#because maybe that’s how they help. a bed to sleep in. mindless tasks they give as distractions. a space to not be alone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drxwsyni · 4 years

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Pumpkin Pie

Pairing: Yandere Dabi x f!Reader

Summary: With the fall season upon you, a longing settles as you yearn for the seasonal festivities. Unable to let you go, Dabi decides to bring the autumn warmth to you from the safety of his apartment.

a/n: I really can’t excuse my unhealthy obsession for fall and soft!yan dabi, this is just a byproduct of that.

Here’s the pumpkin pie recipe I referenced, along with the string lights I had in mind. Also feel free to listen to a soft yan dabi playlist I made while reading!

4.5k words

Warnings: unhealthy relationship, captivity, stockholm syndrome

_____

If you pressed your hand to the glass of the window, you’d be able to feel the chill of fall seeping through it. Cold to the touch, letting you know that the visual of warm reds, oranges and yellows against the trees were accompanied by the drop in temperature.

Whether you were thankful for it or not, such a frigidness did not occupy your space, fought off by the heat that Dabi provided. Nestled into the window seat, you were curled up under a blanket in his apartment. A small and discrete complex, nothing shabby in the slightest, nestled on the edge of town.

Eyes following the movements of nature outside, you could see the rustle of the trees, wind blowing and stirring fallen leaves on the ground. Perhaps you would open a window, listen to the howling against it’s frame, hear the tumbling of foliage below you. But, you knew the window was locked, the glass not pure and fragile, instead being clear acrylic that wouldn’t break no matter what you did.

How you longed to feel that fall breeze on your skin, the goosebumps it would bring only a welcomed sensation. To have the leaves crinkle underneath your feet, breaking apart and scattering along the pavement. Sure, from where you sat, you could take in the view of the autumnal changes for as long as you wanted, ease the ache with it’s scenery from one spot.

Only, that’s not what you wanted.

Seeing was nothing like feeling. And right now, all you felt was the stagnant air of your shared bedroom. It was warm, unmoving. No sounds of outside life carried through the apartment, such a thing completely shut out by locked doors and sealed windows.

The smell, however―it wasn’t exactly one of desired freedom, but you couldn’t deny that it was strangely fitting for the season. Like burnt wood, smokey and subduing. Dabi always carried a certain scent that honestly wasn’t quite one you minded. Even his cologne complimented the natural air of something distinctly smouldered. Not overpowering, and not something to be hated.

But right now, the way it went hand in hand with the fall aura―it only shot a pang of sadness through your heart. The worst part about it was that you couldn’t quite place where such a sensation came from.

Because even after everything that happened between you and Dabi, what he’d done to you, you couldn’t bring yourself to detest the man.

Dabi never hurts you, he loves you wholeheartedly, a passion reserved to be put on full display in your presence. He’d do anything for you, if it meant you’d be safe―if it meant you’d feel loved (by him, of course). His unwavering gentleness he used on you, and only you was the sole reason you found it difficult to explain why you felt such distress.

That painful seed planted in your being had been growing for weeks now, you none the wiser as to how to get it to pass. It didn’t do anything to make you want to abandon Dabi, to have you seeking an escape from his fortified protection.

What it did do was slowly overtake your mind, drowning you in its suffocating disquietness, leaving you less responsive with each passing day.

You’d been with Dabi since the end of last winter, and not seeing much point in denying the comfort he brought, or rather not being able to, it didn’t take long to adopt a certain complacency. That didn’t mean you were overjoyed to be stuck in his apartment though. Not even close, in fact. By now you were just used to it, existing in its space because it was the only thing you could do.

And yet in these few passing weeks, the small routine you’d formed had slipped into the dark cloudiness of the back of your mind, your once somewhat lively behaviour dulled down in the presence of an invisible weight.

You let yourself go to the unsettling and energy leeching feeling, not even noticing it was sapping all of your motivation to do much of anything.

Naturally though, Dabi was keenly aware of the change in your behaviour.

When you started sleeping in a little longer, he didn’t think twice about it. Thought maybe you needed the extra shut eye, hoping it would make you feel better. Each day you stayed in bed a little longer, and eventually he realized you weren’t even sleeping―just mindlessly staring out the window.

You gave a noncommittal response when he questioned you on it. Something stirred inside of you at the worried look in his eyes, the knit in his brows as he sat on the edge of the bed, you still under the heavy covers.

In that moment, the two of you were polar opposites.

Confused at the way his concern made you feel, but quickly moving on once he left you to your devices. And Dabi, remaining fixated on your lack of response, knowing exactly what was wrong despite the few words you offered him.

Since that day, he never bothered to ask you what in particular seemed to be getting you down. Instead, he did what he could to be there for you. Praising you for any small accomplishments, helping you take care of yourself. And, of course, giving you all the affection you could possibly need.

But even then, no amount of reassurances and gentle embraces altered your quieted mood.

While you felt less and less with each day, only the indescribably pit in your stomach a tangible emotion, Dabi grew more conflicted.

He couldn’t let you go out.

It pained him to no ends seeing you like this―suddenly a dull shell of a human that you used to be. And he was trying everything he could think of to make you feel better, yet still it was all for naught. He knew that you wanted to go outside, the one thing he couldn’t give you. Even though you’d been exceptionally good for him, it still wasn’t time for that to happen.

You weren’t stepping foot outside of his apartment anytime soon, which meant that there was no chance you’d be able to seek the environment that was causing you such anguish.

But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t bring the fall festivities to you.

_____

Right now, it seemed your only routine consisted of getting lost in the passing day outside, curled up on the window seat as usual. Nothing was ever out of the ordinary like this.

So when the aroma of fresh baked goods wafted into the room, it stood out like a sore thumb.

The sounds of clinking utensils and shuffling in the kitchen normally faded into the background in your mind of wandering thoughts. Only now, the sound held a distinct forefront in your senses, sparking curiosity inside you.

Body moving on its own, your sock clad feet landed on the floorboards as you rose from your seat, abandoning the view from the window in favour of seeking that of the kitchen. You felt a little hesitant, more unsure of whether you really cared enough to find out what was happening, when you could just as easily resume your long houred and mindless behaviour.

However, whatever was baking in the oven had a stronger hold on you than the outside world at the moment.

Creaking at the hinges, the bedroom door opened as you pushed past it, following the strangely comforting scent. Padding down the hallway, you soon met your destination, now coming face to face with whatever commotion had prompted you to venture this far.

Your curious eyes landed upon Dabi’s figure, rummaging through a brown paper grocery bag, pulling out the items and setting them on the countertop. Likely heading for the drawer behind him, he turned only to find you, standing just a small distance away.

Examining your face, he found that even just slightly, it held a peak of interest―the most you’d shown in nearly a month.

“Well hey there, sweets. What brings you around these parts?”

Wordless, your gaze drifted to the oven, a warm and low light shining through the glass panel of the door. A little nervously, your hands fiddled in front of you, not really knowing what to say.

That you forgot what fresh baked goods smelled like, and whatever was in the oven was literally making your mouth water?

In that low and raspy voice of his, Dabi chuckled a little to himself, resuming the task at hand. “Smell good? Hope it does―I haven’t got a single goddamn clue if I made the pie crust right.” Speaking through his actions, he grabbed a few measuring cups and spoons, shutting the drawer and making his way back to the counter with ingredients splayed across it haphazardly.

Once again, your curiosity got the better of you. “You’re making pie?”

Without looking at you, Dabi smoothly replied in a teasing tone. “Pumpkin pie―for my pumpkin.” At that he shot you a cheeky wink, the unanticipated comment causing your cheeks to heat up.

Seeing how just that brief sentiment already had you speechless for the moment, he continued.

“Come help me, make sure I don’t fuck this up, yeah?” Waiting for a response, he rested a hand on the counter, a small smile quirked on his lips.

It could’ve been how the pie crust’s aroma was quite literally tantalizing, or just that you didn’t want to deal with trying to negotiate your way out of this―but something inside of you didn’t want to let this strange chance for a heartwarming fall festivity go.

“Yeah, okay...I guess.”

Looking satisfied at your words, but not too much (he did have to try and contain his excitement after all), Dabi simply gave you a nod. “Good, go wash your hands then, squirt.”

Without another word, he began rooting through the ingredients and utensils once again, expecting you to heed his words.

And heed his words you did, making your way to the sink and soaking your hands in the warm water and soap. Drying yourself off, you stepped up to the counter where he was at, seeing all the things on display and at the ready.

Dabi had a printed out recipe propped up against a bag of flour, visible smudges of the substance lingering on the paper’s edges. Looking down, you saw that the pumpkin puree was already in a mixing bowl, the cans they came in nowhere to be seen.

“Think you can crack some eggs for me?” Reaching for the open carton, he handed you said eggs in question.

One at a time, you cracked three of them open against the edge of the bowl, doing your best not to get any shells in the mixture. While you were at it, Dabi got the brown sugar ready, a pleased smile threatening to grow as he watched you comply, you even behaving quite eagerly with night he’d set up for the both of you.

Just as if everything in the world was right, and the circumstances for you being there with him wasn’t as dark as you once recalled it out to be, the two of you settled into a comfortable air. You, relaxed as Dabi helped you measure out ingredients, a certain light in your eyes as you completed each step. And of course, the bubbling adoration he felt continued to simmer in his chest as you became more engrossed with something as simple as baking a pumpkin pie with each passing second.

The ingredients were slowly added to the bowl, Dabi laughing a little when you fussed over making sure you put in the proper amount of cinnamon, shooting down his idea to just eyeball it instead. When everything was finally in, the counter dusted with spices and cornstarch, you started whisking it together.

Or, well...you tried to, at least.

You huffed as the bowl kept sliding across the counter, you unable to hold it in place and stir at the same time.

Of course, Dabi found your little frustrated pout downright adorable. But for fear of you giving up and retiring to your room, he managed to find it in himself to help you.

As he sidled up behind your struggling form, you tensed slightly, only because you weren’t expecting the contact. Semi-scarred arms wrapped around you, Dabi peering over your shoulder with your back pressed into his chest. He gripped the bowl with both hands, pressing a quick light and chaste kiss onto the side of your head.

“Try it now.”

Once again following his instructions, you stirred the bowl’s contents in a circular motion, Dabi’s assistance greatly appreciated as you whisked it all together with ease. Not too much time later, the wet and dry ingredients were perfectly incorporated, creating a thick and reddish-brown, spice speckled mixture. You finished up your work with a tired but satisfied sigh, earning a proud “Atta girl,” from behind you.

Right in time for the oven to go off, Dabi reluctantly pulled away from you, taking his unique sense of heat with him. In oven mitt clad hands, he pulled out the halfway baked pie crust and set it upon the towel lined counter.

“Alright, scooch―don’t need you burning yourself.”

Not really knowing what else to do, you let Dabi take the reins as he poured the pumpkin filling into the pan, inserting it back into the oven and setting the timer for an hour. With that, he dusted his hands off on his black sweatpants, regrettably eying the mess the two of you had made.

For the first time that night, you spoke up before he did. “I guess...we should probably clean up a little?”

Dabi smiled, “...Guess we should.”

Falling into an unconscious routine you once knew, one you’d go through in a time before meeting Dabi, you moved about the kitchen and tidied up after yourself. You wiped down the counter and put everything away as he cleaned and rinsed the bowls and measuring cups, setting them on the drying rack. When the two of you were done, there was still roughly thirty or so minutes of time left for the pie to bake.

Hanging up a cup towel, you just barely got it on a hook before a set of hands spun you around by your hips. In the same motion, Dabi pushed you towards the counter’s edge, hoisting you up on its surface. Before you could get a word out, he was peppering your face in ghosted kisses, hands creeping up underneath your shirt and squeezing playfully at your waist.

A quiet fit of pleasantly confused giggles erupted from you, squirming in his grasp. You could feel the grin on Dabi’s face against your skin as he remained unrelenting with the sudden wave of affection, not budging as you not so seriously pushed against his broad chest. His body now slotted in between your legs, a hand left your waist in favour of cupping your cheek, before bringing you into a deep and passionate kiss.

Being so caught up in putting all your effort into sporadically baking pie on this dreary autumn evening, you didn’t even realize that the strange inexplicable feeling that had gripped you for weeks on end was slipping. Losing its hold on you more and more as Dabi’s lips moved against yours, arm circling around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

When he finally did part from you, a hint of a blush could be made out on his cheeks, you feeling a similar warmth in yours at the sudden intimacy displayed by the cremation user.

Noticing your mildly shocked expression, he let out a breathy exhale that could almost be excused as a laugh. “Sorry―couldn’t resist…”

You stayed where you were, only looking to the side, a little embarrassed yourself. “S’fine, I didn’t mind.” It wasn’t like he’d never done something like that before after all, it in fact paling in comparison to some of the other things you’d done with him during the dead of night.

He knew that just as much as you, but even after all this time, feeling you against him never failed to send a surge of yearning emotions through him. Such a sensation he found himself unable to replicate anywhere else, that not mattering when he would ever want to experience it if it wasn’t with you.

In an attempt to diffuse your clear sheepishness, Dabi slinked away, headed for the other side of the kitchen. “Got something for you,” he said matter of factly. Returning to your form perched on the countertop, he settled a grey and weighted plastic bag on your lap.

You gave him an inquisitive look, finding a spark of confidence deep inside you to poke at his intentions. “What’s the occasion?” Fingers carefully delving into the bag, you tore your eyes from his strikingly blue ones.

He took his place back in between your legs, leaning against the counter while observing you closely. “Didn’t know I needed a reason to give you a gift.”

Peering into the bag, you spoke while reaching for its contents. “Well...I guess you don’t, s’just kinda sudden is all.”

Dabi let out a low hum in response, the noise reverberating in his chest. “Just―hurry up and take a look, would’ya?”

Finding humour in his insistence, you softly shook your head, the corner of your lip drawing upwards. Not wanting to leave either of you waiting any longer, you pulled out a small cardboard box, about the size of your hand. Studying it a little more closely, you came to realize what it contained―string lights.

Looking through the sheer plastic panel, you could see the ropes of wires, all adorned with tiny LED lights encased in clear plastic maple leaves. Reds, oranges and yellows shone back at you when you pressed the test button on the outside of the box, its light illuminating both of your faces.

With a slight change in tone, leaning more towards a gentle reassurance, Dabi spoke when the silence continued to linger. “Figured you could put them around the window in our bedroom, or something…”

For a moment, you let the warm light cascade across the both of your features, eyes sparkling at the wonderful display of ambiance. You quickly got lost in its glow, a foreign object pulling you in and keeping you entranced.

Dabi however was growing a tad bit antsy, not being able to fully read your reaction. Always one to take matters into his own hands, at least when it came to you, he gently prompted you to hop off the counter. “C’mon, doll―why don’t you go hang ‘em up?”

Deep down, you could feel the stirring of appreciation building inside of you, genuinely moved at this little gift. So, you made no actions to stop him as Dabi helped you down, taking you by the hand and leading you to the bedroom. You watched patiently, if not quite enraptured as he pulled out the string lights from the box, unraveling them carefully. He set the cardboard container aside on the nightstand, motioning with a wave of his hand for you to join him near the window.

Hands slightly shaky, you worked to pin up the lights around the window’s frame. Dabi snickered to himself behind you when you jumped as he tried to steady you, hands suddenly grasping your hips as you stood on the seat trying to reach the top of the window. A little irked at his shameless actions, you sent him a tiny, unserious glare over your shoulder, only earning a knowing grin from him.

When everything was said and done, you stood back and flicked the switch, letting the mostly dimmed room be bathed in the comfortable glow it emitted. The illuminated leaves bounced off the reflective window, speckling it with even more light.

Oddly, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, the sight resonated nicely inside of you. Standing in its view, you didn’t even realize that a small smile had overtaken your expression. No words needed to be said to tell him that you were more pleased than you thought you’d be with the gift―not when the look on your face, how your eyes roamed over the decorations in awe told him all he needed to know.

Just as he was about to unleash a cheesy but loving sentiment upon you, the timer for the oven rang out, the both of you turning your heads with the sound.

From where you stood, the scent of the freshly baked dessert smelled amazing.

...If only it looked just as good.

It was your turn to laugh this time, Dabi sighing as he took the pie from the oven. To be honest, you weren’t entirely surprised to find that the crust was burnt to a degree that wouldn’t likely be edible.

Although, it would seem Dabi wasn’t very much shocked at the sight either. After setting the pan down on the counter, he walked over to the fridge, running a hand through his dark locks at the same time. “Kinda figured I’d find a way to fuck it up―I thought you were supposed to keep that from happening?”

You swung your legs as they failed to touch the floor from your seat, “I think it would’ve ended like that regardless…”

In any case, he certainly wasn’t going to let the high spirits die down, especially now that he had you acting a little more like yourself. So, he pulled Plan B from the fridge.

Another pumpkin pie was set down in front of you, pre-made, with a can of whipped cream on the side.

“Well, I hope you’ll take a store bought one. Probably better than anything I could come up with anyways.”

_____

The pie he picked up on the way home turned out to be just fine, and Dabi was glad that he took that precaution. Especially now that you were back to being curled up on the window seat, because this time you weren’t alone.

You let him join you, pulling you into his lap and wrapping you in a soft blanket. It had started to rain outside, and what would normally bring a dreary atmosphere only made him want to hold you closer.

Yes, maybe Dabi did turn down the heat in the apartment just so you’d gravitate towards him, but you didn’t need to know that. Not when you were so perfectly wrapped in his arms, the warm hues of the string lights surrounding you, a comforting lingering of the pumpkin aroma hanging in the air.

He would've loved for you to start a conversation, but Dabi knew that was unlikely to happen. Ever since he found you coming to terms with your situation with him, you grew considerably quiet. Painfully so in these past few weeks, not many words graced your lips. It was why the events of this afternoon meant so much to him.

For the first time in a long time, his actions seemed to be getting through to you. Even just this morning, the fleeting kiss he pressed into your cheek didn’t do all that much to earn a reaction. And yet, here you were now practically melting into his embrace.

As much as he wanted to bask in the ways you were coming around to him once again in such a short matter of time, the returned silence between the two of you was unsettling on his part. He could tell there was a still remaining sense of happiness inside you from the night's activities, and you were likely satisfied with what had unfolded.

But Dabi wasn’t―not quite yet.

“...You know I love you, right?”

The seconds that ticked by without a reply from you felt like hours in his mind. Though eventually you did respond, offering a small nod in understanding to his question.

Dabi brought a hand to the crown of your head, smoothing down your hair in soothing motions as he continued. “You asked what the occasion was...s’cause I just wanna see you happy.”

He hadn’t brought up his concerns with you since you more or less shut down in front of his eyes, for fear that pushing you would only make you resent him more. Yet now, in the comfort of feeling you lean into him, patiently letting him unload his worries upon you, his will to contain such feelings weakened.

“I wanna make you feel loved, but it’s hard when you shut me out.”

Something painful tugged in your chest as you heard him let out a shaky breath, the arm around you tightening its hold.

“I know I can’t give you what you really want, but I’m not just gonna watch you disappear on me either.”

Despite his words notioning to a past that would normally bring about anguish, the unbridled adoration laced into his tone made you look past all of that. It sounded strange, such promises coming from someone so harsh and gravely, but it only made it all the more sweeter. Because you knew he was only like that with you, telling you in ways that words could never describe just how much you meant to him.

In truth, you found it hard to decide on what to say―what he wanted to hear, while also being your truth at the same time. For reasons you couldn’t quite comprehend, the words on your tongue that you wanted to repeat back at him, those he’d told you countless times before―you couldn’t force them out. Call it shyness, but in the end it didn’t matter.

For now, you could only say what you were confident in. “Thank you for tonight, I-I had a lot of fun…”

If you looked hard enough, you’d be able to see how his features softened at your bashfully spoken admittance, his face illuminated by the string lights and reflecting in the window panes. Only, the fact that you were shyly burrowing your face into his chest ruined that chance, you bringing the blanket further up your body.

Even if he did want to hear more of your voice, Dabi was now more than satisfied with what he was given. He knew of the words you couldn’t tell him, reading it in the way you let him hold you, how you sought out a warmth that only he could provide. And really, there was more than enough time for you to work up the courage you lacked at the moment.

You weren’t going anywhere, and neither was he. While although the seasons outside continued to change, his love for you would always remain the same. Unfaltering, never withering as you only made those feelings grow more, if that was even possible.

Dabi made a note that he’d try to bring to you all the things you longed for from the safety of his home. Hopefully, that would be enough. And judging by how well tonight's festivities were received, he could take a guess that it was only a matter of time until you’d make it out of this seasonal funk you were in.

Choosing now to simply enjoy having you so close, Dabi resolved that his efforts were a success. He joined you in gazing out the window, the rain falling in steady streams and washing away the fallen leaves of the day.

“Anytime, doll.”

#yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere bnha x reader #yandere x you #yandere writing #tw stockholm syndrome #tw unhealthy relationship #tw captivity

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reki-of-the-valley · 3 years

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Boy Like a Fading Dream

A part two of the uni AU? More like a "I wanted to characterize the Langa of this AU". Wrote it a couple of days ago but didn't want to back-to-back post, just give a few days for the first part to settle in.

Find it on AO3 here!

Context: For his skills on a snowboard, Langa landed himself a scholarship. But he hates it. He hates his studies. He hates the athletic training. He just wants to go back to the time when it was fun, racing his dad to the bottom of the mountain.

“Where’s dad?”

Langa lets his bag hit the ground with a thud as he kicks off his shoes. His mother is in the living room; she’s cutting carrots in front of some sitcom. She lifts her head to smile at her son as soon as he enters her line of sight.

“How was your day, baby?”

Langa sighs as he crashes next to her. He feels her watch him as he picks up a carrot from the bowl before snapping it in half between his teeth. He feels her gaze, just as heavy as his eyelids are.

“Tiring.”

It’s all he manages to say to her. It’s all he finds to say. Tiring. His days are always just tiring.

“Did you have fun at practice?”

Fun? Langa barely remembers what that feels like. Fun, it feels like a foreign word now. He knows he must have felt it in the past, the thrill of gliding down the snowy slopes, but now it’s anything but fun. Snowboarding isn’t fun anymore, especially when there’s no snow outside. Especially when he’s cooped up in a gym rather than out on the open mountains.

So was training fun? No. No, it wasn’t.

“It was fine,” he lies. He can’t tell his mother how much he hates it. He can’t tell her when it’s what’s paying for his education – an education he also hates. “The usual, you know.”

Nanako pats his arm, her smile sweet and ever so motherly. “That’s good, baby. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Langa sucks in a breath as his mother presses a kiss to his hair. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. If only she knew how big a lie that was. He would have done anything to just quit everything right now and lay in bed for the next ten years. Everything lost its appeal. If only everything could stop just for a moment, just for a minute, just enough time for Langa to catch his breath.

“Dad’s not home yet, is he?”

Nanako shakes her head. “He’s staying late tonight. He has a project that’s due, I think, tomorrow? Something about his team not being up-to-date so he has to stay late.”

Langa sighs again as he straightens out on the couch. He grabs another carrot before getting up to fetch his bag.

“I have to go study.”

Nanako doesn’t say anything as he leaves to climb the stairs that lead to his bedroom. Langa knows she’s watching him, watching his every move, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she can sense his disappointment. Maybe she knows that he’s lying to her.

Langa crashes in his bed, slinging his bag at the end of his mattress where it bounced before falling among the pile of dirty clothes he’s thrown aside. His room is a mess, but he can’t bring himself to clear out his trash. He’s already in a deficit of energy when just doing his mundane daily tasks. So he crashes among his pillows and pulls out his phone.

It's automatic, the swiping left and clicking on the app. It’s become a routine, crashing in bed and opening Instagram to scroll mindlessly. Langa doesn’t actually care for what’s on his screen, he just needs something to do, something to make him forget about the emptiness that’s formed in his chest.

So he scrolls. Pictures of old friends from high school, professional pictures and reels of snowboarders, screenshots of old Tumblr posts, reels of animals being cute, Langa scrolls through them all. He scrolls, scrolls until everything on his phone becomes a big blur. He scrolls until his phone slips from his fingers, falling flat on his face.

Another sigh as he turns to his side. His phone rests against his pillow as he goes back to scrolling. Always scrolling, numbing everything he’s ever felt. Because Langa does feel. He feels a million things, but none of those feelings are good. Frustration, loneliness, exhaustion, the list can go on. He hates all his feelings, especially that hollow feeling of disappointment that has been growing over the past year or so.

A notification pulls Langa out of his mindless scrolling. He usually ignores them, swiping them away, but for some reason, this one catches his attention. For some reason, he clicks it rather than get rid of it. The flash of red catches his attention.

.MechanicStarReki. – Suggested for you

Langa squints at his screen. The name doesn’t ring a bell but the face seems familiar. Familiar, but he can’t pinpoint where exactly it is that he’s seen it. His memory of the familiar face is hazy, like that of a dream starting to fade as morning takes shape. Familiar yet so foreign.

Langa scrolls through the profile, careful to not make his presence known. Most of the captions are in Japanese and he can’t find it in himself to decipher their meaning. He knows with a little effort, and maybe a little help from a translator app or from his mother, he could read the words, but he doesn’t bother. He contents himself with the scarce English. He contents himself with the many pictures of a boy with red hair.

The last post dates back a few weeks, a set of pictures with the caption “See you for Christmas.” The pictures show the redhead hugging who Langa assumes to be his sisters. They all look too much alike for them to not be family. Langa swipes between the pictures, taking in the scene: two school-aged girls cling to the boy, identical in all ways except the color of their dresses. He’s hugging them, a wide grin stretching across his face. Langa swipes again. Another girl is shown in the picture – she must be around 15. She’s pouting, but the sun reflects against the tears that had started to form at the corner of her eyes as she hugs the boy. Her eyes are the same color as his, a deep amber color that Langa knows he’s seen somewhere. He knows he's seen the boy, but he also knows it’s impossible. He can’t have seen him, not with the location associated with the picture: Okinawa, Japan. There’s no way he’s ever seen this boy; Langa’s only been to Japan once, the summer before he started high school.

Langa moves on from the set of pictures. He scrolls down, analyzing everything that has been posted over the years. Skateboards, sketches of various types, doodles, the boy with his friends, more of his family. Langa always pauses on the pictures of him. He always squints at him as if that would help him remember where he’s seen him.

A part of Langa knows that this is obsessive behavior, that he should just let it go, but he needs to know. He needs to know where he’s seen those faded freckles against sun-kissed skin. He needs to know where he’s seen those bright amber eyes. He needs to know where he’s seen that lopsided grin. He needs to know where he’s seen this boy, this boy that feels like a fading dream.

Does he resemble an actor from one of his mother’s shows, the Japanese ones she puts on while she cooks? No, that’s not it. He’s too young to look like any of those actors. Anyway, Langa never pays attention to the actors on the screen; he only knows the story because his mother has been following the ridiculous drama for years now. So the boy doesn’t just look like someone Langa might have seen on tv.

Does he look like an athlete Langa’s watched perform time after time, desperately trying to analyze his technique in hopes of recreating whatever is being done? No, it isn’t that either. Langa never recognizes the athletes, even when they tell him they've been competing against each other for years. He remembers their boards, but never their faces. So it isn’t that.

No matter how much Langa rakes his brain, he can’t find where it is that he’s seen the grin, the bright eyes, the freckles. Maybe the boy really is a figment of his imagination, a face given to a faceless dream that comes back every so often. Maybe he’s caught a glance of someone who looks like him in the street, or maybe it’s just a mere coincidence that the boy Langa’s made up looks like him, a mixture of a bunch of features that gave someone real. Or maybe Langa is delusional from his lack of sleep.

Langa drops his phone as his door is pushed open. He knows his mother knocked, but when he gets lost in his own little world, nothing else exists. Nothing exists until his bubble bursts.

“Langa sweetheart?” Nanako is standing in the doorway. She's looking at him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her usual worry is evident in her features. “Is everything alright?”

Langa shifts, pushing his legs off of his bed to sit up. He nods at his mother, his words failing him. He hates how he finds himself unable to speak.

“Are you sure?” She shifts her weight to the side. Worry. “I’ve been calling you to set the table for the past 10 minutes now.”

Langa blinks at his mother before apologizing. He hadn’t heard her, he says. He had gotten lost in his own little world. He’s sorry, he’ll be down in a minute to set the table.

“Langa.” Nanako’s voice pierces through him as he fishes his phone out from under his pillow. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Langa almost cracks. He almost tells her. He almost admits that he hates everything he’s doing. He almost admits that he hates going to school. He almost admits that he hates training. He almost admits that the thing he hates most is himself. Almost, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be able to survive the disappointed look on his mother’s face. He knows she would understand, that she’d tell him he’s allowed to quit, that she would support him no matter what, but he also knows she would be disappointed.

So he just smiles at her, that closed-mouthed smile he’s been practicing for years.

“I’m just tired.”

Nanako nods before making her way to him. She holds him tightly against herself, the warm embrace of a mother. And for a moment, Langa doesn’t hate himself.

“If you’re tired, I can bring your food up. You don’t have to eat downstairs if it’s too much.”

Langa shakes his head. Dinnertime is the only time of the day where he can spend time with his parents. Between classes and training, he’s barely ever home. It’s the only time where things feel normal, like they were back in the day when Langa was young, doing homework at the kitchen table while his mother cooked, explaining to him what he had to do. It’s the only time where he feels like they’re a family again.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

Nanako sighs as she steps away from him, nodding. A small, tired smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she turns back to him, halfway through the door.

“You promise you’d tell me if something was bothering you?”

Langa nods, promising, but the promise is hollow, his fingers crossed behind his back. It’s broken before even being uttered because Langa knows that he can’t make that promise. There’s just no way that he can promise such a thing. He can’t bring himself to tell anyone about how he feels. But still, he smiles and nods at his mother as she makes her way out of his room, down the stairs, back to the kitchen. He smiles until he can’t bear it anymore and crystal tears fall from his eyes, fall right onto the picture of the grinning boy in his phone, the phone he's been gripping so tightly.

#oh yeah Oliver is alive for this one #Given that I want to make Langa miserable I had to give him back one happy thing #and his dad seemed like a good thing to give back #And without a dead dad he can stay in Canada #Sorry for the lack of concrete Renga #Given that I like this AU but don't actually have a plot for it it'll be a bunch of snippets #and snippets means that there will eventually be concrete renga content #but I had to establish this 'background' first #Also it's 2021 all the kids are miserable in one way or another because I'm mean and have been feeling like shit lately #I really hate the titles of these but I don't have the energy to think of something good #renga #snowgear #lanreki #langa x reki #reki x langa #langa hasegawa #langa #hasegawa langa #reki #kyan reki #reki kyan #nanako hasegawa #hasegawa nanako #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #lils writes

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echo-of-sounds · 4 years

Text

adhd pt.2

How Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Midnight would help and support their s/o who has ADHD. Midnight’s are a little shorter than the others. I had a hard time thinking of more headcanons for her.

Warnings: nothing incredibly explicit, but a couple of these talk about sex

Toyomitsu Taishiro

Tai is a friendly guy. He talks to everyone when you're out and about. Sometimes it's fine. Sometimes it's a lot to handle. He wants you to immediately tell him when you’re starting to feel overstimulated or anxious. Before it gets too bad, he’ll carry you to a safe space. And it doesn’t matter where you are, his sweatshirts are yours. Weight can be very grounding and with his size, they’re very heavy. He’ll hold you close and talk you through the emotions.

Any time you lash out, he might try to ease the tension by making a joke. If you’ve ever been angry, you know jokes just make it worse. He’ll give you time to gather yourself when he realizes you’re actually angry. He won’t snap back. Fighting isn’t what he wants to do. Take some time to cool down. You’ll find him waiting for you with a smile. It’s hard to get him angry and it doesn't hurt his feelings when you lash out, but you should still apologize. He would appreciate it.

Feelings overwhelmed can erupt suddenly. When you sit down at your desk and there are five notebooks, scattered pens and pencils, loose papers, and just useless junk everywhere, you feel completely engulfed under them. It’s almost like you can’t breathe. You don’t know where to start or what to do. Tai will set some time aside to help you sort through your stuff. He may not know exactly where everything goes, but he really wants to help. He hates the look on your face when you’re overwhelmed and he’ll do anything to make it go away.

Lack of restraint and risk-taking behaviors are the most concerning to him. Sure, impulsively buying a dumb stuffed animal is one thing. But buying a new gaming system and four video games is another. The costs add up quickly. Or maybe you take another shot at the bar because screw it, you only live once. Then you do that over and over. ‘Just another shot’ turns into ten more. Your safety is always his number one priority and he worries himself sick thinking you’re going to damage your finances, career, or worse, yourself.

If you didn’t catch what he said, he has no problem repeating himself. Though he worries you aren’t paying attention while you’re in public or when something important is happening. He doesn’t want you mindlessly agreeing to something that you don’t actually want to do or potentially getting hurt. Like how you fling your arms out when you’re talking and hit someone or a wall. To ease his anxiety about you, he’ll hold your hand a lot and offer to give you piggyback rides.

He has a little trouble focusing on smaller tasks as well. He would much rather be doing fun activities out in the world. So he understands your trouble. He also understands how you forget to vacuum even though you promised you would. He isn’t annoyed. He’ll remind you when you’re home to do it.

Since Tai is such a big guy he taught himself to be gentle early on in his life, particularly when it comes to sex, therefore he isn’t worried if you have sexual hypersensitivities. He's also great at communication and loves talking. He’ll ask what positions you can’t do and where you don’t like to be touched to ensure your comfort is at its max. During sex, if your attention starts drifting, he’ll let you take over to help keep you focused.

Gang Orca

Kugo’s a clean, organized man. To him, it’s helpful knowing that everything has its place. If you leave bowls and books around or are an overall cluttered person, he’ll pick up after you. Eventually, when your clutter gets to be too much, he’ll create a routine and a to-do list. Before bed, look at the list and look around the room if there are any pillows to put back on the couch or papers to straighten out.

Having physical sensitives is something Kugo can understand. While it’s not to the point he’s overstimulated like people with ADHD have, his skin is still quite sensitive- more than your ‘average’ human skin because of his mutant-type quirk. Whatever you need for self-soothing, he can bring to you when you’re starting to feel overstimulated. Your favorite heavy quilt will be wrapped around your shoulders and he’ll light some vanilla candles.

He’s utterly unbothered by tapping, fidgeting, or restlessness. However, he’s deeply concerned when he notices blood on your lip or fingers. It’s mindless. You don’t hurt yourself on purpose. No matter how many times you explain, it won’t quell his worries. He just really hates seeing you bleed. Out in public, he’ll hold your hand to stop your picking. At home, he keeps a close eye on you and points out your unhealthy habit so you can find a fidget toy or a pen to click. He hopes if he does it enough times it’ll become a subconscious reaction for you to grab a toy to play with instead of your body.

High mood swings and anger are easy for him to take. Your quick snaps go in one ear and out the other- mainly because he knows it's not about him. While he understands the frustration comes at the flip of a switch, he strongly urges you to find ways to deal with your emotions in a healthy way. He’s willing to listen if you want to talk it out. He’s willing to go to the gym if you need to exercise it out. And (if you’re at that point in the relationship), he’s willing to have sex if you need to fuck it out.

Kugo loves listening to your interests. He supports any and all of your studies. Are you currently into a new TV series? He’ll buy you posters and action figures for surprises on your bad days. Or is the Viking culture suddenly fascinating and you need to learn everything about it? He scoops up some obscure book from that bookstore he passes every day. Even though his presents might not be exactly what you’re looking for, his excitement and passion to support you is really cute.

Focusing on smaller tasks is incredibly difficult. You strain yourself then get frustrated then give up. Seriously, that one piece of paperwork should take ten minutes tops to complete. But it ends up taking over two hours because you just can’t sit and do it. Whenever he notices you fussing at the table, he’ll sit down with you so you can go through the paperwork together. Having someone next to you is helpful. They keep you on track and guide the way through the long passages of words and seemingly confusing questions.

He's uneasy when it comes to any sexual sensitivities. It takes him a while to be ready for sex in general, but if you’re hypersensitive, it’ll take him a hell of a lot longer. He’s so scared of hurting you, especially since his fingers are more like claws and his teeth are sharp. He tries his damnedest to be gentle because he’s always scared that he’ll overstimulate you to the point you’re crying. Your sexual relationship will start with oral and fingering, plateauing at that for a while until he convinces himself he won’t hurt you.

Kayama Nemuri

Thoughts that bubble up and instantly spout from your mouth are common. Half the time you don’t even realize you spoke. Nemuri will be a little miffed if you keep interrupting her. She doesn’t want to forget her train of thought. She knows you have difficulty controlling it but she would appreciate it if you let her finish her sentence so she can fully listen to and understand yours.

Fidgeting and squirming don’t annoy her. She’s a Hero and a teacher. She’s become desensitized to all sorts of restlessness. Though she is in the same boat as Aizawa in that, if you’re a clicker or tapper, she’ll ask if you could find something else to fidget with. But she won’t snap at you as he may. She has a serious soft spot for her partner and rarely raises her voice.

However, those times when your anger gets sparked because your lotion bottle broke or you thought you had more of your favorite chips and you lash out when she asks what’s wrong, she’ll get defensive from time to time and might snap back. It depends on how long her day was and how tired/stressed she is. Most of the time she can reel herself back, realizing you’re not angry at her. But if she had a hard day, her retort comes quickly and sharply. It’s enough to make you pause, recognizing how you reacted to her simple question. When you apologize, she will too, wanting to make up as soon as possible.

Her quirk is quite convenient for overstimulation. If you give your consent, she can emit a tiny amount of her aroma to relax you. If you need serious instant relief, she can put you to sleep. But she won’t rely on her quirk every single time. She doesn’t like completely knocking you out. Any self-soothing techniques you use, she’ll read about and work out ways she can provide you with what you need.

Nemuri will have to change her outlook on sex a little bit. She’s very dominant, loves being the active partner, and dips (more than a little) into sadism. But she’s experienced. She’s aware her kinks aren’t always liked. Before you’re ever intimate, she’ll sit down with you to set clear and defined boundaries about what you can take. If pain is something you can’t handle or just don’t want, she’s fine without it. Her love for you is more important than her kinks.

#fatgum #fatgum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo x reader #midnight #midnight x reader #nemuri kayama #nemuri kayama x reader #fatgum headcanons #gang orca headcanons #midnight headcanons #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons

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howtosingit · 4 years

Text

Fic: I Just Wanted You to Know (This is Me Trying)

“My words shoot to kill when I’m mad / I have a lot of regrets about that / and maybe I don’t quite know what to say / but I’m here in your doorway”

Carlos makes a nice dinner, TK leaves in a hurry. But then, he comes back. (Immediately follows the 1x02 disaster dinner, not canon compliant.)

2.4K | Also on AO3

A/N: Taylor Swift made me write this. Title from “This is Me Trying,” my favorite song from Folklore.

------

Carlos is nearly elbow-deep in soapy water as he scrubs forcefully on the baking dish in the sink. He knows that he could easily let it soak overnight, or put it in the dishwasher, but the nearly-mindless task helps him to calm down, and refocus. Besides, it may be nearly one in the morning, but he’s not falling asleep anytime soon.

His steel blue shirt still hangs open from when TK tried to rip it off of him only an hour before, reminding him that he should try to find the buttons before he steps on one when he’s barefoot. His mind is suddenly assaulted with the phantom feeling of lips on his neck, and he takes a deep breath, dropping the sponge into the water to tightly grip the counter in front of him. That’s the last thing he wants to be thinking about right now.

He’s upset. Yes, at TK, for walking out without telling him what the fuck he did wrong. For acting like it was such a big deal for them to know something about each other besides what they look like when they come. For throwing his dinner and his feelings back in his face without any regard for what that would do to him.

But more than all of that, he’s mad at himself. He’s mad for always trying so hard, for always pushing people further than they want to go. He’s mad for letting the overwhelming feeling of a connection that followed his hookup with TK drive him to force something deeper between them. He’s an attractive guy with a good job and a nice apartment and a cool car; that’s all men seem to want from him, and he should probably stop expecting anything else.

It hurts. He’s 26-years-old, he’s known who he is since high school, and it’s not getting any easier. Living in Texas was never going to make being gay a walk in the park, but he doesn’t understand why he can’t find someone who’s willing to put in a little bit of effort. He can’t keep doing this casual string of hookups that feels endless, not when it leaves him feeling more like a shell of a person each and every time.

It felt different with TK. Carlos met him at work, for one. Here, he thought, is another man who gets it. Someone else who runs into dangerous situations because he wants to protect people. There was a relief, almost, of not having to worry about whether TK was only interested in him for his uniform, and he let that relief cloud his judgment, turning their brief and flirty interactions into the beginnings of something that was never meant to be.

Carlos clenches his jaw, reaching back into the soapy water for the sponge. He can feel a slight headache coming on, probably from a combination of the lateness of the hour and the lack of food in his stomach. With a sigh, he gives up on the dishes, quickly drying his hands off on a dish towel. He’ll clean the rest of them in the morning, once he’s had a few hours of sleep. He moves towards the dining room table to grab his phone, when a knock on his front door stops him in his tracks.

He has no idea who would show up at his apartment at nearly one in the morning. For a moment, he hesitates, wondering how he should handle this. He lives in a nice neighborhood, and he’s not afraid of anybody who could be on his doorstep; on the other hand, an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night can only mean bad news, and Carlos feels his heart start to race as his adrenaline kicks in.

He jumps a bit when his phone vibrates on the table next to him. Glancing down, he sees a text from the last person he ever expected to hear from again.

It’s me

Carlos swallows, his heart continuing to pound in his chest as he quickly moves towards the door. He pulls it open, his brows furrowing in complete confusion at the sight of the man before him.

TK stands against a background of darkness, his yellow hoodie bright in the light pouring through the open door. Carlos takes him in, searching for any sign of injury or some other explanation for what’s going on. He notices TK’s hands tucked away inside the front pocket of his sweatshirt, the way he bites down on his bottom lip, and the puffiness around his red eyes.

“TK,” Carlos starts, his voice oddly blank. “What are you doing here?”

The man just stares back at him, his body clearly tense as his eyes shift to look everywhere but directly at him. He feels his own face harden, his frustration mounting at the way that this man makes him feel so damn much, and he’s just about to tell TK to go home when the other man breaks the silence, his voice thin.

“I was in the area and I saw that your light was still on.”

Carlos stares back at him, confusion clear on his face. “You left an hour ago, TK,” he reminds him, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he plants his feet in the doorway.

“Yeah,” TK admits, and Carlos watches as his green eyes shift down towards his chest; unlike before, he does not let the feeling of TK’s gaze on him affect him. At least not too much. “I, um, I took a walk around, to cool off a bit,” he explains, gesturing towards something in the distance that Carlos can’t see. “You have a really nice park at the end of your street.”

“You mean the park that closed at 10?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow. “What is this, are you trying to get arrested or something?”

TK visibly swallows, ducking his head down at Carlos’s chastisement. The act of uncertainty softens the edge he’s feeling, and he takes a deep breath, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Do you want to come inside?” he asks, watching as TK’s head shoots up at the unexpected question. Carlos can’t help the slight smile that pulls at his lips; as much as he wishes it wasn’t the case, he finds TK to be incredibly endearing.

“No, no, that’s okay,” TK hurries to assure him, shaking his head. “It’s late, and I don’t want to keep bothering you. I just,” he huffs, tipping his head back to look up at the clear night sky, “I just really hated the idea of you going to bed angry.”

It’s a statement that doesn’t really make sense to Carlos. Why would TK care if he’s mad or not? But it also makes his stomach twist in a knot, the idea that maybe his initial impression of the firefighter wasn’t entirely incorrect sparking his curiosity. He can’t help but want to know more about this contradiction of a person.

With a nod, Carlos steps forward onto his front walk, pulling the door closed behind him. The unexpected action causes TK to jump back, giving Carlos space to sit down on his front step. He brings his knees up to his chest, folding his arms on top of them, and stares straight ahead at TK’s shoes.

“I’m more upset than angry,” he admits, rubbing at his brow as he works out what he wants to say, “and most of what I’m feeling isn’t even about you. I mean, there’s a lot of confusion, which is definitely your fault, but the anger is more at myself.”

He sees TK shift in front of him, rocking from side-to-side, before he moves forward to take a seat next to Carlos. A sudden warmth flares up on Carlos’s right side at his proximity, but he tries his best to ignore it.

“Why would you be angry at yourself?” TK asks gently, and Carlos can picture his face: his brown eyebrows furrowed in confusion above those soft, twinkling green eyes. He wants more than anything to look over at him, drink him in, but he knows he’s just asking for trouble if he does. So, instead, he continues to stare straight ahead.

“Most guys that I meet, they’re kind of just in it for sex,” he replies, bringing his hand up to run through the hair at the back of his head. “Like, I’m not a stranger to casual hookups, even if I really would like something more for myself. But those guys, I usually meet on an app, or at a club, and I try not to have too many expectations.

“I guess just because of the way we first met, the fact that it was different from those others, I made some assumptions about us and what this might mean,” he continues. “I’m sorry that I acted on them and put you in a weird place.”

There’s silence after he finishes speaking, the two of them just sitting side-by-side on his front step at one in the morning. It’s completely bizarre, and Carlos doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he’s not uncomfortable with it. There’s just something about TK beside him that lessens his concerns a little bit.

He’s a little shocked when he feels a weight on his arm, and he looks down to see TK’s fingers curled gently around his bicep. He turns to look at him, unsurprised to find the exact face that he was expecting, furrowed eyebrows and twinkling eyes. It steals his breath from his lungs, the absolute beauty of this man.

“I’m sorry, too,” TK says, his voice quiet. “For not being clear about what I wanted, and then for being an asshole when you couldn’t read my mind.”

They hold the look for a moment before Carlos nods, staring ahead again as he twists his fingers together in front of him. “Apology accepted.”

“I’m also sorry about the shirt,” TK adds, and Carlos can hear humor behind the words. “I can buy you a new one.”

The image of TK pressed up against him, forcibly tearing his shirt open, flashes through his mind, and Carlos feels his heart rate quicken at the memory. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures him, his voice coming out a little shaky. “My mom taught me how to sew buttons back on.”

From next to him, TK lets out a sudden loud laugh, the sound shooting straight through his chest. He turns to look at him, a smile forming at the look of absolute joy that has taken over TK’s face. “What?” he asks, trying not to laugh, too. It’s a truly weird night.

“Don’t tell me she got so tired of men tearing your clothes off that she forced you to learn how to sew them back together,” TK cries, an odd light dancing in his eyes.

“Of course not, you jerk,” Carlos says, leaning over to nudge TK in annoyance. “She just wanted me to learn how to do things on my own. Don’t you make fun of my mama, TK Strand.”

“I would never,” TK says, his grin sliding into a look of intense seriousness. Carlos raises an eyebrow at him, questioning his honesty. TK simply stares back, his eyes still dancing, before shaking his head and lowering his gaze down to his lap. “My god, who are you?” he questions suddenly, his voice rising in what sounds like disbelief. “You cook, you sew, your apartment is fully-furnished, you have a job, you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met, you’re so fucking nice. Just, like, how are you even real?”

He ends with a loud groan, his body collapsing against Carlos as he rests his head against his shoulder. Carlos can feel a heat rising up the back of his neck as he stares down at him in shock, having now idea how to answer the man.

“You know, for the record,” TK says after a quiet moment, his head still pressed against Carlos, “I like you for more than just sex.

“I know it probably doesn’t seem like it,” he continues, his voice low, “but it’s true. I know I freaked out on you, it was all just really intense and unexpected and it took me to some bad places that still feel really raw. I thought I could handle just the physical stuff and deal with the emotional baggage later, but it kind of blew up in my face. And yours.”

Carlos listens carefully, trying to fill in the gaps with everything that TK’s not telling him. It’s obvious that TK has some skeletons in his closet, maybe recently gathered, that will help to explain his behavior this evening, but he doesn’t know if he should ask about them. Except, his heart can’t help but cling to TK’s initial declaration, about how he likes Carlos for more than just his body, and that pushes him to take a chance.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he hedges gently, trying not to spook the other man. TK lets out a sigh, shifting against him to prop his chin on top of Carlos’s shoulder, looking up at him. Carlos looks back, their faces close as they study one another. Those green eyes are absolutely stunning.

“I think I do,” TK admits, bringing his hand up to drag his fingers along Carlos’s jaw. “But it’s a long story, so maybe not tonight. Is that okay?”

Carlos nods before he even has a chance to consider it, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Yeah, TK, that’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

He finds that he means that.

Before he can overthink it, he leans up to press a soft kiss at TK’s hairline, hearing the way the action draws a heavy breath from the other man. Slowly, Carlos relaxes back against his front door, wrapping an arm around TK’s waist to pull him closer. The firefighter goes willingly, folding himself against Carlos’s side as his hand comes up to rest against his exposed chest.

They stay there in the stillness of the Texas night, letting time move on without them. Carlos closes his eyes for a moment as he relishes the opportunity to finally be more for someone, just this once. Just like he’s always wanted.

It’s even better than he expected.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tarlos fanfic #911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #I wrote a thing

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to-star-lake · 4 years

Text

re: untitled [ pt. 3 ]

pairing | jjk x reader genre | ceo!jk, arranged marriage word count | 4.5k rating | M, 18+ pt. 1, pt. 2, end

You opened your eyes to the blinding light of the sun shining high and bright in the sky, and blinked a few times to adjust yourself to the brightness, rubbing them with your fingertips.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes to go back to sleep when your brain began registering your surroundings. You shifted your legs under the sheets and noticed that this was not your bed, and opening your eyes wide, you looked around and realized this was not your room.

Images of the night before began flashing back to you and you felt your body tense up, remembering everything that happened. Under the sheets, you felt Jungkook shift beside you, and noticed his arm was around your waist and was pulling you backward, your bare skin pressing against his.

You waited until his movements stopped and turned very slowly, trying not to wake him. You turned to see him, still fast asleep, long strands of his hair falling down over his eyes, his shoulder and the dark patterns and lines of his tattoos exposed over the edge of the blanket.

Shit.

Despite the ringing hangover in your head, you were able to recollect everything that happened last night. How Jungkook burst into Taehyung’s apartment. How he cornered you in the elevator. How he pulled you into him to pose for photos at the benefit. How the two of you got into a drunken spat at an event full of your clients and colleagues. How Namjoon made both of you leave only for the two of you to continue the fight at home. The fight that led to this.

Your head spun with all of the thoughts swirling through your mind. You slept with him. Oh god, you slept with him. Was it because both of you were drunk, filled with adrenaline from fighting, and needed an outlet for the pent up frustration you both felt? How did this happen?

Jungkook shifted a little, snuggling his face into the pillow and you felt his arm around your waist pull you closer. You took a long breath in in an attempt to calm yourself, but the lingering scent of the cologne on his skin made your eyes heavy and you remembered in excruciating detail how he touched you, the way he held you, the way he made you feel. How good it felt.

You reached a hand out slowly, gently brushing a few strands of hair from his eyes. You’d never seen him this close before. Or maybe you have, but you weren’t really looking. You traced your fingertips softly over his brow bone, across his cheeks, your eyes catching the little moles on his nose, under his lower lip, and wondered how long he’s had these, why you’d never noticed them before.

He stirred at the movement and mumbled something into the pillow and you retracted your hand quickly, not wanting to wake him. Not wanting to face him.

Slowly and carefully, you slid your body out from under his arm, and slipped out from underneath the covers. You tiptoed quickly from his room, quietly picking up the pieces of your undergarments trailing to the living room. You moved quickly to your side of the penthouse and shut the door quietly behind you. Once the door was closed, you leaned your head back against it, feeling your tense muscles relax as you took a deep breath.

You stepped into the rain shower in your bathroom, turning the water on as hot as you could tolerate, hoping a little bit of pain might distract you from all the thoughts running through your head. You doused yourself in soap and shampoo, wanting to wash his scent from your body.

You felt ashamed. Not because you slept with him. You felt ashamed because you were finally registering the few words you exchanged before you drifted into the deepest sleep in his arms.

I’ve never slept with any of those girls, you know.

You put a hand up against the marble wall of the shower, trying to hold yourself up but your legs felt like they were giving out under you. You lowered your head and let the hot water spill over your body.

I haven’t slept with any other girl. Not after that night at dinner with our parents. The month before our wedding.

You felt your hand clench into a fist, your cheeks grew hot and you felt a warm liquid building along the bottom of your eyes.

Because I’ve only ever wanted you.

You slid down to the floor of the shower, curling into a ball, leaning against the marble, tears flying from your eyes. You held your legs close, head buried into your knees, making a concerted effort to focus on taking deep breaths to stop crying.

After a few moments, you were able to stop the tears flowing and the adrenaline seemed to fade. The steam from the shower helped clear your head, but when you stepped out and wiped the fog from the mirror, you saw how swollen your eyes were from crying. And you saw the darkened patches of clotted blood underneath the skin of your neck and shoulder. You wished you could wash these marks he made away too.

Think, you thought to yourself, closing your eyes and bracing yourself against the counter. Had he given you any indication that this was how he felt? Why didn’t he say anything earlier? Why didn’t he just tell you how he felt? Why didn’t he, at any point during the engagement, try to reach out and just talk to you? Or anytime during the last two years?

And how could he feel this way? How could he be like this? Sure, you were childhood friends, but you never saw him as more than that. In fact, although he liked to follow you around as a small child, when both of you grew to be teenagers he became increasingly distant and standoffish towards you.

You tried to shake your thoughts away, taking a seat at the vanity and began dabbing foundation over the marks on your neck. You got dressed, ultimately choosing to tie a silk scarf around your neck because no amount of foundation was going to do any good.

Carefully opening the door to your bedroom, you peaked out to make sure he hadn’t woken up. You heard no sounds in the living room or kitchen and you silently tiptoed back down the hall to his side of the penthouse and lingered in the open doorway to his room for a moment. He was still blissfully asleep, his dark hair a wavy mess on the pillows.

You thought of Taehyung on your drive to the office. You remembered that tonight was his art show. That about two months ago he told you that for the first time, he would actually open a gallery and exhibit his work for the public, something you’d been encouraging him to do for a long time. And he wanted you to attend.

You knew you needed the day to clear your head, and getting some things done at the office would be the perfect distraction. And then tonight, you would call Jungkook, and get to the bottom of how this happened. And you would text Taehyung, and inform him that you can’t make it to his art exhibit after all. You thought you didn’t want to see him, at least for a while, until you have everything figured out.

You heard a soft, wry laugh from yourself. There was a bit of poetic irony in the events of last night, you thought. That on the night you told your husband you wanted to divorce him (though you didn’t mean it), it was also the night the two of you finally consummated your marriage.

Miya, your secretary, greeted you at the elevator the way she does every morning with a latte and your calendar for the day to review with you. And as you made your way through the open floor space to your office, she sat down across from you and mentioned that the security team was doing a full sweep of everyone’s hardware storage, and that their remit to everyone in the company is to go through their cloud drive and emails and delete anything that was not needed or should not be saved, even the CEO needed to comply.

You glanced over your schedule and thanked Miya for the coffee, glad for the mindless task of deleting emails because it would make for a good distraction. As you were flipping through endless pages of emails in your various work and personal mailboxes, you came across one folder in the junk category you didn’t recognize.

The folder was labeled with only a single dash and you can’t remember if you created this, or if this was a standard folder that the email drive provided.

You clicked on it, and more than 50 unread emails loaded. You furrowed your brows, confused, but found your eyes opening wide in surprise and confusion when you read the ‘from’ column. The email address that sent you all of these messages was jjk1997, and every email had the same generic subject -

re: untitled.

You scrolled through the pages until you found the very first email from this address, simply denoted as ‘untitled.’ And this email had been opened, as opposed to all the others that came after. When the message itself loaded, you saw that it was a photo of Yoongi, your first crush from middle school, kissing one of your friends.

The memories of how this happened came crashing back to you.

Years ago, way back in middle school, when the two of you still attended school together, you remember there was an older boy that you had a crush on. You remember revealing who that was to Jungkook and a few of your friends during a game of truth or dare at one of your parents work events; one of those events where all the children of the executives in attendance banded together.

And you remembered that a week later, Jungkook sent you this photo, without a subject, without an explanation. And you remembered being furious with him for sending it. You didn’t understand it. You supposed his intention was to inform you that you should not go for this guy, because he was making out with one of your friends after school. But you felt so embarrassed that he’d taken action on this personal information he knew about you. You felt exploited.

And so you had clicked the filter messages like these button at the top of the page. The site had asked you to name the folder you wanted to filter these messages to and in the absence of wanting to give Jungkook’s emails any meaning, you simply typed -.

That’s why you never saw these, you thought to yourself. Upon receiving any correspondence from Jungkook, your email automatically filed them away into the folder nested under the Junk category. And he’d sent you so many. You scrolled back again through the pages and found that the latest email from him was sent over two years ago. In fact, the date on it was the date of that night with both of your parents when they announced your engagement.

You clicked on the email to open it, and realized it was part of the same chain that originated with the first message. You took a deep breath and read it.

‘You didn’t seem too happy about what happened tonight. I’ve known that we were betrothed for a long time, my parents told me about it when I was 7. You looked so taken aback, I can only assume your parents never told you about the arrangement.

You can tell me if you really don’t want to do this.

You should know, I’m okay with this. I’ve known about it for a long time. But I guess you must feel differently. If you don’t wanna go through with this, I’ll talk to my parents, I’ll make up something. Im not gonna let our parents to force you into this if it’s not what you want.

But before I do that, I want to see you. There are some things I want to say.

I’ll be at the cafe on 52nd, a couple blocks up from the restaurant tomorrow at noon.

- JK’

You sat frozen at your desk, eyes glued to the screen, unable to look away.

Finally, you were able to restore movement to your hand over the mouse and you frantically clicked through the rest of the emails from him and you found the contents to be very similar. They were all mostly photos from his travels.

Photos of a fishing boat, crossing a wide river in misting rain to a small island in the distance. Below those photos he wrote the word Patagonia. Photos of impressionist paintings from Monet to Seurat, old architecture and towers of petite cakes in candy shops, blue and white ocean waves crashing onto giant rocks, titled Cote d'Azur. Photos of vast, open fields of green, snow capped mountains in the distance, sheep grazing, titled Milford Sound. Aquamarine waters, sailboats, and an ivory city on a plateau that rose above the sea, titled Malta.

These weren’t just photos of all the places he’d gone. They were also all the places you have always dreamed of visiting if you weren’t so busy and stressed with school, with work.

You referenced the dates on these, and they began the summer after he was sent away to boarding school, extending through when both of you had gone away to college.

You leaned back in your chair, stunned.

He had tried to keep in contact with you all these years.

You sprung from your chair, grabbing your purse and turned to fly through the doors to your office when you saw Seokjin at Miya’s desk outside, a frantic look in his eye, a stack of papers in his arms.

He turned, making eye contact with you as you were walking out and you held a hand up, “Not today, Jin, I have to go-”

“Y/N, please, this is urgent,” he said. You examined the panicked expression on his face and turned back toward your office.

“Ok, let’s make this quick,” you said, holding the door open for Seokjin as he stumbled his way to the chair across from your desk, dropping the stack of papers down with a thud.

“Okay, well, um-” he mumbled.

“Jin, just, tell me what’s going on, succinctly please.”

“Well, ok, here,” Jin grabbed a manila folder that sat at the top of the stack and opened it to a long document with a table on it that looked like a bank statement. “Look at this,” he said.

You glanced through the line items, confirming that it was in fact a bank statement from your company’s corporate account, and all the deposits and withdrawals were from your clients, from investors, and out to all the vendors and expenses the company pays.

“This is just our bank statement, Jin, this is what you wanted me to look at?” you asked, impatient.

“No, this is what I want you to look at,” he responded, flipping through the pages until somewhere in the middle of the stack, and pointed to a single line item of a transfer of twenty thousand dollars from the company’s corporate account.

“I don’t recognize this vendor, do you?” he asked, “And I realized, I’ve seen this line item before. At first I thought it must’ve been something to do with when we moved to the new office, the admins might’ve contracted some designers or architects for the office. But transfers to this company have been made regularly, every month, for the same amount, for the last two years. I thought this couldn’t be right.” He looked at you intently, waiting for your response.

But you had none. You stared down at the line item he pointed to. And at the stack of other bank statements he brought in. The twenty thousand dollar transfer was made to a company called Vante Studios, LLC.

“Maybe I should bring this to Taehyung instead, surely the CFO knows what’s going with this-” he continued impatiently.

“No,” you stopped him abruptly. “No, I will look into this personally. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Jin, have you told anyone else about this?”

He shook his head, a confused expression manifesting on his face.

“Ok Jin, this is very important, this does not leave this room.”

“So you do know what this company is?” He inquired.

“No I don’t, so I will look into it.” you lied through your teeth and motioned for him to leave your office.

Once Jin left you just sat there, staring down at the sheet of paper. You knew exactly what this company was. Vante Studios was what you and Taehyung always joked he should name his art gallery if he ever opened his own. And now he has.

“Miya?” you called from your desk. She stood from her desk and poked her head through the opened glass door.

“Yes?”

“Please call down to the showroom and bring up that black dress and heels I’m wearing to the gallery opening tonight,” you said. Miya nodded and a short 30 minutes later, you had changed into the little silk slip dress and strappy heels, and you were on your way to the gallery.

You needed to confront Taehyung.

The gallery was packed when you arrived. Undoubtedly thanks to your contacting all the local journalists and photographers to cover the event ahead of time and help build anticipation for the gallery opening on Taehyung’s behalf.

Walking through the front door, you looked on in disbelief at the tall concrete walls of the gallery, the exposed piping and brick, the glazed marble floor, the gilded wallpaper accents, the waiters and mixologists in three piece Gucci suits, carrying endless glasses of Moet through the crowd. You knew the money was for this. Because in looking at the way this gallery was designed, there was no way Taehyung afforded this on his own.

You often wondered but never thought too much on how Taehyung was able to afford his lavish lifestyle - the first edition books on the mahogany bookshelf in his apartment, the authentic Marie Antoinette tea set in his china cabinet, the Van Goghs hanging from the walls.

You navigated your way through the crowd, finding Taehyung standing before a photograph he’d taken, printed in black and white. He was waving his hand around, steeped in drama, explaining the photo in artistic detail to his audience. You stood at the periphery of the room, observing him. At how he could act like everything was ok. At how he smiled, the smile you thought you adored but now revile.

You were about to make your way through the crowds to him when you saw a valet open the front door of the gallery and Jungkook walked in.

You tried to duck away, attempting to blend into the crowds but you couldn’t help glancing over at him as he looked around the groups of people, looking for you. You couldn’t help looking at the long strands of his dark hair, tucked behind one ear, the other side hanging over his cheeks. At his chest and shoulders under a pressed black shirt and black coat, stitched with silver tinsel. At his long legs in a pair of perfectly fitted black trousers. He looked in your direction and your eyes met for a moment.

You saw the corner of his lips lift in a soft smile, and he moved to walk towards you but you turned, averting his gaze and walked quickly towards the back of the venue, finding an empty storage closet. You quickly shut and locked the door behind you, hoping that in the midst of the crowds of people, he didn’t see where you went.

You weren’t ready to face him. Not yet. You still needed to confront Taehyung but you knew there would now be two confrontations if you let this go on. So you decided you needed to find a way to leave the venue, and save these confrontations for another day.

Taking a deep breath, you let out a sharp exhale and turned the doorknob to leave and as you stepped out, bumped directly into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that-”

An arm reached out and slid down around your waist, and he took a step forward, pushing you back into the supply closet, closing and locking the door behind him. You felt your own breathing become shallow and the air around you grow thin when you smelled the familiar scent of amber and patchouli radiating from the heat of the body in front of you.

In the dark, tiny, confined space, the only light source was a sliver of orange glow from the crack underneath the door. He pushed your back against the metal shelving on the wall and pushed his lips onto yours, his arm holding onto your waist tightly, crushing your body against his, his other hand gripping onto your jaw, refusing to allow you to move away.

“JK..” you mumbled weakly against his lips molding into yours, his tongue forcing your mouth open. You felt your cheeks growing flushed, a dull aching building in your core and his hand slid down to your hips, his fingertips digging into your skin.

You lifted your hands up into small fists against his chest, completely ineffectual in pushing him away with any meaningful force. You thought you couldn’t do this. Not again. Not here.

But your body refused to stop as his tongue glided over yours, his hands now sliding down to your legs, fingertips brushing softly at the exposed skin under the lace hem of your dress. He kissed at the corner of your mouth, your cheeks, and ducked his head under your chin, clamping down onto your neck, making you gasp as he pushed his thigh between your legs, the pressure making you feel like you would turn into a puddle, melting into him.

“You left me without a word this morning,” he whispered into your skin, hands brushing the straps of your dress from your shoulders.

“JK..I, wait..I need to..” you were struggling to obtain enough air to get the words out you needed to, and you could hear his breathing becoming more ragged as he bit at your ear, his breaths hot against your skin. “I need to talk to you,” you managed to choke out as his hand found the lace material of your panties under your dress, hooking his finger underneath the ribbons that held it up.

He pressed his lips to yours, “Ok, go ahead,” he moaned into you.

“No...no I can’t talk like this..” you panted.

“So tell me to stop,” he whined, his tongue rolling into your mouth.

“I..” you gasped. “I don’t want you to stop..” you reached down to his belt, hastily tugging at it, tearing the zipper open, gliding your fingers underneath the hem of his briefs.

He tugged at your hips roughly and spun you around, pushing you against the wall. His hands glided up the back of your thighs, and you could feel the soft silk material of the hem of your dress being pulled up over your hips. You arched your back, pressing your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressing into your drenched panties.

You gasped, clawing your fingertips into the wall as he ran a finger down the soaked material on your clit, massaging you.

“JK..please..” you begged.

You felt his fingers pull your panties to the side, and felt the tip of him rubbing against your entrance and you felt like you were melting around him.

He slid a hand around your neck, pulling at your jaw, pulling your head back to lean against his shoulder. He leaned over and bit at the skin of your neck, and you whined to him, begging for more of him, and he gently pushed only a little more of himself inside you, denying you full satisfaction. You felt yourself trembling against him in need, your wetness dripping down all around him.

“Did you come here to see him tonight?” he growled into your ear.

“I..” you were completely out of breath, seeing stars behind your closed eyes.

“You still want him after last night?” he tilted your head back with his hand, forcing his tongue into your mouth.

“Mmm, no...that’s not..” you couldn’t breathe. “Fuck..JK..what are you doing to me...” you begged as he was grinding against you at an agonizingly slow pace, continuing to deny you the full length of his cock.

He bit at your lower lip, pushing a little more of himself into you.

“I’m making sure you never even think about another man again.” And with that, he thrust all of himself deep inside you, his hand moving swiftly over your mouth, covering the scream that escaped your lungs as he pushed into you.

“No one else can ever make you feel like this, do you understand,” he whispered into your ear, thrusting into you harder, filling you to the absolute brim. He slid a hand over your neck, closing around your throat with the gentlest force and you felt all the muscles in your body begin to tense.

“JK..I..” you were losing all control as he pushed you to the edge.

“Go ahead, love,” he commanded, his hot breath against your ear, sliding his arm around you, bracing you tightly against him. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

“Fuck, JK-”

Your body shook against him, in little waves at first, then violently as he held you tightly against him, burying himself deep inside you and you could feel his own climax pooling warmly in your core, his hand pressed firmly over your mouth to cover your gasps and screams, and you reached back to cover his.

His head collapsed onto your shoulder and you fell against the wall, both of you fighting for the little bit of oxygen in the room. He waited for your body to find stillness and pulled himself away gently. He tugged the hem of your dress down, and with gentle hands, guided you to turn to face him.

He planted soft kisses on your lips and cheeks and your forehead, his hands cupped around your flushed cheeks.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered, leaning his forehead down to yours.

You closed your eyes, and as the little stars started fading, you were again being hit by reality. You remembered Taehyung. You remembered you were still at his gallery.

Jungkook could sense this chaos in your mind and pulled his head back to study you for a moment. But his lips curled into a smile, a little scrunch forming on the bridge of his nose, little lines appearing at the corners of his eyes. You’d never seen him like this before.

“Come home with me,” he said.

You took a deep breath in. “I will,” you answered. “Just, not yet. There’s something I have to do first.”

He looked into your eyes for a moment, confused, but nodded. He leaned down and gave you a long kiss, breathing you in. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook scenario #jungkook series #jungkook angst #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts series #bts angst #ceo!jungkook #jungkook arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #phew! part three already #yall know 190811 lotte family concert jk was the insp here #hope you like it!#part 4 sooon

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years

Text

Ocean and Alcohol Pt. 2 ✘JJ Maybank✘

You can find part one here!

(not my gif. All credit to goeatsomelife!) Part 2/?

Word Count - 6300 Warnings - Mentions of abuse, swearing, non-graphic depictions of abuse (throwing/shoving) Summary - After your first secret rendezvous with JJ, you can’t seem to take your mind off him. Your “disagreement” with Rafe Cameron intensifies. Late in the night, JJ climbs through your window and things ends less than satisfactorily between the two of you. A/N - As with the last part, this is written in second person, but you’re given a name. I have always found the Y/N thing distracting, so I gave the character a name, but, as always, you can read over it. Thank you all so much for your love!

It was almost summer. Once summer started, your dad was much more relaxed than during school time. That meant you might be able to actually leave the house to do more than go to work. You’d seen JJ a few times on the way to or from work, but it wasn’t more than a passing glance. When he drove past you with the rest of his pogue friends or when you looked out the window of your work to see him zooming down the marsh on John B’s boat. You really tried not to think of him, tried not to feel his lips against your neck, but between the mindless monotony of work, the hours of endless school, and the long and restless nights, sometimes it felt like there was nothing else to think about.

Before JJ swept into your life like a tidal wave, your mind went into autopilot as you went about your day. You could just do your tasks without thinking, but now it seemed that all you could do was think. A part of you wondered if he was intentionally avoiding you. He did say he had a habit of pushing people away. The other part of you knew that part of you was an idiot because the only time you weren’t at home was when you were at work and the restaurant you worked at wasn’t a place JJ was likely to visit. Besides, you never told him where you worked. You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You also tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter if JJ was intentionally ignoring you because there was no way Dad would ever, in a million years, let you so much as hang out with someone like JJ. Your dad wanted you to hang with people like Rafe, which you very plainly told him was never going to happen. Still, since your dad had every intention of making your life a living hell, he invited the Camerons over to your house one day. You might have screamed when he told you. He told you to dress your best and you almost threw on a hoodie and sweatpants, even if it was getting hotter with every day. Sweating for hours would have been worth it if Dad would never invite the Camerons over again. Unfortunately, Dad and Ward Cameron worked together, Kid had a crush on Wheezie, and you actually liked Sarah, so you decided to at least brush your hair and do everyone the decency of wearing something other than sweat pants. You came downstairs in a summer dress that fell just above your knees. When you looked in the mirror and realized that spaghetti straps probably weren’t the best formal attire, you threw a t-shirt on underneath and hoped it was good enough to get out of a beating tonight. You helped your dad make dinner (mostly with the things that didn’t require cooking). Kid set the table and for a moment, it almost felt like you were apart of a normal family. Your dad had been especially nice since he and Kid came back from the mainland, which was surprising. You were hoping to stay on his good side so you could maybe ask to go out sometimes during the summertime. But she would have to wait and see how dinner went.

You plastered on a smile when the Camerons first walked in the door. You gave Sarah and Wheezie hugs and shook Rafe’s hand amicably, smiling despite how hard he squeezed your hand. You gave Rose a hug as well and Ward planted a kiss on top of your head. Ward was a pretty cool guy and, as far as you were concerned, a pretty good dad. Sometimes you wished he was your own father, that way, you wouldn’t wake up in fear every morning. But, that was life. Your two families joined at dinner, which went pretty well, until the second course. “Rafe my boy, is that a bruise under your eye?” Your dad asked. You froze halfway through spooning some garlic mashed potatoes into your mouth. “Oh, yes,” Rafe said after clearing his throat. “Whatever happened?” You wished your dad would stop asking questions. Still, you tried to look engaged in the conversation as to not give yourself away.

“You should ask your daughter about that,” Rafe said. Shit. “Elma?” All eyes turned to you and you plastered a concerned smile onto your face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, giving your head a little shake. You saw Wheezie raise her eyebrows and hide a smile behind a roll of bread. “You don’t remember socking me in the face?” Rafe ground out through his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the knife in his hand. “No, I don’t.” “Elma, what is this about?” “Your daughter, sir, attacked me the other night at a-” If Rafe said anything about a party, you knew you were never getting out of this house until your dad died. So you switched up your lie. “Oh right,” you said with a sickly sweet smile. “I remember now. I hit you after you insulted my mother.” Your dad’s confused demeanor switched suddenly. You could feel the air in the room turn like the winds during a storm. Mentioning your mother was one way to win your father over. Yes, she had abandoned you all, but your father still loved her and she was still perfect in his eyes. How that worked, you weren’t entirely sure, but you sure as hell knew how to manipulate it. “Rafe!” Ward barked.

“What? No!” The poor boy was obviously confused as to how the table got turned on him so quickly. To up the ante, you sniffled, refusing to let yourself blink so tears would brim at the bottom of your eyes. “He called mom a...a...oh, I don’t want to say it,” you said with a quiet sigh. “You’re not falling for this!” Rafe shouted. “Rafe, shut up!” “What did he say, sweetie?” Rose asked, reaching out to sympathetically take your hand. “He called her a….” You lowered your voice. “A slut.” Your dad stood suddenly. “Gerald,” Ward said, standing as well and putting a hand out. “I don’t think Rafe meant it and whatever he said, clearly Elma here made him pay for it.” Your dad was smoldering. Rage made his hands shake by his sides and for once, that rage wasn’t tunneled at you. Sarah elbowed you lightly and when you looked at her, you could almost see a smile on her face as Rose yelled at Rafe and Ward tried to talk your dad down from killing him then and there. “Ah, chaos,” Wheezie mused, chewing on another piece of bread. Kid’s cheeks reddened. The arguing died down eventually and they all went back to eating peacefully. Rafe glared at you the entire rest of night and every time you met his gaze, you simply raised an eyebrow. By the time dinner was over, everyone was exhausted and had no brain capacity to play games as they usually did. As the hostess, you walked the Camerons to the door as your dad and Kid started to clean up the dining room. As before, you hugged the girls and Rose as they left. Sarah whispered an invite to a party in your ear as she hugged you, which you were glad for. ‘Going over to Sarah’s’ was always a good excuse to get out of the house. Your dad almost always let you go. Ward said nothing but put a parting hand on your shoulder. Instead of just walking by like he should have, Rafe grabbed your wrist and pulled you in close, trying to emulate a hug. “Never throw me under the bus again,” he hissed in your ear. “Then don’t pick fights you can’t win,” you whispered right back. He let go of you with a huff and stormed out the door. You shut it behind him, resisting the urge to slam it. “What was that about?” Your dad asked, leaning against the wall. You smiled sweetly. “Olive branch,” was all you said. He nodded slowly. “I love you for defending your mother-” The words stung and caused your smile to falter for a moment. “But you shouldn’t go around punching people, especially my partners’ son.” “I understand, Daddy,” you said, walking over to him. Kiss ass? You bet. Anything to get what you wanted and all you wanted was to get out of this house. He put an arm around you and kissed your forehead, making you want to vomit. “Why don’t you go to bed? Bradford and I can finish up down here,” he said. You glanced over to Kid, who was grinning like an idiot. He must have said ‘bye’ to Wheezie before she left. The little kid’s smile forced your fake one into something almost real. You nodded before stepping away from your dad. “Hey, kiddo?” Your heart exploded at the nickname, pulse racing. You hated it when he called you that because it felt like something a real dad would call the daughter that he actually cared for. It felt too close to love to make you comfortable. You turned slowly to look at him again. “I love you, you know that?” You nodded again, but your fingers went for the scar on your hand. He said he loved you, but you knew he didn’t. Maybe he defended you from Rafe tonight, but tomorrow he might bash your head into the wall. You walked to your room like a slug, barely picking your feet off the ground. As soon as the door was closed, you tore the dress off, standing in just the t-shirt. Pulling off the dress was like taking off a weight and tossing it on the floor was like breathing fresh air. You weren’t ready to sleep, no, there was too much rattling around in your head to sleep. Instead, you turned the radio on in your room, keeping it at just the right volume where your dad wouldn’t come in, but just loud enough to drown out your thoughts. The first song got you out of your funk. The second one got you moving your hips. By the third, you were jumping around, screaming the words silently into your hairbrush. You weren’t a dancer, never had been, but when you let the music guide you, it didn’t matter. The beat thrummed through you, moving your body as it pleased. You were deep in a song when you heard a tap at your window. It startled you out of the flow, but when you looked outside the window and saw no one, you were tempted to start dancing again. The tap came again so you turned the music down and watched the window carefully. The third tap came from a rock that you saw, so you walked over to your window and opened it, peeking your head out. “Hello?” You whispered into the night. Was hello the best you could think of? Now you were surely going to get ax murdered by whoever, or whatever, was throwing rocks at your window. You scowled into the night and were about to turn back inside when a familiar face popped up onto the roof below your window. “Maybank?” You said his name louder than you should have, but he was the last person you expected to throw rocks at your window at ten o’clock at night. “Hey,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Get in here,” you said, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him inside. You shut the window and turned around to scold him for being so stupid but before you could say anything, his hands were on your cheeks, his lips against yours. And once again, you melted away. The riptide, the salty waves, the sand, the ice cold water. Your stomach rolled, your lungs screaming for breath, but you didn’t pull away. It was the sound of creaking floorboards outside your room that finally broke you away from him. Your eyes went straight for the door. When no more sounds came, you finally relaxed, sitting on your bed with a sigh. “What are you doing here?” You asked him. JJ jumped backward onto your bed, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head.

“I wanted to see you.” “And if my dad finds you?” JJ sat up and placed a kiss against your shoulder. You sighed to cover a shudder. “I’m very quiet,” he whispered against your skin.

“Maybank-” “What happened to calling me by my first name?” He asked with a knowing smile. “I’ve never called you JJ,” you said, crossing your arms in defiance. You knew perfectly well you had, but it was a moment of weakness and it wasn’t going to happen again. “You did,” he said, kissing your neck. “When I-” You stood, stepping away from him. “You don’t get to break into my room and start making me feel all-” You waved her hands in the air as if that explained what you were feeling. Leaning against his hands, JJ tilted his head to the side with a goofy smile on his face. “Don’t look at me like that,” you said, crossing your arms again. “Like what?” “Like I’m-” Like I’m someone you actually care about. You were both quiet, soaking each other in, waiting for the other to make the next move. The song on the radio changed. “I like this song,” JJ said, jumping up from the bed. He reached out to take your hands, but you refused. “C’mon. I saw you dancing just now. I know you can.” “I only dance when I’m drunk or when no one’s watching,” you said. “At least when I think no one’s watching.”

JJ grinned at you, stepping forward to the beat. It took all of your strength not to laugh or even smile at the way he moved. You knew that he was just trying to make you break, but you weren’t about to give in. He took your hands in his and started to move to the beat, dancing like a middle school boy. You pursed your lips to keep from laughing. “I would be better if you were leading,” he said, laughing at himself. “Oh no,” you said, a smile betraying you. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

He ran one of his hands up your arm until it was cradling your neck. You tried to move away by turning your head, but you didn’t really want to move away from him. Who needed alcohol when you had JJ Maybank to intoxicate you? “What are you doing here?” You asked him again. “I told you.” His thumb brushed against your jaw. “I wanted to see you.” “Why?” You asked him. “I thought you ran away from people so you didn’t hurt them?” “Couldn’t stay away,” he said, his lips getting steadily closer to yours. You should move away, should put as much distance between you and him as you could. If he was the boy who ran to protect others, you were the girl who ran to protect yourself. Survival was the key. If weren’t around, who would protect Kid? If you weren’t around, who would Dad turn his anger toward? And if you didn’t get away from JJ now, how fast were you going to fall? “Fuck you,” you whispered before moving forward the slightest bit that it took for your lips to meet his. He didn’t taste like alcohol this time. You knew he had gone surfing today because he was much saltier than before. You lifted your hands, knocking his backward hat off of his head so you could run your fingers through his hair. For a boy who always smelled like the sea, his hair was soft. The harder you pressed yourself against him, the harder he held onto you. He curled his fingers around your waist and you knew that it would leave marks, but you didn’t care. His other hand rested against your collarbone, circling around the base of your neck like a loose necklace. When you parted for air, you threw your head back, gasping, but JJ didn’t stop. He nipped at your chin and jaw with his teeth and shit it felt like you were going to explode from the inside out. The ocean roared in your ears, your gut, your heart. You pushed him backward, putting your mouth on his once again. You led him backward until he hit the bed and the two of you toppled over. Somewhere between standing and falling, JJ flipped you around so when your back hit the bed, you were underneath him.

“You are okay?” He asked you. Instead of responding, you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer. You could feel his smile pressed against your lips and your stomach flipped in a thousand different directions. One of JJ’s hands rested on your knee as he settled between your legs. For half a moment, you felt a twinge of fear enter your system. But when you felt JJ’s teeth graze against your lower lip, the fear went away, replaced by the storm that raged every time he touched you. Your mind was empty when JJ was kissing you. It was like everything else melted away and it was just him. The weight of his body wasn’t like the heaviness of pain or worry or anxiety or fear. He was a welcomed pressure, keeping you grounded, together. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a pressure point, relaxing but keeping you alive. The mood once against shifted when JJ started to slide his hand up your leg. As soon as his hand started to move, it was the only thing you could feel. You tried to push past it, tried to ignore it, tried to fall back into the current, but you couldn’t. His hand inching its way farther up your leg was the only thing on your mind as you attempted to pretend that it didn’t bother you. You had to get over your aversion to sex eventually, right? Why not now? You barely realized when JJ pulled away. He hovered just above you, but you wouldn’t meet his eyes, mind still on his hand. You just needed to suck it up, to push through. It wasn’t until he moved his hand from your thigh that you really realized what happened. You turned your head to meet his eyes, but could only handle it for a second. The same shame that you felt when you had first told him weeks ago burned within you once again. It ate away at you, from the inside. You were damaged goods, you knew that. But all you wanted was to be like every other girl your age who could happily have sex with as many people as they wanted without being filled with crippling anxiety. You rolled out from underneath JJ, who moved his arm to let you go with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” you said, sitting on the edge of your bed with his back to him. “Not your fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pushed.” You breathed out heavily, pressing your hands against your eyes. Your legs bounced beneath you, trying to shake out the anxiety. A portion of you wanted JJ to just leave so you knew that he wasn’t looking at you anymore. You weren’t sure you could bear it any longer. But he didn’t leave. You felt the bed dip underneath him as he moved across the bed to sit next to you. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “Don’t worry about it.” You glanced at him and he was grinning like nothing happened. “I can take care of myself.” You scoffed and your lips twitched upward. Even in the middle of wanting to die of shame, he still somehow managed to make you smile. “You’re disgusting,” you said, giving a quiet laugh. JJ echoed your laugh, casting his eyes to the ground. “Thank you for understanding,” you said, sucking in a breath in hopes of steadying yourself. JJ planted a quick kiss on your shoulder before flopping back onto the bed. You laid back beside him with a sigh. “What’s your favorite color?” You asked him when you felt the silence had gone on for too long. JJ hummed, glancing down at you. He rolled his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. You copied the movement, mocking his scowl. “My favorite color is...whatever color your eyes are.” You let out a laugh and rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, Maybank!” You said, your smile sticking. When you looked at him again, you found that he hadn’t looked away. “What’s your favorite color?” JJ pursed his lips and sighed. “I’ve never thought about it?” “Never thought about your favorite color?” “No, never seemed important.” “Well,” you said, looking up at the ceiling. “What’s your favorite thing in the whole world?” “Weed, probably,” JJ said. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow and tapped his shoulder with his fist. “Okay, jeez, something else. I like surfing and hanging out with the Pogues, I guess.” “So the ocean!” You said with a smile. “You like the ocean.” “Yeah, I guess.” “So, blue, like the ocean?”

“Maybe.” “Alright. Well, you think about your favorite color and get back to me,” you said. “Why?” he scoffed.

“Because you said it was never important, but it’s important to me.” JJ turned his head to the side to look at you again. He was silent for a moment, like he was thinking about what he was going to say next. There was a second when you thought he might say something, but then he looked back up at the ceiling. “What’s your favorite color?” he asked.

“I really like a good burgundy,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “I mean, if you ever see my winter closet, you’ll see just how much I love burgundy.” “I have way too many questions about that statement,” JJ said, shaking his head. “What do you mean?” “First of all, I’m not sure burgundy is a color-” “It’s a shade of red.”

“-Second of all, you have a winter closet?” “According to my dad, a great way to make up for bruising me up is to buy me clothes. So, yeah, I have a winter closet.”

“God, I hate kooks.” You wanted to ask him a thousand more questions about a hundred different things. Sure, kissing him was like nothing else you’d ever felt before, but just being able to sit there and talk to him, to ask him things, to learn about him, was something else entirely. The only person you ever had was Kid and the last thing you wanted to do was let him see the worst things that happened between you and your Dad. You’d had two civil conversations with JJ and already he knew more about you than anyone else. You wanted nothing more than to spend the entire night talking to him. Unfortunately, your nosey father had other plans. You heard his footsteps and instantly shot upward. “What is it?” JJ asked. “You need to go,” you said. “I think we’ve been here before,” JJ said, refusing to sit up. “Yes, we have. Come on, let’s get you out the window.” You ran toward the window and threw it open, only to find that JJ was still laying on your bed. “Maybank, get up!” “I don’t want to.” “JJ, if my dad finds you in here, we’re both dead.” He looked up at her, tilting his head backward. You were breathing heavily, listening to the sound of your dad’s footfalls grow closer. Your heart pounded in your chest. You were smarter than this, you had to be smarter than this. Letting JJ in here was a terrible mistake. After spending almost your entire life trying to diffuse every situation before it began, you let your guard down for one stupid boy and now this stupid boy wasn’t getting out of your room and you were going to pay for it. Just as your dad was right outside the door and JJ still hadn’t moved, your pounding heart stopped. The doorknob was turning. You had to think of something. Get yourself out of this, you thought to yourself. You can get yourself out of this. “Don’t come in!” You called out. The doorknob stopped turning. JJ sat up, eyeing you carefully with a raised eyebrow. “Honey?” Your dad said from outside the door. “Are you alright?” You met JJ’s gaze, your own eyes wide. Your heart started thumping again, beating so hard you were sure JJ could see it about to pound its way out of your chest. He gave you a short nod and you breathed in deeply. “Yeah, Dad. I, uh, I started my period.” JJ dropped his head into his palms. You glared at him, sneering your teeth as his quiet laughter got a little bit too loud. “Oh, um.” You heard the discomfort in your dad’s voice and he let out a cough. “Do you need any help?” “No, Dad, I’m okay. I can handle it,” you said. “But thank you.” “Just let me know if you need anything,” he said. “I came over to ask if you could turn your music down a little bit.” You nodded. “Yeah, sure,” you said. JJ reached over and twisted the knob on the radio, turning the music down. “Thanks, sweetheart,” your dad said. “Sleep well.” “Night, Dad.” You didn’t take a steady breath until the footsteps were silent. Once your dad was safe in his room, you turned to JJ with smoldering eyes. “Get out of my room, JJ.” “You called me JJ again.”

“Shut up!” You snapped. “Listen to me, and you listen good. If my dad ever found out you were here, even if he didn’t know we were just...whatever. If he knew you were here, you would never see me again because I would be dead, do you understand that?” “He won’t know,” JJ said with a shrug. “You’re so frustrating!” “Ellie….” He stood and walked over to you, but you stepped back away from him, your eyes still narrowed. “All my life, I’ve done everything I can to stay alive, to just live to the next day,” you said. “And you walk in and fuck it all up. I can’t...I just want to survive, JJ. And I can’t do that if you’re constantly putting all of that at risk.” “What’s the point of staying alive if you’re not doing anything with that life?” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean?” JJ took another step toward you and this time, you didn’t step away. “You can’t just survive and not live a little every now and again.” You shut your eyes, hands shaking as you put them over your cheeks to try and steady your trembling jaw. “Maybe you can smoke and drink and hook up with girls and speed around in your boat with your friends and call that living, but that isn’t a liberty that I have.” You let out a shaky breath, hands falling to your sides. JJ kept his gaze on the ground, refusing to look at you. “Look, we can’t do this here. Just...I’ll see you around.” JJ didn’t say anything. He nodded slowly, snatching his hat off the ground and heading off toward the open window. You pressed your lips together into a thin line, wrapping your arms around your stomach. “There’s a party at the Cameron’s that we’re hijacking this Friday,” he said as he climbed out the window. “See you there?” You nodded. “Yeah.” You watched as he clambered down from your roof. He ran across your lawn and you didn’t close the window until he was long out of sight.

You went to work the next morning, your eyes stinging and mind blurry. Sleeping after JJ left was nearly impossible. It didn’t matter how little sleep you got, you needed to work. It wasn’t like you needed money to survive. Your dad paid for food and shelter and a data plan, but if Kid wanted anything other than that and clothes, it usually came from you. If you wanted a new pair of shoes or a tattoo, the money came from your bank account. All the rest of your money went to your savings, with which you would eventually buy a lawyer after you turned 18 to win custody of Kid, buy a house somewhere, and live far, far away from your dad. You needed to keep this job, maybe even find another one for over the summer, so you could get yourself and your kid brother to a safe home. This was what you reminded yourself as you drove to work in the truck you begged your dad for last year. There was a reason you never got yourself tangled up in the whole “relationship” mess. It was more than often confusing and took too much brainpower, brainpower you needed to use to keep yourself out of trouble. You couldn’t risk your eyes straying from the road you were on, not even for someone like JJ. As soon as his name popped into your head, it was like the universe decided to test you, to make sure that you really could keep your eyes on the road without succumbing to temptation. Driving to work, this test was literal. With your windows down, you heard his laugh first. You sniffled and kept your eyes fixed on the road. Focus was key. Keep your eyes on the road, keep your goals ahead of you. You had a plan and no one, not even JJ Maybank, could throw a wrench in it. But then you glanced out the window and wished you had listened to the universe when it told you to keep your eyes forward. JJ was standing and talking to someone, carrying his usual smile. You meant to look away before you saw who it was that he was talking to, but you didn’t. There was a girl sitting on the railing in front of one of the stores. JJ was standing in between her legs, his hands on her knees. Your heart skipped and you tried to look away again but then the girl, Peeler you thought her name might have been, put her hands on his face and pulled him closer to her. You looked back at the road before you had to see her kiss him. Keeping your mind off of it at work was like trying to keep seagulls away from baby sea turtles. Despite the fact that, as a Greeter, you spent your entire first shift on Thursdays talking to people, you still somehow managed to spend almost every hour thinking about it. You tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like you or JJ were dating or anything. Making out a couple of times didn’t constitute a relationship in any stretch of the term, so you had no claim on him. You had no place to be upset. Still, you were. There was only an hour left in your first shift and an hour after that when your second shift started. Thursdays were always long, but mentally complaining about a boy didn’t make it any shorter. You really just wanted the day to be over so you could just go home and crash. You took Fridays off of work to do school and recover from working for 16 hours. You just had to get through the rest of this day and that would be that. By the time both of your shifts were done, you had already planned out a million ways to verbally beat JJ to death. You spent the entirety of your second shift in the back room washing dishes. Naturally, that meant, not only were you exhausted, but you were sweaty, your hair was frizzy, and your fingers were like prunes. And you wanted to tear someone’s head off. Your drive home was just like any other. You wanted nothing more than to shower and drop dead into your bed. “Dad? I’m home!” You called as you shut the door behind you. As soon as you stepped inside, you knew something was wrong. Kid was sitting on the stairs, sniffling, and banging sounds were coming from the kitchen. “Hey,” you said, scowling as you walked over to your brother. “Kid, what’s wrong?” When he lifted his face from his hands, you saw the ring of a bruise around his eye and blood began to boil in your system. You straightened your spine, clenching your jaw to keep your rage inside. “Dad...he-” You didn’t have to hear anything else before you booked it for the kitchen. “El, wait!” You ignored Kid as he tried to stop you. But nothing was going to stop your warpath, not today. You turned into the kitchen, dropping your bag of clothes on the floor. “Dad, what the fuck?” Your dad was frantically cleaning dishes, his hands shaking. “Don’t talk to me like that, young lady,” he said, not looking up at you. “What did you do to Kid?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady and calm. Right now, you didn’t really care about escalating. Whenever Dad hit you, you had few issues getting over it. But any time he laid even a finger on your brother, you could never let it go. “He gave me mouth.” “So you punched him?” If you hadn’t shouted, you may have gotten away with the potty mouth and talking back, but of course, you weren’t getting away that easy tonight. Your dad spun around quickly, throwing the pot he was holding straight at you. You barely had time to dodge it before the pot hit you square in the face. It ding’d off of your shoulder, but adrenaline dulled the pain for a moment. “You don’t get to tell me how to parent my kids,” he seethed, marching up to you and putting a finger in your face. “Smacking Kid around isn’t parenting, Dad.” He shoved you backward and you tripped over one of the chairs, knocking your head against the leg of the table. The sting was instant. You rolled over, squeezing your eyes shut. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” your dad said, making a move to help you up. You put your hand out so he wouldn’t come any closer. He took a step back. “El!” You heard Kid cry from the entryway. You shook your head, trying to clear your tremoring mind. You pushed yourself off the floor, using the table to get you on your feet. Tears gathered in your eyes, either from the physical pain in your shoulder and head or from the fact that your dad just shoved you to the floor. Your dad stood back, hands in the air. “El….” “Kid, stay back,” you said, keeping your eye on your dad. You slid your hand off of the table. “I’m taking Kid upstairs.” Your dad said nothing. “We’re going upstairs and you’re not going to follow us,” you said. Slowly, your dad nodded, stepping back. You shuffled over to Kid and put an arm around him, one part herding him away and one part using him to lean on. “Are you okay?” Kid asked, tears still in his eyes. You nodded at him and tried to smile. “C’mon. You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

You woke up the next morning with a headache that felt like a hangover. Kid was curled up on your bed still, the sun shining through the window. When you looked over at the clock, you were appalled to see that it was a quarter past 8. Kid was late for school. “Shit.” You rolled out of your chair, every bone in your body tight and cracking. Your shoulder ached and there was a dull pain in the back of your head. “Hey, Kid,” you whispered, shaking your brother’s arm gently. “You gotta go to school.” Kid groaned, rolling over onto his back. You smiled down at him as he blinked his eyes a few times. “What time is it?” “Little after 8.”

“I’m already late. I’ll ditch today.” “You’re not a pogue, Kid. You have to go to school.” Kid grumbled and rolled out of your bed. “You stink,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I didn’t get to take my shower last night,” you replied, arms crossed and a little smile on your lips. You looked down at his face, saw the outline of the bruise again. You tried to swallow the anger that bubbled inside you again at the thought of it. “Let’s go, Kid.” Thirty minutes later, you were outside of Kid’s school. “Thanks, El,” he said, hopping out of the car. “Have a good day. I’ll see you later,” you called after him. With a smile and a wave, he disappeared inside the school building. The drive back home was peaceful. The sun was out, a breeze blowing through your car windows. The constant thrum of pain in your shoulder kept your mind clear, your eyes set on the road. You pulled up to a stoplight, closing your eyes, letting the sun warm your skin. “Hey, Ellie!” Your eyes shot open and you turned the voice. JJ ran over to you, Pope Heyward by his side. Your heart started to pound. Before he and his friend could get any closer, the light turned green and you stepped on the gas. “Ellie?” Your car sputtered forward before taking off, leaving JJ and Pope in a trail of dust.

#jj maybank #jj obx #jj x reader #jj x oc #pope heyward #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #ward cameron #oc #series #outer banks #obx #pope obx #sarah obx #tw: abuse #rafe obx

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i-love-you-all · 3 years

Text

Spoon-fed nights

A/N: I wrote the scene but it didn’t fit the longer story. This is the full version of the WIP with the same name. This is just one part of the story (the non-smut part). The full thing (with the smut) will be on AO3 on Aug 30th as I’m struggling while editing the ending. I’ll reblog this when it’s available.

Tags: Mature (Language, and themes.), Sova/Breach, ~1.4k words

It made Sova’s arms pulse with pain from staying in this position for too long. It took all his concentration and effort not to let his fingers tremble. His abdomen was slowly burning from holding himself up like this. He knew he was in good shape, but he could feel a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. He was extremely focused despite suffering the punishment from this task at hand.

All so none of the salad dressing would get on Breach’s facial hair while he worked on something.

It was laughable really, and if Sova had walked in on this, he would laugh at himself as well. However, when Breach really focused on a project, he gave up many aspects of his everyday life. Meals were one of them because it required at least one free arm to eat, and often made a mess on his worktable. And while he’s never explicitly said it, Sova worried on the days when Breach’s body finally caught up to his mind when he’d be in terrible moods while trying to hide the physical discomfort or his fatigue. So, something new he did with Breach whenever he was in these working frenzies was make sure that the man ate. He had his own stool at Breach’s work bench, carefully making sure the man was eating at least one meal a day.

Sova was also the one to start the sensual touches, or the sickly-sweet kisses to try and persuade Breach to go to bed with him. That part didn’t always work though. His willpower and stubbornness were both something Sova admired and hated.

The routine faded into a regular occurrence now, and Sova knew how to angle the fork so Breach could keep his eyes on his project. He knew how much food he could balance on the utensil without letting any of it fall onto the bench or Breach’s clothes. He even figured out that it was easier to dip foods that required sauces rather than let them be slathered with the sauce from the start. Breach hated when anything got into his beard and mustache. He always said it was annoying to clean out thoroughly, and if he wasn’t careful, it would leave a strange smell and irritate his skin when he shaved. For what it was worth, Sova had to admit that Breach’s facial hair was soft and always smelled nice. Sometimes, he would even use some of Breach’s products to shave his own face even though he refused the few times Breach offered to buy him his own set.

At least no one batted an eye when Sova walked towards the dorms with a plate of fresh cut veggies and a little ketchup cup of salad dressing. They generally assumed it was a Russian thing. While there was a sense of fulfillment in seeing a man so wrapped up in his own thoughts break out of it momentarily just to smile at him whenever he walked in with a plate of food, it really didn’t help how his arms were burning right his moment. It wasn’t that a fork was heavy, no, it was just that these feeding sessions took so long. There were moments when Breach even forgot to chew the food, and Sova would need to nudge his cheek. That, and it was such mindless work that he felt boredom often tugging at his thoughts. Thoughts like how he wants to try a new bow, or a new type of arrowhead. Thoughts like how handsome Breach was or how good he smelled.

He would tease Breach with the food if he didn’t think he’d be kicked out.

There was no doubt from Sova that if he proved to be more of a nuisance than a help, Breach would politely – or not so politely – ask him to leave. So, even though Sova toyed with the idea of jerking the fork away as Breach turned his head, he would never actually do it.

At least now right now. Eventually Breach finished off the salad with a little comment that Sova was trying to turn him into a rabbit, and Sova was allowed a quick moment to hold him and give a light kiss on his lips before he left the room.

“I’ll be back later with a snack before bed.”

Sova used the couple remaining hours of the evening to practice his shooting, being lulled into a pattern. It was familiar. The kickback of the guns, the smell of gunpowder, even the feeling of taking off the earmuffs and finally hearing everything without the muffle made him forget the time. Not that Breach would mind. Before heading inside to prepare something for Breach, Sova took a lap around the facility. It gave him time to think. There were fresh grapes Skye had offered him earlier in the day. They were truly meant for Sova who loved the taste of fruits, but he wouldn’t mind sharing the last few harvests of the fruit if it was with Breach.

With care, he removed the container of grapes, smiling at the smell of just… nature. It was a hard contrast to the smell of oil and metal in Breach’s room right now. Still, with care, he washed the fruits and walked back towards the dorms, making sure that he wouldn’t get spotted sliding into Breach’s room without even knocking. Of course, Breach was still working, and it didn’t even look like he had moved at all.

“Back already?” Breach spared a split-second from his tinkering to look up at Sova. “Has it been that long already?”

“Four hours, Breach. It’s almost midnight.” Sova took a seat next to him and held a grape up to his mouth.

Breach gratefully took the grape letting his tongue lick over Sova’s fingertips while holding eye contact. “I won’t be too much longer. One hour.”

So, Sova dutifully sat next to him, feeding him and lulling Breach into a pattern where he would look over mere seconds after swallowing the previous bite. It afforded Sova a close up to his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each swallow, a look into his clear blue eyes, and a closeness to the loose strands of red hair flowing freely around his neck and shoulders. It also gave Sova an idea as the end of the hour drew near. Instead of holding each piece of fruit in his fingers and having to suffer the feeling of Breach’s lips around his fingertips, Sova popped the grape in between his lips and held it there.

As expected, when Breach turned his head to take the next bit of food, his lips wrapped around the fruit but paused as he must’ve felt the change. The eyes flickered to Sova’s in confusion before a single eyebrow quirked up in an amused glance. He quickly took the grape from Sova who leaned back to chuckle at how fast Breach chewed and swallowed, never breaking eye contact with Sova.

When he leaned back in, Sova eagerly met him halfway for the kiss, relishing the sweet after taste of the fruit. Mixed with the smell of his skin, of the room, Sova was ready to climb on him right that moment.

“I assume we’re doing more than just sleeping today?”

“You need to workout eventually. Don’t want your muscles going soft.”

Breach nipped at Sova’s skin in response, eliciting a moan rather than working as a punishment. Seeing how his little warning went unnoticed, Breach placed his lips against Sova’s skin to retort, “As long as it’s not my dick going soft, I didn’t think you’d care.”

Sova rolled his eyes and eagerly resumed the kiss, lifting Breach up by his shirt and pushing him onto his bed. They wrestled for position as the winner would be granted control over the night, though Sova often willingly gave it to Breach. After all, when he treated Sova so kindly and with so much care, it was easy to let him have his way. It went on for a minute, maybe two before Sova finally pins Breach’s arms over his head. “All I wanted,” Sova pulled away, panting, “was for you to take a break.”

He got a chuckle in response, one he felt on his own chest. “This is a break, isn’t it? I can finish up after I deal with you.”

“You’re going to sleep after this.” Sova muttered. It wasn’t an ask. This was a command. One that Breach would definitely follow, even if it meant wrapping himself around his muscled body and metal arms like a koala to a eucalyptus tree. Breach couldn’t carry Sova forever.

#Valorant #valorant fanfic #val breach #val sova #Sova/Breach #my writing

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lxveille · 4 years

Text

strawberry frosting at the center of the universe

seungkwan x reader

word count: ~ 3140 warnings: mentions of sex, making out a/n: friends-to-lovers; part of the morning after shuffle

This is familiar. The angle that the sunlight comes through the window. Being woken up by warmth and light from underneath smooth, soft sheets. There’s a place on this bed carved out just for you from late nights at the office and even later weekend adventures. It’s comfortable. A place you know just as well as your own apartment, thanks to it belonging to the best friend you’ve ever had.

Except -- of course. The except only comes as you fully come back to consciousness.

The first time you ever stayed here, it had been a Wednesday. Seungkwan kept checking in on you throughout the night while you insisted you’d be fine but that you had to stay at the office just a bit longer. Eventually the work was done. Eventually turned out to be near three in the morning. When you texted you were finally heading home, he replied that his apartment was just around the corner. A warm bed would be much closer if you just crashed at his place. Between your exhaustion and the prospect of a thirty-five minute trek back to your home, you didn’t need much convincing.

After that one time it became a habit. When projects were finished only hours before morning deadlines, Seungkwan was always ready to let you slip half-awake through his door and under his sheets.

Sometimes he was still awake. The one nagging you to just turn in for the day. Reassuring you that work can, in fact, wait. Once he linked you to some health website’s article about how irregular sleep schedules are bad for your wellbeing. Of course, you answered that his schedule isn’t much better when he stays up checking in on you.

Other times you would come up with the idea on your own, calling Seungkwan’s number as you left the office and hoping he’d pick up. He did. Nearly every time. He’d open the door for you with eyes still half-closed and hair sticking out in all directions.

And eventually, it wasn’t just a place to crash after late nights at work. It was a comfortable place to spend the night in the city when your head was pounding from alcohol or club music. Or, as was more likely, both. It was easy. Relaxing. Safe.

Nothing has changed. Not the color of paint of his walls, nor the scent that lingers on his linens. Even the feeling of waking up in one of his old shirts is the same. Seungkwan was always insistent that you should be comfortable, regardless of the reason that had you crashing at his place instead of your own.

But also, it’s all changed. Maybe even drastically so.

Last night the two of you had planned on going out. Having made it through a long and stressful week, you both agreed you’d earned a few hours of drinking and dancing. Anyone planning for a night out knows it’s too expensive if you don’t at least get a little buzz going at home. And Seungkwan’s door was open as always. So the two of you poured a few glasses and hooked his phone up to the speaker for music, setting the mood with laughter and singalongs in between suggestions of where to go.

Neither of you ended up getting to a bar.

The whole itinerary was forgotten.

All it took was the playlist shuffling to a slower song. The two of you slowed along with the melody, laughing and leaning into each other. Breathless from dancing and shouting lyrics. The song played on, but it felt as if his apartment went quiet. He might have asked to kiss you, or he might have just looked at you in a way that said it all.

You’d never thought of kissing Seungkwan. At least not until his lips were on yours. And then you thought, maybe you had. Without even thinking of it, it might have been waiting to be felt. Because he certainly felt unresistable once it started.

There’s some children’s book that was once read to you. It had pages filled with illustrations and text about seeds, how they seem invisible underneath the soil. They take root and begin to sprout little by little, hardly noticeable in the grass at first. Then one day, there’s a new plant blooming unexpectedly. In the story, it might have been a weed. It might have been a cautionary tale. Pay attention. Take care of your garden before it gets out of hand.

Maybe it did get out of hand. Hands were involved, for sure, alongside hushed words and deeper kisses. Stumbling feet and uncertain touches. Seungkwan’s embarrassed laughter as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your shirt and the reassuring graze of your lips against his cheeks when you took over for that task. The playlist carried on, masking over the sound of shaking breaths and moans, keeping them as a secret from the neighbors on the other side of his walls.

Not every unexpected plant you come across is a weed.

Or not every weed needs to be uprooted.

You turn under the sheets and find Seungkwan’s shoulders. He’s on his side, facing away from the window, dyed hair an uneven muss against his pillow. You cuddle down into the pillow he gave to you and watch the subtle rise and fall as he breathes steadily. Your fingers grasp at the sheet and feel yourself smile. Uncontrolled and bright, and no one to know it was there except for you. You bring one arm up to your face and bury your head into the crook of your elbow.

You would welcome falling back asleep. A few more hours of nothing but warmth would do you good. The more you wake up, the more you might begin to worry. Maybe once you come out from under the blankets, you’ll start to doubt everything Seungkwan said last night. Maybe it’ll just be sex, and this will be the last time you ever wake up in his apartment.

Except.

You are awake. Those thoughts drift across your mind, but they feel far away. Like having a melody stuck in your head without being able to recall the lyrics. Just dropping by. You’d know the words if it were something that really struck a chord.

There’s no getting around it. You’re awake and awfully fond of Seungkwan. You shift and slip out your side of the bed. It’s a bit of a marvel. There’s never had a side of the bed with someone after the first time having sex. A guest, maybe. An escape route, on occasion. Here, you’re already home. Or home-away-from-home.

Your feet meet the floor, and you pad as quietly around the foot of the bed to head towards the bathroom. Behind you, there’s the sound of Seungkwan stirring. He mumbles something, but you don’t pause to find out what.

The lightswitch in his bathroom is finicky. The push button doesn’t always quite stick when you press it on, resulting in the lights flickering off after an instant. So you come in and push once, ready to insist more firmly when the small room goes dark again. This time, however, the switch functions just right. The yellow light overhead stays on.

The ziplock bag is where you left it. On the opposite side of the sink from his soap dispenser. You pull it open and take out your toothbrush and face wash to set them out for use. You had come prepared to spend the night. Even if you hadn’t predicted what an intimate turn the night would take. The soap dispenser had been a housewarming gift from his mom. Because it was tacky to just have the plastic bottles from the store out in front of guests, he said. Sometimes when you came over, one would be out anyway. The dispenser empty, and he in no rush to refill it.

“What would your mother say?” You scolded jokingly as you took it upon yourself to unscrew both caps and pour the citrus-scented liquid from one container to the other.

Seungkwan smiled. “That I’m lucky to have met you.”

As easy as that. Maybe you’ve been something other than a guest for longer than you know.

When you go back into the room, you’re greeted by Seungkwan’s voice veiled in morning grog. “Where’d you go?” He doesn’t lift his head from the pillow. But he stretches one arm out, open palm towards you and fingers spread.

“I got up,” you answer and meander towards his bed.

He comes back with only another question: “Why?”

It’s so simple, with such an evident answer that you can’t help but chuckle. “That’s what people do in the morning.” You reach your hand up to meet his and allow your fingers to lace with his.

Seungkwan huffs and peeks his eyes open. With hands still linked, he lets his arm go loose in your hold so the two of you find a happy medium of where they should settle. Less than an arm's length away from the mattress, you stand there with hands swaying idly in the cool morning air. “We don’t have to get up,” he proposes.

“I already did.”

A valid point. To which he responds by rolling slightly back and tugging, pulling you back onto the bed. You don’t resist. Once you’re lying beside him, Seungkwan wastes no time letting go of your hand in favor of locking his arm around your middle and nuzzling into your shoulder. It comes easily. As if this is simply the way the both of you have always been. And sure -- there have been hugs and small cuddles before. But this is closer than those.

Your hand finds a place on the back of his head; fingers moving slowly in mindless patterns through his hair and over his scalp. He gives out a pleased sigh, his breath hot against your collar.

For a while neither of you says anything. The two of you take up only one half of the mattress, pressed close together. One bundle of intertwined limbs and steady breathing. Sunlight stretches out further across the room now, batting off some of the chill still lingering in the air. The warmth, from light and from Seungkwan combined, is pleasant. It lulls you gently back down into a haze of sleepiness. Your eyelids close. The only way you really register still being conscious is through the slow movement of your fingers in his hair and the slight tickle of his breath on your skin. Even those fade to the background.

It doesn’t feel entirely clear whether you fell asleep again or not. Dreamishness can come easily in this arrangement even without proper slumber. You only know when it lifts. Both of you still close together, lazing in the morning light.

“Seungkwan?” you probe to see if he’s awake too.

He hums and raises his chin so his eyes can meet yours. There’s a smile on his lips that makes you mirror the expression.

Without another word, Seungkwan kisses you. Just a simple press of his mouth against yours. He barely pulls away before kissing once again. This time it lingers, moving in a kind of slow-motion against each other. His tongue is cool against yours, and you find your bodies moving without intention. It’s like swimming through molasses. No urgency, and barely even a distinct thought. There’s only gentle touches and the hypnotic sensation where your lips meet.

You end up hovering over him, your elbows sinking into the sheets and fingers tangled in his hair. His hands refuse to settle anywhere in particular; warm fingers running down your neck, across your shoulders, over your hips. Overcame by breathlessness, you separate from him. For a moment, Seungkwan doesn’t open his eyes. He lies beneath you, as if in a trance. A blissful sort of look on his face with the dusting of reddishness that goes from his cheeks to ears.

His lashes flutter, and then he’s looking into your eyes. Smiles return to both of you simultaneously. He murmurs your name delicately. As if finally replying to when you’d done the same with his. It only makes your expression blossom into a grin. Seungkwan has one hand at your elbow. The other rests along your spine, having snuck beneath the shirt he’d leant to you somewhere in all the kissing.

He looks like he might stare up at you for an eternity. Or on the verge of saying something profound. Maybe you’d be happy if he did either. But you aren’t disappointed when he settles for arching up to leave another peck against your lips before asking, “You don’t have anywhere to go today, do you?”

“Nope.” You let yourself lower on top of him gently, readjusting so one arm lays across his chest. “But we can’t stay in bed all day, you know.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you want to eat breakfast at some point?” you counter. “The kitchen isn’t a bed.”

Seungkwan isn’t impressed by your answer. “Have you forgotten what year it is? We can get breakfast delivered.”

You hum. “Someone will have to get out of bed when it gets here.”

“That hardly counts.” He sounds offended you’d even hold the premise of staying in bed to such strict guidelines. He moves slightly, and you shuffle to let him reach over you to the bedside table. With his phone in hand, he taps away at the screen a couple times. “What do you think we should get?”

You give and shrug, and push yourself into a slumped-up position that matches his own against the headboard. Your head rests upon his shoulder so you can see onto his screen as well. Various delivery options scroll by, ratings in stars and expense signs and time estimates.

“I think that bakery Seokmin keeps talking about delivers,” he mentions. The small pictures beside each restaurant name flies by as Seungkwan scrolls rapidly back up to the search bar. “Would you want croissants or muffins or something like that?”

“Oh.” You let out more as a filler as you watch him start to type in the name. “Do they have doughnuts?” It’s a reaction more than a question. Because rather than an exterior shot by the search result, there’s an image of two frosted doughnuts with a branded napkin peeking out beneath them.

“It looks like it.”

So it isn’t a difficult decision to make.

There’s an estimated twenty-five minutes before the half dozen would arrive.

Enough time for more making out and then some.

Morning sex doesn’t turn out to be drastically different from what you’d done the night before. It’s more comfortable, in a way, with both already more familiar with each other’s bodies than you’d been twenty-four hours ago. There’s laughter, broken up between moans and gasps, when you ask what he’d do if the doorbell rang right that instant. And more when he barely manages to reply that doughnuts can wait, just a while, for this.

Two two of you end up holding each, utterly unaware of time and regaining steady heartbeats. Seungkwan peppers barely-there kisses against your temple and your shoulders. At your neck, his breath tickles the skin, and you wriggle away from him suddenly.

He follows after you. He corners you against the pillows and kisses that ticklish spot as many times as he can. You yelp and push against his arms, protesting through laughter. When Seungkwan stops, it’s only to put one hand against your cheek and embrace you properly. It seems like a fixation. Like neither of you can resist continuing to kiss. Even being breathless from laughter, you melt into it. All the tension slips out of your muscles and your arms wrap around him. Maybe it’s a way of making up for time.

The bell goes off, interrupting your affection. Seungkwan grins at you and moves off the bed with a speed that only the promise of food can summon at a time like this. He slips on a t-shirt before disappearing to answer the door.

Alone on his bed, you look towards the window with an absentminded smile. There wasn’t much to think about. Only a quiet warmth planted squarely in the center of your chest, spreading slowly through your veins. A feeling nearly like a promise.

Seungkwan is back in the room only moments later, carrying the flat box of baked goods. At his arrival, you sit up and fold your legs into a crossed position. He slips into the space at the foot of the bed that was freed up by your change, and sets the box down on top of the comforter.

He tells you to pick first before taking a pink-frosted doughnut from the bottom right corner of the box for himself. As soon as you take a bite, you can’t help but let out an appreciative hum. It’d been easy not to realize just how hungry you were. Or else the bakery is really that good that just a small taste inspires even more hunger.

“This was a good choice,” you say once you’ve finished chewing. Seungkwan nuds enthusiastically to make up for the fact he can’t reply with words, still busy with the piece in his mouth.

The conversation carries on like one you could be any morning. Starting with how Seokmin found this gem of a bakery, and meandering from there to various stories of the people in your lives, laughing and passing judgment in different measures on all the triumphs and trials of your twenties with him.

A lull comes in, both of you in the middle of sugary mouthfuls.

Once Seungkwan swallows, he doesn’t jump back into complaining about work. He’s satisfied for a moment by simply watching you -- still slightly disheveled from sleep and wearing one of his old shirts -- carefully handling the piece of doughnut in your hand so as not to get frosting on your fingers.

“I’m glad you stayed.” Seungkwan’s voice is tender and certain. Something that he has to make sure is said, even if he suspects you must already know.

It’s the first acknowledgement either of you has given that this isn’t all just typical. That all this intimacy is new. That today, regardless of where all this newfound intimacy goes, is a landmark of something.

The warmth from your center is all over by now. It gives you the confidence to smile and tell him, “I am too. Really glad.” You place the leftover half of your doughnut back down in the box and lean over to brush your lips for just a moment against his cheek.

Somewhere out there, there’s a whole world that will have to be dealt with eventually.

For now, the next kiss you share tastes like strawberry sugar and vanilla. And everything that matters in reach.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #boo seungkwan x reader #svt fanfic #svt imagine #seungkwan scenarios #themorningaftershuffle #admittedly i felt rusty writing most of this so ??? who knows but here it is

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bibbykins · 4 years

Text

Folie à deux (Yandere Drabble)

A/N: I had this idea, and then my dog ran across my keyboard and typed this, so if you hate it, it wasn't me. Although, it was fun to not write it. Big shoutout to my first class and the notes I never take trying to upload fics

Category: Drabble (?)

Pairing: (Scopophilic Affection) Soft Yandere! Jin x reader

Words: 2k

Things with you had been going great, much to Jin's relief. You had gracefully moved in without protest. Although, he expected as much considering your last place of residence. You even agreed to sleep in the same bed as him. While building a relationship from the ground up after one party confessed undying love was a learning, it had been progressing well enough. Jin had learned quickly you had no idea how to express your romantic emotions. Your face would heat every time he relayed his love and you would stutter each time he called you a pet name. He honestly wasn't sure exactly how you felt about him. You never introduced him as your boyfriend, but never made an effort to stop him from introducing himself as such. You hadn't told him you love him, but you did wear the extravagant promise ring he had gotten every day. You always faltered in PDA, but you had a rather active and affectionate sex drive at home.

He wasn't complaining in the slightest, just perplexed. Even as he sat on the bed, watching as you got ready for a gala, he would give the world for your thoughts.

Why in the fuck was he looking at you like that?

You fought the pout on your lips as you perfected your eyeliner. Your peripheral vision distracted you from the dire task at hand in favor of prioritizing your million dollar man simply gazing at you.

Does he not like how you look? Should you change?

You stood straight, making firm eye contact with yourself. Did you look fit to stand next to Kim Seokjin?

You huffed, scrutinizing your form. The dress was stunning, but were you stunning in it? You gnawed on your glossed lip. Things with Jin had been like a dream. Waking up to soft kisses, eating wonderful food, experiencing unbridled support and honest criticism when you needed it. He was lovely, honest, and you had no idea how to tell your boyfriend how much you loved him. The words would get swallowed down by tsundere responses you didn't even know you possessed. It was either that or mindless bumbling.

You preferred the honest truth, but you were so scared of what would happen if you said it. At this rate, you would marry the man and only be able to say how cool he is in your vows. You had never felt such a connection or such love, and you had absolutely no idea what to do about the reciprocation you realized within the first months of living here. He speaks poetry to you and all you can do is mumble a thanks when not crying about how mean your family is. Even when you do cry about your family, prince charming is there to hold you. The only time you can show him how you feel is during sex, which is fantastically mind-blowing sex, but you should be able to say a simple "I love you" if you can orgasm countless times with him inside of you.

Beyond your emotional idiocy, you had another problem at hand. You were going to a gala. Sure, you went to a couple of company events, but you had Jin's friends' girlfriend's to keep you company. This time, it was for some tech things. Jin gave you the details, but you forgot them upon your panic after he said it would be a mix of his associates outside of the company.

As you gazed at yourself, you wondered if you should just tell him you'll stay home. He would understand. He's always considerate. He should understand that he looked amazing and you looked-

"You look absolutely breathtaking." Jin breathed, standing from the bed while you faced him shyly, "I feel unworthy to have you on my arm." He mused as he made his way over to you.

Your head tilted down in embarrassment, "It's the dress, not me, silly." You murmured only to feel a soft hand tuck under your chin to tilt your face up so he could place a short kiss on your soft lips.

You watched with a giggle as he rubbed the swapped lipgloss between his two lips, "You've never been more incorrect, my love." He spoke softly, "If this event wasn't so big, I would keep you home to show you how ravishing you are without the dress." His hand slipped to the small of you back as he pulled you close. You let your eyes close briefly, taking a whiff of his cologne, calming your nerves.

You could convince him to do just that, but your love for him ran deeper than a tussle in the sheets. You knew he wanted to go and talk about all the tech things he excitedly tells you, despite the lingo going right over your head. Even so, nothing made you happier than to see him with that goofy smile on his face, "You can show me when we get home." You breathed as you planted a kiss on his neck, soft hands going to rub away your deposited gloss, "Maybe even on the car ride back." You whispered, voice sultry. What you were trying to say was that you loved him too much to let him pass up the opportunity to talk binary and coding to people who could respond with the same enthusiasm.

"You kill me so softly." He led you out to the car, opening your door like the gentleman he always is, "I can't wait to show everyone you're mine."

You smiled softly, "It's more my honor than yours." You smiled brightly as you watched Jin grow a giddy smile at your affectionate comment.

----

This event sucked so royally, but Jin seemed to be having a grand old time, and that was enough for you. The food was also plentiful and delicious, so after making the rounds with Jin to the major players, you sat down at your table while he discussed breakthroughs in everything having to do with what his other love, technology. Much like Jin would at your theater events, you watched with a warm smile as he chatted it up, waving at you every now and then.

You only moved from your seat to grab more finger dishes when you caught sight of a beautiful woman, tossing her head back in false laughter, her manicured hand playfully patting Jin's chest.

Your Jin's chest.

The chest that has on more than one occasion been littered with love bites and nail marks from you.

You sized her up, only to feel exceptionally smaller than you did before. You didn't know it was possible to feel more self-conscious than you did now, but her pure beauty was enough to make you put your snack down with a sigh. Your eyes couldn't help but dart to her fitted dress and even fitter body. Could you stand to lose some weight?

Your eyes didn't even flicker to Jin's face as she shook his hand extremely slow. Your eye twitched when she began to stroke his hand. She was probably talking about how soft they were. Jin had angelic skin, and you knew how soft his hands were since they ran down your body every day.

That's right. It's your body those hands touch. It's your laugh his ears enjoy to hear. At least he says he does. Could all his love flit away as quickly as it came? Did he genuinely love you or was he just infatuated? Did you fall for a man who never fell for you? You weren't suited for him, it would make more sense if he didn't love you.

You could feel tears knock in your ducts. This wouldn't do. You would have to cry later. Not now. Maybe not today, but tomorrow and the next, Jin will love you. He would continue to love you because he's yours just as you are his. She can try to take him away, but you will only keep him closer to you.

With this resolve, you straightened your back as you walked to your man with a poise you seldom exhibited. The woman has let go of his hand in favor of moving her silken locks to show off her neck, a seduction tactic you read in a magazine when trying to spice things up for Jin, only to find the article too boring.

Did he like boring?

Too late for that, since your hand had made soft contact with his bicep, "Honey, do you have my lipgloss with you or did I leave it at home?" You watched a dust of red tint Jin's cheek at the term of endearment. You glanced to the side, "Oh my, I'm so sorry to interrupt, I didn't even notice." You faked a shocked gasp.

"Nonsense, y/n, I was wondering where you were, so I could introduce you." He placed his hand atop yours and you suddenly felt like a fool jumping to conclusions. This poor woman was probably just making polite conversation and you-

"I'm Soojin, Seokjin's childhood friend." She spoke with a pearly smile. Aren't you a bitch? She was just catching up and you- "We were betrothed when we were kids."

You should tear off her million-dollar nails and pawn them.

She gave your hand a squeeze that you assumed was supposed to be intimidating, but with Jin's hand on your hip, you didn't falter.

"That's so cute." You gushed, and Jin could tell it was fake as you let go of her hand, "I'm Jin's fianceè." The word left your mouth before you could reel it back in.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

You swore the world stopped in the worst way to give you more time to soak in your own craziness as you watched Soojin's face twist with mocking disbelief.

You were glad you couldn't see Jin's face as Soojin's eyes darted to your promise ring, "Emerald is a bit funny for engagement, no?" Her eyebrow arched and you could swear you went down a couple inches.

How could you be so mindless?

"I'm waiting until we finish our Master's to make our official statement with the official ring." Jin spoke up and you breathed a subtle sigh of relief, "Although, I don't do anything by status quo from betrothments to engagement rings." He spoke with a strain you had never heard in his voice before.

You turned to see his jaw clenched, "You alright, my love?" You asked, genuinely concerned, "You sound a bit peckish, should we go?"

"I don't notice anything wrong." Soojin nearly sneered.

"You know me so well, dear." Jin gazed down at you with the same loving gaze he always had, "I suppose it's best I turn in, see you around." Jin barely gave Soojin a passing glance as you spared a cheeky wave before bidding more genuine farewells to associates.

Guilt ate you alive the whole ride home. You sat with your head in your lap as Jin let you be, only confirming the anger you figured he had in you. How could you be so careless like that? So juvenile, so fucking stupid.

Upon getting home, you made a beeline for the guest room, figuring that would be where he wanted you to stay. On the opposite side of the house, as far from him as you could be. You were only halted by a swift clutch on your forearm, bringing you to clash into his unmoving form. Your face hit his chest as you tried to budge, only to be held firmly against him, "Leopard? What's wrong?" His voice was soft and yet, a dam broke inside you as you cried, "Were you overwhelmed?" He pondered as he held you closer, "I knew we should've stayed home."

You shook your head, "I'm sorry I was mean to Soojin." You sniffled and Jin pulled you from him to look at you properly.

You felt your bottom lip quiver as he looked at you with confusion, "Mean?" He cocked his head to the side.

Before he could continue, "She's just so pretty! And I know I sound dumb!" You exclaimed, "But she kept touching you and patting your chest, and I felt so…" You huffed, hot tears trailing down your face, "Inferior like she could just take you from me at any moment and-"

"You were jealous?" Jin was genuinely confused as his thumbs went to wipe your tears, his palms cradling your face, "Why on Earth would you be jealous of someone like Soojin?"

"Have you seen her?!" You were exasperated, "She's stunning and intimidating, might I add, and I just love you so much I didn't even think when I-"

Jin stopped listening as soon as those three words left your beautiful lips. He thought you had been humoring him when you introduced yourself as his fianceè. He had plans to reward you, but when he saw how upset you were in the car, he figured he would talk to you at home.

"You love me?" You stopped short of your rant to gasp, "Is that why you said you were my fianceè? Because you were jealous?"

It was your turn to be confused, "Of course, why else would I do that without talking to you about it?"

"I thought you did it to butter me up." He laughed, the sound going from amusement to pure joy, "But you just love me so much, that you do something as crazy as saying you're my fianceè-"

You whined at the use of the word crazy as you slumped down, "Jin, I'm sorry, I just-mmph." You felt the most familiar pair of plush lips atop your own as Jin pulled you to him for a searing kiss. Almost immediately, your tongue intermingled with his own as he drew in a heavy break, squeezing you close to his body.

Quickly the kiss turned into a heated prelude to one of your favorite events, sex with Jin. You both stumbled your way to the bedroom, heels kicked off, dress noticeably looser with the zipper down, and when your back hit the most comfortable million dollar bed, you groaned. Jin attached his lips to your neck in a frenzy, "Say it." He moaned against your neck.

"Say what?" You panted as your fingers threaded through his hair.

He placed a quick bit that extracted a strangled moan out of you, "Leopard, I love you." He grit out as he tore the dress down your body.

"I-I love you too, Jin." You shot up when you heard the sounds of threads snapping, "Watch it! That dress costs more than my tuition!"

"You're more valuable." He grunted as he slid the fabric down your body, completing with your request to show more care. You rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment but chose to focus more on unbuttoning his shirt.

You could hardly help yourself as you sucked on the side of his neck. You were never one to give hickeys like Jin was, but you could definitely understand the appeal now. Jin was absolutely terrible when using concealer to cover it up, so the whole world could see them. This would embarrass you any other day, and probably will tomorrow, but it hardly mattered at this moment.

Jin, on the other hand, was in heaven. Not only did the love of his life love him back, but you were dreadfully, adorably, territorial as you licked around the busted capillaries that lied beneath his skin. He let out a throaty moan as his fingers threaded into your hair, tugging ever so slightly, only spurring you on more, just like he always did.

If you like my writing, consider buying me a ko-fi if you can

#yander bts #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #jin fic #yandere jin #bts fanfic #jin fluff #drabble #scopophilic affection

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yukiobeyme · 4 years

Note

Heya! It's me again. I really don't want to come off as rude or impatient. Would it be ok if I asked for Ikevamp comfort headcanons? That MC is self harming (actively, if possible) and just fluff and angst? I don't care who or how many suitors you choose. You wrote a post about maybe writing it and I know I already commented on it, I could just really do with this type of fic. Thank you so much and It's completely ok if you're uncomfortable writing that or any other reason ^^

YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE!!! Sorry I’ve been MIA my dad went to the hospital with COVID and pneumonia and I am a full-time student. I did miss your reply and I do apologize for that! I did jump this up in my requests because I feel like lots of people need this comfort. Feel free to reach out to me if you need to talk, I know I’ve been in the same situation during this time. You ARE NOT ALONE! YOU ARE LOVED! I am going to break this up into parts simply so I can research some of the characters a little more and make sure they are as accurate as possible.

But I need this right now as well. Some of them are ambiguous if MC and the Boys are in a relationship or not, up to the reader to decide. Also, these are more like drabbles then headcanons. TW: Active Self-Harm and Depression. If you are at risk please reach out whether it is a professional, friends, family or to Crisis Hotlines.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – For youth and adults (800) 273 8255

Text HOME to 741741 (US & Canada)

Text HOME to 85258 (UK)

Text HOME 0861800280 (Ireland)

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG AND ADD MORE HOTLINES

I also might have Vincent’s and Theo’s Out of Character, but Vincent Van Gogh suffered from Depression and had many mental breakdowns and ate paint in a form of self-harm due to the toxicity of the paints during the time.

Sebastian

It did not take Sebastian long before he realized a knife was missing from the kitchen. At first, he didn’t know where it went but he was very observant and immediately noticed your change of behavior. You kept your sleeves down even if you were washing dishes, how you occasionally seemed to dig your arm into the countertop, or used your other hand to press against your other arm.

He tried to ignore the nagging feeling but kept an eye on you. He couldn’t ignore it when you were in the kitchen together when he heard you let out a hiss, it seemed like your arm caught on the counter and you instantly clenched your arm. He immediately noticed that your white sleeve was turning red. He froze for a moment before he moved towards you. Catching you before you could leave the kitchen and pulling you to sit on one of the stools in the kitchen. You looked like a deer in the headlights and was ridged like a stone statue. You stared straight ahead and avoided his eyes as he rolled up his sleeves. He heard his breath hitch when he rolled up your sleeves.

“MC? Why?” For Sebastian to be strict and calm, you hear his voice wavier and tried to catch your eyes.

That’s what broke you, you immediately started to cry, you dropped your head into your hands. You felt his hand rest on your shoulder.

“I’m going to get the first aid kit, please stay here. Wait for me please,” Sebastian’s voice was full of emotion, he gave your shoulder a final squeeze before he left to get the first aid. You were left alone, but you took the time to calm down and watch the blood dry. Sebastian came back quickly and immediately started to doctor you up.

“We don’t have to talk about it know… but I need to know, is that why there is a kitchen knife missing?” Sebastian knew the answer, but he had to make sure, he had to confirm it. You nodded, still not looking at him and you couldn’t find your voice at all.

“MC look at me please,” Sebastian’s voice was urgent and quiet. It took you a moment, but you looked up at him, with tears in your eyes. You took in his furrowed brows, his eyes full of concern and the start of tears forming.

“MC, I am here for you. You have ten other people that are here for you. You are important. You are important to me,” His voice cracked on the last sentence, tears finally falling grey eyes. You immediately lunged towards him and wrapped your arms around him and snuggling into his chest. He held you just as tight and you stayed in silence.

“Take the rest of the day off, if you need too,” Sebastian said quietly, rubbing mindless circles on your back.

“No,” you immediately answered, “I need the distraction,” you whispered pulling away slightly and looking at him. He nodded and gave you a soft smile before his face become serious, “ I would like the knife back, take an hour then. Collect yourself and I’ll give you a list of things to do,”. With that, he sent you off.

Once in the safety of your room, you sat heavily on your bed and took a deep breath. You took a few minutes to calm down and relax before you went and grabbed the knife. It still had dried blood on it, you turned it over in your hands, debating and thinking. You jumped when you heard a knock on the door and it opening to reveal Sebastian.

He was quiet and wide eye when he saw you holding the knife, “Sorry to barge in but I figure it would be better to collect the knife from you.” You let out a heavy breath and nodded, holding out the knife to him.

“Thank you,” Sebastian held the knife gingerly, also as if he was afraid and saddened by it.

For the rest of the week, you were given mindless tasks that took all day. But they weren’t unwelcomed, and you appreciated Sebastian not forcing you to talk to him. Though he did check on you and request to see how the cuts were healing and seeing if you were comfortable to let Arthur seem them. You would finally come around and talk to Sebastian about your self-harming habits, how it started, and why you continued. He would always make tea and have your favorite pastries at the ready so you could comfortably sit and talk about it. When you needed it, he would allow you in his room and collect you in his arms when you needed it. Letting you decide if you wanted to talk about it or simply wanted his silence comfort.

Leonardo Da Vinci

He had seen it all in his 500 years. It made his soul and heart ache if he actually had them. To see you suffer so much you that you took it out on yourself physically made him hurt as well. He found out when you were in his room playing with Lumiere and your sleeves rose that he caught silver lines as well as angry red lines.

“What happened Cara Mia?” He asked softly rising from his floor and catching your arm in his hand.

You immediately pulled away from him, your first mistake. “Oh, Lumiere must have scratched me, it’s no big deal,” you tried to act casual about it and shrug it off but you were an open book to him.

“Cara Mia, you are lying to me,” It wasn’t a question, he gazed into your eyes and tipped your chin up to make sure you kept eye contact with him. You left out a shaky breath, “Leonardo, let me have this one, for now, please” you begged, pleaded with him.

“You did it to yourself. Why? With what?” Leonardo's thoughts were racing at this point. Looking into your eyes trying to find the answers.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I brought my razor apart. I need to feel. Be in control,” you whispered, Leonardo almost missed your answer.

Leonardo simply nodded and collected you into his arms and pulled you into his bed. He practically rested his body onto on you, his weight wasn’t unwelcomed though, it was comforting and grounding.

You stayed like this for a while, Leonardo started out whispering love into your skin and pressing soft kisses to whatever skin he could reach. Soon he started to sing old Italian lullabies to you, you tried to fight off the heaviness in your eyes.

“Sleep Cara Mia, you are exhausted. I’ll be here when you wake,” Leonardo paused in his sing before pressing a final kiss on your forehead and continued to sing to you. You let sleep overcome you, enjoying his warmth. When you woke, you had moved so you were on top of Leonardo and you were clinging to his chest. You looked up at Leonardo’s face and saw his gold eyes watching over you gently.

“Cara Mia?” he said softly, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “How are you feeling?” he watched your face carefully.

When he asked you felt the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil wash over you again, with a deep breath you told him just that.

“That is to be expected,” he started, “Cara Mia?”

You hummed in respond looking at him in the eyes, his eyes were full of sorrow and concern.

“Will you allow me to tend to your wounds and confiscate your razors?” Leonardo asked slowly, carefully picking his words. You panicked, the idea of letting him see the extent of the damage you have done to yourself, as well as losing your only coping mechanism here. Leonardo picked up on how you stiffened in his arms.

“Cara Mia, it’s okay. How are we make a deal? Whenever you want to harm yourself you come to see me? You can harm me instead, I will heal quicker,” He offered as it was obvious, and in the most casual voice. Your eyes widened, “NO!” you practically shouted at him and pulled away from him, you felt the panic rising and your breath quicken.

“Relax Cara Mia,” he pulled you back against his chest. “Your reaction to hurting me is the same I feel that you hurting yourself,” he started rubbing circles on your back. You took a deep breath and let yourself relax against him.

After a few moments of silence, Leonardo spoke up again, “Why don’t we go take a bath together?” without answering him. He urged you to sit up then stand. He moved around to collect his things before reaching out his hand towards you, “shall we?”

You took his hand and he whisked you away. He helped you strip once you were behind the closed door of the bath. He was careful around your arm, trying to quickly recover when he saw how many cuts littered your arms. He then stripped himself and guided you to the bath. You recalled all the other times you took a bath with him, how it was heated and passionate. This time it was different, it was gentle and intimate. He washed your back and your hair, gently humming to you. After some time, he wrapped you in his arms and you both sat in silence, letting the heat of the bath relax the tension out of your bodies.

“I’m sorry, Leonardo,” you whispered to him.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Cara Mia or at least not to me,” He pressed you to his chest.

“I am here for you Cara Mia, for the rest of my life. I love you and will love you for as long as I live,” He continued turning you slightly.

“But you will live forever,” you looked at him in confusion.

“Exactly,” he gave you a soft smile and gave you a soft kiss

Arthur Conan Doyle (TW: DESCRIPTION OF SELF-HARM AND BLOOD AND NSFW)

You forgot to roll your sleeves back down before entering Arthur’s room to deliver his usual afternoon coffee. He mutters thanks fully focused on completing his thoughts before looking up at you. His eyes immediately fell to your arms.

“By Jove!,” He exclaimed as he jumped from his seat and grasped you are to get a better look at the wounds. “Who did this to you?” Arthur’s eyes were dark and full of rage. He was demanding to know, and his grip was too tight, almost painful.

“Arthur, you’re hurting me,” you whimpered, the fresh cuts still burned from the pressure. It was a mix of delight and too much pain. His grip loosened but was still firm as he looked at you, waiting for your answer.

“Who did it to you, MC,” His voice was softer, trying to catch your eyes but you refused to look at him. “MC, please?” he begged, desperate.

“Look at the angle of the cuts, Arthur,” you said firmly, feeling angry bubble within you. You didn’t know if you were angry you were caught or angry that Arthur was pretending to care. Arthur looked taken back by your words but did as you told. Twisting your arm around so he could carefully look at the cuts.

“Did you do this to yourself?” he whispered, his eyes widened and filled with tears. He looked shattered and looked at you in confused wonder.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you shoved Arthur’s chest putting space between you. He stumbled backwards in shock and faced twisted in hurt. Before he could say anything else, you stormed out of his room and immediately went to hide in yours.

Your hands shook, the panic was clawing at your throat. You felt out of control and you didn’t feel real. You went to were you had hidden your razor and pulled it out. You let it catch the light and twisted it in your hands. You went back to your bed and sat down, your breathing became labored and heart speed up as you pressed the razor to your wrist. The blood beaded up immediately and you relished in the feeling as pain and calm flood through your body. You lost yourself as you continuously dragged the razor over and over again. You didn’t hear your door open or someone steps into your room.

Soon a shadow fell over you and a hand rested on your hand that held the razor. Your head jerked up as you meet Arthur’s eyes that were full of emotions; pain, pain, and brimming with tears.

“MC,” his voice was tight, he was chocking on your name and his emotions. You realized you had hot tears running down your face and your body shook. Arthur’s gently grabbed the razor from you and pocketed it, before he stared intently at your arm.

“Go away Arthur,” you tried to be firm and push him away, but you sound pathetic. Arthur focused on the blood on your arm.

“May I?” He gestured at your arm, ignoring how you asked him to leave. “Vampire saliva can seal the wounds and stop the bleeding,” answering your silent questions. You pulled your arm out of view before you sigh and held you arm out to him.

“Thank you, MC,” Arthur whispered before dropping his head and gently lapped at your cuts. You watched in amazement as the blood seemed to stop immediately. You were surprised it actually stung and hurt, most times when Arthur bit you, it hurt for a second before it turned into pure pleasure but not this time. He muttered apologizes as he saw you flinch.

Once he was done, he pulled back and looked over the wounds making sure that all the bleeding had stopped. Arthur couldn’t bring himself to look at your face only looking at your arm that was full of a mix of fresh cuts and old scars. You both sat in silence, you looked at his face once you hear him sniffle.

“MC, allow me to make love to you?” Arthur said quietly finally looking up at you. His face was blotchy due to crying and his cheeks had trails of tears. You looked at him for a while before you nodded, your emotions were on edge and you didn’t know what to feel.

Arthur guided you on your back before he started to press soft kisses all over your face, slowing unbuttoning your shirt and pressuring kisses to the new skin as it was revealed. Once your shirt was off, he focused on kissing you arms, when he got to your arm that was covered in the cuts and scars, he kissed every single one of them. Whispering how much he loved you, how special you were, how beautiful you were, how he wished he knew you were suffering. He worshiped your body, scars, and all until you were close to tears. You wanted to fight every statement he said, reject the idea you were beautiful, you were special or important. You weren’t though things, but the words died on your tongue as he continued.

He was soft and gently with you, as if you could break or disappear at any moment. There was no rush or roughness. Your organism built up slowly and drove you wild, you arched into his kisses and praise. You reached your peak together. As you came down from your high, you fell into a deep sleep, emotionally exhausted from the events.

You woke up with Arthur clinging to you, at some point he must have left to get his doctor bag because your arm was completely bandaged up and he was dressed in his PJs.

“Arthur?” you whispered, rolling over in his embrace to face you. He slowly opened his eyes and gave you a sad smile.

“How are you feeling?” He started to trace circles on your back, his touch was so gentle. You felt your eye tear up again, you wanted to fight him again.

“Please don’t fight me, I am not going anywhere,” he whispered pulling you closer to him. “You can cry, it’s okay. I am here for you,”

“But for how long? You are just going to leave eventually,” your voice cracked, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but he tightened his grip on you and kept you close.

“I’m not going away, I mean it. You are too important to me. You should know by now I’m greedy. I’m not letting you go,” His arms tightened around you to emphasis his point.

“You don’t have to believe my words; I will provide it to you through my actions. It won’t get better overnight, but I will be here for you regardless,” He said, making sure you were making eye contact with him.

You nodded not being him but hoping it was true. You clung to him, as he whispered how much he adored you, how important and loved you are. Waiting until you were ready to talk and tell him your story.

Vincent van Gogh (TW: SUICIDE MENTION)

Vincent knew you were hurting. He could tell by how you looked, how fake your smile looked, he recognized the look. He had it often during his time as a human, especially before breakdowns that would lead him to be admitted. He asked you to hang out in his room one day ask he painted, he reassured you, you weren’t going to model for him, he just wanted your company.

You settled yourself down on his couch with your own sketchbook, you opened it and randomly started to doodle as Vincent started to paint. You sat in comfortable silence for a while, both of you got lost in your drawings.

“I used to eat paint,” Vincent said after some time, putting his brushes down and looking over at you. “I wanted to poison myself by eating paint and drinking turpentine,” his voice was clear and strong as he revealed a dark secret to you. He said it as if he was making a comment on the weather.

“Vincent?” You asked softly as you rose and reached out to him. Your eyes full of concern as you placed your hand on his arm.

“I wasn’t allowed in my studio when I was suffering from my attacks,” He continued looking at where your hand rested on his arm. “I remember how Theo would always be considered and hurting along with me,” he continued you looking at you the whole time.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly wondering why he shared it out the blue.

“I believe we are similar in the way of when we are hurting, we hurt ourselves on the outside to show others we are hurting,” Vincent started, “ We don’t know how to our words, how to communicate with others we are hurting,” Vincent let his hand rest on top of yours.

You realized the implication of his words and you felt your eyes widened.

“May I see where you are hurting yourself?” Vincent asked quietly dropping his head slightly.

You sucked in a breath, “How did you know?” you were scared and terrified, what he would do if he saw the extent of all the damage you have done to yourself.

“Like I said we are alike in that way, please let me see MC” Vincent answered softly. You nodded and stepped away from Vincent, he looked surprised until he saw that you moved to unbutton your shirt and his eyes widened as scars and cuts appeared as you revealed your skin. Scars decorated your chest, arms, shoulders, where you could reach there seemed to be a mix of scars and fresh cuts.

Vincent’s eyes filled with sadness as you pulled you into a silent hug. You felt vulnerable and raw, you haven’t shown or talked about your self-harming habit in years. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t know how else to cope.

You stayed in the hug for a while in complete silence. Eventually, Vincent gently swayed you back and forth in comfort. You felt the tears spring up and you clung onto Vincent. That was when he gently walked you to the couch and made it so you both could lay down. Your head was rested on his chest and you took in a deep breath of his scent and clung to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vincent asked, comforting you the best he could.

You started to shake your head no but then sighed. You paused before you looked away from him and started to tell your story. The demons you faced and how they made you feel so worthless, that you weren’t important, and you deserved the pain and suffering. You were destined to be unhappy and you wouldn’t amount to anything. Vincent listened in absolute silence, gently squeezing you occasionally to keep you talking. The more you talked the better you felt but you felt yourself draining. When you finished your story, you hide your face in his chest.

“Thank you, MC” Vincent replied softly kissing the top of your head and tightened his arms around you.

“You are so brave, you’ve done so well,” Vincent continued to praise you. Showing you with love and affection that you felt like you didn’t deserve, and you told him just as much.

“Of course, you deserve it,” Vincent's hand moved to tilt your chin up to look at him.

“But we don’t need to talk about it anymore,” Vincent watched you carefully.

“Thank you, Vincent,” you both feel silent, you snuggled closer to his chest. Letting your eyes fall shut, exhausted.

“I’m here for you MC, always,”

Theodorus van Gogh

“Hondje?” You stopped dusting in the library and looked up Theo, who had a confused look on his face.

“Yes, Theo?” setting down your dusting rag and walked towards him, returning a confused look.

“Why can I smell your blood? I could smell it down the hall.” Theo’s voice had no emotion, but he watched you intently. You instantly panicked and pulled your arm tighter to your side.

“Hondje?” Theo’s voice cracked and stepped towards you. You were surprised it wasn’t often Theo was gentle, he had a rough exterior and teasing most of the time. You knew it was serious, but you didn’t want to admit you had relapsed. Theo already knew you struggled with self-harm, you had talked to Vincent about it and of course, word got back to your boyfriend. Though he never confronted you about it, instead he waited until you became more intimate with one another and he saw them.

You watched Theo’s face fall, figuring out the answer for himself. He was quick to move towards you and wrap you in a tight hug. He was breathing heavily; you could feel the anger and rage vibrate through his body. You were stiff in his arms.

“I’m not angry at you, MC. I promise,” Theo’s voice was rougher than he wanted. He took a deep breath trying to calm down.

“I’m angry at myself for not noticing you were hurting again. I didn’t always catch it with Vincent, I swore to myself I would always catch on and help before you or Vincent starts to hurt yourselves again. I failed you,” Theo’s voice wavered, his voice is tight, and he tightened his grip on you.

“Theo, no. I should have come to you. This isn’t your fault,” you whispered back at him, holding him just as tight.

“I want you to come to me or Vincent if you are more comfortable with him,” Theo sounded like he was pleading with you.

“Why did it start up again?” Theo whispered

“I don’t know… La Tristesse Durera Toujours,” you finally sighed dropping your head, so it rested on his shoulder.

Theo’s body stilled, you heard him suck in a breath, and you felt his heart start to race.

“MC, no. Please,” It seemed like those words broke Theo, he clung to you as if you were going to disappear if he let go. His breath hitched and you felt his tears fall. You felt drained and emotionless, you felt empty once you said those words.

Theo gathered you in his arms and picked you up. He walked straight to his room, placing you gently on the bed before turning around to lock the door. You laid there absolutely still, Theo headed back to the bed stopping to take off his shoes, suspenders, jacket, and his pants. He then walked towards you and removed your shoes as well before he crawled onto his bed and right beside you. He threw his arm over you and pulled you close to him.

“I can’t lose you MC. I can’t I promise that isn’t true. I can’t lose you like I lost Vincent. It destroyed me. I was dead in six months after he died.” Theo chocked out. You nodded and moved towards him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

You both clung to each other, hoping to reassure one another it would be okay, without words.

“I’m here for you MC, always. I love you,” Theo whispered, you pulled back looking at him, it wasn’t often Theo used your name and you couldn’t help but give him a small smile, “I love you too, Theo,”.

“We will get through this together,” Theo rested his head on top of yours.

“Together,” you whispered back in agreement.

Note: La Tristesse Durera Toujours is Dutch for “The Sadness Last Forever,” and Theo wrote in a letter to one of his sisters that those were Vincent’s last words. Vincent van Gogh suffered from hallucinations and attacks that would cause him to eat paint to try and poison himself and drink turpentine. During one of Vincent’s hallucinations, he cut off his left ear. Vincent van Gogh died in Theo’s arms a few days after shooting himself in the chest and died of an infection (Though there are rumors a group of kids taunted him and shot him and Vincent lied to protect them, but that isn’t confirmed.) After Vincent’s death, Theo's physical and mental health deteriorated quickly. Theo ended up being admitted and passed away on January 25, 1891, 6 months after Vincent’s death. His cause of death was Dementia paralytic, which was determined to be chronic, genetic, and due to overworking himself.

#ikevam leonardo #ikevamp theo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp sebastian #yuki writes #tw self harm #tw depression #Yuki Writes!#Ikemen Vampire

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talesfromthegameff14 · 4 years

Text

Lilacs for Remembrance

[CW: Mention of ritual suicide, no details and no actual death or injuries] Sleep was eluding Aya, again as it had most of the past week. Nightmares he couldn’t entirely remember plagued what little sleep he was getting, forcing him to rely on cat naps whenever he could get them. Tonight was no different than the rest, only a pair of too familiar brown eyes watching him tauntingly lingered when the Uyagir woke up in a cold sweat shortly before dawn.

He gave up on sleep, sliding out of bed to wash up and dress for the day. Work clothing this time, a set he rarely pulls out anymore since Dunrai left. It was easier to hire someone to tend to the yard, the memories of learning how to garden at the Dazkar’s hand too sharp to lie easily on his mind. This though? This he needed to do with his own hands, there was no one else he’d trust.

A note was left for Tolemy and a sleepy Terbish, Mede, and a box holding a young tree and a shovel were gathered up and brought to Zareen’s house. The structure was steadily being rebuilt from the damage done by the fire caused by Arden’s fall to the void. It was simple to settle Terbish into breakfast on the lawn, Mede dozing in his wrap on Aya’s back.

The work of digging the hole for the lilac tree was simple and mindless. It was just what he needed, something easy so his mind could wander along the paths that were becoming increasingly frequent since C’tolemy told him about Jahuar.

How could a people decide to kill themselves, even the children, because they think a situation was hopeless? How could they not fight so the children, at the very least, could escape and possibly live? Not only decide that, but turn it into something that was desired, maybe even romanticized if C’tolemy’s reaction was any indication? He’d kill our child over this. He said he would, if I hadn’t forbidden it.

He said he wouldn’t do it, that’s the important part, isn’t it? We’ve agreed on the rest too, though Kami above I don’t want to teach our children about Jahuar. And what else is there that I don’t know about? I need to talk to Arha and C’ohna about this. Calmly. He was so resolute... It’s impossible to see C’ohna agreeing to killing children, but he learned from her. I wouldn’t have thought he would either...

As caught up in his thoughts as he was, Aya wasn’t aware of how his tail cut through the air, or how he attacked the ground with the shovel as if it was an enemy to be defeated. It made short work of the task, the lone rock that got in his way shattered into pieces with a hefty application of aether that both broke the rock and kept the shards from flying off to hit Terbish or Mede. The sound was loud in the quiet of dawn, shocking the birds into silence and getting a surprised squeak from Terbish. The startled noise got his attention and he gave his daughter an apologetic look, <”There was a rock in the way of the planting.”> She nodded and went back to her breakfast, more alert than she had been when they first arrived.

Grimacing to himself Aya looked over the hole and then back at the root ball off the lilac tree. “Big enough, more than...” He put some of the dirt back in, then got some water from the house, soaking that dirt down before pulling the tree over carefully. Terbish watched him work closely, not wanting to get startled again. <”Is that Miss Sarangerel’s tree Papa?”> Aya’s head snapped up, mind pulled off the path that it was starting to uselessly tread again.

<”Yes it is Starshine.>

<”Why are you giving it to Auntie Zareen?”>

A hint of a smile crossed his lips at the question, <”We have more than one, it is good to share what we have Terbish. Sarangerel was Zareen’s close friend too, it will help Zareen remember the good times and give her something to show Ravi and Sarang when she tells them about Sarangerel.”>

<”Ooohhh, I see.”>, she gets up then stops, <”Can I help?”>

<”Of course you can. I’ll show you.”>

With a happy bounce to her step, Terbish darts over and plops onto the ground next to Aya, legs all akimbo. <”Tell me her story again Papa?”>

Aya looked down at the damp earth then nodded, <”Alright. I’ll tell you. It’s fitting while we plant her tree, yes?”> He stood to lift the young tree, carefully putting it into the ground. A laugh joined the bird song once the tree was in place, <”Look, it’s as tall as you are. Soon it will be taller as long as it’s well taken care of and we remember.”>

<”Let’s remember then Papa!”>, She grabbed a handful of the loose dirt dug out of the hole and dropped it in, totally helping. Aya nods and after a moment of hesitation kneels beside her and turns to scooping the dirt into the hole with his hands also. It seemed right.

<”Sarangerel was unique, a xaela possessed of unusual beauty and uncommon wit. Her words could be as sharp as her pointed teeth, but not without cause. She was loyal to her friends and steadfast in the hunt. It was on a hunt that I learned all of this.”>

<”Yes! The island of monsters!”>

Aya nodded in agreement, <”Yes, the island of monsters. Where the presence of the Void had taken hold and threatened everything that lived there. A rift had opened up and it needed to be closed.”>

Another handful of dirt was thrown in by Terbish, <”Uhhuh, and monsters came out of the rift, but you, Auntie Zareen, Un’kle Arden, Miss Urieth, and Miss Sarangerel went there to stop them so they wouldn’t cross the sea and hurt anyone.”>

Aya was more careful with how he settled the dirt around the roots of the tree, adding water as the hole filled up. <”Yes we did. We worked together to make sure that we all survived. Miss Urieth healed us when our wounds threatened to overcome us and we each used the skills we had to make our way to the rift to seal it. The monsters there were fierce and hungry.”>

Caught up in the story Terbish jumps up to her feet, <”Yes! Auntie Zareen stabbed them with her spear. You and Un’kle Arden stabbed them with your swords and Sarangerel turned the sky to fire on top of the hungriest of the monsters that was in the rift! She used fire to help, not like that evil witch that did the same at Holi. Sarangerel was good, so she used fire right!”> Caught up in the story she feigned fighting with a sword, stabbing into the air viciously with her unseen blade.

A flicker of relief showed in his eyes at how she told the tale. One lesson learned and one fear chased off thanks to a woman she’d never know. <”That’s right Starshine. Sarangerel was good even though she looked different because of the price she paid to fight back the void. Sharp teeth, scales far beyond what you and I have, a tail that looked as if it belonged to a creature of the void.”>

<”Cause the void hurt her.”>

<”Yes, cause it hurt her. She hid what she could from view, most would look at her and only see evil if she didn’t hide.”>

<”But she wasn’t, she was _good_. She only looked evil cause the void is dumb.”>

That pulled a laugh from him and he nodded, <”Yes, the void is dumb.”>

Terbish knelt down next to Aya, the sword fight in her mind finished for now. It was back to scooping dirt into the hole <”Papa, is that why Auntie Zareen has horns where other miqo’te don’t?”>

Aya fought the urge to shudder off, though he almost fumbled the handful of dirt he was moving. <”Yes, that is why.”>

<”Is Papa Dunrai going to come back looking like that too?”> She looked up at him when she asked the question, eyes full of a child’s hope.

The hope tore at his heart, what to say to that? <”I, I don’t know Starshine. He might, but he might not be able to come back at all.”> He stopped in his work, moving to wrap both of his arms around her shoulders when they slumped a little from his answer.

<”I know Papa, but we should hope, right? He’d do his best to come back home, wouldn’t he?”>

It was so hard to breathe normally, to not give into the pain that was squeezing his heart so tight. <”Yes he would. He’s as brave as Miss Sarangerel. If he can come home he will Terbish, he loves us too much to not do his best to come home.”> The words felt less like a dagger twisting in his soul than when he’s said them to her before. Time helping with that at least.

<”Okay.”> She snuggled in against him, a little thoughtful and a little sad. <”But we’ll still love him even if he looks scary, right Papa?”>

<”Of course. How would we do anything else but love him even if he is different? That’s why you should get to know a person before you decide if you want them as your friend. Learn their heart through their actions and words then.. decide..”>

<”Uhhuh.”>, she squirms a bit and Aya straightens back up so she can wiggle away. Going back to slowly putting dirt over the lilac tree’s roots Terbish asks after a bit, <”Can I learn to light the sky on fire too papa?”>

It took a few heartbeats for Aya’s mind to switch gears to catch up with his daughter’s quick moving thoughts. <”You can if you want to, but it takes time to learn how to do that, and practice.”>

Terbish wrinkles her nose, <”That’s what Auntie Sana says.”>

Aya does his best not to laugh, brought along on the rollercoaster of his daughter’s whims, he does reach out and tap the tip of her nose lightly with a knuckle, <”That’s because Auntie Sana is smart. It’s why she’s teaching you.”>

<”I knoooowww.”>, she sighs and drops more dirt, the hole steadily filling up between the two of them working. <”Can you make fire Papa?”>

<”I can. It’s one of the first things I learned.”>, Aya’s tone a bit wistful, not reaching for another handful of earth after smoothing some into place against the slim trunk of the tree.

<”You can! Show me?”>

Memories surged then, voices that weren’t Terbish’s sounding in his horns. His voice, years ago, asking his grandfather, Oktai, the same question. Then Oktai asking his mother. And the girl she was asking her mother. Then that girl asking her father. Then the father asking his grandmother. The crone turned girl asking her uncle. All would be Seers asking that first question, to see and learn the fire, placing a foot upon the path of what they were born too.

Abruptly Aya understood why Oktai’s hands trembled while conjuring the flame when Aya’s younger self asked an identical question. His own hands trembled just the same, Aya bringing them down to Terbish’s level, palms upwards and held together to make a cup for the flame to rest. <”Close your eyes Starshine.”>, he coached gently, <”If you close your eyes and let your soul free you’ll feel the fire even before it’s seen.”>

<”Oh.”>, she whispers in response to Aya’s changed demeanor, the importance of the moment settling over father and daughter like a cloak. <”This isn’t what Auntie Sana says to do.”>

<”I know. She learned differently from me. This is magic of the Xaela, it’s in your blood. So close your eyes, listen to the drum of your heartbeat. Feel how blood and aether flows in your veins.”>

<”Yes papa.”>, more serious than excited now, Terbish closed her eyes and tipped her head this way then that until she went still, tail curling behind her in a bit of excitement.

<”You feel the aether in your veins.”>

<”Yes!”>

<”That is where the fire comes from, just a little though. Too much and you can lose control, like a grass fire on the plains.”>

She nodded vigorously, tail going still. No child of the Steppes didn’t understand the significance of that threat. Aya’s attention was entirely focused on his daughter, watching her start to unconsciously sway again to the beat of her own heart. Voice catching briefly, he clears his throat then tries again, <”You can feel the grass against your legs. There is aether there too. And in the dirt, and in Sarangerel’s tree.”>

This was familiar to Terbish, similar to some of what Sana was teaching her and Khod’a and what she knew instinctively. The words spoken to her were more familiar than Sana’s though, echoes of teachings she had heard in the caves before her adopted papa took her away to live under the sun. <”I feel it.”>, she whispers softly.

<”Good, continue to feel outward. Find what feels like the fire in your heart.”> Terbish wavers a bit in Aya’s vision, eyes gone glassy as he repeats what his grandfather told him, but under the sun instead of in a crystal studded cave. There would be no reflecting of her success in all the facets around her, but it would still be just as sweet.

Seeing her nod instead of speak with her concentration fully where he guided her, Aya summoned a curl of flame within his cupped hands. The moment he started to pull on the aether Terbish stopped swaying, her eyes popping open as the flame flickered to life. <”Papa! I felt it!”>

<”So you did Starshine, so you did.”>

<”Teach me?”> She looked up at him with the same hopeful eyes he turned upwards to his Grandfather decades ago. His hands quivered again when he nodded, slow and solemn like he remembered. <”I will, if you promise to use the fire to help those you love and only to use it for harm when your, or their, life is threatened. Practice and need, that is all Terbish.”> Oktai’s teaching was slightly different, making for an odd echoing within Aya’s horns but the sentiment was the same.

<”I promise Papa.”>

<”Then watch and feel, listen and learn daughter.”> Those were the same almost word for word and it settled him before he went through the steps to teach how to call the fire. She caught onto it faster than he did his first time. Soon fire was dancing between her small hands, utter delight reflected in her eyes as she watched it sputter and sway under her watch. It wasn’t a surprise that she did, Sana said she was close to such in her studies already. What was a surprise was the fierce pride he felt as they both bent over their hands held close together with twin flames within.

<”Miss Sarangerel learned this first, didn’t she papa?”>, Terbish’s question was whispered almost reverently while the light from the early morning sun cast their shadows long and lean along the grass of the yard.

<”Yes, yes she did Starshine. We all started with something small, and carefully tended to it until it grew into the power to protect, nurture, maybe even heal. You’ll find your path one step at a time like the ones that walked it before you.”> He pulled his hands apart, letting the flame dissipate. She mimicked his gesture, the small flame sputtering out as she giggled in delight.

<”Again?”>

<”No, that’s enough for today. Too much and you’ll tire yourself out, when you get tired you could loose control and hurt yourself, or me.”> He reaches up to ruffle her hair before nodding towards the mostly planted tree. <”We have to finish this for Auntie Zareen too, remember? I want to get it done before she notices.”>

<”Okay!”>

And with renewed vigor Terbish dumps handfuls of dirt into what remained of the hole the lilac was settled into. The work kept them both quiet, allowing Aya’s thoughts to travel back down the earlier paths. But, this time? This time it was different, words from the dead kept interrupting his spiral downwards into the anger.

I trust that you will only continue to be that steadfast foundation for others in their times of need.

The words wouldn’t let him be, but they never did when he sought out the lilacs. A reminder for his stubborn heart, a lesson to remember.

Soon enough the tree was planted and watered, in a spot easy to see from the windows and the door. One last batch of water from the can and Aya stepped back to look over the tree and then the rest of the yard. It was just in time for Mede to wake up, wiggling and making soft noises of protest from the wrap on Aya’s back. <”Ahh yes, the sleeping monster wakes. Time to go home and feed your brother Terbish.”>

<”Okay Papa! Let’s race!”>

And before he could agree or not she’s sprinting out of the yard and down the path that headed home. A bark of a laugh followed that trick before Aya sprinted after her, making sure to stay right on her heels the whole way home. [C’tolemy belongs to @ala-mhinyan Sarangerel belongs to @ninth-threnody Zareen belongs to @yzareenxiv Sana belongs to @songsofbloodandfire Other chars mentioned don’t have tumblrs to link to]

#this is not the story I started to write but as usual the whirlwind that is Terbish had Ideas™#it was supposed to be an internal monologue of angst over Jauhar #we see how well this worked out #CW: mention of ritual suicide #it's mostly cute though I swear #ayanga uyagir #also Khenbish #OC Stories #ffxiv rp

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rox-the-proxy · 5 years

Text

Of Last Men Standing and Runaway Kings

A Dimiclaude fix I wrote a while back and posted on Ao3, so you can also go read this there if you so desire. I'm basically in hell with all the ships I have for FE3H and have no shame. So here is this for you all to (hopefully) read and enjoy.

When Claude had offered him a home in the Alliance territory, after having seen him slip away silently from the armies after the defeat of his stepsister and her empire, Dimitri believed it to be a joke. After all, Claude was known for such things. But he seemed sincere about it, determined to help him even though Dimitri didn't ask for it, didn't think he deserved it. And in his own mind, he didn't. After he had savagely taken the lives of any and all who stood in his way of getting to Edelgard, why would he deserve help? He didn't think there was a logical explanation or reason for it. Never had, and he probably never would. But Claude saw differently, out of the three of them, it seemed he would be the last man standing. And honestly, Dimitri was fine with that. Happy with it even, after all, Edelgard had killed so many innocent people, Dimitri himself had done so as well and went mad with revenge and bloodlust.

But Claude? No, not him. He remained calm, collected and even tried to stop Edelgard by helping the Kingdom as best as he could. In the end however....he too watched the brutality of Dimitri's actions when he took Edelgard's life. Even after it all, Dimitri believed that he would feel peace, that he would finally be free of the voices of the dead that haunted him as much as he was awake as they did in his sleep. But that didn't seem to be the case. Dimitri felt empty, lost, suddenly all that anger and lust for blood was gone with her death, but....he still didnt feel better. He couldn't fathom why he didnt feel better, he truly couldn't understand why he felt so much worse. Maybe because it had been his Stepsister, someone he had grown close to. Maybe that is why it felt so much worse. He had only come back to his senses after everything was said and done, after the damage had been done and there was no turning back time now.

The way back to the Leicester Alliance took longer then what Dimitri had been expecting. Though it made sense seeing as they had to go deep into the Empire territory to reach the Capital of Enbarr. He had never ridden a Wyvern before so when Claude had pulled him up on his own then sat behind him, he was a bit nervous, especially when the said White colored Wyvern shot up into the sky. For those few moments, he had shut his remaining eye tightly and held his breath even. After a little while he was able to relax and enjoy the silent ride all the way back. Or, at least somewhat silent. Claude tried to maintain conversation with him as best he could as to keep the one eyed Male out of the dark depths of his mind. He was good at that, keeping people distracted from the stress and worries of the world. As well as good at keeping people distracted from they needed to do, if their academy days were a thing to go by that is. As they flew well into near sunset, Claude had also taken it upon himself to teach the blonde a few things about riding a Wyvern, even going as far as to allow him to hold onto the reins.

It had been the most grounded and human Dimitri had felt in quite a long time if he was going to be honest. Five years of solitude and killing mercilessly often times took the humanity out of a person. Either way, Dimitri didn't feel like an empty husk, or a mindless animal. For the first two days in the Alliance, Dimitri never left Claude's side. Part of that was due to him not wanting to be anywhere else, but also in part that he was an outsider, he wasn't trusted enough to be left alone. On the third day however he was surprised when Claude took him to where the Wyvern are usually kept and there the green eyed man gifted him a beautiful single blue eyed Wyvern who's scals were as dark as a starless night sky. He had explained that this one got hurt young and hasn’t been able to ride out. However, He could cover his blindside like can cover his. And that he felt like it would help him in the long run to adapt to a new world to give him a task to focus on such as training a wyvern in order to get back on his feet.

Claude had gone further to explain that this particular Wyvern is temperamental, moody, isolated himself, protective of younger born wyverns to a point, and wary to strangers. To be honest, Dimitri could see himself a lot in this creature. He had also been informed that he wasn't from these lands. He flew home in the wrong directions after getting hurt and breeders found him. Marianne tried her best but even she had a hard time convincing it to be near a rider. Dimitri had been worried when that had been explained to him. However Claude gave him a reassuring smile, telling him that those people are not like him. Without a name of his own he refused to listen to anyone else. So flying on his own was out of the question. Dimitri had spent the rest of that day getting to know his new Wyvern, and that same night he had tried a multitude of names before the one eyed creature seemed to like and react to one particular name; Aslan.

After that, Claude took him back to the Von Riegan manor. From there he had asked the green eyed male for a favor, if he could take his old armor and cloak and keep it hidden from him. As a deserter of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, he didn't feel like he had a right to wear the royal blue that everyone associated with the Kingdom itself. Claude had been reluctant at first, it was like Dimitri was still trying to Vanish from the world. But the tired, lost, sorrowful look in his remaining eye is what convinced Claude to agree and do as the other man had asked him to do. For another few days, Dimitri spent his days getting to know Aslan as well as being shown around by Claude. Around the second week was when Claude announced that Dimitri was now an official citizen of the Alliance and his retainer as well. In that moment, Dimitri was in small state of shock. He hadn't been sure if he could believe or not. After all, how else was he supposed to take the news? Especially when he had learned later that Claude had over ruled the other lords and advisors just to make sure that he had a citizenship.

That night, the blonde found himself shirtless, hair dripping wet, sitting in a chair in front of a mirror in Claude's room as the man dried his hair. The day had been long, full of paperwork and he had begun to hallucinate, hearing the voices of his father, Glenn and all those who had died protecting him. All of them asking him why he had ran, why was he leaving his Kingdom on it's own, why was he running away like a coward. That had lead to a rather....uncomfortable breakdown for him, so much so he had disassociated for a few hours. When he finally seemed to have slowly come back out of it, he had found himself looking up at Claude who was sitting to his left near the edge of the bath, washing his hair out for him. It was...embarrassing to say the least that he had a tough time doing the basic things like washing himself, remembering to eat or even drink. After the bath, and getting half dressed he silently sat there, letting the now Leader of the Alliance dry and brush his hair.

Dimitri was startled out of his thoughts when he felt a pair of hands gently cupping his cheeks and a thumb brushing over his scarred eye, he was quick to reach up and grip the hands by the wrists, but also seemed to realize these hands were not going to cause him any harm. He had to take a few deep breaths before he slowly released his tight hold on Claude's wrists. He felt a pang of shame and guilt when he saw the discoloration on the beautifully tanned skin, he always had an issue with controlling that monster strength of his. Even now, after five and a half years he still couldn't quite get a hold on it, though at this point it was sure due to his lack of caring about it a year after he had been kept locked up in a certain in the Kingdom by Cordila. God he was so pleased to watch the life fade from her eyes. That thought alone however, sent a cold chill down his spine, one that sent a shudder through his body. Claude had clearly noticed, how could he not when he had his face cupped between his hands? He didn't say anything on the matter, he merely kept gently brushing his thumb over the scarring of his now ruined and dead eye.

"Its okay, it doesn't hurt. It wont bruise."

Dimitri felt comforted by those gentle words, even though he had a hard time believing it. He had crushed skulls with his hands, he had broken steel Lances, swords, scissors, sewing needles and many other things as well. So he found it hard to believe that the other man wouldn't have bruising around his wrists. Truly, it seemed like all he was good at was hurting those he loved, and letting them die due to his inability to do a damn thing.

"My apologies." Dimitri whispered, hardly recognizing his own voice. "It...came as a shock."

"I would imagine so, finally back with us?" Claude asked, he wouldn't move or stop what he was doing until he knew for a fact Dimitri was all there again. Or at least as close to being all there as he could be considering whatever hell he had witnessed over the past five and a half years. He felt the other give the smallest nod before he gave the one eyed man a reassuring smile. "Good, I'm almost done with your hair, and then we can go to bed, okay?"

"If that is what you wish, my Lord."

"Claude."

He wasn't used to being called lord or anything else of that kind. In fact, he didn't like it. Especially when it came from Dimitri of all people. Despite him having no noble or royal status here in the Alliance as of today, that didn't meant he actually wasn't royalty. The man was heir to the Kingdom Of Faerghus Throne, but he had decided to throw that part of him away and simply try to vanish from the world, when he had confronted Dimitri about leaving and asked if he wanted to be a forgotten king, the other hadn't denied it, but he didn't confirm it either. But it was clear that's what he wanted if his silence and longing look at the idea of simply being forgotten was anything to go by. Claude had felt an unbearable need to help Dimitri when he saw him like that. So he did, and without hesitation as well, when he heard the rumors of the Mad King of Faerghus, he could see why even Dimitri himself had stopped seeing the humanity in himself. He had even seen first hand how brutal he could get in the battle field, he had even experienced getting a wound from him. Something he wasn't quite ready to let Dimitri know about or even remind him about just yet. The man had enough guilt piled a mile high on his shoulders. He wordlessly stood up, and simply went back to the task at hand of brushing his hair. It was...shocking to see the scars that littered Dimitri's back and front. He had so many, all ranging from small, to large, from clean and nearly unnoticeable to unsightly and inflamed slightly. The one on his eye seemed to be the one that bothered him most, he supposed that Dimitri had expected Claude to flinch back at the sight of it, but no. He didn't do that, and he could see how that seemed to ease the blonde's Feral behavior.

"There, come on, let's get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow."

He held his hand out to the one eyed male once he was standing in front of him again. During his time here, Claude had made it habit to always hold his hand or have the blonde hold onto his arm as they walked around. Either way, Dimitri was always close to his side, he made sure of that. In a sense, he guessed he was doing this mainly to keep the other grounded as they went about doing daily tasks that needed to be done after such a large scale and sudden war. And well, he wanted the other man close to him, he wanted to save him and make up for those he couldn't save. This was his own way of atoning for the old friends he had to kill. He could only imagine what Dimitri felt like what he had to do in order to atone for his own actions which had been so much worse than what many could even imagine. He only hoped that maybe one day, despite what he had done, Dimitri could see the humanity in himself. For now though, Claude was happy to help him as much as he could. As he finally got the blonde to lay down, he sat next to him as he looked down at the runaway king. He looked so tired, clean at least, but he just looked exhausted. The bags under his good eye, the fact he looked much thinner then what Claude could remember. And well, the fresh wound on his left hip and on his shoulder.

"El...even in her last moments she refused to go down without inflicting another wound."

Ah, so that's where the one on his shoulder came from. He wondered about the one on his hip, it was a rather big slash and it had horrible, painful bruising around it. Almost as if it had gotten infected, thankfully though that wasn't the case. Claude sighed as he moved to lay down, but kept himself propped up with his elbow. Dimitri looked much more relaxed now that his head was resting on pillows, a mattress that supported him nicely under warm blankets that fought off the chill of the night breeze that flowed in through the window. His hair cascading over the soft pillow and over his eyes. Slowly the green eyed male reached down and gently brushed those gold colored locks out of his face. His hand lingered, entangled in those freshly washed, soft locks of hair. The action seemed to help Dimitri relax, especially as he watched the remaining good eye close slowly and stay that way even minutes later when he slowly pulled his hand away. He had never seen the other so relaxed, so vulnerable and he wasn't sure if he liked just how small he looked despite him being a rather tall man.

"Why are you doing this?"

The question came out of nowhere and it had startled the green eyed male considering he had thought the other man had fallen asleep. Clearly that was not the case, and he had a feeling that hadn't been the case in a long time, if the dark bags under his eye were anything to go by. The said green eyed male reached down slowly, gently and carefully caressing the man's cheek, his fingers stopping under the dark bags. That blue eye that used to shine with life was dull, haunted. Claude missed that look he used to have, he used to smile, used to shine so bright, but war changed people, Dimitri had witnessed horrors at such a young age and then again when Edelgard declared war on the church. That war had killed all of their former selves, but for Dimitri it was like he was a completely different human being all together. It was frightening, he would admit that much. It was such a stark change that it left everyone in shocked, especially considering everyone thought he had died in the Kingdom, executed by the people he once trusted.

"Because, your still my friend. And I, for once, want to be able to save one person with my own hands. I want to show you that you aren't a monster like you claim to be."

It seemed that had been a response that Dimitri was not expecting. He could tell he was shocked and rendered speechless. Claude would admit he was proud of the reaction he got out of him. The green eyed male smiled, as he draped his arm over the other and pulled him close once she finally decided to lay down fully. "Sleep, runaway king of Lions. Tomorrow is a long day." He said with a soft hum.

That night, for once Claude realized out of the three of them, despite Dimitri being alive, he truly was the last man standing. But at least out of the three of them, two would continue to live and he would make sure Dimitri would as well.

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h #fe16 #fe3h dimitri #fe3h claude #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von reigen #Post-War era #AU #dimiclaude #fanfiction #fe3h fanfic

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lokis-lady-death · 5 years

Text

Bake-tastic One

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Lady Death: I tagged anyone I thought might be interested! Just a simple two part story about a girl meeting a man and baking some cupcakes. I did this by request for a super awesome mutual’s birthday! @kcd15 I hope you enjoy it, I’m so sorry it’s late but you get two parts for being so patient <3 Hope you enjoy!

Bake-tastic

Step One: Introductions

“Don't Stop Believin’ by Journey,” you recognized immediately. “Good choice.” There was no hiding the delight on your face as you laid back in your chair, slipped on your sunglasses, and sang along to the tune.

You couldn't help but think this is how everyone should spend a day off, lounging on a balcony in California, dazing in and out of a mid-day nap to the sound of soulful tunes on the perfect playlist.

It was such a cliche spring morning, really. The sky was that bright shade of blue with sparse clouds, the breeze blew just enough that it kept the air at the right temperature. The city was even more peaceful than usual, with birds chirping, kids playing and hardly any cars passing by your condominium. The only real sound you heard was the music emanating from your neighbor's place above your head.

The main reason you enjoyed these days? Frankly, you needed the distraction. You were a full time barista at a local big bakery that catered to the cupcake-addicted southern L.A. day walkers and all you wanted was to unwind. Bake-tastic, despite its horrifically punny name, was actually an up and coming hangout spot that was making a name for itself among the baked goods industry.

The only problem?

You weren't baking.

Growing up in the south, you had loved everything about baking since you were a little girl in your grandmother’s kitchen, playing in her aprons and sneaking off with her cookbooks, but it wasn't until when you sister asked you to move to move to Cali that you decided to act on your passion.

But, as it turned out, if you want to bake here, you needed experience. Experience no one was willing to give you. All you had managed to do was make coffee and take orders for cakes and other treats you weren’t allowed to actually create.

That honor was left to the owner of the bakery, a man whom, in your months of working there, had never once come in during the day shift. You never met the mysterious baker, but couldn’t deny his talents the first time you tried his mixed berry tarte. Everything he created was a miniature masterpiece all their own. You wanted desperately tk meet him, or even more, bake with him, but that was a quickly squashed dream. He kept to himself, prefering to come after closing to bake everything throughout the night. The next morning, when you and your coworkers would arrive, all you would need to do was set out the new baked goods and make coffee. The others were fine with the remedial tasks, but you were not.

It wasn’t necessarily living the dream, but the music had a nice way of dulling out the disappointment.

If your sister had been out there she would be complaining about it, but truthfully you enjoyed your little free concerts. It required no work on your part and in today's world, you could use some mindless way to unwind. It wasn't long before you recognized a pattern in when the music played: usually in the afternoons of week days, stopping promptly at seven, Saturday morning and most of Sunday. Not particularly meaning to, you began to plan breaks outside around when the neighbor would have their music on. It had become a sort of ritual: weekdays when you got off work you would shower, throw on your bathrobe, and come lounge until seven. On weekends, you spent your mornings sipping coffee in your pajamas.

This Saturday was no different. Right at six in the morning, the neighbor's sliding door opened, releasing a symphony of classic rock music out into the world. Here you were, ready to soak it up as you sang out the stress of your week through lyrics of musical geniuses with a cup of coffee in one hand and a freshly made strawberry Danish in the other.

It was around thirty minutes later, as you were going along to Matchbox Twenty’s 3am that your tone began to carry. By the second verse you had gotten a bit carried away, singing along and dancing in your chair as the words you had known by heart for nearly two decades came pouring out. You had become some enamored by the words that you didn't even notice the music had been turned down.

When the next song began, you took in one last deep breath of spring air, stretching your arms up above your head until you heard that satisfying pop of your shoulders. You had been rejuvenated and were ready for whatever the rest of your Saturday brought.

But just when you turned to walk back into the apartment, you heard someone ask, “Oh, are you going in already?”

There was no stopping the loud curse word from escaping your lips as you tried to pull yourself back into your skin. Whipping around, you expected to see a man to go along with that sharp comment.

Yet you were alone, left only with the sound of a haughty laugh.

“I'm terribly sorry, I certainly didn't mean to frighten you.” You distinctly noticed the smart British accent as he went on, “It's just that I had been listening to you sing so I thought I ought to say something….”

Your face felt it had caught fire by embarrassment of someone, a stranger- a possibly handsome British stranger- had heard you singing. A hand slapped over your mouth to stifle a gasp.

You were so mortified you could scream, but there was also a part of you curious how much he had heard.

When you still didn't respond, the englishman went on, “She's gone and I'm here talking to myself, aren't I?”

“No,” you couldn't help but laugh nervously, “I'm still here.”

“Good. I'd look rather mad out here going on to an invisible woman, wouldn't I?”

The two of you shared a laugh, followed by an unfortunate silence before he added, “It seems we have a similar taste in music. You know just about every song I ever play.”

Again your cheeks went ablaze.

“I mean, it's not like I just come out here and listen to you, that would be absurd. It's just, you come out here nearly every time I turn on my ipod, surely you noticed?”

You realized it was the same neighbor who played the music every day. Biting down on your lip, you stopped from admitting you planned your free time at home around when he turned his tunes on. The two of you were starting to sound like either a cheap romance movie from Hallmark channel or a murder documentary off Investigative Discovery .

When you still hadn't spoken up, he rambled on. “That possibly came across a bit awkward, I didn't mean it as though I'm just out here listening to you…” he corrected. “I only meant I enjoyed what I've heard.”

At that you had to smile. His tone was sincere enough, even a tad cute as he tripped over himself, but with that accent alone he sent a flutter through your stomach.

‘Is that what I'm reduced to?’ you wondered, ‘Pining after men because of accents?’

“I haven't heard you leave, does that mean I didn't completely ruin this first impression?”

At that, you couldn't keep quiet. “Your first impression was actually Bruno Mars That's What I Like,” you teased, almost annoyed with how airy your voice came out.

Maybe it was because he wasn't in front of you or maybe it was because his voice just oosed with charm, but there was something else that just pulled at you.

“Well, was it a good impression?”

Your smile widened. “It's improved.”

He let out a roar of a laugh, even clapping his hands at the retort. “That's good," he paused," I don't suppose you'll be back out today?"

The question struck you, making you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

“We'll see,” you said finally. “It'll depend on what you play.”

“I suppose I'll have to make the playlist extra special then, won't I?” he returned, a touch of smugness etching into his tone.

You smiled again, opening the door to step back into your apartment as you tried to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “I suppose you will.”

As soon as you closed the door, you bolted to your sister's room to wake her up.

You threw her door open as you called out, “Steph? Hey, Steph, do you know the guy that lives in the upstairs apartment? Steph, wake up!”

She rubbed her eyes, letting out a deep yawn just before stretching out her back like a cat. “What guy? The loud one?”

Your eyes rolled back while you grunted, “Yes! Do you know what his name is?”

Her shoulders shrugged, her eyes lulled in a half sleep, half hungover state. “He is simply known as Loud British Jerk.”

Your brow creased, “How do you not know his name but you know he's British?”

“Because he talks, like, super loud and always has his doors open.”

Reasonable answer, but your sister was also one of the single most nosey women you had ever known. You leaned in, pressing on, “What else do you know about him?”

“Nothing? Jeeze, y/n, I don't eavesdrop on people anymore. What's gotten into you, did he play a song that got your panties all ruffled? You wanna go bake him granny's old apple turnover and tell him you like his butt? ”

“First off that's not even the phrase you think it is, second I think a simple yes or no would suffice.”

Going to stand up, sure that it was a waste of time to expect her help, Steph took your hand.

“Geeze, sorry, didn't realize you were so worked up. Come on, sit.” You sat down on the side of her bed while she scooted up on her pillow to better reach her cellphone. “Look, I'll text Lexi, she works down at the pool, she knows all the hot guys who live here.”

You couldn't help but scoff, “Thanks, I guess?”

“So you know what that means? If she doesn't know his name, he's not hot.”

She offered you her cheesiest, exaggerated wink she could muster, earning a short snort out of you before you shook your head. “I need to go take a shower, I guess let me know if she says anything.”

“Alright, and I'll see if I can pull him up on social media.”

You walked out to the pleasant sound of Steph texting her friend, knowing soon you might have a name to go with that voice you couldn't get out of your head.

*****

Tom had been outside listening to you for over thirty minutes before he had mustered up enough courage to actually say something to you.

It wasn't something he had particularly planned, though he had meant to speak to you sooner. The thing was, he wasn't from around there and there were certain normalities he didn't quite understand.

Certain ones were less socially involved, such as driving on the wrong side of the road, the use of American made cars verses the German models he bad grown up with.

But it was earlier that week when Chris, his Australian work friend, came by to go over a project they were collaborating on that he noticed his social cues might need some help.

They had just been discussing an upcoming book deal they were working on together when Tom suddenly quieted his friend before reaching for his Ipod to turn the music down.

“What are you-”

“Shhh,” Tom instructed with a finger pressed to his confused friend's lips. “Listen.” He held a hand to his ear, cut his eyes towards the open balcony doors and smiled. “Don't you hear it?”

Chris furrowed his brow but did what he was told, just a bit less enthusiastically. After a minute he finally answered, “Singing?”

“Yes, but more than that. What else?”

“Well she clearly doesn't know the words to Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

“No!” Tom corrected sharply. “Can't you hear it? You can practically feel her soul coming out in these words. It's just so real, so… Refreshing.” His back turned and he began filling his mother's old kettle with water, going on, “She does it every day, just goes outside and sings along to my music. It's the most peculiar thing.”

“I sing along to the radio all the time, you never say nice things to me about it?”

“Yes, but this is different. She's coming outside to sing to MY music.”

“And?”

“And? And?!” Tom three his hands into the air, going on, “And, he says.” There was a silence between the two of them as the song cut off and the singing stopped. Tom set the kettle on the stove and turned back to face the still creased-browsed Chris. “I don't know, it's just nice to me, I suppose.”

It was now time for Chris to speak and he really just didn't know where to begin. “So you interrupted me telling you how much money we are about to make on this cookbook deal because you were listening to your neighbor sing to herself?”

“When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous.”

“That's exactly what it is!”

“Oh no, it's not like that. She does it all the time, it's kind of like our thing.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and Inhaled sharply. “Your thing, eh? And who is this lucky young lady that you eavesdrop on a daily basis?”

“Eavesdrop?” he laughed but wasn't smiling. “I'm, no, I'm not eavesdropping, I'm just simply appreciating someone else's ability to let go. It's no different than listening at a karaoke bar. ” His confidence lessened when he quietly remarked, “Also, I don't know her name.”

“Have you even spoken to her?”

“No, we haven't the chance…”

“You know she's outside every single day, what do you mean there wasn't a chance?”

Tom's mouth opened to oppose but no words ever materialized. Slowly he closed his mouth and swallowed a lump in his throat. “I should talk to her then?”

“In the very least introduce yourself, what harm would it do? You never talk to the hot girls I hire for you at the bakery, the least you can do is talk to one that for whatever reason you started stalking her. Talk about music.”

Fast forward to the day he actually managed to speak to you. Now, after making a complete arse of himself, he didn't know if you would ever come outside again and what was worse he didn't even remember to tell you his name.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he reasoned, "I could still mend this first impression."

After he knew you had left, he bolted inside to find his phone. He texted Chris what happened and waited impatiently for him to respond with:

~Actually, about that neighbor girl, I got a REALLY interesting call from Lexi you may wanna know about~

Tom’s brow furrowed at the comment, curiously asking what he heard.

He called him and nearly fell out of his chair at the news.

*****

The steam of your shower had filled up your room by the time you came sashaying out. With a towel around your waist, you planted yourself down at your desk and opened up your laptop. Just as you opened the web browser, Steph can barging in.

“Y/N!”

Your hands went up instinctively to cover your chest, cursing out, “What the hell!”

“I got it!” she exclaimed, “And you are just gonna DIE!”

“His name, you got his name?” Your grin stretched from ear to ear as you pressed further, “Well? What is it?!”

“I can do one better,” she teased, holding her Tiffany blue phone out for you to see. “I found him on Facebook, and Look!”

You had to lean back for the up close image to fully resonate with your retinas, but when you got a good glimpse, you took the phone from her hand and stared.

It was his profile picture, a face to go along with that voice. The image only showed him from the waist up, dressed in jeans and a white button up, but to you it showed enough. His eyes stood out immediately, a striking seafoam blue that sparkled along with the toothy grin he offered the camera. His hair was a strawberry blonde that was neatly trimmed but still long enough to curl. High cheekbones, sun-kissed skin, along with the more than sunny backdrop of his photo painted a portrait of an outdoorsy, fun loving sort of guy. Looking at him while imaging that velvety English accent sent a shiver down your toes that you couldn't hide.

“A total babe, right?” your sister beamed. “And judging by his profile, he's single!”

You swallowed hard. “That, yeah, that's awesome.” It felt like he was staring back at you through the photo, and finally you made yourself scroll over to see his name. “Tom,” you said out loud with a smile.

Steph reached over and took her phone from you, offering you, “I haven't even told you the best BEST part. My friend is dating his friend and guess what?”

You stared at her, blank faced. “What?”

“He’s the guy who owns Bake-tastic! This is the guy you’ve been pining over since you moved here!”

You looked over at your laptop, thinking about how many times you wondered what the mysterious baker must look like, googling and yet failing to ever find any remnants of him. Judging by his way with sweets, you honestly expected a thicker, maybe older gentleman, not someone worthy of being a model.

But that’s not what you saw.

Looking him over, taking it all in, realizing it was his playlist you had been listening to all this time, his pastries you had been idolizing, you wondered if maybe this was a sign.

“You know what you gotta do right?” your sister asked with a playful grin.

“What?”

She scoffed as if the answer was obvious. “You gotta go bake with him!”

At that, you made a sour face, shaking your head at the very notion. “No, he doesn’t like teaching and he certainly wouldn’t want a novice messing up a days’ worth of work. No, I’m not doing that-”

“Oooo, that’s too bad,” Steph ached, her face not reflecting the sympathy her voice tried to persuade. “Because I definitely told my friend to ask about you helping out in the bakery.”

“You WHAT?”

As it turned out, Steph’s friend Lexi was dating Chris Hemsworth, a well known heir of the Hemsworth Lodging hotels. His image was the only one you could ever come across in your searches for Bake-tastic's ownership. He made donations to various organizations and raised money for charities, but what wasn't oublically as well known was his investments he made in his friends.

Tom just happened to be one of those friends, a baker in need of a bakery. So, Chris forked up the money and Tom got straight to work, building a name for himself in L.A. while Chris managed the business side of it. The only issue for Tom was he felt very out of place in such a large city, even as diverse at it was. Nothing about it ever quite felt like home, so rather than branch out into the world, he worked late hours and insisted on solitude.

It felt bizzare hearing the story from Steph, but it made you feel better when she assured you Chris and Tom didn’t know all the details about you.

“I just said my friend’s sister is an aspiring baker and would love to, like, shadow Mr. Hiddleston or whatever. I gave them your name, but only because you work at the bakery,” Lexi assured when you called to ask exactly what happened. “Chris was more than happy to ask Tom if he was willing to show you around his kitchen and he said for you to come tonight.”

“Tonight?” you exploded, realizing you hadn’t the mental preparation needed to meet the British bombshell of a baker after that awkward balcony encounter. “What if he knows it’s me?”

“He’s never met you, just listened to you sing a few lame songs. How would he know it’s you?”

*****

“Oh, it’s definitely her,” Chris repeated over the speaker phone to Tom. “See, here, I’ll forward you her info.”

Tom stared blankly at the Facebook page, gazing into your eyes as he matched it with the voice he had heard earlier that day. His phone dinged as he received a forwarded email from Chris containing your original job application to Bake-tastic as well as a copy of your driver's license.

“That is just too much of a coincidence, surely you’re pulling my leg?” Tom snipped, shaking his head. But looking down at your image, he hoped it wasn’t foolish to want it to be true. “And she wants to bake with me?”

“Lexi made it clear, she came to California to be a baker and she loves everything you make in the shop. And the best news? She already has a serious crush on you! I’m telling you, if you want to make a better first impression on this woman, you need to let her work with you tonight.” When he didn't immediately agree, Chris added, "I already told her to be there at six, all you have to do is show up and be charming."

Tom inhaled sharply, staring at the image a bit longer before finally conceding.

*****

You had gone through numerous outfits while you tried to figure out what you were going to wear. Jeans, skirts and leggings were all thrown around your room, shirts crumbled up on the floor, shoes spilled out of your closet as you tossed pair after pair aside.

Your sister had finally come and picked out something for you: a loose fitting blue t-shirt dress with gray closed toe wedges. "Not too dressed up to work in a kitchen, but nice enough to hopefully get a callback from your impromptu date," Stroh said, stepping back to admire her creation. "AND IT HAS POCKETS!"

"It's not a date, it's a baking lesson if anything," you corrected, though after you put your hands in the pockets and did a twirl, you had to admit your heart was fluttering at the idea of an all night cooking session with Tom.

However, when it was finally time for you to leave, you started choking up. "I can't," you started spatting off over and over." I can't, this is a bad idea, what if I mess up one of his recipes? What if I embarrass myself? What if I use salt instead of sugar?" your eyes widened, "What if he doesn't like me?"

"You'll be fine, just do what you always do!" When you still looked unsure, she went on, "You're great, y/n, and he'd be an idiot not to see it. A beautiful, British idiot. " Steph offered you a sincere smile, enough to spur you on. "And for the love of everything decent, please flirt!"

You swallowed hard, did one last look over in the mirror, then grabbed your purse and made the fifteen minute walk down the block to the bakery.

When you arrived, the main store front had the lights off, but from the kitchen door you could see a faint illumination.

Tom was just beyond that light.

Repeating, "I can do this," to yourself, you walked through the front door, setting off the gentle ding of the bell that alerted staff of a customer arriving.

“Hello?” you called out, unsure if you had the right time. Looking down at your phone, you were only a couple of minutes early so rather than wait in the doorway, you went on in. Your mind began urging, begging, pleading for you to turn back. It’s not too late, it said, go ahead, high tail it out of here.

‘No. I have to do this,’ you pushed on. ‘I have to know what’s beyond that door.’

Mustering up the courage, feeling something in the pit of your soul tell you this was right, you called out again, “Hello? Mr. Hiddleston? I'm here to, uh, help for tomorrow's set up?"

A loud, disembodied voice came from the kitchen, “Yes, come into the back! And lock that door, won’t you? Don’t need anyone walking in off the street.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart begin to pound as you set the lock. Slipping your phone in the pocket of your dress, you tucked your purse under the cash register before walking back towards the kitchen.

Like my garbage? Read more of it! Master List

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#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x reader #thomas hiddleston #Lady Death Writes

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fyeahwonderbat · 5 years

Text

In the Middle of a Broken Constellation - PT. 13

Pairing: WonderBat (Wonder Woman x Batman) Rating: T / 14A Universe: N/A - Reader’s Choice Previous Chapter: <- Chapter 12

Diana didn’t mean to slam her apartment door when she returned home that evening, but she was just too irritated to care about the strength she used to close it.

“Whoa!” came a startled yelp from the kitchen. She shot her blue-eyed glare across the hall, only to find a nervous Jason preparing dinner at the stove, a sizzling pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.

And an adorable apron with frills making him look the part of the perfect homemaker.

It was shocking enough to smooth out her temper just enough to smile. “Sorry,” she mumbled. After a deep breath and the removal of her emergency black flats, Diana entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“Where else would I be? I haven’t heard about any leads from you or the League, it’s not dark enough for criminals to be roaming the streets yet, and I was getting hungry.” Jason explained, covering all of his bases to justify his time at home.

Except for one, which Diana decided to bring up for him. “Nightwing wouldn’t let you join him and Huntress?”

Surprisingly, an honest scoff was his answer. “Nope.”

She did her best not to giggle as she reached into the fridge for her water filter and bring it with her over to the cupboard. While taking a glass off of the shelf, she listened to the sound of the meal being prepared and felt her stomach grumble. When she caught the scent of it, a second grumble shook her body. “So what are we having?” asked a famished Diana.

Proudly, Jason announced. “I’m making my world renowned burgers.”

“How is it ‘world famous’?” Diana inquired as she took her first sip of water all day.

“Because I’ve had to cook for myself many times while traveling from place to place, so I’ve made this particular recipe while I was all over the world.” Was his half-witted explanation. It immediately occurred to her that she could – and rightfully should – correct his understanding what ‘world renowned’ meant, but it didn’t seem like it would be worth the effort after the day she had had. Not only that, but the food did smell particularly delicious and she didn’t want to risk having her portion revoked.

Conceding to his logic, Diana put her cup down on the counter and headed towards her bedroom. “Did any of my belongings arrive today?”

“No, sorry.” He yelled down the hall after her, his sympathy genuine. Sighing to herself, Diana entered her bedroom and looked at the barren space. The hardwood beams that caught the light of the street gleamed with a rather pale glow, making the entire space feel all the more hollow. There was no bed for her to sleep on until it was delivered next week, and there were no dressers or night stands for her belongings until next weekend; she felt like she was on a sting operation rather than integrating into Gotham City, when her new home looked as barren as it did. Despite knowing that all of her possessions would be set up for her in a matter of days, she couldn’t feel settled in until she could see herself all over her new bedroom.

It wasn’t the first time she had to sleep on a cold floor though, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

She decided to move beyond her self-pity and open up her carry-on bags that she had placed in her closet. Whenever she traveled to the States, she always packed extra outfits in case she ever lost her suitcase during the trip, so she was absolutely prepared to dress down into her pajamas. She changed into her satin set of a button up shirt and shorts within a few minutes and exited her room with a new determined attitude.

The scent of beef seemed farther away than it had before, and Diana realized that Jason had brought their meals into the living room. Her slipper-wearing feet carried her down the hallway until she spotted a rather surprising set up for their dinner. “Oh, you found us a table?” Her question merely stated the obvious, but she was actually impressed. It was simply a foldable surface that he had placed near their window, but the matching pair of chairs meant that they actually had somewhere formal to sit and eat until everything else she owned arrived.

Jason was laying down their plates while answering her, rather focused on the table setting looking just right as he refused to look her way until he was finished with it. “It’s not much, but yeah. I didn’t think we’d want to eat on the floor when we have our own place. It’s kind of cramped, but it’s a table.”

Diana couldn’t argue with him there. “It’s a great table,” she praised him earnestly while walking the expanse of the long living room. She reached her seat and made sure she looked him in the eyes as she added, “Thank you.”

Jason nodded in acknowledgement of her words before sitting down and digging in.

For a moment, it seemed rather calm in her apartment. Her roommate had made her dinner so she didn’t need to cook as soon as she got home, the sun hadn’t set yet on the summery day in Gotham City, and there wasn’t a single police car or ambulance siren wailing off in the distance.

“Oh,” a thought struck her just before she picked up her burger. “Did you see me on the news?”

Jason quirked a brow while his mouth was completely stuffed. “No? We don’t have cable, and I was finding us this table.” Somehow, she understood what he was saying through the massive bites of food he was shoveling down.

Maybe it was because she was able to understand animals…

She decided to take a bite of her own dinner, chew it properly and swallow before she filled him in on everything he had missed today. “I was locked in the isolation ward at the hospital with the people who had been turned into sludge monsters.”

“You WHAT!?” Jason exclaimed, firing bits of food at her unintentionally.

Diana ripped her napkin off of the table and dabbed at her face, brows furrowed ever so slightly. “I went there today on behalf of the Wayne Foundation, and somehow, I was locked in there with about fifty people who had been transformed by the sludge. I couldn’t fight them or escape without giving away that I’m Wonder Woman, so I had to just survive until Superman showed up and rescued me.”

For a moment or two, Jason couldn’t speak. The story she had told him was running through his mind and his mental process of digesting her words showed on his face plainly. So startled was he, he put his world famous burger down and invested himself entirely in her recap of her day. “How the hell do you get locked in an isolation ward at a hospital?”

“That’s what I’d like to know, and it’s just another thing added to our list of mysteries to solve.” Grumbled Diana as she spoke her realization aloud. It felt to her as though their mission to save Bruce was becoming more and more complicated without leading to any answers, and her patience was wearing thin, especially after her ordeal at Gotham General on her first day on the job.

“Is that why you were so angry when you came home?” Jason questioned her gently. Taking a rather hefty bite of her dinner, Diana simply nodded as she chewed.

“Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy when we started out,” he tried to pacify her with reason. “We were all coming into this thing with Bruce a month late. Yeah, it sucks that we keep unearthing more problems than solutions. But I think we’ve all realized by now that rushing into things isn’t going to work. The sludge is contained, Bruce is functioning normally – or what it appears to be his new version of normal – and we pretty much have a superhero army on the case.”

Diana was ready to fire off a retort the moment he started listing their different tasks. “We know that the sludge isn’t contained because Aquaman and the Flash were last seen fighting off a new version of it, and we haven’t heard from them since. Should we send someone to check on them? Should we try to contact Atlantis? I don’t know!”

“Diana…”

His attempt to counter her logic only urged her onwards. “Bruce isn’t normal because we know he has some kind of cognitive impairment, but we don’t know what it is! I am spending the day with him tomorrow, and I can try to scan him again, and hopefully Cyborg can determine what’s wrong with him. Meanwhile, we have roughly fifty people in Gotham General who are infected with this sludge that has no cure, along with the people in Metropolis and the people in Central City. Superman is dividing his time between Metropolis and Gotham to help us find out as much information as we can, but Central City is still unprotected while the Flash is missing.

“We think Oracle has been consumed by the sludge, we think Vicki Vale might have been too, and all of those innocent people are left suffering in those mindless, violent sludge monster bodies until we can try to find a cure. But we don’t have any ethical procedures put in place because we don’t know anything about this substances. I can’t ask Cyborg to touch it though or we could lose him too! This entire situation is absolutely maddening! And I’m sitting here, in an empty apartment, trying to move my life from Paris to Gotham, when I should have just taken an extended leave from work and… and…”

She couldn’t think of what her alternative would have led her to do, and it resulted in a rather heavy silence in the middle of their conversation. The absurdity of her day finally caught up with her and she couldn’t stop herself from venting to the nearest crime-fighting human being. The longer she spoke, the more embarrassed she felt about her outburst, creating a rather petulant rant she hadn’t expected. It was true that she felt overwhelmed by all that was going on, lost in terms of what options she had, disappointed that no results had been yielded after putting forth a plan that involved the Justice League.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt anxious when she realized that she had absolutely no control over anything going on in her life.

That feeling of disappointment in herself doubled in size when Jason got up from the table suddenly. “Jason,” she called to him, ready to apologize. However, all he intended to do was retrieve his home that was plugged into a charger in the wall, then he returned to his seat while unlocking his device. Then, a question spilled out of her against her will. “You have a phone?” He didn’t look up at her as he kept his fingers busy. “It doesn’t have service. I found it in the garbage once while I was in Canada and it was in perfect condition. I just hobo off of other people’s Wi-Fi to watch videos online or type up encrypted notes for myself when I’m working on something.”

“Oh.” Was all she could think of to say.

He glanced at her over the top of his device, then showed her a pale white screen, with only the words ‘Moving In: Checklist’ written across the top. When she didn’t react, he clarified his intention slowly, “That’s what we’ll call this mission.”

Still uncertain about the meaning of his actions, Diana simply replied with a similarly paced, “Okay.”

An unimpressed look crossed his face, but Jason recovered and began typing away, moving on without her. “So we have you, me, Cyborg, Superman, Aquaman and the Flash on the case, right?”

Diana nodded. “We also have Nightwing and Huntress, and possibly some more allies from my side.”

That last comment of hers caused him to lift his head up. “Your side?” He paraphrased her, one brow arched high on his forehead.

“I sent for help from the Amazons, and asked Donna and Cassandra if they’d help, should we need them. Even though I haven’t heard back from anyone, I wouldn’t count them out entirely.”

“Well, I’m only going to include who we have with us now,” Jason stated, rather efficient about his note-making. “If we break this list down person by person, what is everyone doing? Which mission are they apart of?”

Diana sat up straight and counted each person on her fingers as she tried to figure everything out. “I’m working at the Wayne Foundation to guard Bruce from any other possible attacks, and to make sure his condition doesn’t worsen.”

“And to see if you can scan him so we can figure out what the hell happened to him.” Jason tacked on.

Diana let him add that to her to-do list, but didn’t wait very long to carry on with her rundown. “Cyborg is trying to analyze the sludge back at Headquarters, though he knows he can’t touch it. Once I scan Bruce, he’ll analyze that information too. He’s essentially filling in for Oracle now that we know she’s been consumed by the sludge.”

Across the table, Jason’s body twitched momentarily. He continued on typing, never looking away from the screen, piping up rather softly to ask, “So you think she’s gone, or you know?”

One second too late, Diana realized that she had been rather crude in relaying that information to Jason. There was no doubt that they were friends, given that they both worked for the Batman at one point or another. Her tone was a tad guarded when she responded to him. “According to Clark, she’s been gone just as long as Bruce has.”

“Well, I’ll add a visit to her place onto my to-do list,” Jason promised, his voice as rigid as his expression. “Speaking of Superman, what’s he up to?”

“He told me he wants to hunt down Vicki Vale, see what leads she had. He thinks she’s disappeared, that someone thought she was getting too close to the mystery of the sludge and took her down before she found anything.”

“Dammit, this could have so many more layers than we realize,” Jason cursed and bit his lip as he typed away furiously on his phone. He was beginning to empathetically understand her frustrations from earlier, making her feel much less ashamed of her whining. “Either this is just one bad dude or there could be a bunch of people in on this. They’re taking out reporters, they’re infecting cities…” “And then creating a single sludge monster to appear off the coast of Maine just to take away the Flash and Aquaman.”

“Do we know they’re missing?” Instantaneously, Jason shot his head up, staring her down from across the table. He was absolutely determined to only deal in facts, as evident in his claim to visit Barbara’s house. She wasn’t any different, however, Diana found it a tad upsetting that he felt the need to question her about what she and Cyborg had already agreed upon.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Diana stood her ground when she addressed his subtle disbelief. “They’re officially MIA. They went to handle the monster and haven’t been heard from since. Their Comms are dead, and we can’t confirm if they are alive or dead.” The blunt way in which she had to speak to him was rather painful, but she handled herself with poise to avoid another bout of volatility.

He didn’t question her when she stood up to him in such a way. Instead, he approached the situation from another angle, “Do we have plans for a rescue mission?”

That question deflated her. “No, we don’t. Given how thin our resources are already, I don’t have anyone else to spare. We need to contact someone from Atlantis if we are going to search for them, since the fight they had with a new version of the sludge monster was over water.”

“Why don’t we do it?” Jason suggested, his tone flippant, like it was the simplest and most effective idea he’d ever had in his life.

Quizzical, Diana frowned at him. “Do what?”

Jason answered with an overtly cheeky grin. “I’m bored, we’ve got no plans for the night. Let’s go search for them.”

“Jason,” she prepared herself mentally for the conversation that was sure to ensue before she rebuffed his idea, “We can’t breathe underwater the way an Atlantean can. We’d have no way to search for them aside from flying Bruce’s plane over the ocean and hoping to spot something. It’s unrealistic.”

That reply did not appear to satisfy his curiosity, nor his supposed boredom. Holding his phone in one hand and following the rhythm of his answer with the other, he bit back, “But we aren’t going to find them if don’t do anything at all. What, you just want to leave them out there?”

“No!” Argued the incredibly offended Amazon, her combative instincts making her rise out of her seat. “It’d be foolish to travel all the way out there with no really plan on how to locate them. Our only plan is to talk to an Atlantean—”

Jason stood as well, invigorated. “Right! So let’s do that.”

“—but he never gave us a way to do that. We can go to Headquarters and check.”

“Then let’s go!” Again, Jason was prepared to leave the apartment and travel to the JLA Headquarters at a moment’s notice.

His eagerness was becoming more of a nuisance, steadily declining in endearment. Diana nearly shouted, “Then what happens if we can’t contact them, and you still want to go out there? What do we do if you and I are taken away as well? What happens to Bruce, to Alfred, to all of the people infected and any future victims if we leave Superman and Cyborg to handle everything on their own? We can’t just run into something like this without a plan.”

Jason’s responses was already on the tip of his tongue by the time she finished her last question, but instead of hearing his reply, someone else spoke in place of him. “Wow, I never would have guessed that I’d find you like this.”

The window had become her knew doorway, Diana thought, as she stared up into the eyes of her latest intruder. It was about time that someone from ‘her side’ arrived to help them defeat this evil that had infiltrated the Justice League’s livelihoods. She just didn’t expect it to be like this…

((Who could it be!? It was super important I organized the mission records for both Diana and you, my beautiful readers. There's a lot going on and the different plot lines need to be spelled out before me dive into the romance- I mean, the friendship of Diana and Bruce. Hope you enjoyed this fun chapter amidst the serious tones of the last one, and hope you return next week to see who our guest is! Also, I have my own original story now available on the Radish ficiton app (pink logo with a white 'R' in the middle). It's a free app where I was invited to write original content, and I have my first series out called "The Aeternum Series: Book One". If you're into Greek mythology or magic or romance that's both sweet and sexy, please check it out! You can also learn more about it by following my social media accounts JenAnneGam. Thanks so much! ~ Maiden))

#wonderbat #maiden writes #diana prince #jason todd #bruce wayne

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