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x-infernhoes-x · 3 years

Text

She’s My Collar- Basilio x Reader

Title: She’s My Collar

Genre: Romance, Smut, Porn with Plot

Warning(s): Mentions of Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Mentions of Alcohol, Implied Consent, Basilio nearly murdering someone because they spoke badly about you

Description: KAI IF YOU’RE READING THIS, THIS ONE’S FOR YOU AND ALL OF YOU BASILIO SIMPS

NOTE SOMETIME AROUND 3:00 AM YESTERDAY NAWALA YUNG ORIGINAL PUTANG INA I WAS THIS CLOSE ON FINISHING IT SHDJGFHJBDKJBSEDVGSJHGBKHGSFKJBGBKJGBJGLJBGWL AN HOUR’S WORTH OF WRITING G O N E AND I HAD TO REWRITE EVERYTHING I AM STRESSED AND DSBJKGBKJFSDGNB SO ENJOY.

4:31 AM NOTE UPDATE YESTERDAY: langya ayoko na. matutulog na nga ako, sakit na ng likod ko.

6:50 PM NOTE TODAY: I’M GOING TO FINISH THIS BEFORE MIDNIGHT COMES. ALSO, DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE KIDS!!

12:10 AM NOTE TODAY: The note above this one is a lie. I managed to continue this after family night lmao but enjoy still. Tried my best to make it gender-neutral as possible but yeah :’) I kinda failed successfully I think???

You and Basilio have been dating for quite some time now. Although he was a messy guy you made sure that you had his back and helped him out to work on how to keep his sloppy tendencies at bay and in turn he would shower you with love and affection that you would usually get from the demi-god of war. Basilio was the perfect guy, he was a sweet lad who made your lonely days better, he made sure that you were cared for in any shape or form and he always had your back in everything and he would give you anything you would ask for in the world. The two of you barely even fought and if you were to fight, it would be more of a joke one than an all-out screaming match. He was the best thing that has ever happened to you and you constantly thank Bathala for it and Basilio thought the same. The two of you were a match made in heaven.

Although despite your busy schedules keeping the two of you apart, you both made sure that you and your loving boyfriend would get the chance to hang out together. Often, you and Basilio would frequent the Diabolical together, just basking in each other's presence, tucked away in some booth Hank had reserved for the two of you, or sitting by the bar just chatting about each other’s day. You could recall Hank telling you that whenever you were around or that when someone ever mentions your name, Basilio seemed to calm down and would eagerly listen into whatever conversation had said your name. There was a time where Basilio nearly knocked someone’s teeth out because they were talking badly of you and it took Crispin, Maliksi, Hannah, Amie, Alex, and Hank himself to hold back the younger twin and prevent him from punching someone’s lights or teeth out or even prevent a murder from ever happening.

“Alam mo, (Y/N) pag naririnig ni Basilio na dadaan ka rito, parang siyang aso na di mapakali. Kulang nalang na magkaroon siya ng buntot e.” Hank joked as he was cleaning the freshly washed glass, watching Basilio flush red, face buried into his forearm as he groaned in response while you let out a small chuckle.

Now looking back, that memory seemed to be far away from you. Tonight happened to be your anniversary with Basilio and instead of a cozy night in, he wanted to do something different. Basilio wanted to take you out dancing and bar hopping around Bonifacio Global City’s luxurious bars (sometimes you wondered to yourself how the hell can Basilio afford this.) and maybe take you sight seeing around the place when you got the time. Pacing around your living room in your apartment, you were about to shoot him a text message when a knock at your door had interrupted you from doing so, nearly dropping your phone in the process. “Sandali lang!” you yelled to whoever was outside the door. If there was one thing you learned from dating Basilio, it was being vigilant. You had to make sure that the person on the other side of your door was your boyfriend and not some kind of Aswang or any malicious person who had a personal grudge against the twins and Alex. Taking a peek at the pee hole your door had, you were greeted by the sight of your boyfriend, Basilio grinning up at you as he waved. Instead of wearing his suit, Basilio was in his casual clothing for tonight, his long silken locks pulled back in a half-up, half-down man-bun.

Opening the door, you then welcomed him with open arms before proceeding to smack him playfully on his arm, an amused smirk on your lips as you opened your mouth to speak, your tone light and teasing, “Took you long enough! Siguro na-traffic ka no?” Basilio could only roll his dark eyes at you as he placed a loving kiss upon your head. “Hindi a, si Kuya Crispin kasi e, sobrang tagal niya sa banyo kaya ayun.” Pulling himself away from you, he then offered his arm for you to take with a grin, his head tilting towards the direction of the door as he spoke, “So ano? Tara na?” “Siyempre naman.”

After making sure your apartment was locked, the two of you went down towards the direction of the parking lot and took a couple few selfies inside the elevator, you and Basilio were off. While in the car, the both of you would scream along to the lyrics of Ang Huling El Bimbo by Eraserheads while in traffic. On your way to BGC, both of you were surprised to see Maliksi and his significant by the stoplight, taking the advantage of the long-ass stop to chat with the Prince of the Tikbalangs and his fiancé. Your conversation was cut short when the stoplight had changed from red to green, saying your goodbyes to each other as Basilio drove away to your very first destination, which was none other than XYLO at The Palace.

In all honesty, you’ve heard about this bar but it was the first time you got to enter the place itself. The both of you got lucky that the place wasn’t as packed and that you got there early before the actual party had started. Both you and Basilio then made your way over to the bar to grab your first drinks of the night. The two of you chatted for a while, occasionally nodding your heads to the beat of the song. After a while, the night seemed to kick in and both of you were already at what seemed to be your 3rd or 4th bar of the night, this time you and Basilio were jumping up and down to DJ Khalid’s song ‘All I Do Is Win’ before the both of you screamed along with the rest of the patrons, “Putang Ina, Alak Pa!” and time seemed to flow faster than ever as you and your loving boyfriend went in and about around BGC’s classiest bars, downing every single drink you two could manage and take or even dance along to the songs the bars provided while occasionally sharing a kiss here and there, not minding the reek of alcohol and sweat clinging on each other’s bodies as the two of you laughed.

Sometime around 10:30, you and Basilio were shitfaced to oblivion but both of you were used to it. You had lost count on how many drinks you’ve managed to down yet you and Basilio couldn’t care less, you were certain that you heard your phones ring but you two never got the chance to answer them because Basilio was busy doing body shots on you or you making out with your boyfriend in some hidden corner of the bar. You were starting to get the hint that after your little make-out session at Club Haze, he was focused on one thing and you knew what that meant, despite being inebriated out of your wits. So what do you do? Put on a show for him of course.

You knew Basilio was sitting by the bar because you told him you were going to use the bathroom to freshen up a little bit since the club felt a little bit humid. What he didn’t expect was you sashaying over to where the dance floor, the last notes of Nelly Furtado’s Maneater fading away only to be replaced by Doja Cat’s Streets. To you, the sound seemed to have slowed down and you weren’t sure because it was the alcohol’s effects taking over, nobody else in the club mattered but your boyfriend alone. The figures around you seemed to blur and Basilio was the only one you had your eyes on as your body moved to the beat, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted, and even from afar, you could see your demi-god of a boyfriend shuffle in his seat, his cheeks brightly flushed even under the lights of the dark club (yes, Basilio even tried to hide his raging boner from everyone but he was failing miserably). You knew that he was watching you closely like a predator ready to strike and even from afar you can tell that he was getting impatient with your games and that made you smirk. You knew that Basilio had a thing for Semi-Public sex and your several other experiences with him were proof of that, hell the two of you almost got caught one time and you were internally thankful that you weren’t. But tonight, Basilio’s going to abide by the rules of your own game and not his.

The opening bass beat from Beyonce’s Yonce/Partition was your cue to take things up a notch by making your way over to the bar where you had stood upon the counter (you had asked the bartender and the rest of the patrons who hung around the bar save for Basilio in advance and they seemed to agree with it just as long as you were careful) and made your way down the counter, hips sashaying and your body with every beat and drop before stopping to where he was, a smirk on your face, your hands running up from your thighs and right past your chest in a sensual manner, leaning in just so you could ghost your lips over Basilio’s eagerly waiting ones before pulling away with a wink. Once your little show was done and you had gone down from your counter with the help of the bartender you had just spoken to before making your way over to the dance floor once more to dance just as your song, She’s My Collar by Gorillaz began to play only to be caught short when you felt a hand grab you by the wrist.

Despite being drunk you were still smart and quick to retaliate towards whoever had grabbed you only to be surprised to be looking right directly at your boyfriend’s dark obsidian gaze, his breath slow and ragged and you knew you were in it for real this time the moment he said, “We’re leaving.” In a tone, you’ve never heard from him before and that seemed to send shivers and chills up your spine as he dragged you away from the bar to head right outside.

Honestly, the whole trip back to the car seemed to pass you by like a blur, you would occasionally stumble on your own feet, which prompted Basilio to sling you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a sack of potatoes (at least it gave you a perfect view of his ass). The moment you arrived at your car, however, you were thrown haphazardly into the backseat after Basilio had unlocked the door with ease and then entered the vehicle as well, quickly pulling you up on his lap where he locked his lips with you in a heated kiss, hands roaming around your body with such need and you could feel his erection straining against the fabric of his dark jeans. You were surprised at first but once the initial shock and surprise had worn off, you kissed him back as well with the same passion and need that he emulated from his kiss, your fingers and hands made a quick undo of his man-bun and top, hastily unbuttoning them, eager to touch the skin underneath it and leave marks on it. Basilio could only groan in response to your touches, his tongue exploring your mouth like uncharted territory, his hands groping your behind with such force that made you moan out his name, a quiet hiss of “Tangina.” Soon followed your surprise.

In your mayhem of desire and lust, you didn’t notice Basilio play Chase Atlantic’s song Devilish on the radio.

Clothes were thrown around and about in the space of the car and in that blur of clothing being discarded around, you were honestly surprised when Basilio had lifted up your lower half towards him, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach and thighs before his head disappeared in between your legs, bestowing you the best oral you’ve ever had received from him in your years of dating. You couldn’t thrash around with him holding you so tightly against his face as he went down on you but your hands were free to roam and tug at his long silken locks, his name spoken like a prayer and just as you were about to reach your peak, he had pulled away from you, a sadistic yet innocent smirk placed upon his now glistening chin and lips coated in your slick as he spoke, “Not yet, babe.” Winking at you, he gingerly set you down before he leaned over to where his now discarded jeans were as he pulled out his wallet, fishing out a condom and a small pack of lube for him to use. Once the foil was open and the rubber was on his already hard dick, he then proceeded to open the pack of lube, rubbing it on his length before instructing you to get on your hands and your ass up for him.

And by Bathala you began to see stars the moment he had entered you. Your nails seemed to dig on the dark leather surface of the car’s upholstery, your back arched to the extreme and you were certain that you could feel Basilio trailing kisses along the expanse of your neck, shoulders, and back, his hands guiding you on his length while yours snaked around to reach for him, tilting your head sidewards to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, his manhood still relentless at fucking you senseless and in between the thrusts and moans, you were thankful that the windows were tinted from the outside or else the two of you would’ve been caught. Throughout the whole night, you two spent it by doing it on every single surface inside the car, doing every single position the two of you could think of, taking each other to new heights with every pose the two of you did, and yes, let’s just say you were sore the morning after that.

Once the morning came around, the two of you were still naked and you were sure that after your last round with your loving boyfriend, you felt the waves of your hang-over wash over you like a wave, making you groan out in pain. Everything was sore with you and your body was littered with hickies, bruises, and scratch marks while Basilio, who had his healing factor with him thanks to his demi-god status, was relatively unscathed but he did have some hickies of his own to present to the world. Shuffling, you gently nudged Basilio awake as you spoke, “Babe, anong oras na??”

At your action, your boyfriend, still groggy from sleep, could only groan at this, his hand reaching out to search for his mobile phone to check the time. Squinting, he then saw the time on his phone but the color on his face seemed to drain the moment he saw several missed calls and messages from his twin brother and the Babaylan-Mandirigma herself. “SHIT!” Basilio managed to cry out of sheer panic, his head accidentally hitting against the roof of the car, making him hiss even more, hands holding the spot where he had hit his head. “Lagot tayo kay Bossing, (Y/N), kagabi pa niya tayo tinatwagan kasama ni Kuya Crispin.” At the mere mention of Alex and Crispin’s name, you seemed to understand the sense of urgency before the two of you began to clean up the car, dressing up as you did so, attempting to make yourselves look more presentable and cover the tracks from yesterday’s events. Once done, Basilio was driving like a speeding madman in a rush to head back where his brother and Alex were at.

It took him at least an hour to arrive at their destination with Alex taking the role as today’s designated driver while Basilio sat in the back with his brother. “San ba kayo galing? Kagabi pa namin kayo tinatawagan ni Crispin, (Y/N), Basilio. Ano ba nangyare, ha?” Alex spoke, her eyes flickering over to where Basilio was, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he spoke, “Sensya na ho, Bossing. Nag-sight seeing kasi kami ni (Y/N) kagabi tas nag-bar hoping kami tas pagkatapos nakatulog kami dito sa kotse.” A little doubtful of this, Alex could only glance at you from the corner of her eye, expecting for you to react but you held your emotions close to your heart as you spoke, “Totoo po yung sinasabi ni Basilio, bossing. Di po naming sadya na di kayo replyan ni Crispin. Di na po mauulit.” Nodding, Alex then excused the both of you and the car ride was silent, save for the fact that the radio was playing Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. You did feel a little bit cold however and you couldn’t help the fact that something was missing until Crispin screamed out in surprise, horror, and disgust, finally noticing the thing you were missing. Ah shit. “TANGINA BASILIO, ANO TO!?!?!” Crispin managed to yell out, holding up your lace underwear for everyone in the car to see with Basilio quickly snatching the piece of clothing away from his brother, tucking it in his pocket before he responded, “ANONG-ANO KA DIYAN KUYA!?! WALA KANG NAKITA!!”

You silently prayed to Bathala for him to forgive you but you were sure as hell Alex won’t. You made a mental note to not ever do it in the car you guys use for missions ever again.

#trese #trese netflix #trese x reader #trese fanfic #basilio #basilio x reader #basilio trese #alexandra trese #crispin #crispin trese #maliksi trese #maliksi #smut #AWIT I CANT BELIEVE I'VE MANAGED TO FINISH THIS UP AT 3:24 AM #SAKIT NG LIKOD KO #GOOD LUCK TO YOU BASILIO SIMPS

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serendipityjxmn · 3 years

Text

Mr. President

Chapter 17

TW: Mention of rape

Words Count: 1.9k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 18

[Jimin, 4:35PM] Be ready for formal dinner at 7.

You received the text three hours ago. And that’s why you’re here now standing in front of the mirror as you take one last look of yourself. It doesn’t take long for you to get ready. You don’t have much knowledge in make ups anyway. So you just lightly put anything on.

To be honest, you don’t want to go. You haven’t talk to Jimin since last two days and he didn’t come home as well.

But who are you to say no. It’s one of your contract clause with him to accompany your husband in all functions as and when needed.

You look at yourself in the mirror, feeling somehow estranged at your own reflection. You’re wearing a V neck long burgundy satin dress that Taehyung gave you when he dropped by this evening.

When you head downstairs afterwards, you see your husband with his back on you, speaking to his bodyguards. Their eyes travel to you, informing Jimin of your presence. He turns towards you and you almost stop in your tracks.

He’s dressed in immaculate black suit which you assume is Valentino as well to match yours, his hair tousled to the back, he looks so handsome you feel your heart racing as you take his appearance. You had to remind yourself you both aren’t in speaking terms.

Jimin on the other hand, has his gaze on you for only a fleeting second until he looks everywhere else except you.

The ride in the car is exceptionally quiet as well. Jimin only speaks when he informs you that the function is held by Jaehyun, his cousin’s family.

When you arrive, Jimin got out first and offers you his hand automatically since there are tons of photographers and people from medias.

You realize the function is held at a huge mansion you assume is owned by Jaehyun’s family. Jimin leads you through the long porches towards a garden that’s been well decorated with beautiful lights, tables in white linen clothes and all kinds of flowers hanging on every nook and corner.

The function turns out to be a charity event collaborated with UNICEF you’re pretty sure is only part of their CSR responsibility. Everything goes by in almost a blur, with you sitting silently most of the time and zoning out, clapping only when you hear others.

Everyone is dressed stunningly in all their suits and long evening gown and everyone seems to know each other, you note. Well obviously since this is a family event with close family members and friends which you feel nothing like you’re part of it at all. Your fingers find your wedding ring on your chest, grasping it tight.

Even your husband has been completely ignoring you, talking animatedly to someone beside him. The main event is now done with most items being auctioned off, so you tug Jimin’s sleeve a little to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Most people are getting up for a slow waltz but Jimin doesn’t seem to have any plan for it so you just quietly slip yourself out of the garden and find your way to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, you reapply lipstick that is barely gone at all and fix your dress that barely needs fixing at all.

Once you’re done, you find your way out and heads back to the garden. Or so you thought.

Walking mindlessly, you somehow reach the end of the stony pathway and that’s when you start to panic.

At the same time, you suddenly got the eerie feeling of being watched. Hearts pounding, you turn around, searching for the source of your unease. But there’s nothing, except darkness.

Perhaps you’re just being paranoid.

You retreat using the same path but weirdly, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. It’s eerily quiet and you can almost hear everything since the music playing at the garden sounds like a hum now from the distance.

As if on cue, you hear little footsteps shuffling from behind you. Yet when you turn, there’s nothing but darkness.

Getting even more freaked out now, you start to walk even quicker. Throwing side glances everywhere, at one point you start to run as fast as the heels would allow you.

Too busy craning your head around, you don’t see a figure in front of you. You let out a scream when your vision turns black as your body crashes against the solid figure.

“Hey- hey Y/N calm down-“ the voice is familiar. But it does little to calm your anxiety. “It’s me, Jaehyun.”

You lean back to take a good look and realize it really is Jaehyun. Unknowingly, you let out a sigh of relief. “Ah- it’s you-“ you say, though body still trembling and heart still racing.

Jaehyun’s gaze drop down to match yours. “You okay? Were you lost?”

“Uh yeah- I just thought-“ you glance once again behind you, “nevermind.” Only now do you realize that Jaehyun has his arms around your waist to support you so you quickly step out of his arms. You forgot that you aren’t in friendly terms with him.

Jaehyun seems to notice your change of demeanor and sees you trying to jerk away. He drops his hand instantly, probably not wanting to give the wrong signal to you. “Hey. I was looking for you just now.” He smiles and if it wasn’t for his personality, you’d probably swoon at his dimpled smile. He starts to walk and you follow his pace beside him.

“Why?”

“I wanted to apologize for last time, you know. That was really rude of me. Please forgive me.” He stops in his track and you look at him to see that he’s staring intently at you. His eyes tells you that he’s being genuine so you just nod. You’d probably nod anyway even if you don’t forgive him. Plus, he saved you from getting lost.

You both arrive at the end of the stony pathway but it isn’t dark like the one you found just now. Instead, it’s just dimly lit and deserted but the bushes and flowers are all well trimmed. You place your hand on the English style white fence in front of you as you stare out the grassy meadow. You honestly believe there’s no end to the open darkness you briefly wonder how rich Jaehyun’s family must be to have such huge estate.

The two of you exchange conversations and you end up laughing hard on several occasions. Now that you’re having conversations with him, you realize he isn’t so bad.

“So, how’s married life?” Jaehyun asks as he leans on his elbow on the fence, body facing towards you.

“Don’t you think the question’s a bit late?” You smile in amusement.

He chuckles. “I suppose it is. But hey, don’t blame me. Blame your husband instead. He loves to keep you hidden.”

“In the dark,” you mutter under your own breath.

“You know,” he starts as he stares out into the open darkness as well. “I think the both of you really look good together.”

You smile a sad smile though you’re pretty sure Jaehyun can’t see you. “Why do you say that?” You don’t think Jimin and you had put that good of a performance for people to see you both that way.

“I’ve known Jimin since we were child. He’s.. not the friendliest person, sorry not sorry.”

You let out a soft chuckle. There’s no denying that.

“He’s a very self sustained guy. Very smart, never needing any help ever since we were kids, not even me. He’s always clear of what he wants and would never stop in anyway to get what he wants. No matter how or who he hurt in the process. I learnt the hard way when I was seven.” He lets out a small laugh that somehow sounds sad.

“And.. why are you telling me this?” You look at him.

He looks at you too and his face serious, all trace of playfulness disappears. “I just want you to be careful.” He says carefully. “And also.. perhaps because I want to steal something of his..” he says that as he eyes you with unreadable expression but it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You look away quickly as the atmosphere becomes awkward. “I- I don’t think I’d ever want or wish for anything else if I have a land this big.” You try to joke.

He laughs. “Is he not making you happy?” He suddenly asks, face turning serious again.

“W-why would you say that?”

“Because if he is, firstly he probably wouldn’t leave you all alone here in the cold.” He adds while grinning when he sees you shivering slightly. You don’t realize as Jaehyun tries to step closer towards you.

You shake your head slowly. “It doesn’t really matter how he treats me.”

“Why wouldn’t it? Because if he doesn’t..”

Suddenly, he swivels your petite body and crashes his own body against yours as he pull you into a hug. You crumble slightly in utter shock, falling back and you wince as your back pressed against the fence.

“Jaehyun what are you-“ You struggle and try to push him off of you. At that moment, your eyes flicker ahead and sees Jimin over Jaehyun’s shoulder, standing a few metres away from the both of you, staring at the scene in front of him.

You struggle again against Jaehyun but for a moment, you stare in lost at your husband.

For a brief second, you think of standing there in another man’s embrace just to see your husband’s reaction.

Just to see his feelings towards you.

To see if he feels something. Anything.

You just desperately want to see an inch of his thought.

He finally takes a few strides, “What the fuck you two think you’re doing?”

Jaehyun definitely heard him but he surely takes his time to release you before turning to face Jimin.

“Do you want to be seen hugging my own fucking cousin in the tabloid?” He snaps at you.

“I’m sorry, Jimin. She’s not at fault. I was the one who initiated everything.” Jaehyun says.

“Yeah whatever.” Your husband doesn’t even look at him. Instead, he reaches for you and pulls you close to him. His hands find its way to hold your waist firmly. Possesively.

“I was looking for you.” He says very gently. And then very tenderly, he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

You realize that this is the first time Jimin’s ever done anything intimate towards you in public.

And he does it in the eyes of Jaehyun.

Suddenly it dawns to you that he’s just marking his territory.

He’s showing that you’re his property.

“Come, let’s go home.” He says softly and nods curtly to his cousin before dragging you away by the waist.

You could only take a look at Jaehyun very briefly before being whisked away by your husband and finds him smiling in amusement.

The car ride on the way home is almost as awkward as when you got to the event early this evening.

It’s mostly filled in silence until your husband speaks up.

“I’m sorry.. About.. you know.” He says quietly. He’s trying to apologize for almost raping you. The memory almost brings fresh tears in your eyes. You still remember vividly how terrified you were.

“I’m really sorry.” He says again when you remain silent.

You don’t really trust yourself to say anything so you reach over for his hand and gives it a brief, gentle squeeze to let you know that you forgive him.

You think that a twisted part of you will always forgive him. Even if he didn’t apologise.

A/N: the stupid me just found out I didnt write the trigger warning for previous chapter. I’m sorry 😭

Anyway, things had been pretty tough because of pandemic. I was on contract basis for my job until June last year but was not renewed and I’ve been searching for jobs ever since but unfortunately wasnt able to land a permanent one. Writing had been a form of escape for me and I’m sincerely doing it out of love. But if, if you guys love my story and may wanna support me, you can drop a visit and buy me a coffee here! Thank you so much ❤️

Link to Chapter 18

Posted on 210507 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #mr president #bts fic #bts au #bts smut #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #kpop fic #jimin smut #jimin ceo #jimin mafia #bts mafia #jimin x reader

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spideyspeaches · 3 years

Text

We always have been ↬ fem!p.p

A/N: AHHH I love genderbent Peter skjkjhjka and I’ve only seen @justme--emily write for her so far so I wrote one of my own 😤

Summary: It was not every day you crash into your ex boyfriend in a Stark Gala, was it? Your ex boyfriend you dumped right after your senior prom? It was probably her Parker luck striking, never a good sign, she learned that from experience.

Warning: um cursing lol.

Pairing: female!Peter Parker x Harry Osborn

WC: 2k

When Mister Stark had asked her to attend one of those glorious charity galas, Penny had been elated, internally (and externally) jumping at the thought of wearing fancy gowns and walking past pretentious rich bureaucrats and business people.

She was practically lost in paradise when Miss Potts had accompanied her to shop for her dress, a beautiful blue and red full length gown, hugging her in her curves with a chinese collar neck and embroidered bust (very on brand of her).

“Is your dress comfortable? Oh god I think I should have altered it myself, it’s not too tight right?” May fretted, fixing her hairdo and last minute make up she learnt from makeup hacks videos. Groaning, Penny nudged May by her shoulders, sitting her down on her twin bed, holding her aunt’s cheeks.

“May, the dress is comfortable! Miss Potts made sure that it was altered to my size okay? Now calm down, it’s just one night.” She smiled, folding her hands under her chest. Her dress was truly comfortable, and she looked undeniably good, she checked (she was a nerd, yes, but she wasn’t blind. Especially now that she had 20/20 long vision due to her spider powers.)

“You know how I feel about you going to fancy parties, baby.” May sighed, making her wince, “the last time you went to prom ended in a disaster. Both of them”

“I know May, but on the bright side, it gained me an actual paid internship. And Mister Stark and Miss Potts are going to be present the whole time!” She reassured, squeezing her aunt’s shoulders. In all honesty, she understood her anxiety, shuddering as she remembered her prom fighting Liz’s dad, and then breaking up with Harry, “besides, I have my spidery powers remember? I’m a big girl May, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can sweetheart, god look at you all grown up, Ben would be so proud of how much you’ve grown, my little woman.” May sniffed, getting up to caress her head. She shook her head at her aunt’s emotional state, smiling as she bowed her head at the nickname. It was something Ben used to call her- little woman.

“Ben would be proud of you too May.” Penny said, willing her eyes to not water at the sudden rush of sentiment she felt at the mention of her deceased uncle.

“Now, shoo before I change my mind and keep you all to myself!” May laughed, fixing the non existent crease near her shoulders.

“Okay okay! I’m going May, jeez it’s like you and Mister Stark are holding a shared custody of me.” Penny snickered, scrambling to wear her uncomfortable heels, the ones that matched her dress.

“Maybe I am, but I get to be the primary guardian!”

Laughing, she gave her aunt a kiss to her cheek, doing a preliminary check of her cell phone and emergency bracelet, blowing her a kiss before walking into the car that was standing outside their apartment.

The car ride was silent, her stomach bubbling with nervousness and excitement. She was practically vibrating in her seat, glad that Tony had sent another driver instead of Happy- he would have teased her incessantly for being so nervous. She had grown close to Happy, the man growing fond of her as well, but he could be an embarrassing dad at times.

The gala was everything she had imagined, brightly lit in an overpriced hall, adorning overpriced decorations with people in overpriced clothes.

“Hey Mister Stark! Thank you so much for inviting me!” She grinned, skipping towards her fath- mentor.

“Hey Pen, wow don’t you look beautiful. A little too beautiful, beware of those good for nothing boys you hear me?” Tony smiled, hugging her, a protective hand on her shoulder.

“Oh don’t mind Tony, hun, he’s only joking.” Pepper said, giving her a kiss on her cheek and doing a once over, just like May had.

“I’m serious Pep, if those boys even tried anything, you call me okay? I’ll take care of them.”

“Mister Stark, you can’t just threaten teenagers.” Penny giggled, looking at Pepper with a smirk.

“Barely a teenager kiddo, why did you grow up so fast?” He smiled, a fond look in his eyes.

“I’m nineteen Mister Stark, I think I can take care of those boys themselves.”

“Hell yeah you can, that’s my girl.”

Easy for her to say, because not long after that, Mister Stark and Pepper had abandoned her to talk to some prominent dealer about some… deals concerning Stark Industries, she didn't ask.

By the end of an hour, she was already bouncing on her heels, bored out of her mind. Even the Avengers could entertain her only so much, going back to their important work. And

Penny was an awkward girl, always finding herself in situations she was unwilling to participate in, so socialising was out of question.

She remembered the one time she had accidentally spilled coffee all over Mister Stark’s touch sensitive keyboard, stuttering the whole time. He hadn’t even been mad, reassuring her that he had done that enough times before, hence the liquid resistant keypads.

And then there was that one time the school nurse had called Tony when she was experiencing period induced fever. That was embarrassing, if not a little heartwarming to know that he cared about her enough to confront Pepper about menstrual problems. She was his daughter in everything but blood, he reminded her that every day, though not verbally.

There was also this one time she had been caught kissing MJ, but none of those were going to top what she was facing right now.

Literally.

“Penny! Penny Parker?” Harry’s chirpy voice rang in her ears, his footsteps sounding increasingly closer as she tried to hide her face behind her (non alcoholic) drink, frantically walking towards the vague figure of Mister Stark as fast as she could with her overly expensive stilettos.

It was not every day you crash into your ex boyfriend in a Stark Gala, was it? Your ex boyfriend you dumped right after your senior prom? It was probably her Parker luck striking, never a good sign, she learned that from experience.

Finally standing near Mister Stark, she tried to stand next to him, ignoring the weird look he was giving her. Penny was petite, always has been small for her age, so she was glad Mister Stark could cover her with his side. Apparently he got her cue, as he shifted slightly to hide her from whomever’s view.

“What’s wrong Pen? Some pesky boy chasing you? Accidentally met your ex?” He joked, giving the old businessman in front of him a handshake and smirking at her with amusement.

“Something like that.” She shrugged casually, snickering at Tony’s wide eyes.

“Penny! Hey it’s me, Harry.” He said, nearly standing behind her. He was either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave, weaving his way through the crowd to stand right in front of her. He probably hadn’t noticed her clinging to Tony, which is why he came forward, a big goofy grin playing on his handsome face, sending her heart into a frenzy, his blue eyes shining under the gleaming lights.

“Uh, h-hey Harry.” She grimaced, elongating his name with a chuckle. Shuffling forward, she ignored Tony’s raised eyebrows, opening her mouth to speak, but all she could look at was Harry Fucking Osborn standing in front of her, “Um, small world?”

Her words sounded distant to her, heart heart a lump in her throat. She felt underprepared for these situations. Sure, they had broken off on a semi- good note, but it didn’t make whatever this was any less awkward.

“Small world indeed.” He said, much softer than before, a solemn expression taking over his face, “It’s not every day you get to meet Penelope Parker in a Stark Gala. Heard of your internship by the way, I knew you were smart enough to get it.”

“Oh, thanks about that. I guess you’re an unwilling guest here? Haven’t seen Mr. Osborn around.” She smiled shyly, shuffling on her feet.

“Yeah, kind of, I mean you know how he is.” He shrugged.

“How long have you two known each other?” Tony interrupts the two, watching in amusement as both his pseudo daughter and Norman’s son blush under his gaze, as if just noticing his presence.

“Uhm, Hi Mister Stark! B-big fan, hi oh my god Penny I’m standing in front of Tony Stark.” Harry stuttered, shaking Tony’s hand for a little too long.

Staring at him with confusion, he shook Harry's hand back, silently asking Penny the lingering question.

“He’s a bit of a fanboy.” She answered.

Harry was still looking at Stark with his wonderstruck expression.

“Well it’s always good to meet my fans, but you didn't answer my question, kid. How do you two know each other?” Tony said, smiling as politely as he could while his hand was still stuck in Harry’s grip.

Realising that, he instantly let go, standing awkwardly as him and Penny said at the same time-

“I’m her ex boyfriend-”

“He’s my best friend.”

His eyes widen, realising what he had just said.

“You guys dated? And when were you going to tell me about that Pen?” Tony asked, baffled at the thought of Penny dating a guy, and Osborn’s son of all people.

“Well, you see, I was going to tell you soon, but then we broke up. You know? We haven’t talked since.” Penny said, the last sentence directed towards Harry. She was looking at him now, gritting her teeth.

“Well did you expect me to call you after you dumped me? During prom nonetheless? I was ashamed, Pen, I couldn’t do it.” Harry said, looking apologetic. It made her heart clench, inherent guilt building up in her tummy. It was her fault, technically.

“Yeah but, Harry you were my best friend before my boyfriend, and I missed you okay? You could’ve at least called.” She defended. Tony was good at reading the room, so sensing a banter building, he quietly left the area, not wanting to witness the misunderstanding.

“I really missed you too Penny, I- I didn’t think I was good enough for you, gosh I really fucking love you.” He said, immediately stiffening.

Even back when they were dating, they had never said the L word to each other, not even when they were best friends, and now? Well he had just made the air more thicker than before.

“You- you what?” She asked, voice small as her heart jumped. She moved closer to him, holding her hands out, reaching to touch his shoulders. Her hands set on his silky tuxedo, she stroked her hands in a slow motion, dropping them immediately when she realised she was touching him.

“I really fucking love you Penny, even if you don’t want to get together, can we still be friends? Go back to our movie nights and lego sessions?” He asked, furrowing his brows as if to keep himself from crying.

No words left her mouth, her breath hitched when he moved forward, chest stuttering. With a sudden confidence she didn’t know she had, she leapt forward, capturing his lips in hers. Their lips moved with a sync, his familiar ocean scented deo invading her nostrils, his soft skin against her. The world around her melded in a technicolour blob, the only thing she could focus was his heartbeat echoing in her ears.

“I really fucking love you too by the way.” She said, pulling away from the kiss. She vaguely spotted Miss Potts in her periphery, shaking her head with a smile as she held back Mister Stark.

“So, are we friends then?”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“We are more than friends, you dumbass. We always have been.”

I’m a thirsty bitch, pwease give me feedback? 🥺🥺

#peter parker x harry osborn #harry osborn x peter parker x reader #harry osborn #female peter parker #female peter parker x harry osborn #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #tony stark #spiderman #spider woman #spideygirl writes

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santastic · 4 years

Text

the big, bad wolf || hwang hyunjin oneshot

》》 pairing: hyunjin x female reader

》》 summary: every year, you and the boys celebrate halloween with a party at hyunjin's - who just so happens to be your mortal frenemy. every year, you all dress up. this year, however, you decide to make it a bit more interesting: everyone picks an outfit for their random secret santa partner. it seems like a bit of innocent fun, but felix has an idea...

》》 word count: 2.4k

》》 genre/tags: halloween au, not quite e2l but e2 like...sexy tension???, suggestive themes (mostly just implications), a little bit of crack lmao

》》 warnings: cliche cheesy dirty flirting (come on hyunjin you're better than this), thicc romantic and sexual tension, reader is a simp in denial, suggestive themes, implied smut at the end, talk of biting but no actual biting, reader has dom vibes, hyunjin is bold until someone else is bolder

》》 notes: my first oneshot on this blog! I already wrote a halloween drabble, but I felt like writing something bigger than that and my friend (I see u vi) inspired me by suggesting some spicy hyunjin content. n e ways, happy halloween everyone! and if u don’t celebrate halloween, I hope u have a lovely weekend <3

navigation || skz masterlist

Halloween is always fun with your friend group. I mean, it's fun anyway - lots of cheap candy, neighbourhood celebrations, an excuse to get way too drunk - it's just a lot more fun with eight other crackheads.

You guys have a sort of tradition going by now, even though each year is a bit different. Hyunjin throws the party, Minho brings the alcohol and hides it from Chan until it's too late to stop everyone from getting shitfaced, Jeongin and Felix bring ungodly amounts of candy, and Jisung is a skeleton (literally every single year - it started when you called Tate Langdon's skeleton makeup hot, and it never ended).

Everyone (except Jisung) keeps their costume a secret - unless they're Chan and Felix, in which case they do couple costumes and keep it a secret from everyone else. Sometimes you even decide on a theme, like the year before the last, where everyone was supposed to dress as their favourite Pokemon. This inevitably led to intense fighting roleplays to assert dominance as your respective type, and in order to spare your reputation in the neighbourhood, you decided the next theme would be a little less wild.

This year, the theme was 'secret Santa costumes', meaning you each picked a random name from a hat to decide who you would be buying a costume for and a few days before Halloween, you were given your own costume to wear to the party by whoever pulled your name from the hat of destiny.

Technically that's not how secret Santa works, but no one questions Chan when it comes to holiday business.

You just so happened to get Jisung, and while the temptation to keep the skeleton thing going just for the meme was definitely there, you ultimately decided he should be a classic bedsheet ghost - except with no eye or hand holes cut out. You know, to add a little sprinkle of chaos to his already very chaotic life.

The lovely boy who decided your spooky fate was Felix, who had coincidentally been in charge of buying Hyunjin’s costume too - when you asked why, he said it was because the number of people was uneven, so he had kindly volunteered to take on an extra. You had honestly expected him to pick something weird or wild for you, so you were quite surprised by the outfit he had settled on.

"Is this...little red riding hood?" you had asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you stared at the dress and hood in your hands.

"Yep! I saw it the other day and I thought it would be nice to go for one of the classics, you know?" he had explained, smiling as if he was ever so proud about his decision. Something about the hint of mischief in his eyes made you suspicious, but you had let it slide. "You don't mind, right?"

No, you didn't mind. You had given Jisung a ghost costume, so you didn’t really have room to speak on the originality of Felix’s decision. Besides, the dress didn’t look too cheap, nor did it look especially short, and the hood-cape made you feel way too powerful for someone wearing a $20 Target costume.

So you really didn't mind at all, until it came to the day of the party. Now, as you stand in the doorway to Hyunjin’s apartment, you suddenly mind a lot more.

”Lee Felix, I’m going to decorate the lawn with your fucking intestines, oh my god!” you whisper-yell to the boy who conveniently manages to dart away with the excuse of needing to help Jeongin open all the candy bags. Your angry eyes follow his retreating blue form - Chan picked his outfit this year, and of course he decided Felix should be an Among Us character.

Everyone in the group knows about the slight tension (read: obvious beef) between you and Hyunjin. Technically speaking, you’re friends. He invites you to his parties, you hang out with him when he’s with the boys. It’s just that neither of you can stand each other, because you’re both very bold and even more stubborn.

Whenever the two of you are together, you bicker like children and it’s pretty much endless. You could probably throw insults (and the occasional murder threat) at each other all day if the other members didn’t interrupt, and on those days you’d be more than happy to teach Hyunjin a lesson with a nice, strong punch in the nose if the opportunity were ever to present itself.

So, with this in mind, it’s quite clear why you’re planning Felix’s murder when you see Hyunjin walking around as the big, bad wolf.

You’re genuinely considering sneaking out the front door before anyone else sees you and running back to your apartment (because Felix just so happens to be your ride home), but fate decides to mess with you and suddenly, Hyunjin locks eyes with you from across the living room.

The way a huge smile instantly graces his pretty face sends a rush of butterflies, followed by anger, through you as you stare back at him. His clip on wolf ears are admittedly quite cute, but the fake fangs he’s wearing send your thoughts in a very different direction. As he makes his way over, you suddenly wish you had followed Felix to the kitchen - at least they keep the alcohol in there. In his living room, you’ve got no choice but to deal with Hyunjin while sober.

”Well, would you look at that? Seems like I found my little red riding hood.” he teases with a wink, leaning against the wall beside the door.

When you scoff at him, he gives you another big grin and you can’t help but stare at the fangs again. The vibrant blue contact lenses he’s wearing make his gaze feel intense even when he’s smiling, and the way his long, blonde hair falls freely gives him a glow that’s both angelic and positively demonic. He looks so annoyingly handsome, as per usual; if only his personality wasn’t the personification of the words ‘cocky asshole’. You can’t help but think it’s a huge waste of beauty.

“Excuse me-” you begin, ready to start the first round of arguing, but he cuts you off like the annoying brat he is.

“You’re excused,” he says, thinking his comment was very smart, and if it wasn’t a night meant for fun and games, you might’ve killed him on the spot.

“Fine, excuse you. I’m not your little red riding hood. In fact, I’m not your anything, thank you very much,” you snap, brushing past his tall figure as you head to the table the boys have set up to the side. There’s an array of Halloween-themed food, prepared by Chan, and you settle for a red velvet cupcake decorated with black frosting and what you assume are meant to be cat ears poking out of it.

“Right, sure, but we’re still matching tonight. It’s kind of like-”

This time, you cut him off. “It’s not like Chan and Felix. It’s not. We’re not wearing couple costumes, so don’t say it.”

He shuts his mouth (finally) and you take it as your cue to leave before he says something else to piss you off. Unfortunately, he seems to have the desire to ruin your night further and chooses to follow you on your journey.

“So anyway, I guess this was Felix’s plan, right?” He gestures to your costumes. “Unless you had something to do with it, that is.”

You don’t bother to address the second part of what he said and instead just nod, scanning the room for the previously mentioned mastermind. As soon as you can get your hands on that boy, you swear you’ll slaughter him for subjecting you to Hyunjin’s torturous teasing all night.

“He was already on thin ice after trying to tell me Bulbasaur is a better starter than Charmander, but now he’s actually dead to me,” you growl out once you spot him sitting beside Minho, laughing happily with his classic red solo cup and a slice of chocolate cake. Jeongin sits beside them, tearing open bags of candy with no assistance from Felix, because of course he was lying about helping him earlier.

Hyunjin laughs softly and you curse your heart for skipping a beat at the sound. Sometimes it feels like your head hates Hyunjin while your body is stupid enough to like him, and it’s part of the reason why you hate talking to him so much. Every time you stop throwing insults and sass at him and instead sit back and listen to what he has to say, a part of you realises you don’t exactly have a proper reason for disliking him. He’s not all that bad, and sometimes you even find yourself laughing at his jokes and witty remarks.

But you’d really rather not go through the endless cycle of those thoughts right now, especially when the cause of your problems is standing beside you eating a chocolate bar.

“I have to say, though,” you comment as you turn to look him up and down, “the big, bad wolf concept suits you pretty well.”

Before he can accept the compliment, you continue. “You’re both big, hairy beasts who dress like grandmas.”

The obvious offence on his face is so satisfying you almost wanna snap a photo to reflect on this moment in the future, but you refrain from doing so. He would just pose anyway, and the photo would probably end up making your stupid heart flutter again.

“Well, at least you think I’m big. Besides, if dressing like a grandma gets me closer to eating you, then I suppose it’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make,” he whispers in a husky, seductive voice that kind of makes you want to choke-slam him, but you suspect he might enjoy that anyway.

It angers you when he makes flirty comments like that, because as annoying as they are and despite you knowing full well he only says it to get under your skin, it still makes your heart race every time. Maybe in another universe, Hyunjin is a sweet boy who innocently flirts with you and brings you roses instead of a big, bad bitch who’s just acting like a horny teenager. Annoyingly enough though, you think you’d fall for him either way.

You turn away with the intention of finally escaping to the kitchen to grab something to drink, hoping to settle the thoughts dancing around your head, but he reaches for your wrist. The feeling of his fingers pressing warmth into your skin just makes your head spin even more, and you’re so distracted you don’t pull away from him.

"Aw, don’t run away now. Are you scared of me, little red? There’s no need to be, I’m just joking. I won’t bite unless you beg me to."

You pull your arm back as soon as the words leave his mouth. Hyunjin has a lot of things (a severely irritating personality, a stupidly handsome face for such an asshole, a loud voice solely meant for pissing you off on a daily basis, the list goes on), but the thing he definitely has most is the fucking audacity.

However, the most annoying part by far is the way you feel your face heat up when you register the last thing he said. You’d rather die than let him make you flustered, so you shake your head slightly to clear those thoughts from your mind and look him in the eye again.

"Scared? Me?" you scoff, staring him down with a steady glare and if he was anyone else, he'd probably shiver in fear.

Unfortunately, he is not anyone else. He is Hwang Hyunjin, and Hwang Hyunjin does not shiver; he beams with a smug grin and makes your blood boil.

"Mhm. Look at you. You’re basically dressed as my prey tonight, babe." He purrs the pet name like the absolute fuckboy he is. "And sure, the real you is feisty, but you're all bark and no bite."

The overly confident, proud smirk on his face makes him look like a damn peacock flaunting its feathers, and you decide then and there that you'll do anything to get rid of it.

"All bark," you echo his words, walking towards him slowly, "and no bite, huh?"

You swear you see his eyes widen for a split second at your change in demeanor before the stupid smirk returns, and the little rush of victory you feel from catching him off guard is enough to keep you walking forward.

His gaze never leaves yours, especially when you're standing on the tips of your toes in front of him, noses just barely brushing against each other. Your hands grip his shoulder to balance you, and you run a finger over his collarbone up towards his cheek, where you gently cup his face. The small distance between the two of you means you can hear his slightly uneven breathing and see the curiosity swirling in his bright blue eyes as he waits for your next move.

You reach a hand up and thread your fingers through his long, bleach blonde hair, and his breath hitches when you gently tug at it. Even his wolf ears almost seem to droop submissively. He doesn't dare move, but his eyes keep flicking down to your lips and back up again.

"Now, that's just not true at all, is it?" you whisper, tilting your head as if waiting for an answer, but he can't find the words to form a witty response. It’s about time he learned some manners, really, even if he needed your guidance for that.

"I'm warning you now," you continue, "you might wanna watch your tone. I might look like your prey, but I promise I bite harder than you do, babe."

You make sure to emphasise the pet name, purring it in the same way he did minutes before. He bites down on his bottom lip, and the way his fangs press into them makes you lick your own lips nervously. It seems as though he can't take the tension anymore, because he goes to lean in and finally close the distance between the two of you as his hands find your hips.

Of course, you'd never let him have that control, especially after his bold attitude from earlier. Even though the temptation to lean in is certainly there, you step away from him and smile sweetly.

"Learned your lesson yet, puppy?"

He doesn’t respond for a moment, clearly still taking in what just happened. When he registers your question, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought - the way a dog might, funnily enough - before he hums quietly.

“I’m not sure. Maybe you should teach me once more, little red,” he suggests, voice low and slightly breathless, “but preferably a bit more in depth this time.”

- ᴇ ɴ ᴅ -

(A/N: AHHHHH I haven’t written a oneshot in SUCH a long time oh my god,,,,, it was a lot of fun tho even if I’m not super confident writing full things. this one was short anyway so I kinda feel like it doesn’t count, but I’m still v happy to finally post my first skz oneshot! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading <3)

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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Prequel to ‘The Crow’s Funeral’: How Agnes + Gerry met, then proceeded to set Jon on fire.

Exactly what it says on the tin. This exists because I was rereading TCF and went “hey did I ever figure out how Agnes and Gerry met”. I didn’t, so this is it. Rest under the cut. No specific warnings except for the fact that, shockingly enough, Jon had gone through a lot of character development prior to the start of TCF and was actually a complete asshole for a year or two.

“Daisy? What are you looking for?”

Agnes’s expression stretched into terror. She mouthed ‘fuck!’, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t breathe, and her chest never rose and fell, but she abruptly started trembling.

For the first time, Gerry reached out to reassure her. But her body heat had abruptly tripled, and Gerry was forced to pull back. In the small, unventilated space, it quickly became overwhelmingly hot.

“Shut it off!” Gerry hissed, as quietly as he physically could. “They’ll feel it -”

“That is the most dangerous monster in the world,” Agnes whispered, and Gerry fell silent. “Don’t move.”

For the first time in a very long time, in an apocalyptic world built on terror and fear, Gerry felt afraid.

Agnes was back.

Gerry didn’t know how she had found him. His hiding place was pretty well hidden, thank-you-very-much. Adults were always trying to barricade themselves in houses - stupid, when the nightshades could drift through shit - and kids were always trying to hide in closets or attics. But Gerry was the perfect mix of adult and child - or, as they’re known, teenagers - and he had way too much experience stripping houses down for the possessions of the recently deceased.

So Gerry knew about crawl spaces. Like in the Magician’s Nephew, some older row houses had little secret tunnels between each house. You couldn’t quite get into each house normally, but there were always gaps and weak points and hatches. Even better, at the very top there was a hidden attic where the generator and power box lived. It was small, and there were definitely some gross animal corpses that Gerry could have sworn moved, but it was mostly safe. So much as anything was safe.

But, somehow, Agnes had found him. Gerry didn’t know what she was doing exploring row houses for fun, but judging from the scent of smoke that’s been in the air lately he didn’t want to know.

The sharp rapping echoed through the small attic, directly under the hatch with a huge heavy space heater dumped on it. Gerry had other means of entry, and Agnes thought that was the only door. Please! As if Gerry would live somewhere with only one escape exit. That was just asking to get stuck in a nightmare for a month.

But, then again, maybe Agnes had never had to worry about that.

“I brought food!” The high, clear voice called out - slightly muffled from the ceiling/floor, but unmistakable. “It’s Twinkies! Come down to eat it!”

“No way!” Gerry called down back. “I bet you put offal in it!”

“What does offal mean!”

“It’s, like, organs! Go away, lady!”

“I told you!” Agnes called back, weirdly delighted. “My name’s Agnes! I’m a Princess!”

“Princess of what, being lame!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, Princess Agnes!”

“Fuck me yourself!”

Ugh! She was so annoying! This was her fourth fucking time coming by here, and ever since she had realized that he was just a teenage boy she had been leaving food in front of the attic door. It was always weird food, too. Didn’t she know what humans ate?

Stupidly on cue, Gerry’s stomach rumbled. Ugh.

“Go away,” Gerry called back, eager for her to just leave already so he could eat the shitty food she had undoubtedly left. “I don’t feel like getting turned into a candle today!”

For some reason, she didn’t reply to that. Gerry wondered if she was trying to fool him into thinking she was leaving, but joke’s on her - Gerry could hear footsteps all the way through the house. He waited with bated breath for a minute, two minutes, slowly growing confused why she wasn’t either yelling at him or leaving.

He’d never tell her, but he kind of enjoyed fighting with her.

Finally, she called out, with an emotion in her voice that he had never heard from her before, “Is that why you won’t come out? You think I’d turn you into a candle?”

Gerry was flabbergasted. “Yes?” he called back. “You turn everyone into candles.”

“...it’s not just because you don’t like me?”

Aw, man. Gerry abruptly felt a little bad for the flame monster cult leader lady. She couldn’t be any older than him. “You’re really nice,” Gerry called back, feeling like an idiot. “I just didn’t make it this far by not being careful! Thanks for the food, though!”

A longer silence this time. For some reason, Gerry felt a weird kind of anxious. Not the normal level of ‘aaah im gonna get eaten’ anxious. But something different. He couldn’t describe it.

Finally, Agnes called back, “Do you want me to stop bothering you? I’m sorry if I’ve been harassing you. I’m not good at - at all of this.”

Gerry sat in his own silence, sitting cross-legged in front of the space heater on top of the hatch. His baggy jeans clung to his legs, slightly sweaty and definitely unwashed, and his raggedy thin black jacket was also a little sweaty. His hair was plastered to his head, limp and dirty. Wherever Agnes went, heat followed.

People who made dumb decisions didn’t live very long. Gerry had lived for quite a while - well, he was fifteen, but he had made it all year without getting eaten, which was really quite impressive.

And he had made it alone. When he woke up in this green and terrifying world, Mum hadn’t been there. He had looked for her for months. He had almost been ripped to shreds in Pinhole Books. She wasn’t in any of their usual London hideaways, either. Maybe she was outside of London, somewhere far away…

In all of Gerry’s books, he’d pack up his backpack and set out to look for Mum. He wouldn’t stop until he found her. Then he’d find out that she’d been embroiled in some plot to stop all of this, and he’d help her, and she’d hug him…

But it wasn’t a book. No matter how strange this new world was, fiction couldn’t begin to match. And Gerry didn’t really miss his Mum. Not really. He missed the fact that he was alone. He missed the fact that she was powerful and smart and talented, and definitely would have been able to protect the both of them. Gerry had to protect himself now, and he missed that safety more than he ever missed Mum.

Gerry wondered if Agnes was lonely. How could she, with a whole cult?

It was a stupid decision. But Gerry had always trusted too easy, anyway.

He stood up and pushed the space heater with a thick, screeching grinding sound that scraped uncomfortably along the wood. With a final heave, he pushed it off the hatch, and reluctantly bent down to lift the hatch and unfold the ladder.

“If you turn me into a candle I’m giving you an allergy attack,” Gerry called down, and the girl known as Agnes Montague smiled up at him brilliantly.

***

That wasn’t how Agnes and Gerry started. But it had been, maybe, how they got going.

Agnes, Gerry found out very quickly, was a hot-tempered girl. Save the jokes. She was always dressed like a sixties hippie, and her long red hair was always somehow glistening and clean. She let Gerry touch it, very carefully, and - yep, even the hair was wax. What a weird person.

After a bit of frantic introductions and suspicious squinting from both sides, Gerry and Agnes had eventually sat down cross-legged from each other as Gerry stuffed Twinkies in his mouth and she eyed them warily. She had eyed them with a bit of trepidation, but Gerry’s obvious joy at eating them must have made her curious. That was one thing Agnes was: curious. Almost to death.

“You really live up here? And you’ve never gotten trapped by a nightmare?”

Gerry shrugged uncomfortably, sucking at his fingers. “Yep. I run around town a lot too, cuz I get bored otherwise. It’s easy to evade all of that shit if you know how.”

“Wow.” It was probably her being a fire person or whatever, but Agnes’ eyes seemed to sparkle a little bit. “My cult members barely even let me outside by myself, and I can set shit on fire. You’re really weird for a human.”

Gerry couldn’t help but puff out his chest a little, even if he would have preferred her to use any other word than ‘weird’. “That’s what happens when your Mum trains you since birth to be a demon hunter.” He faltered a little. “I’m not sure if she knew this would happen, but I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Your mum knew?” Agnes gasped. “I thought nobody knew about the Entities before the apocalypse!”

“Your cult members must have known, right?” Gerry pointed out, and Agnes nodded in concession of the point. “Yeah, there were always a few of us. Not a lot, though. Tight-knit community, everyone knew each other. Hobbyists, you know. It sucked. Most of the people who got involved in the supernatural were jerks.” Actually, now that Gerry thought about it… “That crazy apocalypse prepper Salasea must be coming out like a bandit right now.”

Agnes nodded sagely, as if she knew who Salasea was. Maybe she did? Gerry had always gotten the impression that if all of the demon hunters knew each other, then maybe all of the demons did too. Eventually word about Mum had really started to get around.

“You’re the first interesting human I’ve met,” Agnes said thoughtfully. “Most of them just - like, scream, you know? Or pretend I’m not there. Like if they don’t acknowledge me then I can’t hurt them. And, like, that’s the way it works for a lot of these things! But I’m a person too, you know?”

“You really aren’t.”

“I have feelings,” Agnes said firmly. “But maybe the reason why you’re still safe isn’t because you’re a super cool human hunter, Gerry.”

“It has to be a part of it,” Gerry said aggressively, eager to assert his masculinity and how cool he was.

“Of course,” Agnes allowed, making Gerry huff. “But I think it’s because you aren’t scared. You were wondering how I found you, right?” Gerry nodded slowly. He had been wondering how Agnes had caught on that he was living here. “It was because I felt a person - I can always feel body heat - but I didn’t taste any fear. I was setting some row houses on fire just to feel something, and you weren’t feeling anything either!” She set her expression firmly, almost bravely. “I think we’re the same.”

“A goth human teenager living in an attic and a flame princess of the fire cult?” Gerry asked skeptically. They couldn’t be less similar. Gerry lived each day in - well, as Agnes pointed out, not fear, but he was constantly just trying to survive. It was all he had ever known, but he knew that others didn’t live like that. He had known when he was a kid - that other kids were normal, were happy - and he knew it now. That a small handful of people in this world were having a blast, and that everyone else suffered. “We’re nothing alike.”

But Agnes faltered, just a bit, and Gerry just a little bit of that loneliness in her expression again. “You’re the only other kid who’s had a conversation with me.” She paused a beat. “Besides, like, Callum, but he’s a baby.”

Maybe, in a schoolyard or a town or a world, Gerry and Agnes weren’t so similar. Maybe they’d have nothing in common. But maybe, in this world that was both so isolated and so unified, they could be a little similar after all.

“I’ll allow it,” Gerry said graciously. He wanted to shake her hand, but he deeply knew that it was a bad idea. Instead, he broke his Twinkie in half, and held out the other one to her. “Friends?”

Agnes eyed the Twinkie warily. “Do you become friends by asking to be friends with someone?”

“I dunno, I don’t have any friends.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

But she took the Twinkie. It was a start.

****

Of course, Gerry and Agnes were far more alike than they had first thought. Mostly in the fact that their evil mothers had killed their fathers (which Gerry had the sneaking suspicion wasn’t a universal experience) and that the both of them were actually kind of literally protagonists of a YA book.

Well, Gerry had always been the protagonist of his own life. But he would write a story about Agnes too: about the spoiled princess who rejected her destiny. Who had a really cool previous life where she was all dramatic and sad and stuff, who died tragically only to be reborn as a magical teenage girl. Seriously, it was right out of a Sarah J Maas novel.

Maybe they latched onto each other too quickly, but it was the kind of latching on when you made friends with another kid at the orientation to summer camp and then religiously stuck to the kid once the actual camp started until you got another friend. Maybe. Gerry's never been to summer camp, how was he supposed to know.

But Agnes was sharply quick, surprisingly kind, and fiercely protective. Gerry had never met somebody who cared as much as her. It was really weird. He supposed that people like her, the powerful and destructive, had the privilege to care.

Agnes snuck over more and more often, and sometimes Gerry went to go visit her. Eventually they started roaming the streets together, loitering in businesses and committing general acts of tomfoolery. Gerry was an old hat at tomfoolery - he had only been vaguely supervised most of his life - but Agnes encroached every second of minor rule breaking with cautious glee.

Not that there really were rules anymore. Even if you were the kind of juvenile delinquent that got adults yelling at you and caused minor or major property damage, it wasn’t as if the cops were going to come and take you away. Either you got away with it, or you were eaten for a while. This was very natural to Gerry, and after a little bit of convincing it came easily to Agnes too. Maybe they really were well-suited for each other after all.

If Gerry’s Mum could see him now, she would call him ‘dreadful’ and ‘ill-mannered’ and ‘badly behaved’. But...she wasn’t there, so she could hardly complain. Served her right.

Months - maybe - later, Gerry and Agnes were hanging out in Gerry’s crawlspace again after a long day terrorizing demons and old men alike. They were splitting a blood orange - literally - and letting the sticky juice (juice?) run down their hands, laughing as Agnes imitated the look of shock on the old man’s face. Sitting down on the floor, flavor bursting sweet on his tongue, as Agnes teased him for dropping peels everywhere...Gerry was almost happy.

Rookie mistake.

Agnes sensed it first, stiffening slightly as her body pulsed slightly warmer. Gerry scooted a little further away from her carefully as she turned to look at the thin plaster wall, brow furrowing.

“Is it a nightmare?” Gerry whispered. “Or a person?”

“Neither,” Agnes whispered back. “It’s…”

Then Gerry heard it too: the clack of nails on hardwood, and a sound so terrifying it made his gut tie itself into knots. It was a growl, bestial and wet. Something was snarling outside.

Gerry stopped breathing, sitting absolutely still. The sounds of sniffing and snarling were loud and distinct, and he couldn’t help but stare at the sticky, juicy, smelly orange in his hands. Agnes was also still, far more completely than Gerry ever could be, carefully listening.

He wanted to whisper to Agnes, make a game plan, but the monster would hear them. Part of Gerry wanted to tremble in fear, but that wasn’t useful. He forced himself to calm down as best as he could while keeping his breaths minimal. Remember Dune. Fear was the mind killer. Fear is the little death.

But then Agnes smiled at him faintly, making a gentle gesture with her hand. Agnes was a literal fire messiah. She could take almost any monster. Gerry had never seen her afraid of anything, just contemptuous or annoyed. Having her there with him was more reassuring than any book quote, and Gerry exhaled softly as he smiled back at her. Agnes was going to torch that monster, and it would be super cool, and they’d high five, and -

“Daisy? What are you looking for?”

Agnes’s expression stretched into terror. She mouthed ‘fuck!’, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t breathe, and her chest never rose and fell, but she abruptly started trembling.

“Shut it off!” Gerry hissed, as quietly as he physically could. “They’ll feel it -”

“That is the most dangerous monster in the world,” Agnes whispered, and Gerry fell silent. “Don’t move.”

For the first time in a very long time, in an apocalyptic world built on terror and fear, Gerry felt afraid.

A faint yipping echoed through the space, almost like a dog. It could never be mistaken for a dog.

“Well, yes, there’s people everywhere. Other places have more people, even. Why can’t we just go there?” Another bark, a low bass cut. “Oh, if it’s a Hunt, then it’s alright.”

The heat was growing oppressive, and Gerry frantically motioned for Agnes to cut it out. He was withholding his own ragged breathing, and abruptly Gerry felt as if he couldn’t breathe. It was just making him more scared, the sweat trickling down his neck -

There was another yip, so close it might as well be made in his ear. It clearly came from directly in front of him.

Gerry couldn’t help it - he screamed, overwhelmed with fire and heat and fear and the wolf at their door.

The wall exploded.

Dust and insulation burst outwards in a fine white cloud, and Gerry and Agnes were abruptly coughing intensely and the wall cracked, folded, and collapsed inwards. Gerry was showered with fragments of wood and plaster, stifling another scream, and screwed his eyes shut against the sudden influx of light.

He cracked them open as quickly as he could, unwilling to meet whatever was in front of him with his eyes closed. Instantly, overwhelmingly, Gerry was brought face to snout with a giant wolf.

Gerry firmly believed that people weren’t meant to see apex predators up close. Nobody should be able to touch a bear, was Gerry’s opinion. What was an anaconda? Gerry was on the opposite side of the room. He wasn’t afraid, but he hadn’t made it to the ripe old age of fifteen without being highly cautious.

It wasn’t right, staring this wolf in the face. Every inch of it stood out to him: the slobber, the snarl, the canines almost as long as his hand. It was silvery white, with a thick ruff and coat, and Gerry watched in awe as the wolf snarled and -

And stopped snarling. It started looking at him curiously instead, bushy tail sweeping gently side to side.

The immediate problem almost solved, Gerry was able to take in the figure behind the wolf.

He was a guy. Unfairly tall, Black with curly hair drawn tight into a ponytail. Sharp features, undercut by unnaturally green eyes. He was in a suit that looked like he had put it on three months ago and had never changed. He was...wearing a trenchcoat? He was just a guy!

“A human!” The man - monster? Guy? Nightmare? Avatar? - cried. “Oh, good job, Daisy! You’re a fantastic investigator.” The wolf - Daisy was a stupid name for a wolf - barked lowly. “Yes, it is like an oven in here, isn’t it?”

Gerry opened his mouth, then closed it. He was still cowering on his ass, covered in dust and plaster. This guy was Agnes’ monster? Maybe she had mistaken him for someone else. “Who -”

“He’s even talking!” The man exclaimed, as if he was a dancing monkey. “They never talk to me voluntarily, you know.” Daisy barked again. “I think it’s cute! Kids are so repetitive, but this one smells great. Good job, Daisy.”

Before Gerry could protest the man stepped forward and looked down at him, and a sick realization trickled through him.

The man had nothing behind his eyes. Bright green, sick and churning, radioactive and poisonous. His expression was absent and vaguely curious, like a child watching an ant crawl through its anthill. Slowly, intensely, the man’s placid expression broke into a sharp and demented smile.

It wasn’t the smile of a human staring at a tasty sandwich. It wasn’t even the smile of a monster drawing a human into a nightmare. It was the smile of a child holding the magnifying glass to the ant: triumphant, because now the child got to see what happens when an ant blackened to a crisp. Elated, because they were the child, and not the ant. Victorious, because they could only remember the distinction in the act of causing harm.

“Statement of -”

“Leave him alone!”

The monster exploded into flames.

Agnes leapt from her position in the crawlspace, slightly tucked away out of sight, and shoved at the wolf hard. The wolf yowled, her handprints blackening its fur, and it retreated snarling.

It was not the first time Gerry had seen someone set on fire. It happened a lot, when you hung out with Agnes. But the man burned, in bright and beautiful red-hot flames, crackling and searing the skin and air and sky. His mouth was open in a silent scream.

Something green shone from within the flames.

Then the flames were gone. It was as if he had never been set on fire at all. At most he smelled vaguely of burning flesh, and his hair had broken free of its ponytail to settle in fuzzy waves.

The monster looked mildly peeved.

Agnes grabbed Gerry, leaving red-hot scorch marks on his hoodie, and yanked him behind her. Gerry was not embarrassed to say that he absolutely hid behind Agnes as she put herself between him and the monster and his wolf. The wolf who was now snarling deeply at them, and the slightly irritated monster who shook ash off his unharmed trench coat.

“I don’t care if you called dibs on him,” the monster bitched. “You don’t get to stop me in the middle of a - oh, Agnes!” The monster’s expression brightened as he snapped his fingers. “Agnes Montague, right? Your cult introduced me to you at - what was it -”

“Annabelle’s annual party five months ago,” Agnes said flatly. Her wax hair was still burning at the ends, and although Gerry couldn’t see her expression he knew it had to be fierce. “Nice to see you again, Jon. Now stay away from him.”

“If you called dibs then you shouldn’t have let me try to eat him,” Jon - which was the dumbest name for an evil monster - complained. He smelled his arm, grimacing. “Setting me on fire’s downright rude, Agnes. Didn’t Jude teach you any manners?”

“Go away!” Agnes yelled. Gerry realized quietly that she was still shaking. “He’s not yours! He’s the one thing you aren’t allowed to hurt!”

Jon frowned at her. Gerry could practically see it: Did_not_compute.exe. It simply didn’t make sense: that there was something in the world that he wasn’t allowed to hurt. That there was something in the world that was not his.

Before Jon could speak again, his wolf barked harshly at him. She kept barking, completely indecipherably, as Jon’s expression screwed up in uncomprehension. “What does it matter if they’re children.” The wolf barked. “I mean, I don’t actually care if we piss off the Desolation or not.” Bark, bark. “Why are you always guilt tripping me!” Bark, bark, bark, bark. Eventually Jon’s expression turned somewhat abashed, and then downright embarrassed.

“Right, right.” He turned back to Agnes and Gerry, a little sulky. “Sorry for trying to eat your human, Agnes. In my defense, he was quite -” The dog yipped. “ - innocent, and I’m sure he’s very fun. Great. Well, this was a waste of time. Call me if you get tired of him, Agnes.”

Jon turned to go, and Gerry could not see his back soon enough. The heat had died as Agnes calmed down, her arms crossed over her chest and scowling fiercely.

“Apologize to him!”

Jon froze, halfway across the room. Gerry quietly wanted to die.

The monster slowly turned on his heel, looking at Agnes with a faintly flabbergasted expression. “You can’t be serious -” The wolf barked again. Gerry had the impression that the wolf was in charge of him. “Stop ganging up on me -” Bark. “I don’t know how to talk to humans, don’t make me!” A very firm bark.

“Do it,” Agnes said firmly. “Or I’ll set you on fire again.”

Unbelievably, the monster groaned. He turned to Gerry, fluorescent eye twitching. “Alright, alright! Listen, uh - kiddo? Kiddo. I am very sorry that you tasted - I am very sorry that I tried to scar you for life and consume your trauma. I cannot stress enough how it’s nothing personal. There.” Weirdly enough, he looked a little proud of himself. “Hah. Totally rocked that talking to a human thing.”

“Uh,” Gerry said, too dizzy with the events of the last ten minutes to care very much about what he said, “is the wolf in charge of you?”

Even more unbelievably, the man brightened. “I’m her assistant! Not very many people pick that up. You’re very bright, little human. Do you want to pet her?” Jon glanced at Daisy, who looked unimpressed. Very loudly, he hissed at her, “Do children like petting dogs?”

The wolf, somehow, seemed to inform him that yes, they did.

They were in too deep now. Gerry walked up and petted the wolf. It was fucking awesome. Agnes groaned and pulled him back again very quickly. She seemed a little jealous. The wolf yipped at her and Agnes reluctantly petted the wolf too.

Jon clapped his hands. “Well! That was very unpleasant. I won’t ask what you’re doing hiding in a wall, Agnes. As a personal favor to you.”

“Thanks,” Agnes said flatly.

“Tell Diego and Jude that I’m not doing it. Or eating your human. As a personal favor to you.”

“Definitely will.”

“Fantastic.” Jon’s eyes glinted, in the soft light of Agnes’ flames. “I’m very happy you’ve reincarnated into that fun child’s body, Agnes. Children are so tempestuous and impulsive. I wouldn’t have tolerated an adult setting me on fire. You understand that, don’t you?”

Agnes nodded, almost shakily.

“You understand that for an adult, that would have had very different consequences.”

Agnes nodded again.

“Fantastic!” Then Jon was beaming again, all carelessness and laziness. “Have fun, you little delinquents. Come on, Daisy. I’m famished.”

He swanned off, wolf following closely on his tail. But the wolf looked back as it crossed the threshold, large yellow eyes piercing in a way that Gerry just couldn’t name, before they both disappeared. As slowly and terrifyingly as they had come.

Ten seconds passed, then fifteen.

Agnes crumpled to her knees and bent over the floor, shaking, and her hands pressed hot scorch marks into the wood. She was still shuddering, and Gerry bent down next to her. He couldn’t physically comfort her, but he could put his hand close to hers on the wood. As close as possible, yet never touching.

“We are so lucky to be alive,” Agnes breathed, before abruptly groaning. “I set him on fire! I set The Archivist on fire!”

The title tickled something in Gerry’s brain, bringing up an insane amount of questions, but he brushed them all aside. Gertrude was dead - or at the very least, very far away, where she was no good to him. She had to be, otherwise he would have noticed her cutting a swathe through Britain by now.

“Who is he?” Gerry asked. He didn’t really want to know, but...well, he was himself. He wanted to know everything. It was kind of his whole thing.

Agnes sat down on her knees, rubbing her forehead, and Gerry cautiously sat down next to her. “He’s the monster who sold the world. The most dangerous man ever made.”

“The most dangerous man in the world gets bossed around by his dog?” Gerry asked, before the words sunk in. “Wait, I thought that was Jonah Magnus!”

“Jonah Magnus doesn’t kill people because they annoy him!” Agnes snapped, before she groaned into her hands again. “And I set him on fire…Diego is going to kill me!”

“For what it’s worth,” Gerry said awkwardly, “I’m glad you set him on fire. He was kind of a dick.” He paused again, uncertain of how to say it. “And...thanks for caring, I guess. You really don’t have to.” He shrugged, unwilling to state what had always been unsaid between them. “I’m a human. These things happen to us. You just have to deal with it.”

That was the way of the world. It had always been that way, even before the apocalypse. The strong and powerful and important like Jon kicked around smaller people, and the smaller people just hoped they survived it.

Gerry was a survivor. Nobody had ever saved him before. Maybe because nobody had ever saved him before.

Agnes tackled Gerry in a tight, pressing hug. She wasn’t hot at all, just mildly warm - an incredible act of effort and concentration on her part. Her arms were solid and unyielding, never mistaken for flesh, but she clutched at him with a unique desperation. Gerry cautiously hugged her back, letting her bury her head into his shoulder.

“Not to you,” Agnes whispered. “Nothing bad’s going to happen to you. Not even The Archivist.”

“You can’t promise that,” Gerry whispered.

“We’re family.” Agnes separated from him, stubbornly fighting boiling tears. “And I’m sick of just dealing with it.”

Gerry opened his mouth, then closed it. “Family?” He said weakly.

Agnes blushed hotly. “If you want!” She tightened her fists on her skirt, winding the fabric between her fingers anxiously. “It’s just that - I know you don’t have anyone...and I have my cultists, but they don’t really care about me, not like you do...and I know it used to be different, that family used to mean something different, but I don’t care about what old people thought family meant. I care about you, and we’re sticking together, so that’s what we are.” She faltered a little. “If you want.”

“Siblings, then,” Gerry said faintly. “If you want.”

And he did want it. More than anything, Gerry wanted this.

When Agnes smiled at him, and she hugged him tightly again, Gerry was halfway certain that yet another disaster was about to befall them. He knew that meteors were going to strike, that the ground was going to open up and engulf them, that the world would end in fire and ice, because Gerry was so happy it clenched his heart. He was so happy he couldn’t breathe.

“It’ll be okay,” Agnes said into his shoulder, “we’ll never have to deal with Jonathan Sims again. I promise.”

****

It was not a promise Agnes kept.

They ran into him again. And again. And again. Eventually, after meeting a monstrous golem of fear and suffering that induced paralyzing fear so frequently, said simulacrum of human experience became slightly tiresome. And you realized that he was, actually, really not that bright. Or at the very least not very mature. And that his wolf sister kind of wore the pants in that relationship. That he and his wolf sister were like Agnes and Gerry, in every possible way. And that he was, weirdly, deeply kind. And that he loved, so bright and pure and fearsome that it had brought down the world. That he was capable of loving Gerry. Maybe even, given enough time, anyone.

Many months later, as Gerry, Agnes, Jon, and Daisy sat in an ice cream shop splitting blood orange ice cream (with real blood!) and bickering endlessly about if Friends was the Flesh or the Stranger, that Gerry thought he might feel something familiar in his chest.

Something that clenched his heart, something that made him so happy he couldn’t breathe. Something that felt like fire and ice and meteors and disaster.

Jon must have felt it. He looked at Gerry, surprised, with ice cream slowly dripping from his spoon and congealing on the table. “What’s wrong with you? Are you ill? Agnes, is he ill?”

“No,” Gerry said, wiping at his eyes. “I guess I’m happy again.”

Everybody stared at him, slightly dumbfounded.

Daisy barked.

“You’re quite right, Daisy,” Jon said.

He didn’t tell them what she was right about, and Gerry never asked. He already knew.

#my writing #be nice to jon this is like his first time talking with a human outside of eating them #how would YOU feel if people started waving a chicken in your face and told you to apologise #nobody asked for this and i haven't thought about jonbackers in a while but you know what? maybe i should #also I found an old scrapped short story of mine that was 'hey you know if jon hadn't run from martin in the beginning #then NONE of this story would have ever happened'#might post that too not sure #gerard keay #agnes montague #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #why the fuck do i write anybody other than teen gerry

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Text

What You’ve Been Wanting

Summary: Sexting Finn at work gets you . . . exactly what you want.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ please)

A/N: I dare say I’ve outdone myself. Those of you who I consider to be my “Constant Readers” know I never say that about my own writing. So, here goes!

It wasn’t a secret that Finn hated his corporate job.

He would have given anything to have grease under his nails again as he tuned an engine, but Finn was smart enough to know his old life dissipated with Tobey’s arrest.

Part of you was relieved because you always thought Finn was better than the grunt work he did at the garage. When he took the job in Detroit, you told him that if he played the corporate game well enough, in ten years he could have enough money to open his own garage and get back to pursuing his passion. In some ways, Tobey’s arrest had seemed like a blessing.

However, with corporate success came more demanding hours, and you quickly learned that one of Finn’s weaknesses was trying to balance work with life.

Two nights ago, he didn’t get home until 9:15 pm. The previous night, it was 9:25, so you could argue that his time management was improving . . . except that last night, he didn’t walk through the front door until 10:05.

It was clear he wasn’t going to find balance on his own, so you needed to intervene. When you had a moment to yourself throughout your own workday, you thought about what you could do to help. It wasn’t until you got home around 4:30 that your body actually told you what you should do.

As you walked into the bedroom to change, you picked up some clothes on the floor and tossed them into the hamper. Finn’s black dress shirt caught your eye and you pulled it out, suddenly struck with the realization of how much you missed him. You brought the starchy fabric to your nose and pressed the collar against your lips, inhaling Finn.

His scent fanned the dull flame of neediness that you hadn’t even identified was smoldering within you until that moment.

As you looked down at his shirt, you were suddenly filled with inspiration, and you grinned as you tossed it onto the bed. Stripping down, you tossed all your work clothes in the hamper, then dug through your underwear drawer to find something sexy. A “race red” bra and panty set you had bought last Valentine’s Day stuck out, and you rushed into the bathroom to fix your face and hair, donning a lipstick that closely matched the underwear set.

After slipping into Finn’s shirt, you left it unbuttoned as you started taking pictures: cute ones, mostly of your smile with just a glimpse of what you were wearing. You picked one that bordered on sexy and hit send.

As you thought about your next photo set, Finn texted back a few minutes later.

Sexy!!! Miss you : (

“Oh, you’re gonna do more than miss me here in a sec,” you said to yourself as you shucked off Finn’s shirt, took off your bra, then put his shirt back on. You spent some time positioning his dress-shirt so it just covered your nipples on either side. You angled the camera down your body, making sure to reveal as much breast as the position allowed.

This time, Finn’s reply took exactly ten seconds.

Please stop.

Giggling, you prepped for what you expected to be the holy grail of sexy pics. You opened his shirt and laid across the bed, angling the phone so it captured your breasts, now fully on display, then you slid your hand into your red panties. You snapped some pics then got distracted as you fingered your clit, wondering if all you’d have tonight is another round with yourself. Leaning into his collar, your eyes slipped shut as you breathed him in and rubbed your swelling bud. With a groan, you stopped, secretly praying that this next picture would be the one to send him running home to you.

Scrolling through your most recent shots, you picked the sexiest and sent it.

You sucked on your finger, waiting for Finn’s reply. When his face flashed on the screen, you grinned and answered, “Hey, babe. I miss you.”

“Stop sending me . . . those,” he hissed into the phone.

“Sure. If you come home and take care of me.”

“You know I can’t—”

“You can.”

“I can’t! Dammit, Y/N. Don’t you think I wish I could?”

“You’re working yourself too hard, Finn. And that’s not a euphemism.”

“I’ll see you when I get home,” he bit out, then hung up on you.

You didn’t know whether his reaction angered, hurt, or humored you, so you decided to keep playing your game. If that last picture hadn’t worked, maybe this one would. Wiggling out of your panties, you used Finn’s shirt to very precariously cover most of your pussy . . . most being the operative word.

Barely containing your laughter, you hit send and really thought about what you were doing to Finn. You slid your fingers between your folds and worked yourself to a quick orgasm as you imagined him opening his phone, probably with a frustrated huff. You imagined how wide his pretty eyes would get as he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was peeking. You imagined how he’d shift in his chair, his pants suddenly too tight. And as you thought about the bulge in his trousers, you thought about the feeling of his dick inside you. Your fingers were slick which quickened your ministrations as you longed for him, and soon enough you were shaking with your swift, intense orgasm.

Exhaling, you checked your phone and saw that Finn had opened your last picture, but he hadn’t replied.

You figured you had a 60-40 chance, the odds in your favor that he left work, maybe even taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, so you rolled over on the bed and lounged. As you played on your phone, you realized you were much more relaxed than when you had first gotten home and vowed that even if Finn did work late—again—you’d be sure to make sure he got off before bedtime.

You smiled to yourself as you cleared out your cache of sexy photos and imagined undressing him, his sleepy eyes half-shut as he insisted he grabbed dinner on the way home and all he wanted was some sleep. Except instead of sleep, he would get your mouth on his cock.

God how you missed him.

As if on cue, the front door opened, then slammed shut. At first you grinned, but the sound of Finn’s pounding steps on the stairs sounded ominous, especially considering his typically aloof demeanor.

“I am going to kil—” Finn growled as he stomped into the bedroom, but as he took in your nudity, he stopped mid-threat.

You rolled over and bit your lip, your eyes lit with the promise of a very good time.

“Hi.”

Finn pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes grew to be twice their usual size.

“You are in so much fucking trouble,” he growled as he launched himself onto the bed, covering your body with his as he bent to suck harshly on your neck.

“Sorry, honey. Guess I shouldn’t tell you I got started without ya?”

Finn released your skin with a wet pop and pulled back to look down at you, his eyes narrowing. He scanned your face to see if you were teasing or telling the truth and whatever he saw made him sit back on his haunches and grip your knees in order to push them wide apart.

Hunger settled over his features as he took in your wet center, and you swore on the spot that the last image you wanted to see before you died was the way he licked his lips, looked up at you, then lowered his face over your pussy.

Still fully clad in his suit, your calves rubbed against the fabric of his grey jacket as he held your thighs open.

He immediately pulled your clit into his mouth with a sharp suck, bringing you straight to that threshold of pain and pleasure, an area as grey as the suit he was wearing. You pushed at his head with one hand and pulled at his gelled hair with the other, the noises leaving your throat more animal than human.

Stopping to plunge his tongue into your center, your body relaxed, only to be lit on fire again as Finn’s nose nudged at your clit.

“Oh my fuck—Finn!” you cried, your mind barely stringing together anything coherent.

“Come on, baby. Say my name louder than that,” he ground out between the thrusts of his tongue.

When he moved back to your clit with his mouth, he slid his thick middle finger inside of you and sought that bundle of nerves along your inner wall. Fucking you with his finger and his mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut in ecstasy, unable to have even imagined getting it this good from him when you began your little game.

“FINN!” you shouted as you came, your lips still mumbling his name over and over as you trembled under his face.

“Happy now?” he said, swiping at his nose and chin with his hand as he crawled back up your body.

Instead of allowing yourself to bask in the tingles of an incredible orgasm, you were instantly possessed with the need to fuck him stupid.

With a growl, you pushed him off your body and onto his back, a little too vigorously because he nearly tumbled off the bed. You grabbed onto his suit to steady him, then began tearing the clothes off his body.

First the jacket went as you yanked him up by his lapels and gave him a searing kiss as you worked off the sleeves.

Then his striped tie, ripped off with such force that the “ssst” sound of the fabric seemed to echo in your ears even as you tossed it to the side of the room.

Once he was free from his tie, you worked the buttons on his sky-blue dress shirt, popping at least two in your haste as Finn tried to help only to have his hands smacked away. They floated beside you before settling onto the sides of your face as you kissed him until you needed to work off his undershirt.

The thin material caught in his watch and you quickly unclasped it, not caring when it sharply thudded onto the floor.

You kissed down his body, sucking marks onto his color bone and chest and nipping at his nipples with your teeth, pushing him to that line of grey he had you in earlier as he was sucking on your clit.

“Want you,” you whined between kisses and bites. “Want you so bad.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby—ah, fuuuck,” Finn hissed as you palmed his cock before whipping off his belt and opening his trousers.

You finally hit a hitch in your destruction of his clothing when you realized he still had his shoes on. You stood up and pulled them off, each of them hitting the floor with a satisfying thud. His socks were next, then you were able to grab his suit pants by the edges and yank them off, change and whatever the hell else he had in his pockets scattering across your bedroom floor.

Finn was already wriggling out of his boxers so all you had to do was reach up once again and yank.

Only when he was gloriously naked before you did you stop to take a breath, steadying yourself on your feet and letting your eyes rake over him—and Finn ate it up, his ego clearly swelling to three times its usual size under your adoration.

Pressing a chaste kiss to his knee, you worked slowly up his thigh, licking and kissing in a way that had his cock jump as you got closer. Instead of taking him in your mouth, you kissed down his other thigh and worked your mouth to his knee on the other side of his body.

“Oh no,” Finn said scrambling up. “No, no.”

He grabbed your upper arms and pushed you back until you were both standing.

“You don’t get to sext me at work, undress me like that, then tease me.”

He stepped behind you, pushed you forward, then kicked your legs apart as you fell against the bed onto your stomach. He ran his hands down your thighs, groping them before he brought his hands to the cheeks of your ass and gave them a swat.

“You’re gonna get it like you wanted it.”

And with that, Finn pushed into your opening, coating his dick with the first thrust so he didn’t hurt you, but when he pulled back out, it was on.

He slammed into you twice before he reached to gather your wrists and hold them against your lower back. Your cheek was pressing into the mattress and you felt like you were on orgasmic-fire as he held you down and fucked you.

Finn’s ass clenched with the force of his thrusts and soon he was grunting every time he entered you, skin slapping against skin and filling the room with the sounds of really good, dirty sex.

You weren’t contributing to the sexy cacophony since you were being fucked speechless, uttering only little puffs of breath that disturbed your ruined hair, your body unable to do more than take that fucking as a familiar coil inside of your abdomen burned again, aching for release.

When Finn began to pick up his pace, you knew he was getting close to coming.

“PleaseFinnplease,” you slurred. “I’m soclose.”

“Again, baby? All right—but you better make it a good one,” he panted as he slowed down and released one of your wrists so he could fumble over your clit. As it turned out, you didn’t need precision in this position—just a little pressure.

Not even Finn could hold your other wrist as you came, your arms slamming above your head and into the mattress as you gripped the comforter and gritted your teeth. An explosion of stars burst behind your eyelids as you came, and of course, Finn followed you, grunting out his climax, his hot cum coating your walls and mixing with your own, making you shudder at the intimacy of it—and that was just what you had really been wanting.

A reminder of just who you belonged to.

#Finn #Finn x Reader #female reader #Finn smut #Need for Speed Finn #Need for Speed #rami malek #rami malek smut #rami malek character #rami malek fic

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theunknowncryptid · 4 years

Text

5. Night One

Masterlist

Namjoon x Y/n

After her brother makes a deal, Y/n is forced to spend seven nights with the leader of the Kim crime family, Kim Namjoon.

Taglist: @amordesiempre01 @jiminals @unadulteratedlyunique @parkmaeri @bbyjoonies @lilacsmoon @s0228 @kelitt @xxxanimangxxx @chogiyeol-utopia @atomickokorox @irenebutfancier

~ ~ ~

The drive was longer than she expected. Y/n figured the quiet man at the wheel would drive her ten minutes across town, if that, but before she realized the skyscrapers turned to oak trees and all she could see were country fields.

“Where are we going?” She asked. The man glanced back at her in the rear-view mirror. He looked like he could be related to the Kim’s.

“To the private estate. Out of town.” His voice was brighter and kinder than Y/n expected. Her stomach churned. What was Kim Namjoon going to do to her that required miles of privacy.

It was a full hour before the driver turned off of the main road and onto a dirt path. Rust colored debris flew into the air around the SUV. A grove of trees opened around the road and gave way to, what Y/n assumed was, the Kim Estate.

“Whoa,” The house in the clearing looked like something out of Clue. It was old and Victorian, built with red brick. It was massive. Large enough for twenty people to live comfortably.

The SUV parked beside the front of the house. The glass of the door and the windows, yellow light illuminated the grass. The driver stepped out and walked around to open Y/n’s door.

“You can follow me.” He said as Y/n stepped down. Until then, she hadn’t realized how young he was. Maybe only a few years older than she was.

He led her into the manor. The inside was just as grand. Decadent rugs covered dark hardwood. It was difficult to place the wall color because of the hundreds of decorations. There were paintings, photographs, bookcases and sculptures covering every available piece of wallpaper. The only light in the main entry was an overhead chandelier. Thousands of diamonds, strung together, cast a warm glow. Stairs lined the left wall. Directly across the room, an archway led to some sort of living room, but it was too dim to see. Instead of taking her up the stairs or through the arch, the man turned to the right wall and knocked on large double doors.

He didn’t wait for a summons. The man opened the door and offered for Y/n to walk ahead. Fear raided her body, but she walked through the doors.

The room was warm. A fire burned in it’s pit against the East wall, filling the space with the sound and smell of a campfire. A beautiful desk was cluttered with papers, files, pens, books and nicknacks. Again, Y/n couldn’t tell what color the walls were. Hundreds of books lined the wall shelves. They were obviously worn and read. Blue velvet chairs sat facing the desk and a large window. The room would almost be cozy, if it weren’t for the tall man standing stiff in front of the fireplace.

The driver shut the door behind him. It slammed shut and made her flinch. He cleared his throat.

“Your guest is here.” The man at the fireplace turned to look. Y/n struggled to maintain a bored expression. She had heard about Kim Namjoon before. Serious, Intelligent, Dangerous. He was someone to fear. He had to be, being the head of the Kim Crime Family. But simple descriptions didn’t prepare Y/n for the man in front of her. He was incredibly handsome. Dark hair fell over his eyes. His skin was tanned and, by his collar, Y/n could see a thin, white scar leading up his neck. He was dressed in a dark grey suit as if he had just come from a business meeting. His tie was loose around his neck and his hands were shoved in his pockets, making him seem more casual than the situation called for. His features were soft, but his eyes were full of judgment and annoyance. He looked Y/n up and down.

“You’re late.” His low voice deadpanned.

“Blame your driver.” Her voice came much calmer than she felt. His eyes flickered to the man that stood behind her.

“That will be all, Jimin.” He said. The air shifted and the sound of the office door shutting echoed. Y/n clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to be left alone with this man. She didn’t want to be here at all.

“You must love your brother very much to come here willingly.” He didn’t move at all. He just stood and stared at Y/n with a blank face.

“Less and less each day.” She answered, dryly. The corners of his lips twitched up. The fire roaring behind left him as little more than a silhouette.

“You’re aware of the arrangement we made?” He walked to the desk and picked up a half-drunk glass of scotch.

“Obviously.” Y/n spat out. Anger flared in her.

“And yet, you still came?” He raised his brow at her.

“What choice did I have?” She glared. Kim Namjoon knew very well that her brother's life hung in the balance. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a swig of the alcohol.

“Your brother had a choice.”

“You knew when you gave the loan that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to pay his debt.” Y/n sneered. Over the last few days, with the help of Jin, she had come to that conclusion. It was a known fact that the Kim’s kept tabs on the Min’s, and vice-versa. Kim Namjoon knew that Jungkook had been cut off from the banks and from the Min’s. Jungkook was broke and addicted to cards. Kim also knew his money would not be repaid. He wasn’t after a simple business transaction. He was after her.

The man grinned. “You’re smart.”

“Why?” She demanded. Her hands fisted at her sides.

“Why not?” He tilted his head. Y/n continued to glare and he sighed. “A chance to have a beautiful woman in my bed. And to watch Min Yoongi squirm.”

“Why would Min Yoongi Squirm?” She feigned. The annoyance returned to his face.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n.” The sound of her name coming from his lips made her skin crawl. “You think Yoongi won’t notice one of his closest friends is missing for a week?”

He had her there, but she couldn’t let him know that. “I think you overestimate my worth.”

“No. But, good try.” He smirked. With an air of playfulness on his face he looked even more handsome. His eyes travelled over her body, taking stock. He stepped closer to her and she jumped back in alarm.

“What are you doing?” She asked. She cursed her wavering voice.

“Claiming my debt.” Kim Namjoon stalked toward her again. Her lips trembled. With her back pressed to the door, Y/n came chest-to-chest with the man.

“You’re evil.” She glared. Again, he smirked.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You’re a young woman who spends most of her time in a bar.” His hand reached up and gently placed a lock of hair behind her ear. She flinched away. “I can’t be the worst to spend some time between your legs.”

Her mouth dropped in shock and fury crashed inside her.

“You would be the first!” A furious blush covered her cheeks. For the first time that night, she could see a chink in his armor. It made her happy. His eyebrows raised and confusion contorted his features.

“You’re a virgin?”

“Surprise.” Y/n smirked. Pressed this close together she could feel his breath dusting her face. His hands were pressed to the door beside her, caging her in. His face was unreadable. She couldn’t tell if he was about to kick her out or bring her to him. Surprisingly, he pushed away from the door and walked back to his abandoned drink.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” She paled. Her remaining virginity was her one and only playing card.

“Nope.” He said. His bored confidence was firmly back in place. “Some would say it makes you even more desirable.”

Y/n scowled. “Then what are you waiting for? Get it over with.”

He smiled at her coldly. “I haven’t had my dinner yet.” He turned back to the fireplace, but spoke over his shoulder. “Will you join me?”

“I’m not hungry.” She stared at him as if he’d just told her he had ridden a seahorse here.

“Pity, you’ll need your strength later.”

Horror filled her features as, on cue, the man named Jimin entered the office.

“Show Ms. Y/l/n to the bedroom, please, Jimin.” Kim demanded. Without a word, both left into the cold of the house.

Kim Namjoon only wished he could see Y/n’s face when she realized her bedroom doubled as his.

~ ~ ~

The room was huge. Her entire apartment could fit inside. The walls were a bordered forest green with dark hardwood floors. A leather loveseat and a matching chair faced a flat-screen TV. A large, white rug covered the sitting area, bringing light to the dark room. A large mirror covered the interior wall. The far wall had two black doors, one leading to the ridiculously luxurious bathroom, one leading to a closet full of suits, shoes, and surprisingly, hoodies, t-shirts, and basketball shorts. The room smelled like the cologne from earlier. Y/n frowned at that. She felt surrounded by Kim Namjoon. The room was freezing, but the thought of climbing into the ginormous bed made her want to cry. The duvet was black with matching silk sheets. It must have been a king size, but it was hard to tell in the large space. Eventually, she caved and climbed in. With the sheets pulled up to her chin in the dark room, Y/n felt like she was waiting for a death sentence.

Fuck Jungkook, fuck gambling, and fuck Kim Namjoon. Not literally.

At the sound of the door opening, she shut her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Footsteps sounded across the room to the closet. Y/n cracked open one eye. The closet light illuminated Kim Namjoon's silhouette. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it with the rest of the suits. His back was turned to the bed.

“I know you’re awake.” His voice broke the silence. Grumbling, Y/n sat up. She didn’t bother to ask how he’d seen through her. He turned to look at her. He looked wearier than he has a couple hours ago. His hair was ruffled and the top button of his shirt was undone. He walked to the dresser and picked up a plate he must have brought with him. She flinched as he came nearer.

“Eat.” He demanded. The plate he offered had crackers, cheese, and grapes. Cautiously, Y/n took a couple crackers. She nibbled on them, but kept her tight grip on the sheets. Kim wandered away and leaned against the bed post. A ghost of a smile played around his mouth. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, casually. When Y/n finished the crackers he held out the plate again. Without thinking, she took a few grapes. She watched him carefully.

“You’re different than I thought you would be.”

“I can imagine.” He directed his gaze to the window overlooking a garden of wildflowers.

“Why are we here?” She asked.

“In this house?” He raised an eyebrow at her. As beautiful as it was, Y/n got the idea the house stood unoccupied most of the time. “I promised your brother no one would know about our transaction.”

Y/n rolled a grape in her fingers. “Not because you evil plans work better in the country?”

“Well, that too.” Y/n suppressed a smile, then cringed at herself. There should be nothing enjoyable about her situation. Kim Namjoon planned to use her as payment and if mental or physical damage came with that, so be it. Anger flared in her.

“Stop playing with me!” She glared. Y/n overdramatically threw the covers off herself. She threw herself back onto the sheets. “Get it over with!”

Silence filled the room again.

“Dear lord, Y/n, you desperately need some new pajamas.”

“What’s wrong with them?” She demanded. She looked down at the clothing. An old, stained Dartmouth t-shirt and baggy sweatpants.

“Did you steal them off a homeless man?” He mocked.

“What did you expect me to wear? Lingerie?” She snarled. His eyes crawled over her intensely and she knew he was imagining her in just that. Her skin burned from the observation. It reminded her just how horrible and disgusting the man in front of her really was.

“Take it off.” He said gently. Shit.

It was time. She could do this. Who cares if she wasn’t a virgin anymore.

Slowly, she lifted the ratty shirt over her head and threw it on the floor. Then, she lifted her hips and slid off the sweatpants. Goosebumps formed on her bare skin. She was left in just white panties. She refused to meet his gaze. In the mirror on the wall, Y/n saw her exposed body with Kim Namjoon looming over her.

The room stayed silent until she couldn’t take it anymore. All he did was stand there, staring at her with pure hunger in his eyes. A muscle jerked in his cheek and his fists clenched at his sides as his investigation paused at her breasts. Her face burned in embarrassment.

He stepped closer and slid his hand across her raised leg. The feeling of his hand on her made her want to pull away and hide. Every nerve in her body twisted and made her gasp.

“You’re beautiful,” He said in a hoarse voice.

“Do it.” Y/n begged. “Please, just do it.”

The minutes stretched forever before he moved again. Slowly, his face lowered to hers. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, then he turned his head and pressed his lips to her cheek. It only lasted a moment and then he pulled back, lifted the covers back over her and walked to the door.

“What-”

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I guess I’m not interested in martyrs tonight.”

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

Whether It Works Out Or Not; Back In The Cage

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: Okay I promise I swear this is the last bonus chapter until I finish the game. I swear.

[Spoiler warning for the first four chapters of the game!]

Tag List: @huliabitch @cookiethewriter @pedrosbigdorkenergy @thirstworldproblemss @anonymouscosmos @culturalrebel @karmezii @teaofpeach @crookedmoonsaultpunk @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @nelba @scribblenotes76 @toxiicpop @mstgsmy @misty-possum @gallowsjoker @midnightbeauty35 @lackofhonor @renegademustelid

Part One: Strangers

Part Two: Friends

Part Three: More

Bonus One: A Brief Diversion

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For allusions to character death, mentions of previous abuse, historical inaccuracies and my poorly-remembered French. Stay safe!]

She felt a bit silly in her outfit.

Of course, she didn't need to display as such. "Tastefully understated," she had said to herself in the mirror with a firm nod. It was the fawn-brown dress (admittedly, it was the only dress she currently owned), but she had scraped together the funds for some light trimmings and alterations. A flounce of lace around the hem, a small length of lovely cream ribbon at the waist. The corset, while unwanted, would be expected, practically required in polite company, and even secondhand it was by far the most expensive piece of the puzzle. After that, everything else seemed to fall into place.

Irene Carson (née Craft) arrived at the ball astride Bluster, her hair crowned with a plethora of vanilla flowers and one single spider orchid. The buttermilk buckskin had been curried to within an inch of his life, and sported a matching cluster of vanilla flowers in his mane. He behaved remarkably well given all the hubbub, not putting up any fuss when he was taken from her to be stabled for the evening.

Irene had no elaborate hat to wear, no fantastical feathered monstrosity, so she had made do with what she could find. The flowers would be out of fashion, but they would suit her understated attire a bit better. Perhaps she could be fashionably unfashionable, ahead of the curve.

"I will not be on the list, but please tell Mayor Lemieux that it is the Widow Carson." She politely informed the man with the list at the gate, doing her best to seem calm and collected.

This was a bold move in the normally-subtle social maneuvering of Saint Denis. Attempting to integrate herself back into the gentry was a risky strategy, but a recent realization had convinced her of the necessity of such a move.

Arthur had made an excellent point. That house had sat silent for long enough. It was time for her to take what spoils she could, time for her to think of the future. Hardly fair that she should escape her dismal marriage with nothing but the clothes on her back!

Tonight would be the first step, provided she could even get past the door.

As luck would have it, the mayor himself, Henri Lemieux, came out to verify her claim. "Irene? My dear Mrs. Carson, is it really you?" He asked, all a-fluster. "Let me look at you my dear, let me just…" The man took her by the shoulders, examining her face. "It is you! Mon dieu, Irene, we all thought you had perished! Willie assured us-"

"I am certain he went to great lengths to convince you all of the legitimacy of my death." Irene interrupted him coolly. "However, it would appear that he greatly exaggerated."

"He said you...Irene, my dear, he claimed you committed suicide. He had me thoroughly convinced! But he remarried so quickly, I…" The mayor shook his head in a disapproving manner. "I know more individuals than I alone were skeptical! Oh it is so good to see you again, my dear. Please, you are more than welcome." He offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation. "How have you been, my cheré? Your hair is so short, so fashionable! I see you have been taking cues from our sister city of Paris, ne c'est pas?"

"Naturellement, my dear sir." Irene replied, offering him a soft smile. "I know I will look somewhat out of place in your party. Please forgive my impropriety, but when the news of Willie's passing reached me...I so longed to see you all again, I could not stay away."

"Nonsense, you have nothing to apologize for!" The mayor scolded her lightly, patting her arm. "You have returned from the dead, our very own Lazarus wreathed in flowers like a Belgian-crafted nymph! You are most welcome at our little fête, dear girl. I daresay, after whatever it was that you went through, you are quite justified in a night of revelry." His heavily-accented voice dipped to a conspiratorial tone, "and you must tell us all about your trials. I am certain you have a grand story indeed!"

"Thank you for your hospitality, my dear Mayor Lemieux. I pray that the road ahead of me is far kinder than the road I have traveled thus far."

…

And here Arthur had thought that them playing lawmen was as foolish as they could get.

He couldn't even believe some of the stunts Dutch was willing to pull for the sake of networking or contacts. The bunch of them looked like damn circus animals in their tuxedos and white ties, and Bill in particular seemed aggressively uncomfortable. Just getting him to bathe had been a struggle.

Arthur personally had been downright henpecked by Grimshaw and Tilly, the two of them doing their damnedest to tame his thick, unruly mane with a comb and the vestiges of some pomade. All the while Abigail alternated between telling him he would cause every woman at the ball to swoon and bemoaning his stubble. He had shaved yesterday, damn it, and he wasn't going to shave again!

Lord, they were all fools.

Hosea was the only one who seemed to be even remotely at ease, the elderly man already maneuvering his way to the balcony above the courtyard before Dutch had even managed to find Bronte so they could 'pay their respects'. Bill just followed Hosea like a lost puppy.

Arthur didn't have to understand Italian to know that Senor Bronte was insulting them right out the gate. Neither did Dutch, if the tense smile he gave Angelo while they conversed was any indication.

Arthur was slightly entertained by the panic that flitted across the waiter's face when the larger man ended up catching his arm to use the match originally lit for Dutch's cigar. Never mind that Arthur had had to cut his own cigar with his damn teeth, he was used to doing that shit. Used to falling by the wayside in the gregarious presence of Dutch Van Der Linde. But he wasn't about to let this stuffed-shirt little cocktail carrier get away with ignoring him scot-free. An uncut cigar he could excuse, but an unlit one? That was sacrilege.

The courtyard was teeming with people, illuminated by the soft glow from crisscrossing strands of fashionable Edison bulbs. There were so many ornate gowns, elaborate hats and stiff-necked suits, Arthur scarcely knew where to look. "Mingle, Arthur." Dutch ordered in an undertone, giving him a concealed shove from behind. "Steal nothing unless it's information."

Arthur sighed, straightened his white tie with the air of a man set before the gallows, and slowly descended into what reminded him of how educated folks would describe an active volcano. The courtyard was a maelstrom of activity, the dull roar punctuated by the mosquito-esque whine of a string quartet. God, what he would give to be out with Irene in the hills instead, listening to her play the fiddle for the wolves.

He shook his head at himself. Again with this nonsense, thinking about her every time he heard violin music.

He gritted his teeth and approached a group of women, seizing a bottle of champagne off one of the tables as he went. Arthur Morgan was not a smart man, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that folk were more inclined to think charitably towards you if you brought them alcohol.

"Ladies, might I offer you some champagne?" Arthur asked, knowing his speech was stilted at best as he tried to choke his drawl down. The trio of women seemed to buy it though, simpering and preening while calling him a gentleman.

That was a lie, and Lord was it a bold one. Though, looking around at the so-called polite company, Arthur felt less like the villain that he was and more like a sheep that had wandered into a wolf's den.

Maybe a nest of vipers would be more accurate.

Either way, the large man wasn't used to feeling like prey. As he made his rounds slowly across the courtyard, complimenting outlandish hats and offering his input on the most recent theatre performances (which he had absolutely no clue about), Arthur experienced the distinct sensation of the noose tightening around his neck yet again. Saint Denis was far too civilized for the likes of the Van Der Linde gang. It was only a matter of time before they were rooted out, sent scampering into the night like the vermin they were or slaughtered without quarter.

Lord, this place made him long for the open country.

He bumped into Hosea and Dutch shortly after he had rescued a rail-thin man from choking to death on some peanuts, the two elders of the gang looking like they were plotting something.

"Figure anythin' out yet?" Arthur asked softly.

"Maybe, Arthur. You see that group of folks over by the fountain? That fellow with the tall top hat is the mayor himself." Dutch pointed the man out, gesturing with his cigar.

"So?" Arthur muttered.

"So, my dear boy, ingratiating ourselves with the mayor's little band will no doubt do wonders for our credibility."

"Dutch, if the mayor is already cozy in Bronte's pocket like we are, what's even the damn point?" Arthur queried, trying not to sound as sulky as he felt.

Dutch sighed heavily and Hosea quickly interjected, "it's not necessarily the mayor that's our target, Arthur. Rather, the group of people with him. We are attempting to make as many friends as we can, if you recall."

The large man nodded. "Shoah, I guess. You want me to mosey over and...what was the word? Ingrate myself?"

"Ingratiate Arthur, dear Lord." Dutch huffed.

"Right, yeah. Usual fake name?"

"Of course, my dear boy!" Hosea replied brightly, smiling and patting him on the back. "You may have some luck with the woman he has alongside him. From what I can gather, she's stolen the show a bit. The Widow Carson, back from the dead!" He chuckled, oblivious to the way Arthur froze. "Apparently she's returned to attempt to claim her deceased husband's money. Some nasty business, for certain."

"See if you can get into her good graces, Arthur. A wealthy benefactor could do the gang wonders." Dutch instructed absently, already back to scanning the crowds.

"Her good--Dutch what the hell are you sayin'?!" Arthur hissed, his stomach knotting as a nasty sense of comprehension slowly dawned on him.

"Oh go on Arthur, just pour on the charm! I know you can do it." Hosea encouraged, misinterpreting the source of Arthur's discomfort. The older man gave him a gentle nudge and Arthur found himself sent on his way.

A wealthy benefactor. Was it Irene? Was Irene really here? More importantly, was Arthur shameless enough to accomplish what Dutch had requested of him?

A wealthy benefactor. His skin crawled and Arthur suddenly felt disgusting as he realized that, were it not for his suspicion that the Widow Carson was indeed Irene, he would not have any sort of particular qualms about being asked to do something like this.

Is it Irene? All he could see from his current position was Mayor Lemieux's top hat. He loitered beside a garish floral arrangement for a few moments, trying his best to get himself under control. He was Arthur Morgan, the enforcer of the Van Der Linde gang for fuck's sake! He had survived countless trials before this, surely he could manage speaking to a woman at a party!

Arthur growled under his breath, clenched his fists, and slowly approached the group by the fountain.

"-cheré, you must continue with your story! Ferdinand, stop interrupting, I beg of you!" The mayor was chiding one of the other men standing there, his voice luxuriantly heavy with a French accent.

The other man, whose complexion was bright red (whether from drink or passion, Arthur could not yet discern), scoffed at the mayor. "Her tale is rife with inaccuracies, Henri! We knew Willie, he would never-"

"Unless you too visited him in his bedchambers, Ferdinand, I suggest you keep your observations to yourself."

Irene. Oh Lord, Irene, flowers woven into her hair like she was a damn forest spirit out of those old Greek tragedies. It was like time had stopped for Arthur as he took in every detail. God, he was startled all over again by just how much he had missed her. She was in that dress, the one she had worn in Valentine. But wonder of all wonders, she appeared to be fully-laced this evening. Arthur swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from the shapely curve of her hips. The way her corset held and molded her body into something devastating, a weapon normally concealed from him by men's clothing…

Well, he was a red-blooded American. Unfortunately right now, he had to try his damnedest to temper that particular truth about his nature.

"It ain't complex, Lemieux, and only an idiot like you, buddy, would try to make it so!" Ferdinand continued over what Irene had been saying, sloshing the liquor in his glass dangerously close to that beautiful dress. Irene's brown eyes were fairly crackling with restrained fury, color high in her cheeks as she endured being near this loathsome character. She looked magnificent. Arthur wished he could kiss her, right then and there.

"I will not deny idiocy sir, but perhaps now is not the time." The mayor tried to settle Ferdinand down by placating him, however the outspoken man didn't seem to get the hint.

"Typical pansy!"

"You are drunk, Ferdinand." Lemieux stated disapprovingly.

"I'm not drunk, you fool...but this man! This man loves damsels-"

"Ferdinand, your behavior is becoming unseemly." Irene said through clenched teeth. Arthur had a nasty feeling that he knew exactly what Ferdinand had been about to say before Irene cut him off. "Not to mention utterly irrelevant to the topic at hand. Must you constantly inflict your heinous presence upon polite company?"

"Hey hey, you are pretty drunk." Arthur chose that moment to intervene, draping his arm nonchalantly around the belligerent man's shoulders and pinning Ferdinand's arm behind his back after a momentary adjustment. "What's say you and me cool off?" He 'suggested' cheerily, strong-arming the drunkenly-protesting Ferdinand off to the gazebo at the rear of the courtyard. Giving the man a rough shove, Arthur stated (much more rationally than he felt like being at the moment), "sit down and calm down. Count to a thousand. Then, you can rejoin the party."

...

"Thank you sir!" Henri said sincerely, shaking Arthur's hand upon his triumphant return sans one loudmouth.

"My pleasure." The tawny-haired man replied with a boyish grin. Lord, if she had thought he looked dashing before-! Irene was tempted to feign a swoon. Arthur had clearly been blessed by a trip to the tailor, of that much she was certain. The black suit coat accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist in equal measure, leaving him imposingly proportionate in a way that was incredibly tasteful. She was sorely pressed to keep her eyes from wandering, realizing vaguely that Henri was introducing himself.

"Henri Lemieux. I hope you are enjoying my party?"

"The mayor!" Arthur said with an air of surprise, as if he had not known. Irene didn't buy it for a second. Though she was grateful for his timely arrival, she had to wonder why he was here. Did Arthur Morgan have friends in high places?

"Allegedly!" Henri replied with a modest chuckle. "And you are?"

"Tacitus Killgore, at your service." Irene blinked. That was unexpected. What an elaborate fake name, but he said it so confidently! "This is quite a place you've got here." Arthur continued the conversation, his drawl a touch off. Like he was deliberately attempting to soften it.

"It's not mine, and the city is horribly in debt, but we still can put on a good show." Henri gestured after a moment to the man on his right. "Do you know Evelyn Miller, Monsieur Killgore?"

"My Lord. The writer?" Arthur appeared legitimately awed now, shaking Mr. Miller's hand. Irene could understand that awe, Miller was a revered and respected author amongst the folk in the untamed wilderness of the new States. She herself had been simply soaking up the man's educated palaver like a sponge until Henri urged her to begin sharing her trials.

"Ah, and of course! Our unexpected but most welcome guest, Madame the Widow Irene Carson." Henri introduced her with an elaborate flourish of his hand, making her laugh. "She has been regaling us with the exciting tale of her return to life! It is fascinating to hear."

"Enchanté, Mister Killgore." Irene said, smiling and offering Arthur a quick curtsy. Again, out of fashion, and a bit difficult with the added restriction of her corset, but the quaint gesture had always been preferable to a nod as far as she was concerned. If only that bath girl hadn't been so thorough in lacing her!

Arthur bowed, took her hand and touched it to his lips chastely. "The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Carson." Her murmured, blue eyes boring into her own. Irene suddenly felt incredibly warm, despite her no-doubt constricted blood flow. "A return to life, you said? Have you been travelin' abroad then, ma'am?"

"Oh no sir, I'm afraid it's been nothing quite so delightful as that." Irene demurred. "Rather trying, in all honesty."

"Truly, it is a sordid affair. Her own husband, claiming she had perished!" Henri shook his head, looking appropriately distraught. "Ghastly. Then, Willie marrying that other woman so fast, and her turning out to be a murderer...well, it is like something from a cheap novel!"

"How awful that experience must have been for you, my lady." Arthur said softly. "Might I listen to the rest of the story, or are you weary of tellin' such a tale?"

"I'm afraid there is not overmuch left to tell, Mister Killg-"

"Please, ma'am, call me Tacitus." He insisted, his eyes bright with their secret joke.

Irene couldn't help her smile in reply. "Of course, Tacitus. But as I was saying, there is not much to tell. I have spent most of my exile cowering in a cabin out in the mountains, shivering to death or roasting alive." She had tried so very hard to dumb down the tale, doing her best to make it seem like she was still the frail and fragile Mrs. Carson.

"It sounds like you have endured quite a bit of hardship, ma'am." Arthur's lips quirked upwards at the corner, his smile faint but still there. "It's a miracle you managed to survive! A delicate li'l thing like you, all alone out there in that dangerous wilderness." His voice dipped low enough to make her shiver. "Especially with such...reprehensible folk about these days."

Like me, his gaze seemed to say, the heat in that look reminding Irene of when he had kissed her at the stables.

"Exactly what I said, Monsieur Tacitus! Irene, you were so rash! I know that you believed you had no recourse, and I must apologize for my own complacency regarding Willie's abhorrent behavior, but surely there was another way!" The mayor scolded her.

"I am so very sorry, Henri. Next time I am kept prisoner in my own house, I'll be certain to send you a messenger pigeon." Irene retorted wryly, making Henri sputter as Arthur outright laughed. Ah, that laugh! She would have gladly borne her troubles in silence had she known such a delightful sound would someday grace her ears.

Irene was struck anew by the providence of her whole situation while she watched Arthur do his best to play at high society. She had not often been afforded the privilege to observe him, instead of the other way around. His blue eyes caught the amber light quite marvelously, his jaw shaded with stubborn stubble that gave him just the tiniest hint of wildness, of untamed danger. Enough to make him appealing to many of the women present. Irene wasn't sure if she should be flattered or concerned about the amount of time he was spending with the mayor and, by proxy, herself.

She was growing increasingly lightheaded from the squeeze of her corset and was just about to ask Henri if she could impose upon his hospitality for a brief reprieve to adjust herself when abruptly, the butler approached to inform Mayor Lemieux that he had another phone call from the tycoon, Leviticus Cornwall.

Henri waved the man off as fireworks began to erupt overhead. Irene, noting how Arthur watched the butler depart a touch more narrowly than one might in polite company, dared to place a hand on his arm. "Tacitus, my dear, you play your cards too openly." She whispered, her words making Arthur grimace. "May I ask you to escort me upstairs? I fear all this excitement has me feeling a bit short of breath."

…

"Tacitus-" Irene gasped his fake moniker at the top of the stairs, groping the wall for some kind of support. "I realize this is very forward of me, but I must beg for your assistance in loosening these damned--" She paused for air. "Lord, I fear I will swoon. This is so tight-"

"Okay, easy now." Arthur murmured, privately marveling at how large his hands looked on her cinched waist when he steadied her. "I gotcha', Irene. It's alright."

She didn't appear to be exaggerating for his sake. The walk up the stairs had nearly done her in, it would seem. She was incredibly pale, and trembling slightly. He had assumed that she was just playing along for whatever reason, the two of them stalking the butler for fun or profit, but it was evident now that she had no such ulterior motives.

Arthur picked a door at random, immensely thankful that the room behind it was a parlour of sorts. Irene all but collapsed on the chaise, her fingers clumsy with the tiny buttons that ran the length of the front of her dress. Arthur rushed to assist after he made certain to lock the door, feeling a little frantic at the way Irene was wheezing for air.

"You're okay, you're okay, we'll get you loosened up." He tried to calm her (and himself), working on the next button in the line. "Front or back lacing, Irene?"

"Back." Her voice had gone pitchy. "I--she laced me very well."

"I know, shh, gimme' a minute." Arthur soothed, willing himself to relax. This wasn't any sort of terrible scenario, this was mundane compared to how his life usually was! How the hell was it that his hands were shaking more over getting a woman undressed than being shot at by the law?!

The two of them managed to peel the dress down over her shoulders far enough to let Arthur maneuver his hands in between her chemise and corset to loosen her laces. Slowly, carefully, he worked his way down, gradually slacking the binds. He didn't want to just undo the whole damn thing, that would leave her to endure the remainder of the party with her bosom unfettered and as appealing as that was to him, he knew that the gentry would tear her apart for it.

"Any better?" He asked after a moment, relieved when she nodded.

Then, "I didn't think you would actually help me." She admitted softly, holding her dress closed in the front. Arthur was stunned. "I assumed you were going to follow his retainer." Irene turned to look at him after a moment. "Why are you here, Arthur?"

Lord, he felt like a sinner on Judgement Day. Pinned by the weight of an angel's stare, all he could do was try to tell her the truth. "My...associates and I are...well, we need leads, Miss Irene. Senor Bronte, in exchange for our...services, cut us a deal for invitations to this ball. And uh, I suppose that's it." He said awkwardly. "I didn't expect you to be here, I figured you'd have headed for the Grizzlies by now."

Irene shrugged. "I thought long and hard about what you said during our last meeting. Me not taking everything that wasn't nailed down, that is." She squared her shoulders stiffly, trying to straighten her dress out. "I decided it was time to take back what's rightfully mine, propriety be damned."

Arthur put his hands on her shoulders, slipping the dress back down to reveal bare, freckled skin. He breathed her name, ducking his head to drop a kiss on the nape of her neck and feeling her shiver. His next words caught in his throat. How could he do something like that to her?

A wealthy benefactor, Dutch had said, like it was an afterthought. Like she wasn't a person, but a resource. A tool.

Because that was all she would be to Dutch, Arthur realized grimly. A silly woman for them to string along, someone with deep pockets and a trusting heart. She wasn't Irene to Dutch or Hosea, she was the Widow Carson. A naive young widow, beautiful and lonely and (possibly) about to come into some significant money. The perfect target for a good old-fashioned seduction.

Lord, he had almost preferred feeling like prey earlier to this sudden cold understanding of how his companions (and even he himself, to a lesser degree) saw people like Irene.

"You look beautiful tonight, Irene." He murmured instead.

"Don't tease me, Arthur." Irene retorted sharply. "I am an utter mess. I look like a child playing dress up amongst all the immaculate gowns down there." She then sniffled, the noise almost too soft for him to hear. "I very nearly fainted dead away because I haven't worn one of these blasted things in almost a year! What kind of proper lady can't even endure the simplest of corsets?"

"The kind that doesn't need one to turn every damn head in the room." Arthur said gruffly, a hand beneath her chin tilting her head back so he could see her face. Her brown eyes shone with frustrated tears. "You're beautiful, woman. Why the hell don't you believe it?"

"A majority of my marriage was punctuated by people who felt the need to inform me that I was attractive 'for my age', Arthur. I'm old, I'm nearly thirty. No man wants a wife that old. My father was hard-pressed to marry me off when I was twenty-four, can you even imagine what folk might say to a man who would court me in my thirties?" Irene shook her head despondently. "I...I don't know what I'm doing, Arthur." She confessed suddenly. "I am terrified. If I put effort into taking whatever might be left and it turns out to all be for naught, I don't know what I'll do!" Her hands twisted in her skirts. "I'll be back to where I was before."

Arthur wasn't certain he understood what the issue was. She had seemed happy out in the wilderness. Hell, she had insisted upon her happiness. What had brought on this change, this desire for stability and financial security? He was thoroughly confused. "I don't know what to tell you, Irene." He said finally.

"I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even brought it up." Irene apologized. "It's hardly your concern, Mister Tacitus." She tried to tease, daubing at her eyes with her sleeve and then starting to button her dress back up. "Just the worries of a silly woman whose age is catching up with her, I suppose."

Arthur caught her wrist to stop her, pressing a kiss to the inside of it like he had done so many times before. Her pulse tripped and hammered beneath his lips, galloping wildly. "Irene, you are beautiful." He sighed, his fingertips grazing her exposed collarbone when he palmed her shoulders from behind. "Everyone down there knows it. I know it. You could have your pick of fellers downstairs if that's what you're so worried about."

"It's such a fleeting thing, Arthur." She whispered. "When it is gone, if I cannot reclaim any of Willie's estate...I'll have nothing and no one."

Arthur wanted to die. He wanted to grab her shoulders and embrace her and say you'll have me, God damn it! But he knew he couldn't promise her that, as much as he wanted to. Hell, getting truly involved with him would no doubt cut her life short. That fear was what kept him from speaking, no matter how badly he wished to assure her. Even after the tender moments they had spent together in the wilds, now, when it would have made a difference, he was unable to offer any sort of meaningful comfort.

Arthur closed his eyes, cursing himself roundly. "You don't mean that, Irene. The mayor seems-"

"Henri was perfectly willing to overlook my abuse when Willie was funding his campaign. All of them down there were complacent." Irene interjected, her tone one of barely-bridled fury. "Politicians and the elite are of no use to me, Arthur, for I am of no use to them."

Fair enough, Arthur mused. "So what are you gonna' do, then?"

"I'm going to try and bring my case to the attention of the courts. Willie was an only child, which is the sole reason I may still have a chance to receive something for my trouble." Irene's shoulders slumped and Arthur dug his fingers in, silently working out a few of the knots she seemed to have created in her muscles.

"I hope it goes accordin' to plan for you, then." He said finally.

"As do I." Irene took his hand, leading him around to the front of the chaise. "I have missed you, Arthur Morgan." She said simply. Sweet and honest.

He was a fool.

Arthur felt like cheap gold leaf as he greedily buried his hands in her hair, sending one of the vanilla blossoms tumbling to the floor when he did. He felt like a veneer of class spread thin on his thieving bones, he felt like a liar. This vision of a woman, this divine being who trusted him so readily...

This time would be the last. It would have to be. If Dutch found him out, if his pre-established closeness to the Widow Carson was discovered, Arthur knew that Dutch would tell him to bleed her dry.

And Arthur, the kind, loyal man that he was, would do it. Because loyalty was everything.

…

Arthur was troubled. Even through her own worries, Irene could see that. She threaded her fingers through the shaggy locks at the nape of his neck, whispering his name. "What's wrong, Arthur?"

"I...I can't keep doin' this, Irene." He confessed, those blue eyes stormy with emotion. "I can't keep draggin' you down with me. You deserve so much more than a man who you don't really know, a man who's here an' gone again. It ain't right."

"I don't much care what I deserve, Arthur Morgan." Irene said tartly. "If you want me, I am here. You have yet to cause me harm in any of our endeavors, which is more than I can say for my prior partner." She tugged at the back of his neck, bringing their foreheads together. "If you want me, Arthur, I am here."

"Irene," he grated out, cupping her face, "I'm a bad man. I've done a whole heap of turrible things. I ain't the kind of man that you should be lettin' anywhere near you."

"And despite all of that, I'm beneath you on a chaise in the mayor's upstairs drawing room." Irene replied dryly. "Honestly Arthur, I thought you knew by now that my intuition is quite dreadful."

"Irene-"

"You are remarkably poor at displaying any sort of reluctance, Mister Arthur." It felt like icy fingers were creeping their way down her spine. Had he finally decided that whatever they were, it wasn't worth his time? She could hardly blame him, of course! She was a currently-penniless widow. She had offered herself freely in the past; he owed her nothing, just as she owed him nothing.

"Because I ain't reluctant!" Arthur exclaimed. "I'm...Christ, Irene, I want this. I want you, so much that it hurts. But the life I lead ain't got a chance in it for a happy, fairytale endin' where I get to live out my days in peace. I have people I need to take care of, and you have a life of your own to finally start livin'." He stated firmly. "So for both our sakes, we can't...continue."

"At the very least," Irene begged, her thumbs stroking the familiar scar on his chin while she peppered his face with light pecks, "may we still be friends, Arthur?"

"Irene…" Arthur breathed, tilting his face to the side and kissing her until she was dizzy. "You've given me so damn much, woman. Given me hope, and beauty, and music. My friendship ain't worth spit compared to what you've done for me."

Irene shook her head, blinking back her tears. "I'm the one that ought to be saying that, Mister Arthur!" She protested. "I wish there was more I could do to repay the kindness you've shown me."

"Miss Irene, all the payment I ask for is that you go and live your life to the fullest extent. Take tenfold from that son of a bitch what he took from you." Arthur swept back some of the curls on her forehead, the gesture achingly tender. "Do that, and you'll be paid up, alright?" He murmured.

Irene took his hand and kissed his knuckles, feeling the pronounced lines of old abrasions on the skin when she did. "Don't give up, Arthur. There is someone out there who will be worth it to you." She told him, her voice trembling a bit as she struggled to get the words out. "Someone who will see you for how kind and loyal you are and instead of taking advantage of it, they'll cherish it. Guard you close to their heart like a jealous little secret." Her smile was tentative, "that's what I would do, anyway."

Arthur cursed under his breath, shoving his thigh gracelessly between her legs. "Irene." He said her name and it was an oath, a prayer. Whether for himself or for her, she couldn't say.

"Yes, Arthur?" Irene replied softly.

"If you hear about me in the future, if…" he hesitated, clearing his throat as he drew his index finger studiously down the side of her face. "If somethin' happens, don't pay it any mind, alright? Remember me just like this. All gussied up in this frippery, lookin' like the world's most uncomfortable trained bear." He tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow. "Can you do that for me? Please?"

"As long as you remember me like I was in the wilds." Irene was pleased when he smiled. "All filthy, with twigs in my hair."

"The Irene of my dreams has always been the one from the wilderness." Arthur confessed quietly. "This is lovely, don't get me wrong." He continued, giving her skirts a playful tweak. "But you out in the forests, playin' your violin for the wolves an' howlin' at the moon...that's the Irene I think about." The man cleared his throat again after a moment, looking away. "Now, let's get you put to rights. Buttoned up and all that. I figure it'll be best if I go back first. Hopefully folk won't be too suspicious. Shit, I don't even know how long we been gone for." He swore, grumbling a little as he struggled to help her with the tiny buttons on her dress.

Irene giggled, feeling a bit hysterical. "Oh heavens, what they will think of me! My husband hardly cold in the ground and now I'm enjoying an absolutely scandalous rendezvous with a handsome stranger. I'll be the talk of Saint Denis for weeks!"

"Woman, if you don't quit your funnin'..." Arthur huffed, a wry grin pulling at his mouth seemingly in spite of himself.

Irene rubbed her forehead against his own, smiling a bit wistfully. "Shall I ever see you again, Mister Arthur?"

"For your sake, I sure as hell hope not." Arthur replied bluntly. "Bad luck seems to follow the folks I hang around with."

…

He hadn't entirely lied. He did leave ahead of her. However, he didn't return to the party immediately.

Instead, Arthur ducked into the study he had seen that butler enter when he and Irene were making their way up the stairs. A few minutes of pointed rummaging and a jimmied lock on the desk drawer later, Arthur Morgan (or rather, Tacitus Killgore) was the proud owner of various interesting, incriminating documentation. Leviticus Cornwall. Arthur barely resisted the urge to spit on command when he so much as thought the man's name.

Footsteps passed by the door and he froze, pressing himself back against the bookcases until whoever it was had descended down the stairs.

Hopefully, this information would please Dutch to the point where he would forget about Widow Carson. Arthur just wished that he could forget about Widow Carson. Irene.

Maybe...maybe if she was still in the drawing room, he could explain. Maybe there was still time. It would be dangerous, of course, but she deserved the truth. She deserved to know why he couldn't promise her anything aside from a life of fear and misery. Shit, at the very least she deserved to know why he was cutting her loose!

Arthur left the study and retraced his steps to the drawing room, his heart in his throat and her name on the tip of his tongue. Irene--

But she was gone.

The chaise was vacant, lonely in the cluttered room. Through the open French doors to the balcony, the sounds of the party below filtered in like something from another world. He stalled in the doorway for a moment, uncertain of what to do. An object on the floor by the chaise caught his attention and Arthur stepped forward.

It was one of the vanilla flowers from her hair, the blossom sitting forlorn and abandoned next to the leg of the chaise. He scooped it up with all the care someone like him could muster, tenderly examining the fragile, bruised petals. Then, Arthur slipped it into the pocket of his suit coat.

Much, much later that evening (technically the next damn morning), when he was bedding down at Shady Belle, he delicately extracted the worn flower and proceeded to tuck it between two blank pages of his journal.

Irene, he wrote at the very bottom of the page, and then, in another life, if I was a better man, we could have been so happy together. Instead, I have to push you away to keep you -safe-.

What a fool I am.

The following page bore a loose, flowing sketch of her on the chaise, staring up at him while she clutched the front of her gown closed at her chest. The fierce look on her face that he had tried valiantly to capture on paper didn't hold a candle to the real thing. Irene Craft, he wrote, then scribbled out her name and instead put, -Politicians and the elite are of no use to me, Arthur, for I am of no use to them.-

Mayor Onry Lemieux's party.

Winter’s Cold: Part One

#arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 spoilers #arthur morgan x original female character #high honor arthur #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #big yeehell hours #arthur morgan imagine

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iyatsumu · 4 years

Text

Unlike Any Other; Tooru Oikawa

Genre: Fluff, Schoolmates AU

Word Count: 2.4K

Author’s Note: Hey hey hey!! I was feeling restless so I wrote this fanfic earlier this morning and just finished it, so I’m hoping ya’ll enjoy it. Please continue to support my oneshots as there are more to come! Stay safe everyone and here’s to falling for Tooru.

The soft creak of the metal door of the school's locker rung in your ears as you grabbed a few books and stashed it into your backpack. It was free period before all your classes were over so you decided to stay in the library for the time being. The library was the only quiet place during the afternoon, it's either most of the students are in their club rooms or are waiting by the cafeteria for the gates to open so that they could leave the school premises. It was just like any day in Aoba Johsai. You made your way through the busy hallway towards the school's library. At least by staying there, you could also catch up on your readings for classes and study ahead for the next lesson for each class. Or so you thought. "Oikawa, I'm giving you the last warning. If you don't remain silent, I have no choice but to have you exit the library." The librarian spoke through the intercom, her message directed towards a certain Tooru Oikawa who was probably somewhere behind rows of bookshelves.

Just when you thought you could be at peace, the school's pretty boy happened to be at the same place as you were. Technically, Oikawa was not that annoying, it was his fangirls. The guy is gorgeous and talented, especially in volleyball, thus gaining a huge fanbase, not only in the prefecture but all over Japan. Wherever Oikawa went, a swarm of his fans would surround him and the guy was too soft to say no to their persistent pleas of wanting to take pictures or give him gifts. By the end of the day, he would have a few paper bags of food in his hand and a bunch of letters in his bag. You sighed and simply headed to the isolated parts of the library which was behind a few rows of dusty old books that were nearly torn and worn out. However, you were not the only one who liked this specific spot. As you walked closer to the table, your eyes fixated on a tall, lean figure who was surrounded by a bunch of girls. You immediately knew that it was Oikawa. Pursing your lips, you settled at a different table which was not too far from them but also enough distance to not eavesdrop on their conversations. ___ As you were writing down a bunch of notes for the lessons, you couldn't help but notice the awkward tension in the air. You couldn't put your finger on it, but you were sure that someone, somewhere must've been feeling very uncomfortable for a while now. You shrugged off the feeling and stood up, heading towards one of the bookshelves close to Oikawa. The aisles in the backrows usually had the best books for classes, and they help you a lot when you were studying. Not everyone knew about most of the teacher's textbooks being stored in the library so not much people head to the backrows for it. Dust coated the tip of your finger as you ran it along the spines of the books, searching for a specific textbook for your class tomorrow. You could hear Oikawa's voice, it seemed uneasy as he was trying to get the girls around him to leave him alone for a while. "U-uhm, I have to study." "Don't you have any lessons you need to catch up on?" "Let me finish this chapter in the textbook then maybe I can come with you girls?" It sounded like he was having a hard time for the girls to get off his back. Feeling sorry for the guy, you head back to your table and grabbed your things. You walked back towards the row of dusty books and grabbed the ones that you needed and headed for Oikawa's table. You dropped the old books on the table, all the dust flying out which made the girls sneeze and itch their noses. You then settled your things beside Oikawa and took a seat beside him. "Hey babe." You said and Oikawa stared at you in confusion. The guy was pretty smart, but when it came to finding ways to fend off his fangirls, he was dumb as a brick. You raised your eyebrows in a threatening way and he must've got the signal. Oikawa snakes his arm behind you and pulls you closer, placing a soft kiss on your temple. His fangirls were shocked at the scenario that played out in front of them, and finally deciding to leave the poor guy. As soon as they were out of sight, you pushed him away and moved your chair to the side, creating a safe distance from Oikawa. "Why did you do that?" He asked as you flipped through the pages of the book. "I could feel your uneasiness from my table, so I figured I'd help a poor soul." You answered, your gaze still focusing on the learning materials in front of you. A soft smirk crept up Oikawa's lips. "Well, thanks for that. But, are you sure that's all that was behind your little heroic gesture?" He teases and you furrowed your eyebrows. Placing your pen on the table, you snap your head to face the obnoxious guy beside you, a stupid smirk on plastered on his face. "For someone who can't even keep his fans in control, you sure have a huge ego." You spat and Oikawa laughed at your retort. He never knew someone could resist his teasing. All his life, girls turned their heads to appreciate his radiating beauty, but you were something else. He liked challenges, and you definitely seemed like one. ___ It's been a week since your encounter with Oikawa and his fangirls, and you've been avoiding every way possible of bumping into him. The guy was everywhere, and that made it hard to stay clear from him. There were times that you could hear his voice from the hallways since you were in the same year as Kyotani, however he was in a lower class than you. You would often hear him share a conversation with Kyotani as they were teammates in the volleyball club, and when during those times, you would bury your face in a book. You didn't want him to see you because he would pester you again especially with that stupid kiss that he placed on your temple. However, Oikawa had already acknowledged your presence. He's been looking for ways to talk with you again but, he needed the perfect time to do so. Knowing his massive fanbase, some of them were too obsessed, and if they found out about you, they'd probably find ways to eliminate you. Packing your things, you slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out the classroom. You were a part of Aoba Johsai's dance team and with the annual 'Miyagi Prefecture High School Sports Festival' taking place in the school, your team was assigned to perform for an opening ceremony. As you were on your way to the practice spot, Haruto, who was one of your fellow dancers walked up to you and initiated a conversation. Haruto was a good friend of yours, and he was a really good dancer too. "Hey Y/N, are you ready for our practice? You're in charge of the choreography today right? Akari won't be with us for a week so she said she'll catch up with us once she's back." Haruto said and you nodded. Akira was another one of your teammates, usually both of you were the people in charge of the choreography, but without her, it would probably be tougher to work on. Akira was a very talented dancer and choreographer, she always had great ideas for the most creative and powerful dance routines. "Yeah, it's going to be tricky but I could always ask you guy for ideas." You said and entered the gym. The gym had the biggest stage in the school and the group needed as much space for the routine you had in mind. "Are you sure we'll be able to work on our choreography while avoiding balls?" Haruto teases and confusion washed over your system. Avoiding balls? Why'd you have to avoid balls? "Oh, I see you're here darling." Oikawa. It was Oikawa Tooru. How could you forget that the boys' volleyball club occupies the gym after school hours? Just when you thought you've been doing well to avoid him; he shows up in the exact place you didn't want him to be at. "You know, I thought you were pretty bold when you helped me with my fans, but I never thought you'd also be at my practices." He messes and you facepalmed. Damn, how could you have let it slip your mind. "I wanted to see you get smacked by Iwaizumi when you messed up." You answered and smiled at him; the coldest one you could pull off. Iwaizumi, who was beside him laughed, clearly amused at how you were able to counter Oikawa. "Don't worry, we'll try our best to avoid spiking towards you guys." Iwaizumi said and pulls Oikawa away. The two boys headed over to the club room, probably to get changed as you and Haruto got up on the stage. Both of you settled your bags on the floor and you grabbed a black hoodie and a matching black jogging pants. You headed towards backstage to change into your dance practice outfit. Afterwards, you walked back out and stuffed your uniform into a separate compartment. Grabbing the pair of Adidas superstars in your bag, you slipped it on and tucked your school shoes under your bag. "Hey Y/N, you look good." Lucy said as the other members started arriving. From the other side of the gym, you could see that the team was already having a meeting with their coach. You shook your head and diverted your attention towards your own group. ___ "Okay, cue the music." You instructed and a few seconds later, the music echoed throughout the gym. Everyone moved to the beat, formations changing here and there as everyone tried their best not to mess up the routine. Sweat trickled from your forehead as you tried to control your breathing to match the music. You've practiced the routine for roughly 2 hours and it was slowly getting darker outside. Everyone was tired but that was no excuse. The school's dance team had been representing the Miyagi Prefecture in dance competitions around Japan for years, and it was because each member worked so hard each time. So today was no exemption. From the corner of your eyes, you noticed how the volleyball team's pace slowed down. It was as if the game was slowing down, but you had no idea why. Focusing on your dance, your body matched every beat of the music and a smile crept up your lips. Deep breaths echoed through the gym as the music came to an end. You were able to finish the choreography within two hours and another hour for actual memorization of the routine. Everyone was exhausted and you were proud of the effort that everyone displayed today. You dismissed the group and headed to change your outfit, the hoodie was all sweaty and it reeked of sweat too. After changing, you started packing up, your shoes were tucked into your clip-on mini shoe bag and the rest of your clothes were stuffed into your bag.

As you got down from the elevated stage, Oikawa approached you, his signature smirk playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes at him and attempted to walk away from the charming guy that stood in front of you. Despite how much you would deny it, you were attracted to Oikawa. However, you would never let yourself fall on your knees for him, Oikawa possessed the visuals of a radiating young deity, but he was no god. You could never imagine chasing after him, because you knew you never stood a chance, especially with his huge fanbase. "You looked really good up there darling." He said and a tinge of pink colored your cheeks. Oikawa Tooru complimented you, tis was beyond imagination. Who knew this narcissistic jerk was capable of compliments? "Did you enjoy staring? Liked what you saw?" You teased and continued walking, Oikawa adjusting his pace to keep up with you. Oikawa would admit it, he liked you since that day you encountered in the library. He admired your badass personality and comfortable vibes. It was as if he could act however he wanted to be when he was with you. He didn't have to be afraid of showing you his playfulness, he didn't have to hide his deepest thoughts, he was comfortable with you and he could let himself feel vulnerable when you were around. "In all honesty, I think I did. Expect me to be waiting for you after your performance with a bottle of water darling." Oikawa said and you laughed at his words. "You know Oikawa, I'm not like your fangirls. I will not be easily swooned by your words." You said and Oikawa placed his hands on his hips, his head falling backwards. "I know darling. You're unlike any other. That's why I like you." He said and at that moment your heart exploded into tiny pieces. Oikawa and his dumb words always found a way to make you feel jittery. But you would never give in that easily to him. "You know, you should stop flirting so much Oikawa. It makes you seem like a heartbreaker, even if it's unintentional." You pointed out and Oikawa snorted at your comment. "You're the only one I flirt with darling." Oikawa said, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. You sighed and didn't bother untangling it because he would just grab it again. "Stop messing with me Oikawa." You said and grabbed your phone to check on your messages. "I'm not, and for a second year, you're pretty confident in calling me without a senpai at the end." He says and you smiled, facing him and flicking his forehead with your index. "And for a senior, you're stooping on low levels to flirt with a junior." You countered and all he could do was laugh. You were unbelievable in his eyes; no girl could ever resist him the way you do. It riled him up and it made him want you even more. "I like you a lot Y/N. Just know that, you want to grab some dinner before heading home?" He offers and you smiled at him once again. Oikawa Tooru had your heart, but you would still play hard to get for a little while. Besides, free dinner was always good. So, both of you walked towards a nearby restaurant to enjoy some food, Oikawa's fingers still intertwined with yours. --The End--

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fuckinuchihas · 4 years

Photo

PART ONE

Continued...

“That was...intense,” Sugawara says, a chaotic fire in his eyes.

You try to hide a smile, but he notices the tiny uptick at the corner of your mouth and it warms him up inside.

It was the first time you were able to play imposter together and you had it won before they could call the second meeting. Sugawara was really good at following your cues even without talking to one another and two double kills in a single round was nearly unheard of but you managed to pull it off.

“Want to play again?” he asks, and you nod in agreement.

He’s getting really good at this.

“We should do something fun this weekend,” someone says, Suga isn’t really paying attention beyond a vague understanding. He’s busy looking down at his phone and trying to bite back his smile.

“We could throw a party!!”

“No…” Daichi says, immediately shutting that train of thought down.

“Aww c’mon man!”

“No way, you idiots get too out of control with stuff like that…”

“We could have a-”

“Kageyama we’re not having a weekend scrimmage game for fun,” Tsukishima says, adjusting his glasses.

“That’s not what I was gonna say!”

“Oh really? Then what did his majesty have in mind,” he says, his smirk growing wider the longer Kageyama tries to come up with something, anything else.

When Kageyama can’t find a replacement Yamaguchi actually buts in. “We could play games together online…There’s this new one I’ve been playing it’s actually kinda neat. It’s called Among Us.”

Sugawara’s head pops up and his grin goes a bit feral. “That’s a really good idea Tadashi.”

“I’m not very good at video games,” Daichi says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But if it’s something everyone can agree on-’

A chorus of excited yesses follow and Sugawara feels a thundering excitement under his skin.

He shoots off a quick text and hopes you don’t have any plans for the weekend.

The team decide to play in clusters. All ten people sitting in one room were bound to cause issues, even if they all played on their phones...plus Sugawara knows that some of them are terrible losers and he doesn’t want any backlash for you, or himself.

He asks if you prefer your place or his and you shrug and answer that it doesn’t matter to you either way. He decides to use the opportunity to invite into his space and you agree easily enough.

The night of, he starts to feel nervous, anticipation swirling under his skin as you show up at his front door. He lets you into his small but comfortable apartment and the edge of your lips tug up just a little but he feels pleasure thrum through him at that tiny reaction.

He’s a little flustered when he takes your jacket but you just ignore it.

“I have some snacks and stuff if you want something but I thought we could order pizza later?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I like pizza,” you say, reassuring him a little.

“So what would you say if I told you I pregamed a few strategies…”

You raise a brow in interest and smirk at him. “Just what did you have in mind?”

He goes over the plan and you feel adrenaline coursing under your veins.

It’s not just that you will help one another out, he actually put together ideas on how to distract each and every teammate. You’re impressed to say the least. He’s also made a list of the order in which to kill if at all possible...Tsukishima is at the top; Daichi second. Both Yachi and Kiyoko are last resorts, but he doesn't think they’re going to end up playing anyway.

It’s a lot.

You love it.

“This is really well thought out,” you say, looking over things. “I’m surprised Kageyama isn’t higher on the list…” you question, he might not be very smart when it comes to classes but you imagine he can handle himself with logical things.

“I’m pretty sure this will be the first time he’s ever played a video game...it’s going to be a learning curve for him. He can move up the list later if we think he’s catching on but you can always use Hinata to distract him if we get in a tight spot.

“Oh okay cool...that sounds like a good plan,” you reply and nod up at him where he’s nervously bent over the notes he made for you. “You know, we could just play to have fun…”

Suga’s face tightens a bit, “But don’t you want to win?”

You shrug, “I mean winning is nice, I like it a lot really.. but these are your friends right?” you ask, heart thundering in your chest. “It could be kinda cool if they liked me, y’know?”

He freezes a little, just a moment before looking at you with wide sparkling eyes and holding back what you know is a coming laugh. “You’re worried! That’s so cute,” he teases.

‘Am not.”

“Oh you are, you want them to like you, you want them to looooove you,” Suga teases more, as you fight off the heat threatening to spill over onto your neck and cheeks.

“No I don’t,” you say, slapping his hand away gently when he tries to poke you on the nose. “I’m going to murder them...I’ll murder every single one of them. I don’t care if they like me or not.”

He’s still holding back some laughter but he bites his lip and smiles. “Yeah you will. Trust me, they’ll like you more for doing your best than they would for taking it easy on them,” he says, pinching your nose playfully before letting that super sweet side of his persona slip away just for a moment “Besides...I want to win.”

The first game starts out well, you are both crewmates but you figure out quickly that Yamaguchi and Kageyama are the imposters because Tobio accidentally vents in front of literally everyone and Tsukishima has successfully lived through two rounds.

Apparently everyone except Yamaguchi would kill Tuskishima first.

The next dozen games go smoothly as well and you start to get a feel for how people are going to play.

Hinata is so excited to murder that he rarely pays enough attention to his surroundings and gets caught almost immediately.

Kageyama dies quickly or yells into the mic that he’s hit the wrong button again when someone calls him out for venting, or the one time he’s tried sabotaging something. He called lights when everyone was already in electrical...Daichi had it fixed in half a second and Kageyama’s little blue pod person was in the back overtop the vent yamaguchi’s body at his feet.

Tsukishima got imposter the next round, Kageyama was first blood.

Actually, every round Tsukishima got imposter Kageyama was first blood...even that one time when he had to get caught by killing him in front of Hinata who’d offered to ‘buddy up’ with him.

Tsukishima is vindictive to absolutely no one’s surprise...Yamaguchi doesn’t die as much after that.

Noya is ruthless and the one time he’s matched with Tanaka as imposter everyone is dead before the first body is found.

You’re actually more than a little impressed.

Ennoshita goes quiet as an imposter and though he only got it once...he seems to call 02 sabotage fairly regularly.

The other second years had to work the second shift at their job.

Daichi is pretty good, though it takes him a bit to catch on. As an imposter he’s patient, methodical and knows how to twist things around on other people. As a crewmate, well...he never forgets where he saw you or who you were with and that makes it incredibly difficult to get away with things. Not to mention that everyone trusts his judgment and ‘Daichi said so,’ is plenty of reason to get your ass kicked out.

Asahi has been watching over Noya’s shoulder all night trying to get a ‘feel’ of the game before he plays.

No one expects him to play a single game.

As for Sugawara and you, MVP third imposter trophies all around. The chaos feeds you and you have a field day the few rounds that Noya gets imposter because he has a tendency to keep calling electrical and instead of doing your tasks you end up cackling as you flip over every switch they just flipped as they try to ‘fix’ the lights.

It was entirely dark for one full game.

The first time you and Sugawara both get imposter, everyone immediately suspects Noya and Tanaka. There’s four bodies before the first meeting is called and you have both spent a significant amount of time following Daichi around ‘doing’ tasks so he’s not as suspicious of you.

Hinata says he thinks it’s you because Kenma has a similar style but it only bites him in the ass because Kageyama joins you and Suga in voting for him simply out of jealousy.

All in all, it’s more fun than you’ve had in a long time and Sugawara’s plan was entirely on point.

You lose count of how many rounds you guys play but only once was the defeat screen showing for both of you and that was just unavoidable. Tanaka and Noya are the dream team of imposters. Mostly the only time you lost is when you helped the other person out as the imposter.

When you decide to call it quits for the night, part of your anxiety comes back but before the discord voice chat ends, Daichi invites you to play with them again sometime and you can’t contain your smile.

Suga accepts on your behalf and you throw a chip at him for outing your smile and awkward flushed look. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“No I don’t.”

He kisses your forehead and chuckles. “That was fun.”

“It was,” you nod in agreement.

“So you’d want to do it again sometime?” he asks, looking strangely nervous.

“Yeah of course,” you say, like it was even a question...pfft.

“Like as a date?” he says, eyes not meeting yours.

‘Oh..uh, yeah I mean I guess...it was fun and stuff,” you say, suddenly a thousand times more nervous than you’ve been all night. You didn’t expect this, though part of you hoped he wasn’t just being friendly with you.

“Cool.” he says, smiling and giving you a thumbs up.

“It’s whatever,” you say, shrugging as you drop your face down and to the side where he can’t see how flustered you are.

“Oh you like me!” he says, an excitement in his voice that you recognize.

“No I don’t, I don’t like you at all,” you lie, but he sees right through it.

“You do! You like me soooo much,” he says, teasing you again.

“Nuh unh...I’m going home,” you say, reaching for your backpack but he gently grabs your hand and spins you around until your facing him, staring up into those gorgeous grey eyes.

“It’s okay...I like you too,” he says, face inches away from yours.

You swallow hard, feeling heat climb up your neck as he bends even closer.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and you nod shakily because speaking seems impossible.

It’s just a light press of lips to yours but you melt against him.

It feels like more than you ever hoped for and when he pulls away you’re both flushed and embarrassed but grinning like idiots.

MASTERLIST

#my suga anon #my precious anons #💌anon #my child #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara x you #sugawara x gamer #karasuno plays among us #haikyuu!! among us #my stuff #my post

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joonclouds · 3 years

Text

The Price Of A Wish | 3

The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

CHAPTER INDEX

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Idol!Hoseok, Chaebol!Reader, OT7 bangtan show up too, Slow Burn, Unrequited feelings, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff, (we might include some other things later let’s see)

_________________

You meet Hoseok for the first time when you’re seventeen. It's in the early days of March - you remember because it's the time where Spring isn't quite here yet, so the evenings are still chilly. Getting to wear your favourite sweaters a few weeks longer is something that you still get a small thrill out of. You're a lot younger, a lot less jaded than you are now.

Leaning against the wall a ways off from the main crowd, you watch the guests in disinterest. It was laughable for a party of forty, at most, to rent such a colossal space. Surely even if it was a selection showcase, it was excessive.

Your family’s attendance to an event meant no expense was spared. The dress code is smart casual but a grand hall has been rented, with towering ceilings and a sprawling expanse of space. There was a live string quartet and champagne and little degustation canapes. Everyone talked in hushed voices, as if afraid to disturb the air around them. And what were they feeding with these canapes? Mice? You can’t even have real alcohol, just this stupid fizzy grape juice in a fancy glass. You think about the amazing grilled cheese that Madam Han, your housekeeper, makes and you groan internally, wishing to be anywhere but here. You’re sure your face says just as much.

“Yup, me too.” Turning in surprise, you find someone next to you.

His height is the first thing you notice. A good head taller than you are, and all black looks good on him, a silk shirt hanging loose and ripped jeans tucked into boots. He looks familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it yet, so you shelve that thought for later because well. There were more important issues at hand.

As a general rule, you thought all that "love at first sight' type thing was bullshit. You didn't buy into that sort of malarkey, and even if you did, it’s not something you got to have. But what was a girl to do in the face of .. well, a handsome face? Despite the remnants of stubborn pre-teen chub around his cheeks and a smattering of acne on his chin - things you're sure he'd grow out of in time - he's just your type of trouble.

Maybe you didn't know that yet, but all you do know is that when he turns slightly to give you a half smile, you freeze and your heart jumps like it's about to launch itself out of your body.

“Well. Someone's having fun.” He clarifies, fiddling with the stem of his champagne flute. You quickly look away, but not before noting his similarly bored demeanor.

"As much fun as you are, clearly."

“Yes, this is a riveting time.” He deadpans back, and the snicker he garners out of you breaks the ice like sugar glass. The both of you return to surveying the small crowd, but make no move to leave, enjoying the feeling of sharing in a certain kind of disjointed camaraderie. What is it they always say about shared trauma?

“You’re old enough to drink?” You tilt your glass in the direction of his.

“I’ve been old enough since three years ago. But legally, no. This isn’t alcohol.”

You sigh, but then a thought pops into your head. “Wanna sneak into the kitchen with me? The servers often leave the open bottles unattended.”

“Not your first rodeo, huh.”

“And certainly not my last. I can’t wait to be legal so these things become more tolerable.” You take another sip of your non-alcohol.

After a moment you ask again - “So? Kitchen?”

“You have no idea how much I wish I could, but this night is a sober one. Nerves and alcohol don't go well together for me.”

“Aaaaaaand he turns out to be even less fun than this party.”

This earns you a chuckle from him. It’s warm and inviting, a little buzz of electricity in your veins. Feels like if you’d been drinking actual champagne that evening. He nudges your shoulder playfully with his own when you cross your arms and angle your body slightly away in a small show of sulking.

“I have no choice, cowboy. I’m the showhorse. Gotta do the parade if I want my scholarship."

“Ah, Jung Hoseok.”

The puzzle pieces fall into place and you give him another once over out of the corner of your eye, this time with more recognition than before. Now you knew why he looked familiar - the identities of the artistes were all kept secret until after the selection showcase, but since you were your father's daughter, you'd seen the lineup beforehand.

"Yup, that's me." Hoseok downs the rest of his drink, grimacing. "And this entire thing is a show by a pretentious businessman who's already decided who's going to be selected."

"Looks like it's not your first rodeo either, you know how this works."

"Boy, do I."

"So why stay sober for it anyway?"

"I like dancing."

Hoseok's answer makes you go quiet. Whatever sarcastic banter you had lined up was halted in the face of such a simple, honest admission.

After a moment, he adds - " and I have a feeling it might reflect badly if I turned up tipsy to my first performance in front of the panel of directors.”

You shrug. "You know what they say about brooding artists and alcohol."

Suddenly, a thought comes to him. “Wait. You know me?”

He turns to you, and you can see him trying to figure out who you are, why you know him but he doesn’t know you.

“Of course I know you.” You state a matter-of-factly. “Jung Hoseok, the parading showhorse.”

“And you’re…. Mirae? The….cellist?” He takes a wild guess at one of the other performers in the showcase lineup that night.

“Nope.” You reply, popping your lips in amusement when you realise he has absolutely no clue who you are.

"You're not competition, are you?"

"Wrong again."

Hoseok squints in confusion and turns fully to face you, taking you more seriously now. “So who are you?”

Leaning in closer to him you tilt your glass in the direction of where the biggest group of people congregated in the middle of the room, deciding to at least have a little bit of fun tonight if you couldn't get your hands on the drinks. Albeit at the expense of someone else’s embarrassment, but it’s not like you two were close anyway. Consider it a trade off of sorts.

“See that man in the gray suit?”

“The CEO of Aurarts?” He frowns slightly. “Why?”

“He's the one who gets to decide if you get your scholarship or not, right?”

“Yes.” He drags the syllable out hesitantly. “Where is this going?”

“Well. In the direction of him being my very pretentious father. I'm sure you'll know my name soon enough.”

The colour drains from Hoseok’s face.

“Fuck-“ He begins, but quickly catches himself and bites his lips together when he decides that swearing in front of the daughter of the business magnate he just badmouthed, and who is coincidentally also funding his scholarship, isn’t the best first impression.

“Sorry. I. Uh.” He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. Gone is his easy charm - he’s now visibly perplexed, turning red and refusing to make eye contact. It makes you giggle, a bright pealing sound that seems to cut like a warm knife into butter. As it happens, the emcee’s voice crackles to life over the speakers, cutting your laughter short and inviting guests to take their seats as the performance is about to begin.

"There's your cue, and mine."

You sigh, quite content with your fun for the evening; Hoseok is pretty cute when he’s flustered. He's opened and shut his mouth three times and still trying to find a way to dig himself out of the hole he's in, so you decide to put the poor boy out of his misery and leave first. Pushing off from the wall, you offer him a small wave and mouth a ‘good luck’ over your shoulder. He manages a tiny wave back.

Between accompanying your father amongst the guests and making small talk with them after the performances are over, don’t get a chance to talk to Hoseok anymore for the rest of the evening. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of a silky black shirt and a charming smile, but not long enough of a look to know if he was looking back.

But you do get to watch his performance - it’s the last one of the night, and you don't know if it's intentional, but they’ve saved the best for last.

Hoseok walks onto the makeshift dancefloor, barefoot, and one more button on his shirt undone. Perhaps you didn’t notice it before, but there is a power with which he holds himself in his beginning pose, facing away from the audience, stance wide and hands crossed in fists behind his back. His head is turned, just enough for you to see his side profile, and you know he sees you sitting in the front row. You feel a shiver of excitement at the base of your spine. It pulses in rhythm to the opening beats of the dance track.

When he starts, you understand why he’s in tonight's lineup. Each movement of Hoseok’s body is fluid but perfectly controlled, matching the heavy bass tempo on the dot. Never early, never late. The music slowly starts to pick up, and his eyes turn dark, expression changing with every turn of the music. Joy, fear, passion and desperation tell the story of escape from old demons and rebirth into a new self. As everything reaches a crescendo, it’s like his presence expands into the cavernous hall that seemed to swallow every one of it’s tiny guests earlier, filling the space until you felt like the walls might burst.

One fist clenched and shaking in the air, Hoseok ends his performance kneeling atop a raised dais in the middle of the stage. The air is so silent and heavy with awe you can hear his laboured breaths. His smile is so bright and victorious, you think you might be dreaming when it is literally blinding you in the shine of spotlights. It's then you realise he's actually got braces on. Your heart gives you a quiet, endearing sigh, and you agree with her.

Applause erupts, a standing ovation is given. It takes you a little longer to collect yourself, but you stand with the crowd too, and clap until your palms heat and sting.

He’s not dancing to the music, you think. He is the music.

_________________

PREV | NEXT

A/N: And with that we’re all caught up with the chapters I’ve also posted on A03! You can check me out there if you prefer A03 hehe. Will be releasing future chapters at the same time from now on. Hope everyone is having a ✨great day✨ xoxo

#joonclouds #POAW #hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok fic #bts fic #hobi #hoseok fanfic #bts x reader

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sambergscott · 4 years

Text

the best thing is you

just jake, amy, and their favourite things about being parents

There are a lot of things Jake loves about being a dad: stealing his kid’s food when he can’t finish his plate, sleepy cuddles before bed, putting on voices for all the characters in his books, and wearing matching Adidas Superstars. But if he had to pick his absolute favorite number one thing, playing with Sam’s toys would come out on top.

Luckily, their apartment is filled with toys, organised by type, colour and size into various bins and baskets and labelled (Santiago Style!) so he always knows where to put stuff during tidy-up time. If Jake so much as accidentally puts one red Lego block in the yellow Lego container, Sam tuts, rolls his eyes and snitches on him to Amy later.

He has lots of toys but it’s not like he’s spoiled or anything; Amy has a big family and he gets a lot of hand-me-downs. Amy helps him write thank you cards every time he receives a new toy, they constantly remind him how lucky he is and donate his unwanted items to less lucky girls and boys.

(During one decluttering sesh, he puts his favourite truck in the giveaway pile for another kid to play with and Amy almost cries. They’re biased, but they’re pretty sure that Sam is the best kid ever).

They re-enact Ninja Turtles scenes with his action figures, roam the apartment with his dinosaurs and play shop (which consists of Sam selling Jake tinned goods that he already owns).

Both Jake and Sam’s favorite thing to play is the appropriately titled Detective Daddy game.

In short, Jake wears his badge and a tie (even over his t-shirts because, as he explains in his Grandpa Holt voice that never fails to make Sam fall over in a fit of giggles, wearing a necktie in the workplace is very important) and interrogates the three year old until he confesses to his crimes.

It usually goes like this.

“Princess Mommy has been kidnapped!”

Dramatic gasp.

“And I think you took her.”

“Me?” He clutches his chest, feigning innocence.

“I found her tiara in your bedroom, I checked the baby monitor security footage and you weren’t where you said you were and most incriminating of all, I found your fingerprints on her Amy water bottle.”

“My name’s Amy!”

(He often confuses the fact that they share one of the same names and thinks his name is Amy, not Santiago. It’s kind of adorable).

“I checked your file,” he brandishes a manila folder he stole from work and drops it on the dining room table, “and your name is Samuel.”

He gasps again. “I didn’t do it, Officer!”

“Just admit it,” Jake growls playfully, leaning forward to intimidate the suspect.

Sam climbs onto the table and closes the gap all the way, booping his nose against Jake’s and making him break character for half a second.

“Admit you kidnapped Princess Mommy,” Jake insists, tickling him until he finally surrenders.

“I did it! I did it!” He cries. “I kidnapped Princess Mommy and Queen Karen!”

Cue Jake a dramatic gasp from Jake this time.

“You’re going to jail for a long, long, long, long, long, long time!”

Jail is a pillow fort in the corner of the room.

(It’s actually cosy and super comfortable; Sam sent Jake there one time when he played the role of detective the morning after Jake had worked a night shift and he may have fallen asleep until his son decided to jump on him to wake him up so they could have more fun).

Jake scoops the dangerous(-ly cute) criminal into his arms and throws him in pillow fort prison, then rescues his Princess and Queen from the couch.

Sam can’t get enough of cop related games. It warms both Jake and Amy’s hearts that he’s so proud of what they do; it makes all the late nights and time away from him totally worth it.

Victor and Camila buy him a Police Station Lego set for Christmas and, after constructing it with mommy and daddy, it sits pride of place on top of his dresser next to a framed picture of the three of them. The next time he visits the Ninety-Ninth precinct he brags to Rosa, Charles and all the uniformed officers about how his police station is way cooler than theirs.

That very Christmas, he plays cops and robbers for the first time and kicks Santiago cousin butt. Amy high fives him in front of her brothers, thrilled that Sam is continuing her legacy of being the best at the game.

Jake will come up with elaborate (kid friendly) cases that Sam is obsessed with, for example, “oh no! Someone stole a pizza from Sal’s and is getting away!”

“Not Sal’s!” Sam cries because even at three years old, he is aware that Sal’s is the best pizza place in Brooklyn. Like father, like son.

He chases his police cars around the living room, making siren noises and eventually cutting the bad guy’s car off before he can escape towards the bedrooms down the hall.

(They’re going out for a walk when their elderly neighbour offers him one of her grandson’s fire engines that he’s got too old for. Sam declines because firefighters are for losers and the FDNY suck. Amy shoots her an embarrassed smile and herds Sam away).

When it’s time for bed and all the toys have been put away, Jake tells him the story of how a cool, leather jacket-wearing detective married the youngest female Sergeant in the history of the Nine-Nine.

Sam asks to hear it again every night.

There are a lot of things Amy loves about being a mom: baking chocolate muffins and pretending not to see when he steals some of raw mixture (even though he has chocolate all round his mouth), sleepy cuddles before bed, singing to Disney hits at the tops of their voices and trying not to cry when he brags about his mom being the youngest female Sergeant in the history of the Nine-Nine to everyone they meet. But if she had to pick her absolute favourite number one thing, teaching Sam to read and write and count would come out on top.

She was always good at school. She got the highest grades. She loved crawling into her dad’s lap and reading to him, glowing under his constant praise. She didn’t need any help with the big words unlike Tony and it wasn’t long before her teacher advised that she skip fourth grade.

She studied Art History at college, topped her class, and was the best in her group of recruits at the Academy, too.

As her brothers started having kids, she loved helping them read and, as they got older, helping them with homework. She especially loved when they would confide in her that she’s smarter than their dads. Beating her brothers, even as an adult, was still her greatest joy. Until she fell in love and had a kid of her own and beating her brothers was demoted to third spot.

The Santiago genes are just as strong in Sam.

He’s like Jake in a lot of ways: his dark, unruly curls, his nose, his sense of humour, his penchant for dramatic reveals.

(Running into their room at 5am shouting, “Mommy! Daddy! I didn’t wet the bed last night!”, for example).

But he is smart. Santiago-level smart.

He learns to count to twenty before all his friends, is a super reader and bilingual.

Amy has been singing him Spanish lullabies since he was a newborn, teaching him his “Por favor”s and “Gracias”s, whispering “Te amo” as she kisses him goodnight. She cries so hard the first time he says it back.

It’s very important to her that he can speak Spanish so they have lessons with daddy on Tuesday nights. She buys a textbook and makes them sit opposite her at the dining room table like they’re actually in school.

“¿Cuántos años tienes?” She asks him after their first lesson.

“Tengo tres años,” he responds with a proud smile that has Amy gathering him into her arms and smothering him with kisses.

Rosa has been teaching Jake Spanish for a couple of years but his brain is so full of case details and Die Hard quotes that Sam quickly surpasses him, joining Amy on her side of the table.

“Tell mama she’s pretty,” he instructs.

He furrows his brow, immediately looking to Amy for help.

“Luces bien.”

“That was it!” He snaps his fingers. “Luces bien, Ames.”

She blushes, tucks her hair behind both her ears and flicks to the next page of the textbook. She’s only in one of his hoodies and leggings, she’s not even sure when she last washed her hair, but her husband makes her feel beautiful. Always has done, right back to the time he said her dress makes her look like a mermaid.

Along with Spanish, she teaches him basic geography. He knows that Cuba is the largest island in the Caribbean, that Havana is the capital city and can draw the flag with his crayons. He shows off to Camila the next time they visit and earns himself an extra cookie.

He can write his name, too, and she remarks that at age three his penmanship is already better than Jake’s.

(Jake sticks his tongue out at her, even if it’s true).

Like Amy, he loves books. Loves the silly voices Jake makes as he reads, loves reading along with Amy and love love loves reading the book of Jake and Amy (illustrated by Terry) that Jake has made for his fourth birthday.

“Don’t you want to read a different book tonight?” She questions foolishly. They’ve read it three nights in a row.

“Nope,” he grins. “Mommy and daddy’s book.”

Her heart melts as she opens the book and he snuggles into his arms.

“It was her first day at the Nine-Nine...”

After an interrogation that went on longer than expected, Jake missed dinner and bath time and had to break several speed limits to get home in time for his bedtime story and goodnight kisses.

He locks the apartment door behind him and follows the sound of Amy’s voice to Sam’s bedroom, recognizing the story immediately.

“I’m hearing wedding bells!” Amy reads, doing a spot on impression of Charles’ voice.

Jake stifles a laugh, leaning against the doorframe and listening to his wife recite the story he knows so well.

There are a lot of things they love about being parents, but at the end of the day, watching Sam play and learn and cuddle their spouse is the best thing of all. And soon they will get to watch them do it all over again with Baby Peralta 2: Peralta Harder.

#b99 fic #jake x amy #my writing #if anyone wants to doodle that kids book....... I would love you FOREVER

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katpapple · 3 years

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A Test of Courage

A Banri x Kat fanfic

This is a self ship fic, uwa. Hope you like it! qwq

Focus was drawn to the tv screen as the competition occupies his attention. Well, most of it anyway. Banri’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing with a frustrated growl. Itaru on the other hand had a completely stone faced expression, magenta irises honed in on the fight as he won the match once again. The younger man let out a sigh of defeat, rubbing his temples in small circles.

“Dammit…” He muttered. Banri’s skills were rusted. Though they shouldn’t have been; he practiced fighting the character Itaru was good at with her, after all. What was causing him to feel so distracted? His mind was drifting all over the place to so many different thoughts, but it always went back to those smoky blue eyes - that rosy cheeked smile - and those wavy blond locks. The image left a lasting imprint, one that was shaking him to the core.

“Wow, your game was off today,” Of course Itaru noticed. “Alright, spill it. What’s going on?” And go figure he would want to know what’s on Banri's mind. This made the Autumn Troupe leader groan as he was trying to find good wording.

“It’s nothin’. Must be an off day for me.” Yeah, no kidding. He was just reiterating Itaru’s point. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk, it’s just that the words were escaping him. He didn’t wanna sound like a fool that wasn’t making any sense. Though right now, it felt like nothing was making sense to him. Why did he feel this way again?

“You like Kat a lot, don’t you?”

“Huh?” The brunette took a glance at the man sitting next to him.

“I think it’s pretty obvious at this point that you like her in a romantic sense. Your expressions seem so much more soft and doting around her. Plus, Kazunari said you two eat lunch together more often at class now.”

Shit. Banri’s cover was blown. Light brown strands were slicked back through his fingers as he tried not to keel over from the blatantly humiliating callout from Itaru. Now he remembered why he was so off today. It was Kat; She was all Banri could think about right now. He thought about playing it cool, feigning ignorance, but that wouldn't work. Not when Itaru knew him well enough to pick up on his mood just from his performance when gaming. A disgruntled sigh left slightly chapped lips, and Banri rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

"I don't know what it is about her, but-" He paused. "Whenever I'm near her lately, I kinda freeze up and I can feel my face getting warmer." Honestly, it pissed him off a little. He thought he sounded so stupid; getting this flustered around a girl he'd known for about a year now made him feel like some sort of protagonist from a romance anime. Even now, he felt his face rise in temperature, and he could deduce that his cheeks were definitely flushed. God, he felt so hopeless.

"Wow." A reaction that caught the young man off guard.

"The hell do you mean by that?" The question caused Itaru to chuckle, a smile decorating his face with mischief.

"Sounds to me like your life's not in super ultra easy mode anymore, am I right?"

The worst part was that Banri couldn't disagree.

"Ha ha, very funny Itaru," He replied in a mocking tone. "Though, I ain't gonna say that you're wrong. Cuz you're not."

"Well, if I'm not wrong, what's stopping you? Are you scared of rejection?"

"Ha! Scared of rejection? I'm Banri goddamn Settsu," He said that with a smile that so painfully indicated he was scared. "I can bet if I confessed to her right now, she'd be-"

"Banri, I know you're lying." That sentence… Why did it cut so deep? It shouldn't. It was true, of course, but the fact he wasn't able to get away with it made him feel like a deer in the headlights. An anxious pang in his chest only grew as Itaru continued.

"Just like always, you're afraid of losing. Typical Banri mannerisms for you, I guess."

"A'ight, ya don't have to rub it in, bastard…" Both men let out soft laughter. Though Banri's was born out of fear. It pulsed in his heart, every scenario in his head playing out with the worst possible outcome. These feelings of longing- of teenage anxiety- of a racing heartbeat and lovesick laughter- all of it was so foreign. So exciting. Yet all the same, incredibly terrifying.

"It's just… she's such a cool person, y'feel me?" Banri started. "I mean, she's smart, she's kind, and so freaking talented on stage. And whenever I see her smile and gush over something she loves, her face lights up and it's just so fuckin' cute." At that moment, he snickered, looking at Itaru eye to eye for the first time in that conversation. "And, shit, don't get me started on how her occasional moments where she gets a bit flighty and airheaded make me so damn happy. Like, she can be so mature and caring, but also a bit of a klutz who doesn't always think things through, but also super passionate and energetic, just-"

"Your perfect girl, right?" Banri nodded in agreement with Itaru's statement. In all senses, to Banri, Kat was perfect. Even with all the little flaws and quirks, like her occasional bursts of temper, the way her face flushed tomato red when embarrassed, it was all lovely to him. The two of them got along so well, but he remembered that it’d be likely she’d just like to be friends.

“I wanna tell her. I want her to know how much she makes me smile, man. I want her to know how god damn beautiful she is. But I don’t wanna make things awkward between us either, y’know?” This elicited a tired look from Itaru.

“Dude, it’s gonna be awkward within the first stages of dating anyhow. Better to tell her and at least get your feelings out and face rejection rather than keep going down this back and forth with yourself.”

“Well how the hell am I supposed to do that?!” The blonde shrugged.

“Meh, I dunno. Never dated anyone so I’m useless in that department.” That just turned Banri’s frustration into desperation.

“At least give me something, dude!” An eye roll from Itaru.

“Look, the best advice I can give is ask to talk to her and see where things go from there. Tell her how you feel about her. Y’know, regular confession stuff.”

“Guess that’s a start…” That unfortunately didn’t do much to settle the nerves from the realization that- oh no- he had to confess to the woman he’s slowly grown to pine for this past year and a half. This wasn’t going to be easy, he knew that for sure.

The next morning makes itself known to Banri from the sun’s rays tickling his face, and the absence of Juza’s snoring. It was the weekend, so he didn’t really have anything to do. Accept… he DID have something to do. Something he desperately didn’t want to do, but wanted to do at the exact same time. He could smell breakfast from his room. Pancakes and bacon. It distracted him from the nervous sensation in his stomach.

After a quick shower, he walks down the stairs, sleep still leaving him in a daze as he reaches the dining room. Pretty much everyone was here, save for Itaru and Masumi who were sleeping in. Kat was on the couch, sketchbook in her hands as she waited for Omi to finish breakfast. She looked up from the paper in Banri’s direction, and gave him a soft smile that melts him into a puddle of happiness.

“Morning, BanBan.” BanBan. A nickname she gave him that she used for some lighthearted fun. It caught him off guard, and he thought it was silly, but after a while, he really grew to love it. It was a nice little term of endearment to the both of them. Though mainly, she was too cute to say no to. Her laughter whenever she used it was enough to get him to laugh along from how infectious it was. Banri sat next to his fellow classmate, and gave a half smile in return.

“Mornin’ Kat. Good to see your face. Always brightens my mood.” A light giggle and a faint hint of blush on those already rosy red cheeks caught Banri’s attention.

“Aww, look at you being all sweet and charming today. Who are you, and what have you done with Banri?”

“Pfft, wow, rude.” The two of them laughed quietly so as to not disturb everyone else. Lord knows Sakyo would be up their asses for it later if they were too loud. “For the record, I’m nice and charming all the time. I’m Banri Settsu after all.” That got Kat to snort.

“Oh my god, that’s so corny, I love it.” Banri chuckled at that.

“Yeah, it was, my bad.” Then the fear returned. He could hear his heart beating like a hammer, and his hands quivered ever so slightly. “Hey uh… after breakfast, could I tell you somethin’ at the park?” Kat raised her brows inquisitively.

“Huh? Oh, sure!” On cue, Omi called everyone to the dining room. Breakfast was ready. Kat set down her drawing supplies, and made her way to the table, Banri following suit behind her. Today’s breakfast was simple, pancakes, bacon and hard boiled eggs. Kat smiled happily; they were some of her favorite things to eat for breakfast. Banri sat across from her, the both of them eating in silence aside from occasionally joining in for small talk with others at the table. Though Banri had a hard time eating at all. The anxiety from what he would have to do later made his appetite seem smaller today. He excused himself after only finishing about half his plate, which surprised everyone at the table. He gave a quick tap to the young woman’s shoulder.

“Just meet me there, ok?” A nod accompanied by a hum of confirmation from Kat was Banri’s cue to leave. His shoulders tensed up as he left, putting on his shoes before starting a jog to the park. The whole time he ran, he could feel his resolve waver more than it already was. ‘What if it isn’t worth it? What if she’ll feel uncomfortable?’

‘What if we’ll never be the same after this?’

It scared him so bad. And it manifested into tears threatening to spill and pour down his cheeks. His mouth felt dry, his breath laboured as he sprinted frantically to the park, stopping in his tracks at the park’s fountain before it all broke loose. Choked sobs left him as he tried to catch his breath. His lip quivered as tears rolled down his cheeks. Banri tried to collect himself, wiping his eyes and nose, and steadying his shaky breath. This break in confidence made him feel so stupid. He felt ashamed for being so afraid. He felt even more stupid because he knew Kat would ask what’s wrong. He didn’t want her to worry. He wasn’t used to it. His parents never paid much attention; he was perfect at everything. Right now though, he was far from that supposed perfect man he was. He was vulnerable; he was second guessing himself. If Kat saw him like this - all clumsy and anxious over a confession - what would she think of him?

“Banri?” That voice made his heart sink. He felt like he was in such deep shit right now. His blood ran cold, but his face was red from crying.

“Banri, are okay? Oh god, were you crying?” Her worried tone made Banri feel so secure, but it was so odd to him. The young man wanted to brush it off, say it was nothing, but that was a lie he knew she’d see through. ‘Fuck it,’ He thought. ‘Might as well follow through on what you told yourself you were gonna do Banri.’

“Yeah, uh… I was.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Nah, nah. Well, I mean- I guess? I just- I dunno, I kinda got something on my mind and it’s really stressin’ me out.” A hand came to Banri’s back; a reassuring touch to let him know he was ok.

“Do you wanna talk about it? I’m always here for you, BanBan.” That smile that followed her words felt so warm and welcoming. And the way she said ‘BanBan’ was so different from any other time she said it. In most instances, it was used to joke around with him when they were messing around being idiots together. Here, it was affectionate, and born of concern for her friend’s well being. Somewhere in his heart, Banri felt it wasn’t ok to be open with her despite her reassuring he could tell her. But right now, he didn’t care about his worries. His brain was silently screaming at him right now to get it out, to just go for it even if you two just stay friends. That was ok with him. It may be a bit awkward for a while if she doesn’t reciprocate, but that wouldn’t change how much he liked spending time with her as a friend to begin with. Worries be damned, he supposed it was at least worth a shot.

“Yeah, thanks.” Deep breaths. In and out. “So, I’ve kinda debated back and forth since the last week or so whether or not I should tell you this, cuz I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But I wanted to tell you how I feel about you, cuz I have a lot on my mind about a lot of stuff. Ever since we started hanging out over the past year, I’ve kinda started to feel really anxious around you. My heart races, my face gets all red and shit, and I start losing my words. I really don’t wanna beat around the bush with this but I- I really like you. Like, romantically.”

Silence. It hung over for about a couple seconds, but to Banri it felt like a fucking eternity. At this point one could drop a pin and it would be heard that was how silent it was at that moment. But shock filled the young man’s sapphire eyes when Kat took his hand and held it. She cast a little glance, before looking away with a timid smile. She looked like a blushing bride. Banri didn’t know what to do he was so nauseous from the anxiety, but somehow, gently reciprocating the touch felt so natural and normal. Their eyes finally met, and Kat had a really goofy smile. It was lopsided, and one could tell she was happy but also really nervous. Her face was red, which was unsurprising given she’d get like that when she’d be caught singing by the other company members.

“Y’know, I uh… I’ve kinda wanted to tell you the exact same thing so I’m like, really happy right now.”

“Wait, really?” Kat nodded fervently.

“Yes! Y-Yes I- God, I’ve felt so scared too cuz I really didn’t wanna make things awkward between us if you didn’t feel the same way, But you’re just really fun to be around, you’re really handsome, and I love watching you act cuz you try super hard, and it makes me wanna try just as hard too! A-And I really wanna make you as happy as you make me, so… um…! Yeah, I-I really like you, like, a whole lot!”

Banri’s eyes widened in awe. Was this real? Was this a dream? He wasn’t sure, but a big smile spread across his face, and he started to laugh in relief.

“Holy shit, can I hug you please?” She nodded, and Banri hugged her so tight. He felt so happy. It may have been silly of him to cry tears of joy, but nonetheless he did. Just when he thought the tears had dried up, the euphoria made all the emotions rise up to the surface again. He pulled back to look at Kat, and she was crying too. Looks like she was just as scared as well. It made him feel a little better about everything. Banri tenderly brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears.

“God, I knew you were adorable, but do you have to have such a cute smile?”

“What can I say? I guess I’m like your little ball of sunshine.”

“You’re damn right about that,” Banri placed a featherlight peck on the cheek. “I love you so much, Kat.”

“Love you too, Banri.”

Those words made him happy. So, so happy. Right now, time stood still. He wanted to stay like this. To stay close, in a warm embrace, pressing gentle, nervous kisses to each other’s lips. And right now, in this little moment, they would stay like this for at least half an hour. Banri vowed to himself, as they both stayed comfortable in that blanket of love, that he would make her so damn happy. Lucky for him, he was already well on his way.

#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3 imagines #banri settsu #settsu banri #autumn troupe #Akigumi #self ship #a3! banri #banri x kat

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 4 years

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Mad Love - Chapter 25 ( The final Gotham fic)

After Gotham was cut out off from the mainland, Emerald starts to learn that three’s a crowd and Jeremiah soon shows his true colours. Will she stick around like she did with Jerome or will she finally get some sense to leave and reunite with her true love.

The fourth and final instalment in my Gotham/Emerald series.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. It really helps me out as a writer, lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist as well :)

Warnings: Language, Blood, Violence, Revenge

Chapter 25

Emerald’s P.O.V

Everything was in place; I was just waiting for the two guests of honour to arrive. Eddie and I had formed a plan, and it had taken another month to get everything we needed and set up. But finally, we were ready. Jeremiah had wanted to make things dramatic in trying to kill me, I wanted to do the same. Only maybe I had more of a dramatic flair than him. Standing at the alter with my bouquet of red roses, I examined my manicured nails. The church doors opened, and Eddie wheeled in Ecco first.

Ecco glared at me, struggling against the rope that was around her wrists and legs, securing her to the wheelchair. It was easy for transport. Luckily Eddie had also put tape over her mouth, so she’d keep quiet. Next in was Jeremiah, wheeled in by Zsasz. A grin spread across my face at the sight of him, bound, gagged and helpless. After thanking Zsasz and insisting he take the envelope of cash, he left us to it. Eddie’s eyes raked over me, seeing my dress for the first time.

Remembering how Jeremiah had proposed to me, I figured it would be funny to host this in a church and go all out with a wedding dress that I’d made myself. A wedding dress fitting for a funeral. The bodice had been dyed red although the lace short sleeves and neck piece were dyed black to match the floor length fishtail skirt. The dress was figure hugging in all the right places, complete with a black veil and red lace arm warmers. My hair was down and loosely curled.

Eddie handed me one knife that he’d confiscated from Ecco and Jeremiah. I’m sure he’d confiscated many more. After kissing Eddie softly, I headed over to Jeremiah, tearing the tape off his mouth. “I didn’t realize we were having a ceremony, otherwise I would have worn a better suit,” Jeremiah laughed. This I had expected from him, smart remarks and that god-awful laugh. I only smiled and pressed the knife to his throat. He’d stop laughing, eventually. There was only so much pain one man could take. And I knew some of those nerve endings still worked.

“You proposed to me, remember, put that idea in my head of a wedding. I figured it would only be fitting to do this in a church,” I said matter-of-factly. Turning to Ecco, I removed the tape from her mouth. Ecco would get a free pass tonight…mostly. “Your still with that? Whats it gonna take for you to wake up and realize he doesn’t love you? How many bruises and broken bones is it gonna take?” I asked her. “He doesn’t hit me. He only did that to you,” Ecco smirked, lying through her teeth. Smirking back at her, I jabbed her hard in the ribs with my fingers, watching as she flinched and winced.

“So that’s why your ribs are bruised, huh? No wait, go on, I wanna hear what story you came up with.” Ecco breathed deeply through the pain, glaring at me before finally she gave me an answer, “I tripped down some stairs on a heist.” “Now that would be believable only, you’d have more injuries if that were true. I mean come on Ecco you could have taken to the easy route and blamed someone else. That bat freak out there would have been a believable alibi.” Backing off, I turned to Eddie. We’d discussed the entire plan right down to the last detail. If Ecco didn’t wake up after this, then she had no hope. “Take her out back and kill her,” I instructed.

Ecco struggled against the restraints, making a sound of protest as Eddie wheeled her out to the back of the church. Not once did Jeremiah pull on his rope or curse us out. He sat there, still and silent. I knew he knew it was a bluff. But Ecco didn’t. And that was the whole point. “You’re not going to kill her,” Jeremiah stated. “I won’t have too. You’ll likely end up doing that. However, depending on her decision-making tonight, that will determine her fate.” There was a scream from Ecco out back. Eddie was allowed to hurt her a little, but not anything life threatening. Still Jeremiah remained straight faced, proving me right. “At least make it a little believable for her. Your gonna break her poor little heart. After everything she’s done for you,” I tutted.

“My brother made the mistake of not pushing you from a higher window,” Jeremiah growled. “Yes, he did,” I agreed with a laugh, “but maybe if you wanted me dead so bad you could have done it yourself instead of getting Ecco to do your dirty work. Its gonna make me think you’ve gone soft. At least Jerome had the balls to try himself. Jerome was better than you in a lot of ways,” I suggested. “And yet I outlived him. I’ve had this city eating out of the palm of my hand, you know when it comes down to it, I’m the better twin.” Smiling, I pressed the knife to his cheek, “and yet none of it would have happened without Jerome. Without him you’d be still cowering in your bunker at your own shadow and you know it. I bet it burns you to know you’d be nothing without the man you were so afraid of, a man you hated.”

“I could the say the same about you.” “I never denied it, though. I’m not adamant that I’m better than him. I know he made me into this and I’m glad. You, on the other hand, made me into a coward. But you’re not in control of me anymore. For the first time in my life neither of you are, and it’s so fucking liberating.” The more I spoke, the more I noticed that Jeremiah’s smile was fading. He was learning that his words and manipulations no longer had an effect on me. The more his smile faded, the more mine grew. Jeremiah thought about his next move for a few moments. “Yet you’ve gone back to a man who cheated on you,” he sneered.

I laughed, “oh, sweetie. Are you forgetting I went back to your brother after he tried to kill me? And the amount of times I went back to you…now that is crazy.” Cheating was manageable compared to multiple attempts on my life. Eddie re-joined us with Ecco in tow, still alive. But she was bleeding from her shoulder. And what was better was she was refusing to look at Jeremiah, who didn’t even bother to ask if she was okay. Turning my attention to her, I gave her a look that said, ‘I told you so’. “Are you going to do the right thing now and leave him?” I asked her. “I never dreamed of abandoning him before, I won’t now,” Ecco growled. “Wow. And we were just talking about how crazy I was but you…your so fucking brainwashed that he might as well have restarted his cult.”

Ironic how that cult was started in a church and everything for them was going to end in one. Stepping back, I had one more question to ask before I made this final break up permanent. “Did you ever love me?” I asked Jeremiah. Jeremiah scoffed, sneering at me again, “no. You were always just sloppy seconds.” Pretending to be hurt, my face dropped, and I threw myself in Eddies arms. Burying my face in his chest, I faked tears. Jeremiah was likely proud of himself for delivering a final harsh blow. Only my growing laughter quickly stamped on that. “The feeling was always mutual. You used me because it was convenient for you. I used you to fill Jerome’s shoes, only its clear they were a few sizes too big for you,” I giggled.

Eddie started on the final step, picking up one of the gasoline canisters that had been hidden amongst the pews and throwing the fluid around. Ecco struggled against her bonds again, desperately trying to escape. “I would have let you go, if you’d let him go. But you made your choice. You want him so bad then you can die with him,” I scolded her. Using the tip of the knife, I traced Jeremiah’s jawline with a smile. “Let’s see if we can burn more skin off you,” I spoke. Eddie was at my side once more, dumping the empty canister at Jeremiah’s feet. “We done here?” He asked.

Nodding, I kissed his cheek. I was so grateful to have had his help on this, thankful he had made me find courage and confidence once more. “Well, there’s one more thing that I would like to ask,” Eddie spoke, getting down on one knee and producing a small black velvet box. This took me by complete surprise, a wicked grin spreading across my face. “You really wanna rub it in his face, don’t you?” I asked, referring to Jeremiah. Eddie smirked, confirm my suspicions, “can you blame me? Your finally mine again and I’m never making the mistake of letting you go again. So, will you marry me?”

Opening the box, he revealed the ring inside. Instead of a traditional diamond ring it was an emerald ring, the band silver and the large emerald surrounded by small diamonds. “Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you,” I answered. The ring went on with ease, and Eddie got to his feet, kissing me passionately. There had been a time not so long ago where I’d believed I could never be happy again, but in Eddies arms I was so glad to have been proven wrong. Eddie picked me up bridal style and carried me back down the aisle. Kissing him, I threw the bouquet over his shoulder. Slipping my hand in his inner jacket pocket, I found a pack of matches and lit one as we reached the exit.

Throwing it to the gasoline-soaked ground, the flames quickly spread down the aisle. Carrying me outside and to a safe distance only then did Eddie put me down. We watched for as long as we could, the church soon engulfed with flames. If either of them survived that I’d be very surprised. Sirens could be heard in the distance, and that was our cue to leave. Finally, I was free from the Valeska’s.

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