. That indeed surprised him for he wasn’t aware that you changed but decided against asking you. if it was not your new address, it could be trusted enough to be safer as it was saved under “my home”. Commanding the driver with an extreme firmness, he went away. Even in the drunk state, you were sure to some extent that maybe car was not moving.

“let’s go uncle!”

“your friend told me to wait.” you threw your head back realising that kook was upto something. A loud horn heightened your senses as the car moved.

Asshole, you muttered, grasping that he was clearly following you.

***************

“bop bop!” an eternity has passed for you in a futile try of remembering the password. The digits were changing their positions, as you regarded them.

“bop bop!” you tried again, mumbling to yourself, not knowing that you were not even banging the door in the first place. Standing still in your intoxicated state, arms crossed, the daggers you were throwing at the door would give any passer by a food to laugh but unluckily, there was noone there.

Bobbing your head from side to side, you started walking down the corridor, coming back at the your own door every few minutes. Curiously you pressed random button near the keypad. It was a bell, that you didn’t noticed earlier.

“wh- noona! You are here!” it was jaemin. He hugged you tightly before letting you in.

“duh! I’m waiting from last ten years but you won’t open.” Another giggle let jaemin known that you were in inebriated state.

“you are drunk.” He whispered.

“shhhh” you said , throwing your heels.

With jelly legs, you wobbled to the kitchen, catching attention of each and every presence in the living room and there were many of them.

“oh hiya! Home tweet home.” You chanted, hands waving like the wipers of a car. Hyuck and mark greeted you while jaehyun just sat down again, shaking his head in disbelief. However yuta was stunned and hooked to his place. He saw you navigating to the fridge, dropping the bottle, picking it up again, gulping it down, jaemin snatching it from you, apparently for you own benefit.

Jaemin guided you for your room before you got distracted by yuta’s figure staring you down.

“moshi moshi. Don’t you have any Japanese to throw at me today.” Yuta heard jaemin and others snickering as you slurred, walking unsteadily to him. He simply rolled his eyes, waiting for you to complete your attack.

“oh hi hyuck. I heard you don’t change your underwear for years. Go and take a bath right now. Asap” the liquid jaehyun was drinking, came out as a spray from his nose at the insult. Everyone was laughing at your antics except yuta. He scanned you up and down, eyes fixating on the fresh hickies on your visible neck.

“and you moshi moshi. You a-act like an angry young man all the damn ti-time,” hiccups started in between, “ but answer me with your half braincell- what kind of criminal you are! Atleast hid your face while shooting people dude.”

Yuta’s jaw cletched at your use of words, tension rising in the room. His neutral face changed into an angry one as you went on and on, all while poking his chest with your forefinger. “and that knife of yours! What are you? a street goon who hires little kids to scan cctvs for the-

And your body lunged forward, head resting where your finger was, passed out. Yuta’s red eyes didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Anger radiated his body as he removed hands from his pockets to push you off but mark scooped your sleeping figure in his arms, signalling jaemin to open the door. After finding the key in your purse, mark laid you on the bed, rolling you to the side as jaemin placed a pillow behind to save you from falling.

They arrived in the hall only to find yuta already waiting for them.

“what was the need to baby her? She’s an adult and got drunk at her own expense. Didn’-

“so what hyung? Why are you making it a big deal!” mark replied.

“she is the one who makes everything a big deal. Didn’t you just hear how she was just trash talking about you all! She never fucking leaves a chance to spit at my face that I am a criminal –

“that’s what we are! We are damn criminals and she doesn’t know anything about us”

“but she says it like we are not even humans-

“I don’t understand why are you always throwing her under the bus hyung! Drunk people speak shit and she was totally hammered. Just let it go! Your punishment is over after two days, don’t spoil your mood over something so silly.”

“you can’t ord-

“yes I can and will order you because I agree with her. You do own just a half braincell that is not letting you think properly. Now don’t you dare mention all this to her in the morning.” Several pairs of eyes wandered between yuta and mark as the air became more pressured.

“so you do admit she is in wrong here hmm”

“she was just acting with her pure conscious. She saw a man dying and went to police. Tae hyung just made sure that she isn’t leaving anytime soon. She is trapped with criminals. What else do you expect from her? I know exactly what you want.” Suddenly mark’s eyes softened as he went on. “You are craving empathy hyung. This is what I have seen in your eyes from the first day. You want everyone to realise that you are also wounded. You don’t despise her in actual but just the sympathy that wasn’t given to you in the first place. Stop acting like a stone. While blaming her you shouldn’t be forgetting that it was supposed to be me. You filled my spot as the killer. It started with me-

“no ma-

“it all started coz I was dammit feeling too sleepy to finish that contract killer. It was supposed to be a sniper attack but you had to go instead-

“I forgot my cover mark. How are you the cause when the problem was my own stupidity in the first place!” yuta shouted, tense silence following. Mark smiled a bit at him before continuing.

“then why do you hate her so much. shouldn’t you be hating me for sending you there or yourself for being careless. We should be compromising, not her. Just stop fighting with running water.”

He quietly said before picking up his jacket, going out. Everyone took that as a cue for leaving as well. Nobody uttered anything. The house was empty but mark’s words echoed in the space for entirety of the night, squeezing yuta into the reality he wasn’t ready to face.

*************

Your head felt like it was carrying all the weight of the world. Light harmed your vision, footsteps made you dizzy as you treaded for the door. Kitchen was suddenly too far away, everything looking too large for the squinted eyes. Water and sugar! two things circled in your head like a mantra, only until you felt a sharp pain in your waist. You slightly cursed the counter for bumping into you and stepped further to get water. the water soothed only your throat, stomach still craved sugar so you placed the large bottle on the counter, returning to open the fridge.

Some shuffling around the corner woke up yuta, who was resting on the couch. It hasn’t been more than few hours that he finally let himself immersed into the dreamland. His night and half of the day was spent in unearthing the deep hole that mark had thrown him into. He got annoyed at himself for failing in reaching a conclusion that would led to mark being wrong and it was the result of this constant thought provoking activity that he was having a persistent headache. He grumbled at the stiff neck as he got up. 13:03. Another sound came from somewhere, stimulating his body to check. With droopy eyes, he noticed you. actually half of you as the other half was searching for gold in the fridge. The hiked up dress was enough to give a free show of your bare legs without any strain. The thought of you eating his food wiped up all the drowsiness, making him go to kitchen.

“its not your bedroom. Close it.” He criticised, yawns escaping simultaneously. You didn’t move for his voice didn’t reach you in the first place. He tsked at your lack of senses as he neared you. but as soon as your figure got larger, his body met the floor brutally, several groans of pain leaving him. You turned around at the noise to see yuta struggling as his knee hit the polished hardwood. His other hand went to the counter for some support but it slipped causing his elbow to hit the cabinet handle more violently. His shout of anguish striked through your sensitive ears, making you swear in irritation.

Your eyes slowly traced the liquid under his body to the top of the counter. the water bottle. It was tilted and empty by the time you noticed and the water was what made yuta slipped in first place.

“fuck it!” he growled, discomfort contorting his features.

Slowly he moved himself to the other side, bruised elbow secured in his hand, grunts exiting him. You knew you were fucked up as soon as his cold eyes fell upon you.

“I guess it’s my time to call taeyong.”

#neowritingsnet #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #nct arrange marriage #nct mafia #yuta arrange marriage #yuta mafia #yuta angst #yuta scenarios #yuta series #nct series

135 notes · View notes

elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Text

Sneaking Around | Chapter Seven

The next week was torture for Aelin. Unable to get her hands on Rowan, she had to settle for passing glances in the hallways and lingering touches in the elevator. Lunchtimes she ignored him as she usually did. It was only at the end of the workday on Friday that Rowan entered her office.

“Did you need something, Mr. Whitethorn?” asked Aelin coolly.

He grinned. “I needed to know if you’re busy.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Come to my place when you’re finished.” Then he walked - no, strutted - out the door.

Aelin could hardly complete her work quickly enough. After she did, she texted Ansel. im not coming home tonight

why am i not surprised? Ansel answered quickly.

shut up Aelin then gathered her belongings and headed to her car.

She pulled up at the now-familiar building and walked up the stairs to Rowan’s door. It was unlocked. Rowan was sitting at the table eating a plate of spaghetti.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” Aelin pouted.

He grinned. “I was hungry.”

Rolling her eyes, Aelin served herself a plate and sat. She liked the familiarity she felt when she was here, when she sat down with Rowan.

She’d barely taken a bite when a phone rang. Rowan’s.

“It’s Fenrys,” he said when he looked at it. “Hello?”

A voice sounded on the other side, to which Rowan responded, “Why?” And then, “That’s really weird, man.” And finally, “Maybe some other time. I’m finishing up on paperwork right now.” He looked close to laughter.

Aelin’s brow was raised. “What was that about?”

A smirk. “I was invited over to figure out who your secret boyfriend is.”

Aelin blinked. “You’re joking, right?” When he didn’t say anything, Aelin shouted, “I’m going to kill them! I’m going to fucking kill them all!” Rowan chuckled. “Do you seriously find this amusing?” she yelled.

“Calm down. And don’t kill them, they’ll want to know how you found out.”

“Call him back.”

Rowan frowned. “Why?”

“Tell them you finished your paperwork and you want to join.”

“Again, why?”

“I want to know who they think I’m screwing. You’re my man on the inside.”

Rowan just looked at her. “Um, no.”

“Why not?”

“That’s ridiculous.” When she just glowered at him, he added, “Also, I’m eating.”

“Good thing you’re almost done then.”

“I’m not going to go join their ludicracy when I could be doing other things. Preferably things involving you naked.” When Aelin crossed her arms and frowned at him, Rowan sighed. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Nope.”

He reluctantly picked up his phone. “Turns out I had less paperwork than I thought and I have nothing better to do. Yeah. Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

Rowan scowled at Aelin. “You owe me. And what exactly are you going to be doing while I’m gone?”

She smiled. “Do you have Netflix?”

Halfway through Dirty Dancing, Aelin’s phone rung. It was Lysandra. Was she involved too? Most certainly; in fact, she had probably started this whole let’s-stalk-Aelin idea.

“What?” Aelin made her voice as breathy as possible.

“Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering what you’re up to.” Checking her alibi. Thorough. She had to give them credit for that.

“I’m very busy. What do you want?” Aelin snapped in her most impatient, I-need-to-get-back-to-sex voice.

“Oh, nothing. I’ll let you get back to it.” There was a laugh in the background and someone shushed them. How inconspicuous.

“Whatever.” Aelin hung up. Then she pressed play on the TV, a smirk on her face.

An hour later, Rowan came back. He found Aelin, asleep on his couch, with a bowl of popcorn next to her.

He moved the popcorn, switched off the TV, and sat next to her. Aelin woke up to Rowan stroking her hair. Not a bad way to start the day. Then she realized it was late evening. Aelin yawned, stretching onto his lap.

“Don’t you want to hear the juicy details?” asked Rowan.

This woke her up. “What did they say about me?”

He laughed. “Oh gods, Lysandra should work in the FBI. There were lists and-”

“Lists?”

“Of every employee of the office. It was narrowed down to male employees, then only those at the party.”

Aelin scowled. “When I get my hands on her... Who else was there?”

“Aedion, Gavriel, and Elide weren’t notified for fear of ratting us out. Ansel was working. Vaughan had to be at the office for the new security update. Lorcan and Manon both declined with similar statements about how bat-shit crazy we are. It was just Connall, Fenrys, Lys, and me. We were all told not to tell you, but I didn’t promise anything.”

“And I’m assuming it was Lysandra’s idea?” Aelin was furious at this point.

“Yes. It was kind of fun, though.”

“I know you did not just say that.”

Rowan chuckled. “Oh, please, you would have initiated the thing if it was anyone else.”

“It wasn’t, though, and I need revenge.”

“I can only pray I’m not there when that happens. And she crossed us men off the list since we were all there while you got your alibi checked.”

Aelin laughed. “Yes, I was brilliant, wasn’t I?”

“Mmhm, you sounded like you were called in the middle of screwing somebody.”

Aelin beamed. “That’s what I was going for. Now that you’re here, though, I’ve been waiting all week for you to fuck me.” she blatantly declared.

Rowan’s breath hitched. Aelin sat up, then moved on top of him, straddling him. His hands settled on her hips.

“Thank you for being my man on the inside,” Aelin whispered, then dragged her tongue up his neck. Rowan groaned.

“Maybe I should do you favors more often,” Rowan got out as she pulled her own shirt off. His hands drifted up to massage Aelin’s breasts through her lace bra.

Aelin spent the rest of the night thoroughly thanking Rowan. Oh, how she loved the weekends.

Aelin slept in the next morning. She awoke to find herself alone in Rowan’s bed.

Not bothering to put on clothes, not even another one of Rowan’s shirts, Aelin walked into the kitchen. Rowan was making pancakes.

He turned, taking in Aelin’s naked appearance. Rowan’s eyes darkened with lust. Totally ignoring his roving gaze, Aelin walked to the counter and leaned against it. “I didn’t know you could cook,” she said.

Unable to tear his eyes away from her body, Rowan kept staring as he answered, “I’d hardly call making pancakes cooking.”

“It’s more than I can do,” Aelin replied. Smirking, she added, “Careful, they seem to be burning.”

Rowan finally turned back to the food, stacking them on a plate. The muscles of his back were tense. Quite possibly he was restraining himself from spinning back around and touching her. Aelin loved the effect she had on him.

Finally he managed, “Tell me you’re not going to eat like that.”

Aelin said, “Why shouldn’t I?” She was enjoying this, especially when he turned back around to reveal a slight bulge in his pants.

“Fuck, Aelin, you can’t... I’m not going to make it through breakfast with you looking like that.”

Laughing evily, Aelin complied, running back to get a shirt out of his dresser. She then walked back to the table, which had two plates on it.

Every time she was here, Aelin felt happy and carefree. Before she knew what she was doing, Aelin blurted, “I like you.”

Rowan looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Aelin blushed furiously. “I mean, I didn’t quite intend to say that, but I do. Like you, I mean. Just saying.” Wow. Very smooth.

Rowan was grinning now. “I like you too.” Aelin had expected some mocking comment, but despite the teasing look, his voice was sincere. Her blush deepened.

Rowan had the nerve not to seem embarrassed. Bastard. He said, “What are your plans for Christmas? Still attending the Single Losers Christmas party?”

Ah yes, Christmas. They were at the beginning of December, nearing a holiday from work. And the Single Losers party was a tradition started long ago, when Fenrys had no one to celebrate with and demanded Aedion, Gavriel, and Lorcan throw a party in his honor. They had the nicest place; everything happened there. It had now evolved into a small get-together with the friends and their dates (so most of them weren’t even single, but whatever). It had been quite a few Christmases since Aelin had had a boyfriend serious enough to spend the holiday with, so she was a regular. About half of them went to their parents’ houses for the holidays, but the others didn’t.

“Yes, I am. You?” Rowan usually went to the party as well.

“I’m going.” He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but hesitated.

“What?” Aelin asked.

Rowan quickly said, “Nothing. More syrup?” She knew she wasn’t getting anything out of the damned bastard. Yet, at least.

The rest of the morning passed, and of course ended up in his bedroom. Aelin didn’t know how, but the sex just kept getting better and better. She left in the afternoon, having plans at her own apartment with Ansel and Lysandra.

Aelin left Rowan with a searing kiss, her insides burning. She would never get used to the heat she felt around him, nor did she ever want to. Aelin lived for it, craved it like she craved his tongue in her mouth.

Eventually she detached herself and drove home. Lysandra was already there - early to see Aelin come home at three in the afternoon. After the possible boyfriend lists that she wasn’t supposed to know about, it was hard enough not to strangle her friend. Lysandra was on thin ice.

“Have a nice night?” she purred. Ansel laughed.

Glaring, Aelin said, “Very. How was your night?” Yes, what were you doing, Lys? Not stalking your friend, I hope.

“I got together with the twins and Rowan.” Technically true. Bitch.

Aelin made sure to inquire about Lysandra and Aedion’s flirtations or Ansel and Fenrys’ budding romance every time they got too nosy and that seemed to do the trick. The conversation mostly revolved around Elide and Lorcan, a new movie on Hulu, and a new Kung Fu move Ansel had learned.

Lysandra left a while later. Aelin set her phone on the counter along with her purse and keys.

She went to the bathroom. Washing her hands, Aelin heard her phone beep. Ansel called, “I’ll check it for you!” Nosy. Probably hoping it was from her lover. Wait a minute; if it was from Rowan...

Aelin dried her hands quickly and bolted out of the bathroom. To find Ansel gaping at Aelin’s phone. Shit.

#rowaelin #tog #sneaking around #my writing

50 notes · View notes

sourbat · 3 years

Note

For that touch writing prompts meme, Melmord/Charles - 17, or Magnus/Melmord - 20?

"Holding the other’s chin up"-charles/melm

summary: the dead don't have time to rest or mourn. they do, eventually, find time for each other.

Rating: T for being a huge bummer

Melmord could still recall what he was doing when it happened. He had just finished washing his dishes, and was busy flinging his left hand that smarted from a nasty papercut turned raging hellfire after making contact with the suds, when the alarms went off and Facebone’s voice rang and alerted him of a fire. Then, another alarm telling everyone to hurry to the surface and be prepared to “Die for Dethklok,” before the power totaled, and Melmord was left alone in the dark. The earth above shook, and for some time Melmord spent his waking hours head tucked between his knees, wondering if he was doing to endure yet another death, this one slower and far more excruciating than the last.

Four days later, and after nearly going through all his rations, he was pulled from the rubble by none other than Charles himself.

“Y-you…”

Melmord took his hand and held on to it like an anchor.

“That’s all?” Charles inquired, pushing his lopsided, cracked glasses up his bruised nose. “No witty remark, Fjordslorn?”

Offdensen told him that “there wasn’t much time,” and they had to leave Mordland grounds before the boys up above “unlatch the dragon.” That was all. There were no remarks about what caused the power outage, the quakes and Mordhaus falling apart, nor comments regarding how utterly shaken and disposed Melmord felt being haplessly caught in the middle of it. Then again, it wasn’t like Melmord was itching to know why Offdensen had suddenly lost his color and suit, or how he earned that nasty gash. Frankly, he was just happy to be alive and out of the small hole he’d been trapped in for days.

Then, the aftermath. Melmord stepped out into the moonlight and saw the blood and piles upon piles of bodies. Shattered pieces of metal and concrete were scattered across the uneven land, and tall burn tress resembling skeletons stood silently in the night. Melmord smelled and gagged at the intense stench that hung thick in the air. A soured stew or rotting meat and dead leaves.

He needed to know after that.

“What happened?” he asked through his parched lips as Charles led them deep into the charred woods.

“I’ll explain later.”

This proved to be a lie.

He tried another: “Where are we going?”

“To find answers,” Charles replied, then turned far right before gesturing for him to follow.

“Where’s Dethklok?” Melmord asked once they were already several hundred feet into the air. They hovered over Mordhaus. The view was quite lovely, but the glow of the dragon’s eyes still haunted and made him visibly queasy.

“They’re staying behind,” Charles replied. “They’ll be safe here.”

“But I won’t?”

Charles removed his cracked glasses and tucked them into his jacket. “We have business to conduct.”

That was months ago.

Several months of being mostly in the dark, still trapped, just under a new concrete and slabs that silently, tenderly suffocated Melmord with each passing day. It wasn’t like they didn’t have time to discuss, either. In between the gunfire, traveling through sewers, through sleet and snow, there was plenty of time to stop and talk. But where discussions of the unfolding events should have occurred, instead were long nights spent in absolute silence. Lonely nights where Melmord would see Offdensen staring at the moon, the stars, looking strangely lost in thought, or deep in contemplation. Naturally, Melmord wanted to inquire about the silence. He refrained, partly because he was used to the man constantly giving him the cold shoulder and suspected any attempt would result in the same. Another side savored the sight. It was rare to see Charles’ cornered, morose or locked in a state of misery.

So they continued their endless search, spending their days traveling by tank, jeep or boat to the next piece of some unknown puzzle Offdensen refused to share, and their nights separated, with him sitting on top of some crate, roof or standing in a corner, body hunched and mind elsewhere.

And, for a while, Melmord was perfectly fine with that.

Until, one cold night, he wasn’t.

He was still trapped under the heavy load, still holding the icy white hand that lead him deeper into the strange unknown, the same hand that pushed him onto the alter before having him branded, when Melmord learned the reason behind Offdenson's odd behavior. The army radio he’d stolen after their most recent stint cracked the news of the tragic events that took place six months prior.

Through the heavy static Melmord heard the news of the attack by the Revengencers, of the damage they caused, and Dethklok’s decision to renovate and create space by lifting Mordhaus into the skies.

He learned that Charles had been brutally beaten the death, and died protecting Dethklok.

Charles died.

He died, and like Melmord, came back to live a life away from everything that he knew. A sad, empty life that currently held no meaning.

“Where are we going?” the words played out in his mind, teasing Melmord at first, but revealing a sad truth when, after several months of traveling across the globe for bits of rocks and names and stories, realized that Charles was likely just as trapped and blindly feeling his way through for an escape. Charles was secretive, and Melmord knew better than to expect to be given answers Charles didn’t consider him worthy of, but he did expect something. Anything.

But Charles was quiet. Reserved. Cold.

In mourning.

Shaken by the news, Melmord dropped the radio. It held, but the connection fizzled into a crash of white noise and static, and Melmord hurried to turn it off before checking to see if Charles noticed. Thankfully, the man was still resting, but for the rest of Melmord’s watch, he remained overly vigilant, hardly moving from his spot in their camouflaged sniper’s nest, and when the time for him to wake Charles and trade positions arrived, decided against it and give the man a few minutes more. Melmord held the rifle Charles taught him to use close to his chest, staring out in the far-off distance for any possible hit man, and watched the sun slowly begin to rise.

…

Charles awoke with the sun glistening past the roof, stinging his face with humid, hot rays. Odd. Charles slid up the walls and rubbed his tired eyes. Several birds chirped around them, and the wet head amassing around them suggested he had overslept by at least four hours. He had slept through his watch, exposing their limited defenses against the unknown enemy.

A carefully planned routine, suddenly ruined.

“Hey, Offdensen.”

Charles shifted to Melmord sitting on the other side of the sniper’s nest, head resting against the rifle.

Of course. The real reason behind his extended slumber.

“What time is it?”

“Hey. Listen,” Melmord said. He yawned, then rubbed his cheeks with his hands. “I just heard on the radio–”

“Radio?” Charles looked around the nest. Sure enough, a small army radio lay beside Melmord’s blanket. That wasn’t all he saw. In a flash, Charles noticed the location of the sun, and approximated the hour, and when he was ready to snap at Melmord for falling asleep on the job, found the two contradicting pieces of evidence hanging all over the man’s eyes. Prominent veins around the iris, and dark bags forming underneath. “Did you, ah, stay awake all night?”

“Yeah?”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“You gonna let me finish a sentence?” Melmord snickered which, with his eyes to irritated, could easily be misconstrued. After another exaggerated yawn, his head sank, and his long, dark hair began to fall over his shoulder in heavy, tangled loads. “I learned you died six months ago.”

Oh.

Charles swallowed. “Ah.”

Just hearing the news brought a crushing weight upon his chest. It was a subject Charles meant to discuss with Melmord, months ago, while the wounds were still fresh. Each time, Charles found his thoughts coming undone from the memory and phantom pain resurging with a terrible vengeance. For weeks he wondered if Melmord endured the same fate, relived those last few painful second before going black.

“How long were you gone?”

They sat together, waiting on a call to inform them of their next destination. Another clue that might lead them one step closer to finding out the answer behind his rebirth, behind the obsession behind Dethklok, and the power that helped fuel the Revengencer’s fire. Maybe this time he would earn another sliver of information. The odds were stacked against them. Aside from the name "Falcon Back," there still wasn’t much else to go on…

All there was were the few questions he could answer, and perhaps through those few similarities, could gain some solace in knowing he wasn’t entirely alone in solving this impossible puzzle.

Charles waited before giving a response. Just trying to gauge an estimate of his death proved to be quite unsavory to his bearing. He shut his eyes against the memory. “Long enough to feel myself leave my body,” he answered stiffly. “To know I’ve been gone and to know this isn’t natural.”

For once, Charles worried if his worlds were too cruel for Melmord. He wanted to glance upwards, at the light and Fjordslorn’s carefree expression and be told that he would acclimate, and that everything would return to its normal, working order.

Charles’s stare rested on the tips of his stained combat boots. “Fjordslorn?”

Melmord’s head nudged his. “Hmm?”

“Does it ever go away?” he asked, throat going dry. “Feeling so…”

Desolate? Alone? Frigid?

A hand lifted him by the chin. It was so warm to the touch. A frightening contrast to cold front that tormented him within.

“Nah,” Melmord answered, shaking his wet, heavy head. “Whatever it is…it’s never going to be the same again.” He exhaled, then to Charles surprise, exposed a curious, albeit, hinged grin. “But it has to be like that. It can’t ever be the same again, otherwise, what’s the point?”

“Point?” Charles heard himself parrot.

“Yeah, man. If everything was the same, then what separates this life from the last? It’s a second chance at life, so there’s got to be a difference, one that reminds us what’s at stake.”

His hand slid up Charles’ jaw, heating him with a careful touch.

Charles frowned. Melmord was under the terrible assumption life had a point to begin with, or that coming back to life held some significant meaning. It didn’t. People lived until they didn’t. Melmord was an exception, but only because Charles wanted to let the men in the lab to further develop their sewing abilities. Charles could explain how Melmord came back to life. He could not explain how he himself did though, not with any relevant scientific backing, and that frightened him. No one put him back together. He was gone. Gone for hours, possibly longer. And while he was gone he saw…things. He heard voices of unknown men and saw the face of something demonic, vile and uncannily familiar. He doubted Melmord saw any of that. He knew Melmord experienced none of these things, yet brought him along in the hope that he might have, and the very small chance that there was a connection. A significance. A purpose.

A point.

“Charles.”

This time, it was Melmord’s hand sliding off his chin that brought Charles back to the realm of the living dead.

“Yes, Melmord?”

“How are you feeling?”

What could he possibly say? That he felt like he was suffocating under a thousand questions, and no matter how far he traveled, and the clues they amassed, he seemed no closer to finding out the source of this mystery surrounding him and Dethklok.

Charles brushed his face against Melmord’s. “Well rested, thank you.”

#charles foster offdensen #melmord fjordslorn #charlesmelm #agaricales #touchatouchatouchatouchmeme

18 notes · View notes

tickle-bugs · 3 years

Text

I Dot the I in Your Name with My Heart

Summary: Lunch breaks between classes lead Simone and Eleanor into the silliest not-quite-argument they’ve ever had. AU where they’re professors at the same University.

@peachytickles HAPPY BIRTHDAY BELOVED!!!! Ilysm you light up my life and my day. I hope your day is as incredible as you are. Have some Laid Ease as a present and I will continue to be annoying in your dms as a further gift <3

“Babe!” Eleanor threw open Simone’s door, adjusting the comically large satchel on her shoulder.

“Nope.” Simone didn’t look up from her computer. One day her wife would learn to knock. One day. Eleanor sighed, spun on her heel, and exited the office, grumbling under her breath all the while.

A cheery knock absolutely dripping with sarcasm sent Simone into a quiet fit of snickers.

“Dr. Garnett?” Simone could hear Eleanor roll her eyes from the other side of the door. She stifled her smile. The fact that their breaks aligned this semester was a true gift--though Simone did miss lurking in the back of Eleanor’s classroom like a high schooler waiting for her prom date.

“Come in.” Simone hid her face behind her computer monitor when Eleanor once again flung the door open.

“I’m gonna grab coffee. Want anything specific?” Eleanor pushed the door shut with her heel, cutting off Simone’s unspoken complaint by sticking out her tongue.

“I left you a sticky on your desk,” Simone frowned, fingers slowing on the keys.

“I couldn’t read it.”

“Wh--Eleanor.”

“Don’t Eleanor me. You have a horrible case of doctor handwriting.” She hung her satchel on one of the chairs in front of Simone’s desk. She rolled up the sleeves of her fraying sweater, continually stopping to untangle her wedding ring from the threads it pulled. Simone’s gaze lingered on her arms--clusters of freckles were starting to dust her pale skin. Cute.

“No I don’t. It’s perfectly legible.”

“Simone. Babe. Love of my life. Your handwriting is unreadable.” Eleanor pulled her clutch out of her satchel. She thumbed through it, lighting up at something in the overstuffed bag--probably her rewards card. She loved free stuff.

“Maybe you need to learn how to read.” Simone drew her brows together in a signature grumpy pout.

“What does this say?” Eleanor slid the sticky note across the desk and Simone snatched it. God, she must’ve been in a rush because her handwriting looped way more than usual. Did that say carnival? Caravan? Shit.

“Obviously...this says…”

“Oh my god. You can’t read it?” Eleanor came around the desk to lean over Simone’s shoulder. Her warm hands slid around Simone’s arms and she leaned subtly back into the embrace.

“Shut up! I totally can. It says…”

“I’m waiting.” Eleanor laughed softly into her ear and Simone’s cheeks grew embarrassingly warm.

“Why do you bully me like this?” Simone whined. Eleanor pecked her on the lips with that insufferable grin and a fluttery warmth nestled in her chest.

“You make it easy. Caramel frappé?” Eleanor brushed her thumb over Simone’s cheekbone.

“Don’t forget the muffin. Love you.” Simone squeezed her hand.

“Mhm.” Eleanor squeezed back, letting Simone’s fingers trail over her palm as she pulled away. Simone yanked her back, using the momentum to tug Eleanor down for a kiss. She looked up at her expectantly until Eleanor smiled.

“Love you too,” She sighed fondly, adorning Simone’s forehead with a light lipstick print that she then carefully thumbed away. She drifted out the door, blowing kisses like a celebrity bidding farewell to her adoring entourage, and Simone returned to her work, a silly smile etched upon her lips.

The waiting time flew by rather unremarkably--silence triggered a meditative, boundless focus in her that she could nurture into a completed to-do list, if she was precise about it. Her focus tended to veer like a first-time driver, but she’d gotten rather skilled at placing tasks in the way of her swerving brain. Eleanor’s presence usually helped her stay on track, unless she was doing something distracting, like holding a piece of paper three inches from her face.

“What’s that?” Simone leaned around her monitor to get a better look at her wife.

“Our grocery list. Tahani showed me this delivery thing for the grocery store near campus. Figured we could try it out.” Eleanor held the slip of paper closer, squinting between it and her equidistant phone screen as if it contained the universe’s untranslated secrets.

“Why are you looking at it like that?”

“...No reason.” Eleanor put it down on the desk, trying to read normally, but she was never good at hiding her emotions. Or her ‘I can’t understand this’ squint. Simone narrowed her eyes until Eleanor felt compelled to speak.

“It’s your handwriting. It’s just so…” Eleanor trailed off, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, but her hand kept looping and twirling until she’d drawn the world’s most complicated pretzel in the air.

“So what?” Simone knew what she was trying to say, but she wanted to hear it out loud.

“Listen, the data is against you. So many doctors have bad handwriting.” Eleanor patted her hand across the desk, a cheeky grin dancing on her lips.

“Say that again.” Simone narrowed her eyes.

“Doctors have bad handwriting?”

“Eleanor, it’s data, not data.” Simone moved around the desk and sat next to Eleanor. She pulled her chair close, so their knees touched, and eyed Eleanor while she committed a crime against linguistics.

“That’s what I said.”

“Say it slowly.”

“Dah. Tah.” Eleanor frowned.

“No.” Simone held her face between her hands and squished her cheeks.

“What do you mean, no? That’s how you say it. Data.” Eleanor’s voice came out a little muffled but she didn’t seem bothered.

“Okay, Elle-ee-ay-nor.” Simone rolled her eyes, dragging out every vowel to the point of extinction. Eleanor pulled Simone’s hands away from her face and held them in her own.

“Now the data suggests that you’re being mean.”

“Am I being mean or are you being American?” Simone booped her nose and Elly wrinkled it, eyes crossing for a moment while she tracked the offending finger.

“It’s not your fault y’know. Your snipsnaps are misfiring, so you don’t have fine muscle control. So, your handwriting is bad and you don’t know how to pronounce data.” Eleanor booped her back, all smug grins, and Simone promptly decided that only she was allowed a monopoly on mischief.

“Snip--y’know what? That’s it.” Simone pulled Eleanor into her arms, catching her with an oof. Eleanor went to make a flirtatious joke--Simone could see the gears turning in her head--but it died on her tongue when Simone’s nimble fingers pressed into her stomach.

“You owe me a handful of apologies, Dr. Shellstrop, because your handwriting is no better.”

“M-my penmanship is--no!”

“I agree, actually. You are not immune to doctor handwriting, ma’am. Your equations are adorably messy.” Simone squeezed up and down her sides, pulling the squeakiest, most endearing giggles from her. God, she was so cute.

“You’re adorably--”

“Thanks, babe. I know.” Simone grinned, fingers mapping every inch of the slight-plushness around her waist. Eleanor growled through her next bout of laughter.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” She yanked on Simone’s immovable hands until they slowed.

“Good.”

“Your handwriting is...unique and I love it.” Eleanor draped her arms over Simone’s shoulders. Simone better secured her arms around Eleanor’s waist, pulling her close.

“Nice save. But what else are you sorry for?” Simone eyed her expectantly and sighed at the silence.

“Let’s just say I forgive you for tainting my office with ‘dah-tah’. What is the structure that lets nerve cells pass signals called?” Simone raised her brow. Eleanor knew this. Simone knew that she knew. She’d taught her herself.

“Snipsnap.” Eleanor nodded sagely.

“Synapse.”

“That’s what I said.” Eleanor pouted--pouted!

“Try again.” Simone murmured, peppering fluttery kisses along her throat. Lovely, panicked giggles bubbled out of her, taking their rightful place between every breath.

“Spintaps?”

“Ooh, almost got it. One more try.” Simone buried a laugh in Eleanor’s neck, her hands sliding upwards to latch onto Eleanor’s ribs. That really kicked things up a notch--Eleanor went from cutesy giggles to borderline screeching, unable to decide whether she was clinging to Simone for dear life or trying to run from her. She kicked her legs, heels drumming against the chair leg, and Simone snuck in a few cheeky squeezes to her exposed knees.

“Slimcats? Syntax? Synapse!” She squealed, finally deciding on shoving Simone’s face away. She was nearly horizontal now, using the last of her core strength not to fall over the chair’s armrest and have a most unpleasant reunion with the floor.

“I’m so proud of you.” Simone rebalanced her with a strong hand across her shoulder blades, pulling her close with a shit-eating grin. Eleanor huffed, but a few airy chuckles found their way out with it.

“Shut up. I should tickle you while you try to do calculus. See how you like it.” Eleanor swatted her shoulder.

“I love you so much.” Simone singsonged, looking up at Eleanor through her lashes.

“Mhm. I love you too. Even when you bully me.”

“Bullying? I prefer ‘showering my wife with love.’” Simone rested her cheek on Eleanor’s bicep, puckering her lips until Eleanor leaned down to meet her.

“Bullying. I forgive you, though.” Eleanor pinched her nose until Simone made a nasally ‘waah’ sound that left both of them wheezing. Eleanor reluctantly scooped up her satchel at the chime of her phone--time for class, unfortunately.

“See you later.” Simone smiled. Eleanor slid her a yellow sticky note, folded into quarters, and winked on her way out the door. Simone unfolded it--in tight, coiled letters, Eleanor had left her a note.

I love you, sunshine.

Aw. She married a sap--a sap who dotted her ‘i’s with hearts, no less.

Simone stuck the sticky note to the framed photo of Eleanor that she kept on her desk, smoothing out the adhesive until she was certain it would cling. The picture was starting to get covered now, but the notes adorning the frame were just as important as the contents. She brushed her thumb over the frame and returned to work, Eleanor’s laughter lingering in her ears all the while.

#my fics #the good place #elmone #ticklish!eleanor #Eleanor Shellstrop #simone garnett #theyre MARRIED #no fr I dug this from the depths of the server like a gay little geologist unearthing precious gems...'yes...finally..all according to plan'

17 notes · View notes

padme-parker · 4 years

Text

no regrets [AU!Anakin Skywalker x Reader]

Summary: You leave Anakin, only a letter in your place.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: some swear words I think, angst, mentions of cancer, some fluff if you look hard enough, this is pretty fucking cliche btw!

A/N: so I was listening to Lewis Capaldi’s discography and that shit was so sad. Like all of his songs are so fucking sad that it inspired me to write this. Mainly the songs: “Forever”, “Fade.”, “Before You Go.” and “Headspace.” (I highly suggest listening to his songs while ur reading!) along with a handful of songs I was listening to while writing this. Also this is my first time uploading my writing so forgive me if it's all over the place. I was just excited to write this lol.

The thumping of the bass made his ears ring, that’s the first thing Anakin noticed when he got home. He was totally and completely shitfaced, drunk out of his mind. The next thing he noticed was the deafening silence. Sure, it was midnight but he knew how much of a night owl you were. He also knew how much you loved to paint at night, a slight breeze from the open window, and music quietly playing in the background. Loud enough just to be heard by the two of you, quiet enough so he could hear the stroke of your brush against the canvas. Oftentimes he would come up behind you, lightly grasping your hips and began to sway along to the music. And some nights he would just sit back and watch you. However tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Tonight would be different, and the next night, and the night after that. Anakin walked towards the bedroom, careful not to wake you just in case you were asleep. When he walked into the room, his eyes immediately searched for you, but landed upon emptiness, that’s when it caught his attention. The last thing he noticed was the envelope placed upon his pillow.

Grasping the envelope, Anakin took out its content. It was a letter, just for his eyes.

Dear Anakin,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Believe me, I wish I could’ve done this in person but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As I write this letter, you’ll be out celebrating with Obi Wan and Padme. Enjoying life, that’s what you should be doing. And I know it must be shitty to come home to this, but I just couldn’t leave while you were still here. There were so many things I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. But you deserve to know this.

The truth is, I don’t love you anymore, Anakin. I’m not sure when I fell out of love with you, but the one thing I knew was that I couldn’t stay and drag you down with me. Sometimes I wonder how we got here, how I got us here. Then I remembered why, him. In the past six months I met someone else. At first we were just friends. But there was something between us, a connection. The second I laid eyes on him, I knew that he was the one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. Yet, there you were. Anakin, you were- and still are my world, but he’s my whole fucking universe. Without him I feel like I’d cease to exist. Each day, the more I fell in love with him, the more I fell out of love with you. Until one day, I came to my senses and realized what the hell I was doing. All those days I spent with him, coming home late at night, you never questioned me. Stars Anakin, I’m so sorry I took advantage of your trust. I never thought we’d end up like this. I never thought this would happen.

You deserve to be happy. But we both know that’s not something I can give you. You deserve to be able to move on without ever having to see me again. That’s why I’ve decided to leave. Not just move out of the apartment, or town, but move out of state altogether. Please don’t come looking for me.

I want you to know that none of this is your fault. Anakin, I love you so much, but we’re just not meant to be. You were my epic love, not my soulmate. But remember, you’re still someone who had a huge impact on my life. I don’t think I could ever forget you, nor do I think that I want to. I know that even on my deathbed, I’ll be thinking of you.

Forever Yours,

Y/N

P.S. take the time you need Anakin, but don’t get hung up on me. There are people out there who love you, you just don’t see it yet.

He let out a sharp breath, dropping the letter, and began to sob. For the next hour, all he could do was cry. He struggled to breathe, he couldn’t believe what he was reading. What did I do wrong? Where did I go wrong? Was I not enough? He wanted to scream, but chose not to, sparing his neighbors from hearing his sorrows. Anakin was spiraling, he was heaving now. Struggling to breathe he crawled out of his room and into the living room. Your painting materials still left in the corner, easel propped up, and miscellaneous pieces of art scattered across his home.

Anakin couldn’t escape from you, you were unknowingly ripping the air out of his lungs. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of you. It was ironic really, how was he supposed to move on if he had to see everything that reminded him of you.

A couple of years passed since you disappeared from Anakin’s life. He had moved on but deep down inside he never really did recover. He was sad at first, but then became angry. How could you use him like this? But of course, like you promised, there were people there for him. Obi Wan and Padme had always been there for him, especially Padme. She was the first one to check up on him when he wasn’t returning their calls. The first to get him to stop crying, the first to cheer him up, the first to get him to go out again, and the first person to say “I love you.” since you’d left. Anakin had felt like he was betraying you, he had fallen in love with someone who wasn’t you, but then he remembered what you did and said. He had the right to move on with someone else.

When Anakin felt like he was ready, six month after your breakup, he asked Padme to be his girlfriend. A year and a half later, he asked her to spend the rest of her life with him. Nine months later, they welcomed their twins into the world.

Both Obi Wan and Padme had been there by his side, along with Dean. He met Dean at the bar, both of them looking like shit. It started with a simple nod, then their small group of three now had four people. Dean became close to Obi Wan and Padme too, helping Anakin to return to his life before you left. It was going well until today.

Anakin moved out of his old apartment a long time ago. He donated most of your belongings and sold your paintings. Except for one. It was a painting that the two of you had created together. A minimal black outline of your silhouettes from your favorite photo together. Simple, but it had meaning to it. The picture itself was taken at a party, a drink in your hand while Anakins was thrown over your shoulder. You were smiling at the camera, drink aimed towards it. However, Anakin was looking at you, a big goofy smile on his face. If there was one memory of you he wanted to keep, it was that one. So instead of selling the painting, he kept it. Obviously he didn’t hang it up, instead he kept in it buried deep inside his closet. Only taking it out whenever he really missed you.

Even though he kept the painting, every aspect of you was completely erased. It’s like you never existed to him. Instead of lining the halls with pictures of the two of you, they were filled with pictures of Anakin and Padme. A small polaroid of them on their first date. A picture at the bar of Anakin, Padme, Obi Wan, and Dean. A bunch of wedding pictures. And finally, pictures of his family. He’d memorized every corner of his new home, never wanting to forget about it because he knew at any given moment, his life could be ripped from his fingers. Everything had been ingrained into his memory, from the toys scattered across the floor to the pristine kitchen. Where Padme was currently making dinner, “Hey Ani, you’ve got some mail, I put it on the table.” He walked towards the table and picked up the envelope, he could recognize your handwriting. Anakin felt like the world was playing a sick joke on him, after all these years, why would you write back now?

“Hey Padme, I’m gonna go change real quick.” He didn’t wait for Padme’s reply before he ran off to his closet, he knew he needed to be alone when he read its contents. Locking the door, he ripped open the envelope and took out your letter.

Anakin,

I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but you deserve to know the truth. The real reason as to why I left. By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. Remember how I told you that I had met someone new? That was a lie. In those six month, I was at multiple doctors' offices getting tested. I knew something was wrong with me but none of the doctors could tell me why. Until one was able to. I had stage 3 ovarian cancer, the chances of me surviving were low. That’s why I left.

Anakin’s eyes went wide, the paper shaking in his hands. “Cancer… she has..” he whispered to himself, he could feel the tears starting to roll down his face. All this time, he hated her for something she never did.

I knew how much you wanted to have a family, and it was something I wanted to give you. But when I found out that I couldn’t do that, I knew you’d be crushed. This was something we both had dreamed of. It was easier for me to make up a lie. I wouldn’t allow myself to put the both of us through this pain. You shouldn’t have to bear my burdens. I wasn’t going to let you waste your life away trying to take care of me. So I hid the truth from you and left like a coward. Understand that I needed you to hate me, Anakin. That you wouldn’t come looking for me or just expect me to come back one day. Even though I did want to come back, I had to hold myself back. I knew you were going to move on eventually.

Do you remember the guy I was talking about? The one who I was so “madly in love with” that I left you? Yeah, well his name is Dean, He’s one of the nurses who was taking care of me during those six months, and for the past couple years he’s been my eyes. Anakin, I never fell out of love with you. Even as I lay on my deathbed, you’re all I can think about.

Dean says that you’ve moved on and married Padme. I’m going to be honest, at first I was shocked and a little sad. But then I remembered why I did this in the first place. Anakin, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Even when we were still together I could tell how much love she had for you. She didn’t act on her feelings because I was still there, which I’m grateful for. But once I left, she saw the opportunity to comfort you, so she did. You looked at me like I was your whole world, but Padme, she looks at you like your her whole damn universe. Truth is, you weren’t my world, you’re my fucking universe Anakin, even if you don’t know it. You weren’t just my epic love, to me, you were my soulmate. But you and Padme? The two of you are soulmates, made for eachother. Dean has shown me pictures of the two of you. I’ve never seen you so happy, even when we were together. I know she brings out a side of you that I was never able to.

There was a point where I was getting better and I wanted to come back. To apologize and maybe try again, but Dean advised against doing so. At that moment in time, you had just proposed to Padme. Who was I to come back into your life just to take away your happiness? So I watched from afar. I watched as you went on with your life and completely forgot about me. And I did it with a smile on my face, because you were happy. Anakin, simply knowing that you were happy and content with your life made me happy, even if I wasn’t the cause of it. For a while, I was better. Then it got worse, my cancer got more aggressive. From there, I was condemned in my own home.

As the months went on, I got more sick and closer to death. After your wedding, Dean came over to my place and showed me videos of you and Padme. I couldn’t help but let out a few tears, you were getting everything you wanted. I really wish I could’ve been there to see you, Ani, but I wouldn’t want to ruin your wedding. I was so ecstatic for you when I’d heard that you were having a child! Twins nonetheless, you must’ve been radiating joy. I really am happy for you Anakin. I only wanted the best for you.

Do you remember the night on the rooftop? You cooked dinner for us on our two year anniversary. It was the most romantic thing anyone had done for me. Do you also remember what we promised to each other? “No regrets.” As simple as it was, I broke our promise, Ani. I regret not telling you. I regret leaving you. I regret ever hurting you. Anakin, I am deeply sorry for any pain I’ve caused you. But if I hadn’t left, you wouldn’t be where you are right now. Do you regret not looking for me?

Anakin stopped reading for a second to think, did he regret how things played out? He wiped his tears before continuing,

Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to stay with you, Anakin, but I couldn’t let myself. I hope the universe will continue giving you what you want, because you deserve it, Ani. You deserve to be happy.

Forever Yours,

Y/N Y/L/N

P.S. somewhere across the stars and galaxies, I’ll be watching over you. I’ll always be with you.

Anakin dropped to the floor, the letter along with him. Muffled sobs could be heard on the other side of the door, but Padme was too preoccupied to hear. Why didn’t I go after her? Why didn’t I try harder? Why didn’t I notice? He asked himself. The truth was that Anakin did regret not going after you, he regretted not trying to get closure from you. Because he knew that if he had gone after you, you would’ve told him the truth. He knew you would tell him the truth because he knew that you couldn’t look him in the eyes and lie to him. That’s why you left, only leaving a letter behind. And he knew if you told him the truth, he would have forgiven you. He would’ve spent the rest of his life, right next to you. Making sure you were alright. Anakin knew he would’ve taken you back in a heartbeat, because he still loves you. Even after you falsely broke his heart and left him, his love for you outweighed the hate he felt.

He got up somberly walking towards the hidden painting. He took it into his hands along with another object. He sat back down, now clutching the memory to his chest. His heart felt heavy, but nothing felt heavier than the small black velvet box resting upon his grasp.

“No regrets, huh?”

(A/N): Okay so I know that the goodbye letter is all over the place, but if I was writing a letter to someone I love, my thoughts wouldn’t be able to process properly. So forgive me if some of it seemed random, I’m still new to this stuff. I also feel like this is very cliche but when I heard Forever, my mind was immediately like “omg this song is good inspo for a sad fic.” I also feel like I should’ve added more flashbacks but I’m not sure where they would’ve been placed.... anyways I hope you enjoyed it :)

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x reader angst #au!anakin #au!anakin skywalker #star wars

258 notes · View notes

stones-x-bones · 3 years

Text

A Mother’s Touch || Morgan and Bex

TIMING: Current (Don’t @ me timelines are weird) PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @inbextween SUMMARY: Bex has more questions about her place in the world, and finds that Morgan might understand more than she thinks. CONTENT: Domestic Abuse mentions, Child abuse mentions, Transphobia mentions

Curiosity was one of Bex’s more troublesome personality traits. It had gotten her into quite a bit of trouble as a kid-- sticking her hands in places they shouldn’t go, like under rocks and through fences; or asking questions that didn’t exactly have kid friendly answers to them-- and her mother had often chastised her for it, so it had become one of the things that she had hidden and locked away inside herself. Except, lately, she was finding it harder and harder to keep that part of herself from surfacing. It was happening more and more frequently in which she found herself unable to hold back the array of questions that filled her head and toppled from her lips. But, more and more, she was finding herself wanting to be curious. And after everything that had happened to her-- from the cockatrice, to the mutant in the alley, to the dream world, to Frank acting so strange-- she could no longer hold back the questions that had flooded her mind since Nell had first tried to tell her what she was: what was a witch, and what, then, was magic all about? Clutching one of the books Morgan had gotten for her chest, Bex made her way downstairs. She knew the older woman would be in the great room, because she was always either there, at work, or in her shed, and it was late enough at night that Bex figured she wouldn’t want to be outside in her shed. Luckily, neither Mina nor Deirdre was around, so Bex had found enough confidence within herself to sidled into the great room and clear her throat. “Morgan?” she called out tentatively, staring at the older woman with wide eyes, “Can I-- come sit with you?”

Morgan was trying to write. On an impulse, she could talk in circles, for hours maybe, especially with Deirdre to ask her things, but as March gave way to April, she found her thoughts shrinking around the question of her history, her self, and suddenly even something so simple as a lesson plan took hours. Her eyes drifted toward a spot on the wall, searching for a hint, a bone to excavate, something that wouldn’t fade in the turn of another miserable year in this place.

She set down her stationary with relief when she heard Bex come in and shoved it all onto the coffee table. “Of course, honey,” she said. She craned her head around and saw her, a little brighter, a little more bursting with some secret thought or other she couldn't keep down. But her bruises were starting to fade and she didn’t look half as scared as when she’d first shown up at the door. “Grab a pillow and get cozy,” Morgan urged, refreshing her smile. “And tell me what’s on your mind.”

Bex hurried over to the couch, as if Morgan might rescind her offer. Still clutching the book to her chest, she pondered how to start the questions off. She didn’t want to burst with them, to offer too many and overwhelm her-- but she didn’t want to ask too little and end up regretting not asking more. “Well, I--” she started, shuffling the book from her chest to her lap as she settled into the couch next to her, “guess I was just curious.” Ran her hands over the cover of it. “What was it like?” she asked, looking up at her. “Growing up-- this way.” Tapped the cover, which was revealed to be about magic and the essence of God through Jewish faith. One of the Zohar texts, but it was obvious Bex meant more of the magic part and not the Kabbalah part. “Knowing that you were, you know--” she still hesitated to say the word-- “special?”

It took Morgan several seconds to understand what Bex was asking, and when she did, no answers rose immediately to her mind. “Well it was…” Fine? Except for her mother, which made up what percent of her memories? “It wasn’t any one particular thing all the time. It was still growing up with my parents.” She shifted position to face Bex better and beckoned the girl closer. “But it was wonderful, when they first told me. I was four, maybe five? My dad had been reading Matilda to me, out loud before bedtime. And it was just around my birthday when he finished. And then the next morning, he and my mother sat me down for a very serious grown up talk, and they explained that they knew what I had been getting up to on my own, floating toys, rotting vegetables, breaking glasses. At the time, I wasn’t totally sure if those things were me, or if I had a ghost--” She paused to snigger but waved it away, not wanting to bog Bex down with the depressing context. “And I still wasn’t sure what to make of what my parents were telling me, until my dad explained it. It was like Matilda, only it was real. And I loved that story so much and wanted it to be true so badly, I was ready for them to show me everything. And they did. I got a little kid friendly demonstration of what they could do, and then a very stern lecture from my mother about how magic was not a toy or a game or anything fun, and even if it was a part of me, a sacred, fundamental, inextricable part, it was still going to be a lot of work. But the lessons and everything else she had in store for me came after. That day was just for being happy, and for feeling...special. Like a girl in a book.”

Bex listened intently and wondered how her life would’ve been different had she known she had this power. Her mind hesitated to use the same words Nell and Morgan did. Magic was reserved for something unexplainable and mysterious, and this power seemed anything but. At the moment, it seemed frightening. Even as her curiosity piqued, she couldn’t help but remember only the pain it had caused her. The small joys she found in things like fixing a pot or making a plant grow slightly didn’t outweigh any of the fear that she felt. But she wanted to feel the way Morgan and Nell seemed to feel about it. She wanted it to be something more than an innate fear inside of her. But she didn’t know how to get there yet. “And you-- you said you’re Pagan. Is that-- did you grow up that way? With stories about m-magic and...stuff?” She wasn’t really sure what she was asking at this point, but she needed to work through the confusing questions before she could get to the ones she really wanted to ask. Her mind didn’t work any other way. She needed to process the small steps before the big ones.

Morgan squinted, trying to figure out where Bex was going with this. The girl was Jewish and proudly so, enough to start reading the Zohar rather than consider another faith. So where did Morgan’s religion come into anything? “Stories?” She repeated, trying to process. “The kind of paganism my family practiced had more to do with living in tandem with the flow of the earth, and the flow of the universe. There are, in other sects, deities, like the horned god and the morrigan, but we didn’t see them as beings with minds and wills that need to be appeased, but old, special names for broader forces, at best. But, there were rituals, the holy days follow the solstices and equinoxes, aligning the mind and spirit according to the seasons, growth, life, harvest, death. And we would use our magic, our power, to perform these rituals. And there were principals within this set of beliefs for how we should engage with our power. But the stories...the prayers we gave were to the earth, the stars, the elements. The story is just that...we belong here, and we should act like it. And it’s our job to remember that we have a will and an agency in our life, as a fundamental part of our existence. And we have to use that agency and work that will in a way that bends toward our highest and greatest good. But working your will isn’t always spellcasting. Sometimes it’s just being kind, or sticking up for yourself, or intervening when you see something wrong.” She sighed, unsure if this was the news Bex was hoping for or not. “I have some books on Celtic and Norse folklore and religion, if that’s something you were hoping to learn. I’m sorry if this isn’t...is there something you’re fishing for in particular, Bex?”

Bex recognized a lot of what Morgan was saying from the very text she had in her lap. Just...different. Connecting to the earth, to the flow of the universe, to the energy inside of it all. “I’ve always...struggled, to connect to my faith. I mean, I’ve been going to Temple every Sunday for as long as I can remember-- probably longer. But there was always this disconnect. I couldn’t understand what it was, I still don’t. And Judaism doesn’t really-- at least not Orthodox-- it’s not really erm, fond of...what I have. Or what...I am.” And perhaps they both knew she meant more than just magic. Her hands dug into each other, nervous peeling of nail beds. “And it’s not that our holy book doesn’t make room for people like me, or even people like you. Our God is about forgiveness and kindness and passing that on, and I always thought that, maybe, there was something inside of me that was wrong or bad, because how could I not relate to something like that? How could I not connect with something like that? And I guess I just wanted to know, if-if it was just me. If it’s just me. If-- if you ever struggled with it. With being that way while still staying faithful.” She chanced a tentative look up at Morgan. “But you...it was always a part of you. How does it work? How do you-- how do you do those things you said? Connect to the earth with your power?”

“Oh, Bex…” Morgan sighed. She had struggled, a lot. But not for any of those reasons. It was so much more awful than that, and went on for so much longer than anything she could bear to wish on Bex. She hung her head, sifting through her memories for some other excuse or rationale that wouldn’t feel dishonest. “There’s nothing inside you that’s wrong or bad, honey. How could there be? And feeling estranged or unwelcome or just disconnected--I feel like that’s more common than people realize. I believe that more people feel that than are willing to admit it. Honestly, I think it’s better to say so, than to do something you don’t mean.” But none of these assurances answered Bex’s question.

Morgan dug her hands into her skirt, tight enough that one of her fingers bent out of place. “The way I connect to everything now is different to how I did over a year ago,” she said quietly. “And even before then, I would struggle, yes. Left out. Left behind. Like everyone got a number and a place in line except for me, and whatever I did was squeezing in where I wasn’t wanted or taking something I wasn’t meant for. But I can’t…” she let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if that’s something I can talk about without knowing you’re going to believe me. I know you’ve been reading about--my family. The things that they did. That happened to them. But do you...believe in it, Bex? Do you understand what’s in there?”

Bex gave a confused look. It hurt her heart to hear how Morgan had suffered, and how she could relate to some of the ways Morgan said she’d struggled. Left behind, left out. Placed in a line you didn’t belong in but had to stay in. She was confused because she didn’t understand what Morgan was asking her. Hadn’t Morgan herself told her her family thought they were cursed? And if magic was real, then, by extension, so were curses. The Zohar talked about curses. It was forbidden. She put her hands back on the cover and tapped her fingers on it. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly, “I think I’m still-- trying to figure it all out. I mean, I believe that your family was cursed. It’s kinda hard not to when you read...all of that. But I don’t think what I think of as a curse is maybe what...you think of as a curse. It’s--” she looked back down at her book, “I don’t understand any of it. I’m just trying to wrap my head around the idea that I’m--that I have-- I don’t even know how to do that. I don’t know how to be this way. Even reading this, I don’t know what part of the world I fit into. I-- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just want to know how it all works. I’m tired of being in the dark about all of this,” she said, curling her knees up to her chest, the book pressed between. “You said if I wanted to get a handle on all of this, that I needed to stop lying to myself. But I...what if I don’t know what I’m lying to myself about? I don’t know what’s my truth anymore.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Morgan said, quieter still. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve told you before, I’d rather have your honesty than anything else.” She sniffled and offered a smile, though it came out sad. “And I could--” she paused to steady her voice and sighed. “I could tell you about all the things that happened to me, every three years, because of a nineteen-year-old girl’s curse of eternal suffering. And the things I ran away from, and the things I ruined, and the people I hurt, and the fear I carried, and all the times I wondered if I had done something to deserve it, and if it would make things better or worse if I had. And I could tell you about how the girl cast the spell, the Norse and Celtic sigils she cobbled together to make something more cruel than anything she had in her books. And if that is what you want, I will. Everything I know how to talk about is yours. But there is so much in this world, Bex. More than anyone can digest at once or even in two or three talks. It takes time…” She scratched at the corner of her eye, trying to check for tears leaking over the side without making a thing of it. “But I don’t know if that will give you what you want. I can tell you that it’s no more mysterious to be someone with your magic than it is to be any other part of yourself. That it’s just patience, acceptance, nurture. I can tell you that you know, your soul knows what’s true and what isn’t, but you have to bring that in, honey.” Slowly, hesitating, she reached out a hand, hovering by her hair in a silent request. “What is it that you’re afraid of being a lie? Or is there something you’re afraid of being true…?”

Bex put her chin on her knees as she listened. It wasn’t fair, everything Morgan was saying. It wasn’t fair, that Bex couldn’t understand. It wasn’t fair that the world was cruel to people who didn’t deserve it. How could she believe in a God, a power, that did that to others? She buried her face in her arms. She didn’t move when Morgan reached out to her, but she didn’t flinch away either. The fading bruises on her arms hurt. “Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?” she asked into her own skin. “Why are there so many parts of me that feel so wrong? You keep telling me there’s nothing wrong with me, but I feel-- I feel so wrong. And I just wanna know how to not feel that way. How did you do it? Did you ever think it was bad? This power? The way you-- the way we are? How come I have to be this way? I don’t want to be this way.” She sucked in a breath. They were going in circles. She was going in circles. “I’m afraid-- I’m afraid letting myself be this is going to change me.”

Morgan combed her fingers through Bex’s hair when she didn’t flinch away and shifted closer, so she didn’t have to reach so far. She stayed like that, finger combing Bex’s hair in slow, steady strokes while she spoke. “But what parts, Bex? There is nothing about you that deserves any shame. I’ve known you this long, and I’m only more proud to know you than I was before.” She brushed the tip of her finger along the shell of the girl’s ear. “You are only and ever you, Bex. Unless you’re breaking yourself into a different shape to please someone else. But something that’s in you, that’s as much a part of you as your bones, can’t do that.” She wished that there was a way, from all her talks with Deirdre over the last year she had learned something more useful than simply denying the false story and trying to make her own more persuasive. She didn’t know how to compel someone to change their mind, or how to lift the self loathing out of a heart. “You can only become more yourself through this. And no bad came from an accessible education. It’s ignorance that hurts. But can you tell me-- maybe I could assure you better, if I knew what you were afraid of changing.” She touched her knuckles to her cheek, realizing only at the fuzzy, nothing sensation that she wouldn’t be able to tell if the girl was burning up with anxiety, or anger. With a mournful sigh, she went back to combing Bex’s hair. “I want to help,” she murmured. “Explain it to me, as best you can. It doesn’t have to be perfect or anything. Maybe I can piece it together if you tell me a little more…”

Bex couldn’t tell yet if Morgan’s touch was comforting. She felt her fingers brushing gently through her hair and wondered if there was ever a time her mother had done this for her without the malice that had usually preceded it. She couldn’t remember. Her childhood felt like a movie that she could only observe from the outside. She could remember thinking, even as young as five, that something was wrong with her. Because lightbulbs exploded or lamps toppled over or windows broke and her parents would tell her it was bad. With their words, with their hands. And if it was bad, and it was part of her, then she, too, was bad. It wasn’t something she could think her way through, not when she’d been conditioned in the opposite direction. “I’m afraid I-- what if I can’t do it? What if I’m not good enough? I-- I already failed my parents. I can’t-- if I do what you want me to, if I accept what I am, I can’t go back. They won’t let me come back. And I-- I don’t even know what kind of person I really am. My parents shaped me as a child, and then my school shaped me as a teenager, and now it feels like this place is trying to shape me into something else and I don’t know who I am or if I ever was anything, or if I can take much more. And what if I’m not enough? What if I’m not good? Where will I go then? Who will I be then? If I change again, I lose again. I’m afraid if I change again I’m just going to be alone, and I don’t want...I can’t take that again.” She decided, then, that it was comforting. She leaned into Morgan, still curled up in herself. “I want to know how me being...magic is going to make anything better.”

Morgan eased an arm around Bex’s shoulders and tucked her in with a loose grip before turning her attention back to her hair. It was easier to focus on that than anything else. “Hey, hey--” she cooed. “I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself, Bex,” she said. “Not some performance you’re putting on out of fear, not some set of made up rules to fit someone else’s idea. That’s not living. I just want to know you. And who you are, the amazing, incredible things you are capable of--” she sighed. “I don’t really believe in good and bad. But if there is anyone who might be truly good at heart, it would be you. And it is your choices, the kindness you decide to give to others, to yourself, the levity you bring to try and cheer your friends, the risks you take in the hopes of something better, that is what defines you more than anything you’re born with or born as. The choices you make that are your own, not pressured or beaten or intimidated into you. But you will always have a place here, if you want it. And the reason why accepting yourself, being kind to yourself, is going to make anything better is that you will have so much more peace, and so much more control in every other area of your life. All that energy you spend hiding and shaming yourself and repressing your light can go to good things, fun things, neutral things, whatever you want. You will have so many more choices, better choices, ones that can help other people, help the world, because you will have cleared out all the ones that are consuming and breaking and killing you. And getting to do cool stuff, live-saving stuff, just by wanting to is just as awesome as it sounds. But that’s just my two cents, Bex. I’m not going to make you do anything while you’re here.” She pulled back just far enough to look at the girl. “Am I making any sense…?”

It wasn’t fair, Bex thought. None of this was fair. Nothing she’d been born with or as was fair. She wished it would all just...go away. She wished she’d never been born the way she was. She wished she’d never found out she had magic. But wishes only went so far. And Morgan was right, because fucking hell, Morgan was always right. That also didn’t feel fair, but Bex knew that was because she was just being childish. She wanted to believe everything Morgan was saying-- really, she did!-- but those parts of her that ached so deep inside it felt like a part of her kept from accepting the reality that yes, she could choose who she wanted to be. She’d never had the choice before. She felt a silence settling over herself. Tomato, she thought. But that also wasn’t fair. She’d been the one to come down here and ask Morgan to talk. The book felt suddenly heavy in her lap. Somehow, she’d thought reading it, understanding it, would make her feel better. It didn’t. Because it wasn’t that she didn’t believe in magic, or that she didn’t believe she was-- it was that she believed her magic was bad. And no book would change that. She lifted her head enough to look over at Morgan. “Yeah,” she answered quietly. She let out a long puff of air, looking away again and resting her chin on her knees. “I need to tell you something. And I know you already know, but I need to say it out loud. So that I can make it...feel real.”

There were a lot of ‘secrets’ Bex held that Morgan had already figured out, but she wasn’t about to guess which one. She soothed Bex’s shoulders with a brush of her fingers and shifted so she could meet her eyes. “Of course. Whatever you need, honey. Okay? You’re cared about just the same.” She offered another smile, brighter now. “What is it, Bex?”

Bex wished someone else had said that to her. Why hadn’t her own parents ever told her that? Whatever she needed. She wondered if she could ever call this place home. Wondered how a woman with ice cold hands could make her feel warmer than a woman with warm hands and an ice cold heart. She met Morgan’s eyes for a brief moment before looking away. “I’m trans,” she mumbled, “and I-- I know it doesn’t change anything, obviously, but I wanted to be the one to tell you.” She shifted and held out the book to her. “None of these books tell me anything about myself. Not about being trans or a witch, or anything else. I just wanted answers.”

Morgan’s smile widened, showing only kindness. “I wanted you to be the one to tell me too,” she said. “Thank you, Bex, for trusting me with this. I hope, so very much, that you give the rest of yourself the same ease, the--relief you must have had when you looked in the mirror and finally saw someone you recognized. Someday.” She looked down at the book and set it aside on the coffee table. It had been a well-meant idea, at least. “No one can tell you how to be yourself except for you,” she said. “But there are plenty of books and media resources for trans girls that we can track down, if you want, and no shortage of material on magic and being a witch. Maybe with the right materials, when you’re ready, you’ll be able to cast your transmutation yourself.I am sorry, though, that it can’t be any easier. Truly, Bex.”

“You know,” Bex started, “I knew I was a girl when I was, like, five? Six? I remember because I saw all the other girls in my class wearing dresses and I wanted nothing more than to wear a dress, too. I also remember telling my parents and I guess, at the time, things weren’t so bad, because they just said okay. And the next thing I knew, my closet was full of dresses and skirts and I got to grow my hair out. They pulled me out of school and put me in a new one. I wasn’t allowed to start hormones until I was older, but even then, they were on top of it.” It sounded like a dream come true, really. “Except...I realize now it was because they were afraid. They told me never to tell anyone, that it was our secret, and that if anyone tried to find out, to tell them and they’d take care of it.” She looked over at Morgan. “They gave me a good life. I got to grow up as a girl because of them. Do you know how many trans kids never get anything close to that?” Her eyes fell back to the book. “I’ve been blowing things up since I was about that age, too. They never said a word about it.” If they had that much shame for her being trans but still had the gall to pretend, then what did it say about her abilities? “Books are nice. But I think I need something more. I just don’t know what that is.”

“The absence of cruelty isn’t the same thing as the presence of kindness,” Morgan muttered. Maybe it would be smarter to play along with Bex’s deluded affection for her parents. She certainly understood it, and maybe there was even something good she couldn’t perceive and understand about holding onto those scraps of ‘love’ and pouring affection and apologism on them like water, hoping they’d grow into something. But her fear that Bex would think she agreed with her parents was much stronger. If she was going to fuck this up, maybe it could at least be for trying to be a voice of reason. “...It could be that they didn’t understand what they were seeing, when you were doing what every other child witch in the world does. Or they were in denial. You’d think people would realize that willful ignorance just hurts everyone, but I’ve known at least one person who holds onto it like it’s the only thing worth keeping. Maybe it’s easier to do that, than admit you’re miles out of your depth. I don’t know. Only they do.” And she certainly wasn’t going to encourage Bex to dial them up to ask. “If you figure it out, I’ll do everything I can to bring it to you. I want that for you. Okay?”

This wasn’t the way Bex had wanted things to go tonight at all. She’d wanted to talk to Morgan and get answers to her question and maybe figure out how to feel at least a little better about herself. It wasn’t that Morgan’s reassurances weren’t helpful or nice to hear, but she felt like she was going in circles. “I don’t think my parents like being wrong about anything,” she muttered in response. She shifted, then, and laid her head on Morgan’s shoulder, arms still tight around her legs. She looked at the bruises on her arms and the bandages that were finally starting to become less and less. “I wish my mom had been more like you,” she said without thinking too much on it. She didn’t want to think anymore, she’d thought about so much today. “Do you think I’m wrong, for still loving them?”

Morgan closed her eyes at Bex’s words and held her just a little tighter. She wanted that too. Horribly. Impossibly. And what could she say in response that wouldn’t tell on herself and ruin everything? “...I’m here,” she said at last, wavering. “And you’re not wrong, no.” She brought some of Bex’s hair over her shoulder and twirled it around her finger. “Maybe it hurts us more in the end, or leads to some kind of trouble, but I don’t know how many kids can help loving their parents, even when they’re cruel. Maybe we think if we hold on, they’ll learn to love us the way we want. Maybe it’s just...how it is,for better or worse. But whatever it is, I don’t think it says anything bad about you, that you want to love and forgive them so much. I just hope… that part of you doesn’t get hurt so much that you become afraid to use it at all.”

Bex stayed quiet. She listened to Morgan and felt the truth in her words and understood that it came from experience. How else could she know so well, the way Bex longed for her mother to one day hold her gently and tell her she really did love her, and she really was proud of her? How else would she understand the pain of not having that love? Of desperately wanting a sign, any sign, that it was possible? Bex finally uncurled herself and let herself be held. It still took conscious effort to remind herself that the hands holding her would not hurt her, but she allowed enough of that part of herself to quiet, and she relaxed in Morgan’s arms. “Do you love your mom still?”

Morgan sagged with relief as Bex uncurled and wrapped her up the way she’d been aching to. She let her head come down to rest on the girl and closed her eyes and let herself be still save for the slow, steady breathing she measured out in her head. She tried to think of Ruth Beck as seldom as possible, but she was hard to forget, living in close quarters with so many haunted women. It hurt, always, but thinking about the things her mother had done was easier than answering Bex’s question. She’d had four years to get over it. She’d turned the ghost of the woman away, when the answers she got weren’t what she wanted. What was she still holding onto, if she’d already rejected her? And yet she had left the door open, for something, anything to change for so long as her mother’s soul lingered. And what the hell for?

“Yes,” she admitted at last. “Very much still. I think I’d stop if I knew how, but I don’t.”

In some strange way, it was relieving to know that Morgan still loved her mother, too. Bex knew that her mother was a cruel woman, but she also knew that her mother could be gentle. She had been the one to buy her dresses as a child, and tell her that she could be a girl if she wanted. Bex even remembered falling asleep in her lap by the fire some nights, or sitting with her on the couch while they watched movies. She remembered bedtime stories and forehead kisses and burying herself in her mother’s arms when another parent had tried to scream at her for going in the women’s bathroom. Her mother’s cruelty wasn’t always towards Bex, but when she did turn it that way, Bex always forgave her. Time and time again. Because she loved her, and all she wanted was for her mother to love her back. “Does it still hurt? To love her?”

“Yes,” Morgan said. “Sometimes it feels worse than what she did. Or didn't do. I have every reason in the world not to love her anymore, and now that she’s--gone, mostly, there’s not much chance of a better ‘someday.’ But even when I remember everything, I uh--” She hiccuped a wet laugh. “I’m still just the little girl she didn’t want, wanting her to save me from my hurt.” She swiped at the tear rolling down her cheek before it could land on Bex’s hair. “And it wasn’t all bad, which makes it worse, in a way. Maybe. I tell myself if it was all bad, I’d let her go easier, but maybe it would be more of the same.” She shrugged. “She’s the one who taught me how to cook. Made the best birthday cakes. Probably the alchemy.”

The familiarity of Morgan’s words hit Bex like a punch to the gut. Not that she’d ever been punched in the gut, but she assumed this was what it felt like. It felt a little bit like her future was being told to her, laid out in front of her. She didn’t have to hear it or see it to know there was probably a tear in Morgan’s eye. She’d pretend she didn’t know. Instead, she settled in closer and put her arm around Morgan. “Will you teach me how to cook?” she asked into the quiet.

Morgan’s next tearful laugh came out more freely and she didn’t even bother to hide her sniffles, understanding that Bex knew. This was her present. Her wounds were still raw and infected. “Absolutely, Bex.” She gave her a quick squeeze. “Besides, Deirdre’s too easily distracted to ever let me teach her, and we need to save the rest of the pots from burnt water somehow, right?”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: morgan #a mother's touch #domestic abuse mention tw #child abuse mention tw #transphobia tw

7 notes · View notes