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drabbles-mc · 3 years

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One of Them Girls

Angel Reyes x Reader

Request by @lakamaa12: I have a request.. if you don't want to do it, no worries (or it's been done by another blog and I missed it).I was wondering if you would consider writing something with Angel based around the song One of Them Girls by Lee Brice?

(Part 2 can be found Here)

Warnings: language, alcohol, Angel being the cutie we know he is

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: To the best of my knowledge, no one else has written an Angel fic for this song yet! If you have and I didn’t see it, my bad! But real talk I’ve been obsessed with this song lately and I wanted to write a fic for it so I’m super glad you sent this my way. Hope you enjoy! xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @amandinesblogofstuff @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @lilacyennefer @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx (If you want to be tagged let me know! xo)

Your roommate had been trying for months to get you to go to one of the MC parties with her. She knew them from working at Vicki’s and she swore that you would have a good time if you just came to the clubhouse with her.

“Just for a couple hours,” she pleaded as she stood in the doorway to your room, “and if you’re really not having a good time, we can leave and I’ll never bother you about it again. Promise.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against your headboard, “Fine. Just so you won’t bother me about it anymore.”

She beamed, “Yes! Oh this is gonna be so fun,” you could practically see the thoughts racing through her head, “Wear those skinny jeans that make your butt look good.”

You groaned, “You’re gonna dress me, too?”

She laughed, “It’s just a friendly suggestion.”

It was a suggestion that you begrudgingly took her up on. She really wasn’t that pushy about what to wear, but she knew that she was able to nudge you out of your comfort zone a little bit sometimes. You’d ended up with a simple, low-cut black tank top, the jeans she had suggested, and a pair of black boots. You weren’t going to risk snapping your ankle in a pair of heels when you didn’t know what you’d be walking into.

Elena may have been persistent, but she was a woman of her word. She stayed by you when you first arrived, knowing the scene was a little overwhelming when you first walk into it. You weren’t quite sure what you had been expecting, but this wasn’t quite what you had pictured in your mind. It was a little tamer, a little less chaotic than your brain had been telling you it would be.

“C’mon,” she tugged you towards the bar, “I’ll get you a beer.”

“Elena, who are all these people?” you asked quietly as you scanned the room.

She started pointing out the members of the MC one by one, telling you their names and a few fun facts about each. Some of the facts were a little more information than you cared to know, but she got you to laugh. Some of the girls you recognized because they’d come over and hang out at your apartment sometimes, and it was nice to know that you knew more than just one person at the party. They said there was power in numbers, right?

“Hey, querida,” a voice piped up from behind the two of you.

Elena turned, a smile instantly spreading across her face as she walked up to the man who had been speaking to her and letting him scoop her up in a hug, “Angel, hey!”

He set her down and his eyes found their way over to you. You felt small under the weight of his gaze but you tried not to let it show. He glanced back to Elena, “You brought a friend?”

She laughed, nodding, “Angel, this is my roommate, and best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Angel, the biggest pain in the ass in the MC.”

He placed a hand over his chest, an exaggeratedly pained expression on his face, “Right to my heart.”

The three of you laughed and you shook your head slightly, the nerves beginning to dissipate a little bit. You weren’t expecting him to plop down on the stool next to yours, but he did. You looked over to Elena, as if to ask if you should be worried about anything. She flashed you a smile as she sat down on the other side of you, giving your arm a light, reassuring squeeze as she reached for her drink.

“So what questionable decisions led you here tonight?” he asked with a laugh as he took a swig of his beer.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Just throwing Elena a bone. She’s been wanting me to come here with her for a while.”

“Didn’t want to be hanging out with a bunch of degenerates?” there was a playful smirk on his face.

You smiled, “More like I didn’t want to be hanging out with a bunch of people in general,” you laughed, “I’m a bit of a homebody.”

“I’m working on that,” Elena piped in with a smile.

The three of you sat at the bar and talked for a little while. You could tell that Angel was trying to get a read on you, the new girl. You couldn’t be mad because you were doing the same thing to him. He was smooth, flirtatious, but not overbearingly so. That was a game you’d be willing to play for the night while you pacified your friend. If you were going to be forced to socialize, there were worse people to look at while doing it.

Elena must’ve gotten the vibe from you, because she politely excused herself from the conversation, letting you know that she wouldn’t be far if you decided that you wanted to bail and go home. You saw the smirk tugging at her lips as she walked away though, knowing that you were having a much better time there than you’d ever admit.

“So I gotta know,” Angel asked as he idly toyed with the beer bottle in his hands, “how does a homebody like you end up rooming with Miss “Life of the Party” Elena?”

You laughed, trying not to stare at the way his ringed fingers traced and curled around the neck of his beer bottle, “We actually had a few classes together our first year in college,” you shook your head, “Nothing bonds two people together like suffering through statistics classes together.”

He chuckled, “Fuck that.”

“That was exactly how we felt.”

The longer the two of you talked, the more he tested his boundaries. He wasn’t pushy, or inappropriate, but he was definitely trying to figure out what made you tick. You weren’t going to give him that kind of satisfaction so quickly, though. You bantered back and forth with him, and you couldn’t remember the last time a guy had you laughing so hard.

Angel was in the middle of an incredibly cheesy pickup line that he swore has worked for him before when the song coming through the speakers changed. You couldn’t help but to perk up a little bit at the familiar beat and Angel noticed the shift immediately. He watched you for a moment as he tried to feel out the situation.

“Wanna dance?”

You shook your head no with zero hesitation, “No thank you.”

He laughed, “C’mon, why not? Live a little.”

You smiled but didn’t move to get up from your stool, “I’m sure there are plenty of women here tonight that would love to dance with you, Angel.”

He didn’t push the topic any further. You were smiling but he could see the flash of emotion in your eyes and he knew that there was something there that you weren’t ready to tap into yet with him. So, instead, he got you another beer and delved back into his cheesy pickup line story. When you realized that he was going to move past what you just said and not make it awkward, the tension immediately melted out of your body. You gladly took the beer bottle from him as you listened him ramble into another story.

“Yo, Angel,” Coco called from the pool table, “get over here. Bring your friend, we need two more.”

“You play pool?” Angel asked you, curious to your answer.

You shrugged as you hopped off the stool, “I mean I know how to.”

He laughed as he followed you across the clubhouse, “That’s not a super reassuring answer, querida.”

“Man, fuck him. You can be on my team,” Coco said with a laugh, “He and Gilly can fend for themselves.”

There was something reassuring and welcoming about the way that Coco spoke to you—like he had known you for years. He handed you your pool stick, smile still plastered onto his face. This wasn’t how you had originally pictured your night going, but you weren’t upset about it.

About halfway through the game, Angel was pissed that he didn’t try to team up with you. You and Coco were on a hot-streak and he really didn’t expect that from you. He shook his head as you sank another shot, and you had to laugh at the way that Coco was able to effectively gloat with just a simple look thrown Angel’s way.

“I mean I know how to,” Angel mocked you with a laugh as he shook his head, watching you line up to take another shot, “Can’t believe you fuckin’ hustled me.”

You laughed, “I don’t think you can call it hustling if there’s no money involved. You’re just mad because we’re about to whoop your ass.”

He chuckled and glanced over at Coco, “Don’t look so smug, Coco. She’s fuckin’ carrying you right now.”

The game wrapped up quickly with you and Coco both doing so well. Gilly had been more than content to sit back and watch it all happen, reveling in the fact that someone, and someone new at that, was kicking Angel’s ass at pool. Angel was shaking his head as he set his stick aside, still trying to figure out how all of that just happened. For someone who claimed that they didn’t like going out and doing things, you seemed to be full of surprises.

“Since I am a gracious winner,” you said with a laugh as you let Coco put your stick away, “I’ll buy you all a drink.”

Angel went to protest, not wanting you to be buying anything for any of them, but Gilly slapped his chest to stop him. The look on Gilly’s face made it very evident that no matter how cute the girl was, none of them were about to be turning down free drinks. Angel laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

As the night wore on, slowly but surely people began to trickle out of the clubhouse. You hadn’t really talked to Elena since you got wrapped up playing pool with the guys, but the two of you kept an eye on one another. Every now and then she’d shoot you a look, one that asked if you needed to get out, and you would just shake your head. She’d smile, sometimes throw you a wink, before getting wrapped back up into whatever she was doing. You knew that she was just glad to get you out of the house and socializing with people.

You and Angel were sitting next to each other on the couch talking, keeping your conversation low in the midst of music and noise still filling the clubhouse. You were shaking your head at him as he told you about some of the scrapes he’d gotten into with his brother, someone that you knew you’d also love to sit and have a conversation with eventually.

Elena walked up and gave you a nudge, smiling when you turned to her, “Not trying to rush you, but I think a couple of the girls and I are gonna head out. You want me to bring you home before I go with them?”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to leave. But she was your ride, so it wasn’t like you were going to have much of a choice. Just as you were about to speak up and say you’d get ready to leave, Angel interrupted, “I can take you home if you want.”

You glanced back at him, arching one eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Yea,” he shrugged, smiling, “I don’t mind.”

Elena bit at her bottom lip, trying to fight back a smile, “You good with that, Y/N?”

You nodded, “Yea, I think so,” you laughed, “Worst case scenario I have pepper spray in my bag.”

“Jesus,” Angel laughed.

Elena shook her head with a grin as she leaned down to kiss your cheek, “Text me when you’re home. Love you.”

“Love you too. Text when you get to wherever the hell you guys are all going,” you chuckled.

“Will do,” she turned and hugged Angel, “Get her home safe, or I’ll beat your ass.”

He nodded, trying hard not to laugh because he knew that she was serious, “Yes ma’am.”

When she was gone and it was just the two of you again, things felt a little different. You suddenly became very aware of the way that his arm was draped over the back of the couch, his fingers almost brushing against your shoulder. Despite the number of people that were still in the clubhouse, it felt like it was just you two left. Everything else felt farther away.

“Can I ask where you’re from?” he leaned in a little closer to you and took a sip of his beer, “Because I feel like you’re not from around here.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “I’m not. I’m from the East Coast—came out this way for college,” you laughed, “Very cliché, I know.”

“Ah, you’re one of them girls, huh?”

“Who are them girls?” you chuckled.

“Had to get the hell outta dodge?”

You smiled and nodded, not really wanting to get into the details of your decisions, “Something like that.”

“You musta broke a lot of hearts when you left,” there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed, “Wouldn’t know—haven’t been back to find out.”

Somewhere along the line of your conversation, the two of you had gotten very comfortable. You had your legs pulled up underneath you as you leaned into him, his hand resting lightly on the nape of your neck. Every now and then when you laughed your hand would come to rest on his thigh for a moment or two before you pulled it back to your own body. He wasn’t bold enough to say it but he wished that you’d leave it there.

There was a brief lull in the conversation and you looked around the clubhouse, seeing that the two of you were some of the last people there. You checked your phone, seeing that you had gotten the safety update from your roommate almost an hour before and hadn’t noticed from being so enthralled with Angel.

“You got that look on your face like you gotta get going,” Angel said knowingly.

You sighed, “Yea, unfortunately I still have to go and do life stuff tomorrow,” there was a hint of laughter to your voice.

His thumb traced idly along the exposed skin at the base of your neck, “We can take the bike, if you want.”

You pressed your lips together for a moment, “I’ve never ridden on one before.”

He chuckled as he rose to his feet, helping you to do the same, “Something tells me you’ll be fine.”

The two of you walked out of the clubhouse, Angel’s hand settling on the small of your back. The chilly night air hit your skin and sent a chill through you. Without a second thought, Angel peeled off his sweatshirt that he’d put on and handed it over to you. You started to shake your head no but he wordlessly pushed the hoodie into your hands. You gave in with a smile, pulling it down over your head. It was warm, and you were practically swimming in the fabric, but you didn’t mind.

He let you use his helmet, and you settled behind him after climbing onto the bike. Your hands were lightly resting on his waist and he pulled your arms tighter around him, causing you to press flush up against his back.

“Don’t be shy, querida,” he chuckled, “For your own safety as much as anything else.”

You laughed, thankful that he couldn’t see the sheepish smile on your face as you let your body rest against his. The bike came to life underneath you and you nervously wrapped your arms a little tighter around him, and you could feel him laughing despite the fact that you couldn’t hear him over the noise of the bike.

Slowly you eased into the ride, your nerves subsiding a little bit. Angel must’ve felt the tension dissipating because he picked up the speed a little bit, causing you to laugh and tighten your hold on him. You knew that Angel knew the way to yours and Elena’s apartment, so you knew that he was taking the long way there. As much as you wanted to call him out on it, you didn’t want him to think that you minded. It was a peaceful, freeing feeling to be riding with him.

He rolled to a stop in front of your apartment building. You hopped off the bike, handing him back his helmet. The two of you stood there and you knew that he could feel the same type of tension in the air that you felt. For a night that you really hadn’t been looking forward to, it was the best time that you’d had in a while.

You went to take his sweatshirt off to give back to him but he shook his head at you, “Nah, keep it.”

“You sure?”

He nodded with a smirk on his face, “Yea. Just give it back next time I see you.”

You smiled, “Next time? Who said I’m coming back to the clubhouse?”

He laughed and shook his head, “Damn, you and Elena are both out to keep my ego in check, huh?”

“It’s good for you,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the fact that you felt nervous, trying to figure out how to say goodnight.

“But really,” he stepped in a little closer to you, forcing you to tilt your head up slightly to look him in the eye, “I’d really like to be able to see you again.”

You managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds, just long enough to make him nervous. You could see him racing to try and come up with a follow-up statement to get himself out of being rejected, and you let yourself smile as you nodded, “I’d like that.”

He let out an audible sigh of relief, “Had me worried for a second,” he chuckled.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Can’t make it too easy for you.”

He smiled, “Can I have your number? Or do I gotta level up for that?”

You rolled your eyes as you held your hand out, “Give me your phone before I change my mind.”

He chuckled as he dug it out of his pocket and pressed it into the palm of your hand. He watched you intently as you plugged your number in, smiling as you handed it back to him, “This your real number? Or one of those rejection hotlines?”

You smirked, “Guess you’ll have to call me and find out. One time I gave some dude the number that would just play the John Cena theme song over and over again. That was…peak rejection.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring for me, you get that, right?” he laughed.

You smiled and shook your head, “It’s my real number, promise,” you stood up on your tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek, “Thanks for bringing me home.”

He couldn’t hide that he was surprised by the gesture. A huge smile spread across his face as he nodded, “Yea, any time.”

“Get home safe.”

He nodded, “I will,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trapping the heat against your body as you watched him get back on his bike and strap his helmet on. He flashed you another smile and you waved him off.

You let out a small sigh of contentment as you turned around and made your way into your building. The walk up to your apartment seemed much shorter as you replayed the night over in your head. You turned the key in the lock and stepped in, glad to be home but simultaneously wishing that the night wasn’t over yet. You showered and threw your pajamas on, falling into your bed with a happy sigh. After shutting the light off and settling in underneath your blanket, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You reached over to see who it was, and smiled when you saw a message waiting for you from a new number.

“Home safe. Sweet dreams” after a few seconds a second text came in, “It’s Angel by the way”

You chuckled as you typed out your reply, ‘Thanks for the clarification. Got worried for a second”

“Just tryna be sweet and you can’t let me have it, can you?”

“Nope” you were laughing in the quiet darkness of your room.

“Alright. Sweet nightmares then. Goodnight”

You could picture his face and you couldn’t stop smiling, “Goodnight xo”

You set your phone off to the side again, settling back down underneath your covers. Your body wanted to sleep but your brain was too busy replaying the entire night over again and you couldn’t stop smiling.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

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X-Men Abridged: 1980 - The Dark Phoenix Saga

The X-Men, those enduring mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 132 - 140, X-Men Annual 4) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, John Romita Jr. and Bob McLeod

Go on. Name a more iconic X-Men panel. I’ll wait. (X-Men 134)

If you were born in 1980, you were born under the sign of the Phoenix. This means you will have great hair, but you’ll also be absolutely corrupted by power. Don’t worry, as long as you don’t consume any stars and/or galaxies, you should be fine.

This year hits the ground running, introducing Emma Frost, Kitty Pryde and Dazzler in one fell swoop. The White Queen is the first of the Hellfire Club to make her move, but Phoenix is quickly able to dispatch of her, as you can read here.

Cyclops, worried that the rest of the Inner Circle will soon come in for the kill, decides to abscond to Angel’s Aerie in New Mexico to throw their pursuers off their scent. Jean decides to make the most of it and has sex with Scott on top of mesa. (Kinky!) She also shuts off his uncontrollable destructo-beams, nbd. This somehow inspires Scott to go from reactive to proactive and lead an ill-advised charge straight into the Hellfire Club on the night of their big ball… soirée... thing. Call it a Hellfire Gala-avant-la-lettre.

Fine, he might have been inspired by the raw power of the Phoenix. She’s the biggest gun on their side and, if there's one thing you can be sure of, it´s that reliable powerhouse Jean won´t switch sides in the middle of battle.

Oh wait, that's exactly what she does.

As soon as they enter the Hellfire Club, Jason Wyngarde, who reveals he’s actually Mastermind, takes control of Jean, finally turning her into the Black Queen. With the power of the Phoenix and the patriarchy on their side, the Inner Circle makes short work of the X-Men. They consists of:

Jason Wyngarde, aka Mastermind.

Sebastian Shaw. Often shirtless. The Jeff Bezos of mutantkind. Has the ability to absorb kinetic energy, which means punching him only makes him stronger. (Colossus and Storm figure this out the hard way.)

Harry Leland. Ability of mass manipulation, which has got to be one of the dopest powers ever. Uses it to dunk Wolverine three floors down into the sewer.

Donald Pierce. 25% robot, 100% asshole, 100% useless in taking out X-Men, 225% the worst.

Wolverine is the only one who escapes, resulting in another iconic image:

Apparently, this picture is solely responsible for the fact that Wolverine became the face of the X-Men in the zeroes. It also lit my cigar from the other side of the room. (X-Men 132)

Needless to say, stabbing ensues.

Meanwhile, Shaw pontificates what he wants with the X-Men. He means to use them as guinea pigs to isolate the X-Gene, which he’ll then reverse engineer to give everyone (with money) super powers and all of a sudden, I want Shaw to do a team-up with John Sublime. Jean is not all there, however: she’s trapped in the astral plane, cultivating a cruel streak a mile high.

And suddenly, Jean-turning-evil is not all that funny anymore. (X-Men 133)

Cyclops traverses the mental link he shares with Jean to confront ‘Sir Jason’ and challenge him to a duel. Guy can’t catch a break: in Jean’s mindscape, he is stabbed and he promptly collapses in the real world. Ruh-roh!

Wolverine, meanwhile, has done a passable impression of the Bride against the Crazy 88 in Kill Bill, and he interrupts the Hellfire Club and their gloating. That’s when Jean resurfaces as well, snapping out of her voluptuous Victorian fantasy and, playing a dubious tango with everyone’s trust issues, switching sides once again. The Phoenix is like the golden snitch: as long as your team holds it, it’s enough to win.

Colossus snaps Pierce’s robo-arm, Shaw gets punted through a floor and Leland uses his powers to increase Wolverine’s mass - just when Logan is jumping on top of him. Oops! Should have made him lighter than a feather, Leland.

Jean, meanwhile, is doing her own passable impression of the Bride and goes on what the advertisements would refer to as a ‘Roaring Rampage of Revenge’. (Oh, she roars, and she rampages, and she gets bloody satisfaction.)

This is what happens when you fuck around and find out, Jason. (X-Men 134)

Phoenix makes Mastermind’s mind touch the infinite. His tiny human mind can’t cope. And, just like me when I’m at Pride and surrounded by a bevvy of shirtless gym bunnies, he becomes a dribbling mess. A shell with nothing inside. For those of you paying attention: this is where your Lit teacher would shout “dramatic irony” and underscore Emma Frost vs. Storm on the chalkboard.

This is also the moment where she officially Breaks Bad.

We see powerless people become heroes all the time. The reverse, where the angel falls? That happens far more rarely. I think that is the reason this story was so shockingly effective in the eighties. The reason why it’s still so effective? I think because, like the One Ring, you can read the rise and fall of the Phoenix in a myriad of ways. Is this a victim, reclaiming power? Is this a woman, trying to rise in a man’s world? Is this someone who was always buttoned up, daring to embrace her own power, her sexuality, her dangerous side -- only to get promptly beat down? The ambiguity of the narrative gives it strength, which is why I think it keeps resonating even now. This counts especially in the X-Universe, inherently designed to appeal to the underdog.

Anyway, the X-Men try to flee, but it’s too late. Jean can’t hold it in any more. She explodes in Phoenixesness and vaporizes the X-Men’s aircraft over Central Park. Relishing in her power, Jean easily defeats her friends, before flying off into the galaxy.

In the Avengers mansion, Beast gets the report that the X-Men are trashing the Hellfire Club. Ignoring his duties as an Avenger, Beast chooses his old family and hops off to investigate on his own.

The report, by the way, comes from Shaw, who knows when to turn tail and cut his losses. Among the confused, scared refugees of their party, he begins working a politician on the importance of a Sentinel program. That politician? Senator Kelly. Remember that name.

Jean can’t talk, she’s doing hot girl things. Nomnomnom that star system, sis. (X-Men 135)

Originally, Jean wasn’t meant to die. This one panel, the one showing the inhabited planet, is the reason why she eventually does: Jim Shooter, editor-in-chief, felt Jean shouldn’t be able to get away with a literal genocide. Claremont and Byrne, who had planned to strip Jean of her powers at the end of this, had to change the end of their story within days before it went to print. Additionally, this stoked the adversarial fire between the two: Claremont claims that he hadn’t originally intended there to be an inhabited planet, but felt his hands were tied when Byrne drew one. I wonder how true this is, considering how embedded it is in the narrative, but that’s neither here nor there.

The Phoenix’s genocide alerts the Shi’Ar - and therefore Lilandra - to her presence. Lily says that Galactus is nothing compared to the Phoenix: he merely eats planets, she will consume all that exists.

A hungry Jean, meanwhile returns to Earth, not sure what she’s looking for. She pays a visit to the home of her parents, but when they warily come to greet her, she can’t help but read all the innermost thoughts of her family. Nothing is secret, nothing is sacred. (Imagine knowing all those little thoughts your parents had about you, all those little terrible human things they did in their life. Imagine knowing all their sexual fantasies. Brrr.) It sours the Phoenix against them and she is about to start familicide to her list of sins, when the X-Men attack!

Nightcrawler slaps a psionic scrambler designed by Beast on her, but she’s still too strong. Wolverine tries to end her, but he isn’t ruthless enough to do the deed. When the scrambler overloads, Scott tries reasoning with her, appealing to her love. This causes the Phoenix to waver and Charles Xavier (airdropped in by Warren), bolts Jean telepathically.

Drinking game rule for the Phoenix saga no 6: shout “ca-caw” and take a sip every time the raptor appears. (X-Men 136)

Xavier feels Jean helping him out from within the Phoenix and together, they slowly trap Phoenix in the same sort of energy-matrix as Jean did with the M’Kraan-crystal. The Phoenix finally lays dormant, the X-Men have Jean back and Scott, overwhelmed by emotion, sort of awkwardly proposes to her. Happy Ending! And then, pulling the rug out from under our feet, the X-Men (including Beast and Angel) are whisked away.

They appear in front of Lilandra. The Shi’Ar hold Jean accountable for her planet-killing ways and Lilandra orders her Imperial Guard to take her away! But Charles invokes an ancient law with the same relish of someone who invokes an obscure board game rule against the person who is about to win: he demands a trial by combat.

The rules are easy:

X-Men win: Jean lives

Shi’Ar win: Jean dies.

The trial will be on the dark side of the moon. The Shi’ar are way too strong and, one by one, the X-Men fall, until only Jean and Scott are left. In their last stand, Jean loses control and becomes the Phoenix again, wiping the floor with the Imperial Guard. Technically, they win, but she knows now.

Suicide by abandoned-machine-of-a-long-forgotten-civilization-on-the-dark-side-of-the-moon. (X-Men 137)

She dies. Phoenix dies. The X-Men lose. Scott, bereft, leaves the X-Men.

One detail I love is the holempathic crystal that Lilandra bestows on Jean’s parents.

Without becoming too maudlin, the idea of this is beautiful. A condensed image of a person you love, one you can touch when you feel memories slipping away so you can remember who they were. (X-Men 138)

And with that, season 2 of the X-Men ends. Without Cyclops and Phoenix, the X-Men have to readjust. While Beast returns to the Avengers, Angel takes up residence in the mansion again. He confesses to liking most of the new X-Men, except Wolverine. (To be fair, Wolverine is an acquired taste.) Kitty Pryde also formally starts attending the school and slowly, the Jean-and-Scott-shaped void is filled.

Patriarchal Charles is thrilled to finally have a new teenager in the house who will hang on to his every word. It’ll be like the sixties all over again! (X-Men 139)

There are so many beautiful touches in the few panels:

Wolverine calling Charles ‘Chuck’

Nightcrawler getting drinks (and a beer)

Most amazingly of all, Storm becoming the leader. (I give Chuck a lot of flak, but this decision is Right.) Not just because Storm is the best X-Man for the job, but also because she was a black woman leading one of premier Marvel superhero teams for, what? The better half of a decade? The eighties had barely started, so this was a big fucking deal.

Storm also takes up a motherly role for Kitty, who takes up her suggestion for a codename: Sprite. (This after Kitty rejects Charles’ suggestion of Ariel, which is only fortunate, considering that name would soon be associated with redhaired mermaids.)

The rest of the year is dedicated to two adventures, both of them starring Kurt. The first is depicted in the annual: on Kurt’s birthday, he receives a mysterious package with a mysterious figurine that mysteriously explodes in his face. Professor X calls guest star Dr. Strange for aid, who deduces that his soul has been stolen. What follows is a quest to regain Kurt’s soul in an adventure that feels a little too I just read Dante’s Inferno, check how smart I am.

Hell is a little too pedestrian and boring, though we do get a King Minos hitting on Kurt and Ororo. A man of wealth and taste indeed. Anyway, at the end of this side quest, it turns out all of this was a convoluted revenge scheme concocted by one Margali of the Winding Road. She turns out to be Kurt’s (adoptive) mother, who’s getting revenge for Kurt killing her son.

Kurt, racked with guilt, reveals he had no choice. Stefan had always feared the darkness in his soul and he’d made Kurt pledge to stop him if he should ever succumb to it. After Stefan killed a child or two, Kurt had no choice but to end him. Stefan perished and Kurt was blamed for all of the murders, having to flee an angry mob.

Margali forgives him, with some help from Jimaine, Kurt’s foster sister. In a twist that is a little too soap opera for my tastes (and I watch Riverdale), Jimaine turns out to be Kurt’s squeeze, Amanda Sefton. I’ve always disliked this twist, and not just because of the incesteous vibes: I like the idea of Kurt dating a regular lady who is into him despite his appearance and his being a mutant. Making Amanda Sefton his sorcerous half-sister dilutes that message a lot.

The tail end of 1980 involves Wolverine going to Canada so Wolverine can make amends with Alpha Flight. Kurt joins him, ostensibly to flirt with Aurora, but in fact this shows that Kurt and Wolverine are establishing a rapport. A deeper friendship.

In a pretty paint-by-numbers adventure, Wolverine, Nightcrawler and the worse half of Alpha Flight take down a Wendigo. We don’t get Northstar or Aurora, but we do get more Snowbird, who can change herself into Canadian animals, with the danger of being consumed by her animal side.

We get this delightful panel out of it:

Scared Nightcrawler almost makes me forget how full of shit Jimmy MacDonald is, considering last time Kurt saw them, they tried to kidnap the fuzzy elf. (X-Men 139)

This whole arc is meant to show the softening of Wolverine. Not only does he share his name with Kurt (well, sort of: “Logan, is that your name?” “Yup.” “You never told us.” “You never asked.”), but when they fight the Wendigo and Snowbird turns into a white wolverine to deal the final blow, he talks her out of being consumed by her vicious animal nature.

The year ends with two details worth mentioning:

The Canadian government dissolves Alpha Flight, which I can only find a prescient move that highlights their good taste. A realistic note I like is the minister referring to the mutant problem as ‘an American problem’ even though they employ the Beaubier twins. Wankers.

Fred Dukes escapes prison to join the New Brotherhood of Mutants!

We’re now entering a run of the X-Men which I haven’t read much of yet, but Freddy mentions he was helped by some lady lawyer. That’s gotta be Mystique, right?

I can barely contain my glee.

Ugliest Costume: Despite that godawful hooded thing Kitty wears, I have to give this to Dazzler. There’s no salvaging that costume: I’m sorry, but she’s wearing a disco ball around her neck. It's a boot from me.

Best new character: Emma Frost. Fight me by the bike rack near the parking lot if you disagree.

Turns evil: Jean Grey, famously so.

What to read: X-Men 129 to 137, the Dark Phoenix run.

69 notes · View notes

sevlgi · 4 years

Text

opposites

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: college!au, good girl!rosé, bad girl!reader

warnings: none

synopsis: They say opposites attract, and when the campus’s resident sweetheart falls for a bad girl, Rosé discovers just how true that statement is.

a/n: I’M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME OMGGGG hope you enjoy, and I’m glad you like my blog ❤

word count: 3.6k

Chaeyoung has never quite believed that opposites attract.

To be fair, she doesn’t have much experience to go off of. Despite being attracted to basically every person she meets, she hasn’t actually dated much. (As her friend Jennie jokes, she’s not bisexual, she’s by herself.)

And obviously, she’s not only attracted to people soft and sweet like herself. Especially in college, it’s more likely to find people in sweats and ratty T-shirts than people in pink sweaters and cute dresses.

It’s no secret that Chaeyoung is a hopeless romantic, convinced that she’ll find someone who she just works with. It’s also no secret that she’s determined to find someone similar enough to her that a relationship would actually work out.

Imagine her surprise when her next crush is the complete opposite of her.

You’re utterly fascinating to Chaeyoung; every little detail about you absolutely contradicts her, and she thinks her parents would faint if they saw you. Unlike Chaeyoung’s usually well-styled hair, you look like you’ve just rolled out of bed to go to class. Your leather jackets and heavy denim look stiff to the touch, and your dark circles, tattoos, and piercings are enough to ward all your classmates away.

But somehow, all of it just draws Chaeyoung in more. She’d never dream of dying her hair as much as you do, or getting as many tattoos as you have, but for some reason, you intrigue her.

She still doesn’t believe opposites attract. You might be gorgeous, but Chaeyoung is sure that your personalities would clash, and a relationship, however imaginary it may be, would never work out.

Of course, she’s also not willing to admit that she’s wrong to her friends, all of whom insist that opposites do attract. She just knows Lisa would gloat, and Chaeyoung is never giving her friends that satisfaction.

“Who’re you staring at today?”

Chaeyoung pouts at Yeri, who slides into the seat beside her with a knowing smile. Joy, on the other side, is already following where Chaeyoung’s eyes were earlier. “Hey. I’m not always staring at people.”

“Yes, you are,” the two other girls chorus. “Come on, you’re always searching for ‘your other half’ or whatever,” Yeri rolls her eyes. “You barely focus in class because of it.”

Studiously ignoring where you sit in the lecture hall (3 rows ahead and 2 seats to the left), Chaeyoung scowls and twirls her pen. “Rude.”

“You know I am,” Yeri smiles, beginning to scan the room as well. “So, come on. Who’s your pick of the day?”

Joy narrows her eyes; Chaeyoung’s a bit panicked to see that her friend is already zeroing in on you. “Wait… it can’t be her, right?”

“Who?” Joy whispers in Yeri’s ear, and the youngest girl’s eyes widen. “Chaeng, it’s not her, right?”

The blonde attempts to play it cool, asking nonchalantly, “Who are you even talking about?”

Both girls point at your back, the dark leather of your jacket and the two empty seats on either side of you making it unmistakable that you’re the one they’re pointing at. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s not her, right?”

Y/N Y/L/N. Chaeyoung tests it out on her tongue silently before realizing her friends are still waiting for an answer. “It… maybe, what’s it to you?”

Yeri groans, and Joy shakes her head in what seems to be disappointment. “You have the worst taste, Chaeyoung. I mean, she’s cute, but…”

To be honest, the most surprising part of the entire conversation is that her friends aren’t even teasing about the whole ‘opposites’ thing. “What’s wrong with Y/N?” Chaeyoung can’t help but feel a bit defensive; after all, it’s her taste in girls that was being attacked.

Joy leans in conspiratorially now, despite the professor clearing his throat at the front of the classroom. “Okay, so, she’s kind of the designated bad girl? I don’t really know, but I heard she’s killed someone.”

“What? No, she set a building on fire,” Yeri argues, rolling her eyes when Joy opens her mouth to disagree. “Whatever, whatever. Anyway, she’s bad news. She’s a serial dater, too, and she doesn’t like cats. Who doesn’t like cats?”

Chaeyoung’s eyebrows scrunch together as her friends argue. It’s probably not likely that you’ve killed anyone or set a building on fire, but still… a serial dater? None of it sounds good.

“Anyway, she’s the polar opposite of you,” Joy sighs, patting Chaeyoung sympathetically on the arm. “You know, you’re sweet and soft, and she’s… her.”

Suddenly, the professor clears his throat again and raises his eyebrow at where the three girls sit. “Ms. Park, Ms. Kim, the other Ms. Park? Anything important?”

“No, sorry, sir,” Chaeyoung blurts out, cheeks red. She’s not even blushing because she’s been put on the spot, though; it’s because you’ve finally turned around to look at her.

Maybe it’s the eyeliner, but something about your gaze feels like it sees right through her. With the tiniest quirk of the corner of your lips, you turn back around and leave Chaeyoung fully flustered.

Yeah, definitely a player.

Every day, Chaeyoung attempts to work up the courage to sit a little closer to you. She’s not making much progress; to be fair, you can’t blame her, when you’re usually given a 3 foot radius of empty space by everyone.

However, she discovers something new about you every day. She discovers that you drink black iced coffee (she drinks tea), and that you use mint flavored chapstick (she uses strawberry). You prefer cinnamon gum (which Chaeyoung thinks is a bit gross), and you only ever wear black socks (she wears white).

Joy really wasn’t kidding when she said you were Chaeyoung’s opposite.

Of course, it’s just the blonde’s luck when the professor announces a group project, and your name is the only one out of 40 that Chaeyoung knows.

It takes a lot of energy for Chaeyoung to approach you after class. “Hey,” she smiles; you don’t return it. “So, I was wondering if you have a partner for the project? If you don’t, I was thinking we could be partners…”

You look startled at first, though it settles behind a mask of calm indifference immediately. “You don’t have friends?” At the blonde’s wince, you roll your eyes, lips quirking into a smile. “Kidding. Sure. Let’s work together.”

“Great!” Chaeyoung beams, looping her arm through yours. You look even more surprised now, but it’s cute. Everything you do would probably look cute. “I’m Roseanne, but you should call me Chaeyoung or Chaeng.”

“I’m Y/N,” you offer. Your voice is quieter than Chaeyoung had imagined, but that’s probably her fault for thinking your voice was demon-like or something. “You’re a sophomore, right?”

“Right.” Chaeyoung has no idea how you know how old she is, but she can roll with it. “You?”

You nod, looking anywhere other than Chaeyoung face. “Yeah. Same. So, do you have any ideas for the project yet?”

“No, sorry.” She can’t help the smile on your face, still shocked that you’re holding a conversation with her and not murdering her already. “Let’s get coffee? We can talk about the project. If you’re free, of course.”

“I am.”

And that’s all it takes for Chaeyoung to grin again, grab your arm, and lead you to the nearest coffee shop.

Chaeyoung likes the way you’re honest about what you want. When she offers to order, despite knowing what you want, you quietly ask for the iced black coffee and hand her 10 dollars even when she tries to protest.

You don’t ask about what she ordered, and you make sure she tipped the extra before opening your laptop and asking for ideas.

As the afternoon goes on, you seem to grow more comfortable, and Chaeyoung can let go of some of her slightly forced enthusiasm. She actually finds herself enjoying your dry sense of humor and sarcastic comments, though she can’t really make any of her own.

By the time she has to go to her next class, Chaeyoung’s actually making jokes of her own, and she has your number stored in her phone.

All in all, a successful day.

“Hi.”

You look surprised (or as surprised as you deign to look) to see Chaeyoung sitting next to you in the lecture hall the day after the project was turned in. “Uh, hey.”

“How do you think we did on the project?” the blonde asks, taking out her laptop. She ignores the way you stare at her, hoping that you didn’t want to just forget her existence after the project or something.

“Pretty good. You’re smart, I just helped a little bit.”

Chaeyoung laughs softly, swatting at your arm. “No way, come on. You’re smarter than your leather jackets let on, too.”

“And you’re smarter than your overly sweetened tea lets on,” you tease, a smile twinkling in your eyes.

She scowls and swats at you again, but you dodge this time. “I thought we agreed never to mention that again!”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Chaeyoung misses the way you smile at her after she turns to the board.

It becomes sort of a routine to sit next to you during lectures and copy off your surprisingly comprehensive notes. Chaeyoung can’t help but fall deeper and deeper at your ever-tentative smile, at each offhand, yet sweet comment.

All the little details about you, the tiniest things you notice, only make Chaeyoung fall harder. You buy non-cinnamon gum especially for her and keep 2 packs in your bag in case she wants some. Sometimes, you show up with a cup of so-called ‘overly sweetened tea’ next to your own coffee.

You see everything about her, and you both make the most subtle changes so that the two of you complement each other absolutely perfectly. Chaeyoung starts carrying blue pens because you prefer them, while you carry black ones in case either of you forget. You even carry a strawberry chapstick just for her.

Even Chaeyoung starts unconsciously enjoying the smell of your sweet mint chapstick; she wears it sometimes, not because she likes it more, but because she’s curious how it’d taste on your lips.

It doesn’t need to be said that Chaeyoung doesn’t just want to be friends anymore.

At first, she just wanted to understand you a bit better, to relieve her own fascination with you, but the more she learns, the more Chaeyoung is pulled in. It’s more than just a crush now, more than simple butterflies in her stomach.

Now, it’s an unconscious smile always tugging at her lips when you’re not with her, laughing at a joke that wasn’t necessarily actually that funny. It’s adapting to fit with you, and it’s accepting that maybe opposites do attract after all.

The only thing left is to introduce you to her friends.

“Are you ready?”

You frown, tugging at the sleeves of your leather jacket. Chaeyoung’s heart warmed when you offered to tone down your look for her, but she didn’t want you to change anything about yourself, so you just went with your jacket. “Sure, I guess.”

“Great!” the blonde beams, waving at Yeri and Joy, who she sees a few yards away from the huge table the two of you occupy. Behind them, Jisoo, Jennie, and Lisa lag, though they’re too far away to clearly see you.

Yeri’s expression isn’t exactly favorable; she stops right in her tracks to talk furiously to the others, and Chaeyoung frowns at the unreadable expression on your face. “Um… don’t worry, Y/N-ah. They’re probably just… talking about what to eat?”

“Sure,” you mutter, looking down. As the other girl has discovered, despite all your bravado and sass, you’re quite self-conscious. “It’s not like pizza is the only food this place offers.”

There’s no time for the blonde to reply; Jisoo, ever the tactful one, sits first and offers a tight smile. “Chaeng, good to see you. And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” If Chaeyoung didn’t know you well enough, she wouldn’t be able to see past the mask of bored confidence you put on. “Jisoo, right? I’ve heard of you.”

The oldest girl flushes and nods. “Um, these are Jennie, Lisa, Yeri, and Joy.” They raise their hands or nod when their names are called, though their expressions are hostile.

Just as Chaeyoung opens her mouth to try and break the awkward silence, Lisa leans forward with her eyes narrowed. “So. What do you want with Chaeyoung?”

“Lisa!” The younger girl is usually sweet and puppy-like, but she’s also notoriously protective of her friends. Chaeyoung doesn’t miss the way your eye twitches just the slightest bit, and she resists the urge to put her hand on your arm. “Stop it.”

“What? You can’t deny this feels an awful like you’re introducing your girlfriend to us, and she’s the worst girlfriend you could have,” Lisa scowls, crossing her arms.

You sigh, shaking your head and standing up. Joy actually lurches back in her chair, as if expecting you to beat her up, but you just toss a quick smile to Chaeyoung, picking up the leather jacket slung over the back of your chair. “I think we’re done here. For your information, I’m not dating Chaeyoung, even though it wouldn’t be any of your business if I was.”

All the other girls stare at you, including Chaeyoung, as you continue, “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t assume. I appreciate that you care for Chaeng, but this is not the way to show it.”

With that, you’re gone, a light brush of your fingers on Chaeyoung’s shoulder the only way for her to tell that you aren’t angry at her.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, though, she scowls at her friends, hissing, “What the hell, Lisa? It was not your place to say any of that.”

The younger girl looks sheepish now, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I… I’m sorry.”

Jennie, though, rolls her eyes. “Come on, Chaeyoung. It’s what’s best, you don’t want to be dating her. She’s only going to break your heart.”

“I’m not that fragile, are you serious?” It’s honestly pretty uncharacteristic for Chaeyoung to actually be mad, but she can’t seem to control her words when her relationship with you might’ve been ruined. “It’s not your business anyway.”

Jisoo bites her lip, reaching for Chaeyoung’s hand across the table. “Chaeng, please. We just want what’s best for you, and Y/N isn’t that. You understand, right?”

No, I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. “Sure. I understand,” Chaeyoung exhales, sitting back. Despite everything she wants to say to her friends, she knows that they have good intentions, however misguided.

She’ll talk to you tomorrow.

You don’t show up to class the next day, and Chaeyoung sits alone in her usual seat, feeling empty when you’re not quietly making snarky remarks beside her.

It’s odd, and it really shows how much you’ve ingrained yourself into her life.

After a day of thinking, Chaeyoung has come to realize that, despite all her friends’ warnings, she does have feelings for you. She wants to be with you, to enjoy the little things and the small moments together, and she thinks you might feel the same way.

Obviously, she’s still too cowardly to actually go to you and tell you.

After you don’t show up for the next 2 classes, Chaeyoung dials your phone. You don’t pick up there, either, and she’s left to frown at her phone in the middle of the road.

She’s not a passive person, so she fully intends to do anything she can to make you talk to her.

On Monday, she decides she’ll text your roommate Miyeon, but she gets caught up in classes. On Tuesday, Chaeyoung thinks she’ll bring you some notes, but she forgets to write an extra copy. On Wednesday, she catches a cold and Lisa refuses to let her go anywhere.

A week passes exactly like that.

Finally, 9 days after the disastrous lunch, she manages to get your dorm room number from the office lady she bribes with homemade cupcakes. You’re always home for lunch, probably because you don’t eat with anyone but Chaeyoung.

Her heart thuds in her chest as she rounds the corner to head into your hallway, the buzz of other students around her drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She knocks three times- one, two, three- on your door and she waits.

You look terrible when you open the door.

The permanent dark circles under your eyes are ten times darker than usual, and your lips are dry and chapped. You wear a rumpled Disney shirt that Chaeyoung would tease you about if she wasn’t so concerned. “Um… cupcakes?”

“Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem.” The blonde watches you pour out some cheap, college-student coffee at the tiny desk in the corner of the dorm. “I was just concerned. You haven’t been to class in a while, you know?”

You sigh and hand her a cup of piping hot tea, already sweetened just like Chaeyoung likes it. “Yeah. I know.”

“Hey.” Leaning over, Chaeyoung places her hand on yours, ignoring the way her heart skips a beat at the skin-to-skin contact. Judging by the blush on your face, you feel the same. “You can tell me anything, okay? We’re friends.”

You almost seem to wince, though Chaeyoung doesn’t know what for. “Yeah. I’m fine though.”

“Was it my friends?” the blonde persists, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. “I know that they were really rude, but I promise I don’t care about anything they say, okay?”

Scoffing, you stand up, seemingly to get more coffee, even though your mug is full. “I’m not that shallow, okay?”

“Then what is it?” Despite knowing she sounds desperate, Chaeyoung’s mind is racing for an explanation, anything that could tell her why you’re avoiding her. “Please talk to me.”

The beat of silence that passes only makes Chaeyoung feel more anxious, like her brain is spinning in circles inside her head, and she almost jumps when you speak again. “Do you… do you like me?”

“I… of course I do! You’re my friend, I like you very much.” The blonde is well aware that that isn’t what you meant, but she can’t help but avoid what she really wants to say as she babbles on, “Why? Do you want me to show my platonic love for you more often?”

“Chaeyoung.” You place your hand on hers and lean forward with a serious expression on your face that honestly scares Chaeyoung. “I know that you won’t tell me honestly any time soon, so I’m just going to say it first. I like you. A lot, and not as a friend.”

As the other girl’s jaw drops, you continue on, the overly quick speed of your speech letting Chaeyoung know just how nervous you are to say all of this. “I know that I have a reputation, and I know that I’m too closed down or boring, but you’re nothing like that. You’re so sweet and gorgeous, and I just… really like you. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Chaeyoung reaches for you again, eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. She doesn’t find any. “You’re not boring, Y/N, not in the slightest. And I like you too, every little thing about you.”

“I don’t think you know enough about me to say that,” you try to deflect, but the blonde shakes her head.

“You’re so sweet to me, Y/N, and it’s not your fault that no one else can see it, but I do. I see all the little things you do for me, and I fall for you more every day. Maybe I don’t know enough about you, but I want to learn. If you’ll let me.”

A short pause occurs before you exhale quickly, swiping away tears Chaeyoung didn’t notice were about to fall. “Okay. I’d love that.”

“Great.” Chaeyoung sits back again, but just as you’re about to get up, presumably to busy yourself with a drink or something, she blurts out, “Can I kiss you?”

The surprised look on your face is so endearing that she’s already grinning when you smile softly. “Of course you can.”

The moment that you bend down and press your lips to hers, so soft and gentle, is the best of Chaeyoung’s life. She can finally taste the sweet mint of your chapstick, mixed with the unique taste of you, and feel the way your lips are slightly chapped against her own. When you pull away, Chaeyoung loves the flush to your cheeks that mirrors hers, and she can only grin when you move away to get your coffee.

Maybe opposites do attract after all.

“Hey, can I ask you something again?”

“You already did,” you joke, then laugh when the other girl pouts. “Sure, Chaeng. What?”

“Do you hate cats?”

An offended gasp escapes from you, matching your expression. “No, who hates cats? I think that’s the worst rumor about me yet.”

The blonde protests, “What about the one about you murdering someone?”

Sniffing and sitting with your coffee, you say, “I stand by my case.”

Cupping your face with her hands, the cuffs of her sweaters brushing up against your cheeks, Chaeyoung presses another kiss to your lips. The taste of mint and coffee, strawberry and tea, is the most perfect combination she could ever imagine.

481 notes · View notes

loving-daisy · 3 years

Text

Cry For Me | George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist | Cry For Me Masterlist

Chapter 8 - I Can’t Seem To Hate You

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: angst, bullying

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

“Why in Salazar Slytherin, is someone like you doing outside of here?!” The blonde 4th year Slytherin demanded after the sight of a Gryffindor loitering around the dungeons made him stop in his tracks.

But like a true Gryffindor, and a true Weasley, the ginger paid him no attention causing Draco to get annoyed. “I’m talking to you!” He added, crossing his arms.

The tall 6th year merely gave Draco a glance, shaking his head. “You really should learn how to mind your own business, Malfoy.”

Draco Malfoy being...Draco Malfoy, wasn’t going to let his guard down just like that. As much as he despised Gryffindors, Weasleys, and what-his-family-calls-”blood-traitors”, he knew the reason why one half of the Weasley twins were around the place where Slytherins gather. He knew the reason why George Weasley was standing outside his house’s common room. And after forming a new bond with the Slytherin queen, he wanted nothing more but to protect her.

The blonde Slytherin stood tall, his face displayed into a sour scowl, getting close to the ginger before voicing out his threat. “You listen here, Weasley. If you don’t want me to call Professor Snape, you best be on your way out of this place and never come back. Ever.”

George took a step back, scoffing, before his eyes landed on Y/N Icestone’s best friend who was making her way towards the common room entrance. “Greengrass!” The ginger called, waving his hand.

The girl stopped in her tracks, her eyes landing on the Gryffindor then to Malfoy then to the Gryffindor again. Daphne and Draco made a brief eye contact, the girl almost immediately understanding the blonde’s intentions. The girl cleared her throat, brows raised as she pointed to herself. “Me?”

George nodded as an answer. “Yes, you. Can you call Y/N for me? Please?” He pleaded, his eyes soft as if he was desperate to get out of Draco Malfoy’s presence and get into the arms of the girl he loved.

Daphne shook her head. “No-”

“I’m here. What do you want?” A voice, her tone as cold as ice, monotonously said. Three heads turned towards Y/N Icestone who had a blank expression on her face. Three faces were shocked to see her make her presence known, in those three, the two Slytherins were on the verge of pulling her away from the one who was on the verge of pulling her away to demand an explanation.

“Y/N-”

Icestone pierced her cold eyes to the brown warm ones. “You have no right to address me with my first name, Weasley.”

George Weasley was speechless. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. Millions of thoughts started to run in his head, trying his best to put them all together like a puzzle piece, to know why Y/N Icestone suddenly had a change of demeanor towards him.

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You know, if you’re going to waste my time-”

“What does this mean?” The ginger blurted out. Suddenly, his hand was going through his robe pockets to fish out the note the girl had sent to him this morning.

Y/N’s lips curled. “Are you suddenly blind that you can’t even read anymore?” She questioned, giving a brief look at the letter, seeing remnants of cream in it.

George was starting to lose his patience. Honestly, George didn’t know what he was feeling at this moment. He didn’t know if he was happy because Y/N Icestone was still talking to him or if he was mad because none of the words coming out of her were giving him the satisfaction. “I’m serious.”

“Hi Serious, it’s really not a pleasure to meet you. Now if you would please get out of my face and go back to whatever nasty place you belong to, I would be delighted.” The girl remarked before making her way towards Daphne, linking her arms with her to pull her towards the common room.

“Listen, Y/N-” George was once again cut off by Y/N.

“One more thing, Weasley. Do not ever talk to me again. Ever.” She quipped, finally walking away from the ginger.

Before Draco was able to give another threat, he too, was cut off by the girl. “Draco, let it go. Come now.”

And there George was, alone and defeated, his last sight being Draco Malfoy’s threatening glare.

____________________

“She won’t talk to me! She doesn’t want me to explain. At all!” The younger Weasley twin complained, arms crossed as he took a seat beside his sister at the Gryffindor common room.

“I actually wouldn’t blame her though.” Fred expressed, shrugging, earning a glare from his brother.

“I mean, imagine finding out that your boyfriend was actually just pretending to like you to make you fall in love with him...I’d throw a fit too, honestly. Wouldn’t you, Ginny?” He mumbled to not draw attention. Although most students of Hogwarts have heard the news of Y/N Icestone dumping George Weasley. Some say that she dumped her for someone younger, someone like Draco Malfoy perhaps, seeing as the two Slytherins suddenly got so close. Some say that the Icestones gave the Weasleys a huge amount of gold in exchange for George staying away from Y/N, seeing that the Weasley’s reputation isn't good enough for the Icestones. Some even say that they knew that the two would never last. Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t really match afterall.

“But I was just wondering how…” Fred paused in thought, careful with his words. “She wouldn't have confronted you about it earlier if she already knew about it…” He trailed off, giving off a confused facial expression.

Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s obvious, Fred. She wanted George to feel what she felt.” She advertised, earning a nod from Fred in agreement. “She’s smarter than I thought.”

“Yeah, and mean!” George grunted, shaking his head from left to right. “I can’t believe that I actually fell for her! I should have known.”

“Oh think about it, Georgie. It was basically you who started it.” The older ginger gloated.

“Me?!” George challenged. “It was you! You were the one who schemed all this! You were the mastermind behind this!” He exclaimed.

The sudden outburst coming from the group of Weasleys seated together caught the attention of everyone in the common room. Those gossiping started to gossip even more, their topic diverting into the Weasley twins. Those studying paused to watch the exchange. I mean, who doesn’t want to stick their noses up to family drama?

“You’re actually blaming this on me? Well, you were the one who agreed to do it! I was only suggesting it!” Fred affirmed.

“Suggesting?! Are you hearing yourself right now, you dimwit?! You practically forced me to do it! Saying that we’re gonna get revenge and prank the shit out of Slytherin’s stupid pride!”

“Merlin’s beard, will you two dimwits please shut up!” The female Weasley grumbled, standing up from her seat after slapping the backs of her brother’s heads. “It was both of you! The both of you were to blame! Now please, if you want to fix this, you guys make up and actually apologize to Y/N.”

The common room erupted into murmurs after hearing the Slytherin's name. Good information for a good morning gossip for tomorrow’s breakfast at the Great hall.

“Boys are so annoying.” Muttered Ginny, before stepping away from the scene.

____________________

“Salazar! Did you see the look on bloody Weasley’s face? He looked like he was about to cry!” Daphne giggled, earning a smirk from Y/N and Draco.

“Well, he deserved it!” Y/N smiled. She turned to face Draco, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, by the way.”

The blonde Slytherin offered a small smile. “It was nothing.”

“Oh but it was! You really are scary aren’t you? If I was him, I would have peed my pants.” Daphne crooned, Y/N nodding in agreement. Draco’s smile grew wider.

____________________

The next morning at the Great hall, as expected, the controversial relationship between the famous Gryffindor mischief maker and Slytherin’s royal ice queen was once again the talk of the castle.

The moment George entered the hall, all attention was diverted to him. It’s not like he didn’t want attention. I mean, Fred and George liked the attention, the applause and compliments that they heard when people liked their prank or their very useful product that gets you out of class when you don’t feel like attending it. However, the attention George was receiving right now was not pleasant at all. All eyes were on him, yes, but almost all of those eyes were glaring at him.

Students seated at the Hufflepuff table were giving him sad and disappointed looks. Fred and George’s pranks were a good laugh but playing with a girl’s heart is just too much.

Those in the Ravenclaw had raised brows. How dare him play with Y/N Icestone’s heart? Does he have no respect for himself and his family?

Those in Gryffindor were ashamed. At first, they felt bad for their housemate but after hearing the conversation between the twins and Ginny, they sent their sympathies towards the Slytherin more.

Students sorted in Slytherin were the worst. They were glaring at him, mocking him, and even giving him some snide remarks. “You just earned yourself a lot of enemies, Weasley. Watch your back.” Threatened Adrian Pucey.

As the ginger sat on his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, his eyes studied the Slytherin table, trying to locate the girl who had been occupying his mind while trying not to make eye contact with those who were glaring at him. When his eyes planted at a mop of blonde hair, Malfoy’s hair, his eyes squinted.

“Merlin, am I seeing this right or is Malfoy sitting with Icestone and Greengrass?” Ron, who was seated on his right, said what’s exactly on George’s mind.

Hermione, seated in front of Ron, gave a glance before shaking her head. “That’s none of your business, Ronald.”

The 4th year Weasley grunted. “It is if it’s true that bloody Icestone actually left my brother for stupid Malfoy!”

“Enough, Ron!” Exclaimed Ginny. “You know nothing about George and Y/N’s relationship.”

George took a sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s true.” He said quietly, turning his attention away from a smiling Y/N and towards the plate of food in front of him.

“What is?” Asked Fred.

George merely shrugged. “Maybe she did leave me for Malfoy. I mean, what if she found out that I was playing with her so she and Malfoy conspired against me and they actually fell in love with each other. Something like that.” He suggested.

Silence enveloped their space as all eyes gave George a dumbfounded look. “That sounds like the muggle love story book Hermione lent me.” Harry muttered, shaking his head before digging in his breakfast.

Honestly, George wasn’t as calm as he was showing in his exterior. He was just good at controlling his anger. I mean, people really didn’t like him right now so if he made a scene right there, right now, people would hate him even more. But if people hated him, he hated someone more. He hated Draco Malfoy for being mean, for being nosy, and for being close to Icestone. He hated Daphne Greengrass because she was the haughty best friend of the girl he loved and hated the most, Y/N Icestone. He hated her for what happened between them. He hated her for not talking to him, for not letting him explain, and for playing with him.

George didn’t care if he was being a hypocrite but Y/N Icestone played with him too. He had to get that straight. And so, after the girl’s Arithmancy class, he decided to corner her in that small alcove he pulled her in when they were in 5th year.

“Didn’t I tell you to not talk to me ever again?” Icestone signed, shaking her head in frustration. Which in turn, earned a smirk from the ginger.

“Like I said, Icestone. If you ever paid any attention to me, you’ll know that I simply don’t follow what people tell me to do.” George asserted. Y/N once again sighed.

“What do you want, Weasley? I have an essay to finish.” She asked, bored.

“I wanted to get things straight with you, Icestone.”

“Then hurry up!” The Slytherin demanded, her patience long gone ever since she became face to face with the Gryffindor.

The ginger was once again, speechless. Where is the Y/N Icestone that I loved? Why did she change so quickly?

He shook his head in disbelief. “You were right, Icestone. You’re not as evil as people describe you to be because you’re worse. Way, way worse.” He remarked with a disappointment present in his tone, earning himself an annoyed grunt,

“You betrayed me, George! All this time, you were only playing with me!” The girl fumed, her index finger pointed at the boy’s chest.

George too, started to lose his patience. “But I stopped, didn’t I? I stopped! But then you’re here accusing me of playing you when YOU were the one who was playing with me!”

“Why are you acting as if I’m the one who started this mess? Weren’t you and your twin the one who thought that it was such a great idea to make me fall for you?! To make me give you my heart and throw it away like it's some piece of garbage!” Y/N snarled, her icy eyes starting to melt with tears threatening to fall down.

When the ginger took notice of her melting orbs, he felt his heart sink down his stomach. He hated Y/N Icestone and he hated how she cries. He hated it even more if he was the reason for it. So he let his guard down and surrendered.

She’s right. George thought. I have no reason to blame her when it was me who started this mess. At Least he got that straight.

“Why didn’t you talk to me, Y/N?” George quietly muttered, staring at his over worn shoes.

The girl shook her head, furiously blinking away the tears. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done because whatever we used to be, we’ll never be again.” She trembled, masking her shaking voice with faux confidence.

“Besides, you were one of the people who believed that I have a stone cold heart. You wanted an ice queen? I’ll show you an ice queen.”

____________________

Things didn’t get easier for George Weasley. From being the prankster, it seems like he was the victim of all the pranks students of Slytherin were pulling on him.

In one of this week’s potion’s class, Professor Snape just had to conveniently break down everyone’s partnership. He knew it was the influence of Y/N Icestone. If not her, then Malfoy, but he knew that Icestone will still be involved in all of this.

Snape demanded all of his students to brew a draught of living death. But he won’t tell you how. All you had to do was follow the instructions in your book.

It’s not like George wasn’t good at potions. He is better at Fred afterall, seeing as Fred doesn’t even take this class anymore. But in the past potions classes, George never prepared the ingredients. He was more of the one who conveniently just pours all the ingredients in the cauldron, having Y/N prepare everything for him. The thought just made him miss her even more. But life sucks and he has to deal with it. And so, he dealt with a scowling Professor Snape after an unknown student from the house of Slytherin tampered with his cauldron and made it explode.

In his charms class, a class in which he conveniently shares with Slytherins, they had to learn about non-verbal spells. And guess what? Some haughty bloke performed a non-verbal hex towards him, causing the majority of the class to laugh in his face before professor Flitwick made them stop. He was sent to the Hospital wing.

Some time during the week, on his way to meet his twin brother, he suddenly tripped and a bucket of ice cold water was spilled into his uniform. He wouldn’t know who the culprit was if he didn’t see Blaise Zabini, Malfoy’s right hand man, snicker and shake his head in the corner of his eye.

But despite everything, George Weasley let it slip. He never lashed out on them, choosing to keep his frustration bottled up before releasing it in a piece of parchment at night and throwing it into the fireplace inside the common room. Fred even suggested pranking them back, but George thought that he needed a break from mischief, seeing that the last didn’t really go well.

Meanwhile, Y/N Icestone was back to her previous form. Back to herself when she never opened the stupid envelope the Weasley twins were planning to send to Malfoy. She was reserved, but not as reserved as before. She only showed her true form to her friends but other than them, her features continued to demand respect from everyone that goes past her.

Honestly, she knew what her housemates were doing. They were messing with George Weasley for messing with her and at first, she wasn’t really fond of the idea until she remembered what the ginger did to her. So she convinced herself otherwise.

And she observed. She observed how her housemates would either glare at the ginger or send him snide remarks whenever they’d cross paths with him. She observed how her housemate sneaked a foreign ingredient in George’s cauldron that caused it to explode. She observed how George saw who it was but didn’t act on it. She observed the way he was assisted by a kind Hufflepuff to the hospital wing. She observed how regardless of all the bullying he was receiving, he wasn’t fighting back. Which was unlikely of George Weasley. So she decided to make a bold move and ask why.

“Honestly, what’s the matter with you?” Y/N mumbled with uncertainty, eyes piercing the ginger’s.

George was shocked and confused. “What do you mean?” He breathed. The effect Y/N Icestone had on him remained. Seeing her up close still made his heart flip, heart ache, and heart break to pieces at the same time.

The girl shrugged, tilting her head as if taking a better look at George, trying to comprehend his feelings. “Well, I’m mean to you, to your friends, my friends and housemates make fun of you, and you let it slip. You do nothing about it. Honestly, is this your way of letting me see how much of a bad person I am?”

The Gryffindor offered a small smile, shaking his head. “You look happier.” He acknowledged.

“What?”

“Y/N Icestone, I wish you happiness. So if all this makes you happy, then fine. It’s my fault anyways.”

____________________

The Slytherin didn’t take it well after that conversation. She was having a conflict with herself. The walls she built were tearing themselves apart as the thought of George Weasley came running around in her mind as if he owned the place. And so, she tried her best to distract herself.

She attended almost all of Slytherin’s parties, something that she didn’t really bother going to before. She drank whatever Daphne would hand her, living her life like it was the last, getting intoxicated every night and then. Then she studied like her life depended on it. She was smart, but she needed a pastime. And so, she spent most of her time at the library, studying materials that a mere 6th year shouldn’t have knowledge of. She’d do anything to keep George Weasley out of her mind.

She thought she moved on. But she realized that moving on will take a bit longer after waking up in the hospital wing with the ginger by her side.

“George?” She called, her voice hoarse.

The ginger stood, looking down at her with eyes of concern and worry. “Icestone. Glad you’re finally awake.”

After attempting to sit up, the girl groaned, feeling her body ache as if fire was burning all over. “What are you doing here? What am I doing here? What the bloody hell happened?” She asked, clueless of the recent events.

The Gryffindor raised both his brows in disbelief. “It seems like you’re overworking yourself, Icestone. Me and Fred saw you walking in the halls on the way to potions class but then suddenly you were on the floor, no response!”

“Fred too?” Y/N pondered, earning a nod from the boy. “Yeah...Fred too. He went to class since Madame Pomfrey didn’t allow the both of us here. So I stayed.”

“Why? Don’t you hate me? You could have attended potions class like your twin.”

George offered a small smile, shaking his head. “Because if I attended Snape’s class, I would have worked on the cauldron alone and lost my house some points.”

“Oh.” The girl murmured, nodding,

The boy mirrored her actions. “Yeah.”

Silence enveloped the atmosphere and it wasn’t comfortable. So, the Slytherin decided to call for Madame Pomfrey before facing the Gryffindor and offering a small smile. “Thank you, George. Really. But I’m fine now. You can leave.”

The boy nodded. “Alright.”

After the ginger left, the girl laid back down, closing her eyes. Why can’t I hate him? How can I hate him?

End of Chapter 8

____________________

Taglist: @abrunettefangirlnerd @gloryekaterina @lilypad-55449 @memekingofwwiii @leovaldez37 @bellaiscool @sukunas-cult-leader

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

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Did someone say Zoya and Genya getting ready for a ball? I had this sitting in my computer for a while. I've written it at the same time of the Nikolai/Genya interaction and went for that instead, leaving this unfinished, so that's the reason why they're similar. But even if this is not wildly original I decided to post it, maybe some of you will enjoy it anyway!

together now - AO3

word count: 2661 (cause I can’t write short fics sorry)

______________________________________________________________

“Zoya, if you move again, I’m going to turn your hair purple.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. Drama queen. Whoever believed that getting ready for a party with your friends was fun, clearly never had to deal with Genya’s perfectionist and dictatorial tendencies. She purposely shifted in her chair in front of the vanity, making Genya glare at her.

“Do you want me to complete my masterpiece or not?”

No, not really. Nothing about going to Sainkt Nikolai’s ball seemed to be exciting. Dreadful and annoying were the only two terms she could come up with to describe the evening in front of her. Mainly having to do to the fact that she was going to have to watch Nikolai and his future wife simper over courtiers and nobles, with the bride-to-be practically coerced to attend the ball. And she wasn’t even allowed to get drunk; saints forbid someone attempted to murder the king again.

“Do you want your hair up or down?” Asked Genya, moving some strands of her hair over her ears.

“Are you really inquiring for my opinion?” The squaller noted ironically, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“No, of course not. Down is better, they make you seem wilder.”

She winked at her and Zoya huffed again. Genya began braiding some thin locks away from her face, leaving the rest of her mane free on her shoulders. She weaved the fine tresses with silver threads and held them in place with diamonds pins. Zoya relaxed under her delicate touch.

“A bit more practice with breaking Grisha’s orders and I’m going to tailor myself at some point. What are you going to do when the day comes?”

She had meant it as a joke, the tone light. But through the mirror she saw a shadow pass behind Genya’s eyes and immediately regretted her words and lack of tact. They knew only one person who had held as much power as Zoya was wielding now; he was rotting in a cell beneath them, and Genya would forever wear his marks on her skin. Of course her mind would have run to him; she tended to darken whenever they touched the argument surrounding Zoya’s newly acquired abilities.

“I hadn’t meant to make you think about that, Genya. I’m sorry.”

Genya smiled at her, coming back to her delightful self.

“It’s okay. I’m just a bit worried about - well, about everything. How is it going with these powers? I’ve spied on you summoning fire the other day. You were glorious.”

Zoya curled her lips and held up her arm, making the fetter made of dragon scales dangle. Juris rumbled inside her. She had told Genya what happened in the Fold, in broad outline. Zoya knew that even if they didn’t say it, they were all concerned with this. She caught them glancing at her sometimes, as if they were waiting for a ticking bomb to go off. It was unpleasant, but she understood them; after all, she was waiting for herself to go off too.

“I’m managing. I’m still not so sure of what I can or cannot do.”

Genya kept working on her hairstyle thoughtfully, letting the quiet stretch between them. She bit her lower lip before adding something else, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Does it feel good?”

Zoya understood that question too. Power is protection. No matter the cost, it would always hold its appeal for a Grisha. That was the pull they felt towards the Darkling too.

“It feels risky.” She answered after a while, releasing a long breath. It was not like her to betray uncertainty or weakness, but she hadn’t anticipated how both frightening and fascinating it would feel to be in this position. “It’s so much power, Genya. What if I can’t control it?”

“If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you, Zoya.” There was not hesitation in this answer. Yet, Zoya didn’t feel much reassured. She didn’t have a sense of who – or what – she was becoming.

“What if it’s too much power?” She realized that was not the right question, the one thing she dreaded to come true. She corrected herself. “What if it’s not enough, and I want more?”

At this, Genya paused, avoiding Zoya’s gaze, and fell terribly silent. She looked worried, almost scared. A shiver went through Zoya’s spine at the idea of eliciting something like fear in one of the people she loved most. She felt a stabbing guilt and the sudden realization that she didn’t want to explore this topic more and find out what Genya was thinking. She waved a soothing smile at her friend, hoping to stir this exchange away.

“Enough of this. Don’t you want to show me the dress?”

Genya’s eye lightened up as she was pulled out from her gloom towards a more delightful diversion. She turned to the bed and pulled up Zoya’s gown, handing it to her. As usual, Genya had outdid herself. The gown matched the decor in her hair: Zoya thought of the dark midnight sky over Pachina while looking at it, one of the few memories she held from her childhood. When Genya moved it towards her, a million tiny crystals sparkled like stars against the sheer fabric. Zoya slipped inside it gracefully and turned to her, making the dress shimmer; the red head was gloating.

“I always give you the best dresses. All eyes are going to be stuck on you.”

Zoya doubted it, considering how equally gorgeous the other girl was looking right now, hugged by velvet the colour of blood. Genya made her wirl around on herself while she smoothed the dress; Zoya tried to reach for the wine, but Genya snatched the glass from her hands. She shrugged her shoulders at her outraged look. “What? I’m not going to let you stain this magnificent gown, excuse me.”

“You know, you have David’s adoration all for yourself.” Zoya pointed out, scowling. “Don’t get greedy. Let them admire me instead. If I can’t get drunk, I can at least have a different kind of fun.”

Genya rolled her single eye turning her gaze to Zoya, furrowing a brow at her.

“I do hope that by now you know that you have someone’s adoration all for yourself, too.”

Genya had clearly noticed the subtle shifts in Zoya and Nikolai’s behaviour, since she had been dropping this casual and mildly vague comments for a while now. At first, Zoya just ignored them; but then it occurred to her that denying what was going on was not the way to fight this. That maybe the right angle was to approach it much like a military campaign: know your enemy before you defy it. Which for her, it meant to understand what was happening so that she could crush it. And since feelings were not an area of expertise for Zoya, she had figured Genya could come in handy. So at some point she had just let it become a mutual understanding that this whatever-it-was-thing was out in the open, and she started posing carefully pondered question of her own. Zoya crossed Genya’s eye for an instant, replying with a sceptical click of her tongue.

“Both his adoration and his efforts better be for Ehri, for all our sakes. Much like his gaze better be kept on her all night like she’s the most beautiful creature to ever grace this earth. If he cannot sell it to her, at least he has to sell it for the rest of the world.”

“With you in that dress it’s going to be a challenge to look at anyone else.” Teased Genya, grinning. Zoya glared at her, pushing down the uncomfortable satisfaction this remark brought.

“He seems rather immune to my appearance and my presence.”

A poor and unconvincing objection, to say the least. Genya scoffed, handing her the wine as if she was going to need it to hear what came next. Zoya gladly took the offering.

“You do realize I’m a Corporalki, right?”

“What would that mean, apart from making people faint every now and then?”

“It means he can keep his eyes trained on the ceiling all night for all I care, because I’ll still feel his heartbeat spike up every time you pass beside him.”

Zoya didn’t much like to have this particular piece of information, that stirred some unpleasant feelings in her lungs. She swallowed the rest of the alcohol, her throat burning for something else entirely.

“Do you peer in all your friend’s visceral reaction for fun?”

“Just the two of you. Want to know what happens with you?” Mused Genya, knowing damn well the curiosity that sparkled in Zoya’s eyes and even more well feeling her breath itch. Know your enemy, right? Zoya grunted, not even bothering to try and look unfazed.

“Fine. Rip the band aid off.”

“Your heart usually beats like it’s at war. On the contrary, it slows down when he’s around, like you feel- I don’t know, safer. At home.”

Zoya fell silent, turning the words over in her head. It was always a punch in the gut when she wondered when things have started to turn and understood just how much they had turned. Instead of lingering on this painful realization, she did what she knew best and deflected the conversation again where it hurt most. She had the strange belief that if the heart was indeed a muscle, you had to train it like any other one in your body. The more pressure and blows you would put into it, the less you would feel the pain with time. Yuyeh sesh. Be cruel to your heart.

“How are the preparation for the wedding going?”

“As good as they can be.” Genya’s gaze turned sweet and affectionate, and she went along. “No one would say anything, you know. If you wanted to stay away for a while or get some distance.”

“We both know that a lot of people would say a lot of things.” Zoya held her chin high. “And you know that’s not my way of doing things. This is my place; I’m not going to let anyone take it away.”

I don’t want to live in darkness. She fought and lost and suffered to get to where she was. She was certainly not going to give it up for a bad timed and poorly chosen crush. An idiotic and simple crush. Genya nodded, getting the hint that it was enough for today. She seemed to remember something and got back to her tailoring kit.

“Speaking of Nikolai, there’s one thing missing. He gave them to me before I came here.”

Genya walked towards her and clipped what looked like a pin on her dress. She made her turn around to look herself in the mirror. Zoya felt something warming her from the inside when she looked at it; it was more of a medal than a pin. Ravka’s double eagle was shining on her chest, pleated gold, with Alina’s sun behind it and an Etherealki blue ribbon. It resembled the medals she saw on the supposedly war heroes’ generals that worked with Nikolai, but it was more elegant. She brushed her finger on it, full of pride.

“Me and David have one too.” Genya showed her the other one she was holding before securing it on herself. It was Corporalki red. “David has a Materialki purple ribbon. Nikolai told me people should always know we are his most trusted generals and friends. That we work for Ravka as much as he does, and we are owed the same respect, even at a ball.”

Respect. Recognition. Another time, Nikolai managed to surprise her. Because this wasn’t just a pretty thing, a nice embellishment. And while she had been his general for almost three years, that didn’t mean people had accepted and treated her with the appropriate regard. This was a symbol of the king’s trust, something that would force the nobles and the army to behave accordingly, even at events where it would be so easy to down-play her and treat her like another beautiful hollow courtier. Stupid thoughtful Nikolai. She was torn between wanting to kill him for making her feel like this or kiss him senseless for the same reason. Get a grip, Zoya.

“You’re not going to be like him, Zoya.” Zoya startled at Genya words, confused for a moment. She cleared her throat, shoving the treacherous thoughts she was having away. Genya had moved beside her, taking her hand in her own. Looking at Genya firm and proud gaze, she realized they were not talking about Nikolai anymore, and that she hadn’t dropped the conversation before because she was scared or angry at her. It was because she understood where Zoya’s fears were coming from, and she was facing them head on now.

“The Darkling.” She added to clarify, lingering on his name with a tremor in her voice. “Even with all the power you have, you are nothing like him. You managed to do what he had always claimed he wanted, and he had never done: you are saving Grishas, you are rebuilding the Second Army and you hold a position as the King’s right hand. What drives you is not the hunger for power; is the care you have for Ravka and your people. The Darkling wanted to control them, to own them. You protect them.”

Zoya tightened the hold of her hand, while looking at their reflections in the mirror, in the stunning gowns and the triumvirate’s pins. Two women who had believed in the wrong man and kept paying the price for their ingenuity, who had saved themselves in the end. She sucked in a breath, seeing someone she barely recognized; there was almost nothing left of the scared little girl. With the medal on her chest, diamonds in her hair and a glowing fierce light in her eyes she really looked like the leader she aspired to be. She wondered if she was still pretending, or some of the act was now true.

“Stop me before I can become like him.” Zoya blurted out, the words unsteady and whispered. Genya shook her head, leaning in towards her.

“You are different in every way. And you have something he never had; you have people who love you. Believe me, Nikolai is going to burn down all of Os Alta before he lets anything happen to you. None of us is going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not afraid of something happening to me, rather than to others.” What if I hurt Nikolai? What if I hurt anyone of you? Genya lowered her head on her shoulder, still holding her hand.

“We fought our way out of his grip once. We’re not going to let him bring us down. We’re stronger than we were before.”

“And we’re together, now.”

Zoya needed something to anchor herself on; the words felt uncertain, more like a question. Because she knew, deep down she knew she was still somehow living by what he had taught her: love is a weakness. And she knew that while Genya talked of friendship, Zoya herself was distancing from everyone. That she was suffocating her feelings for Nikolai, effectively cutting out the person she had relied on the most. That she didn’t know how to be close to someone. That, like the Darkling, she felt destined to be alone. And yet a part of her still needed to believe that a strand of what she conquered was going to save her, that someone was going to reach for her.

“And we’re together.”

Genya repeated, more firmly. We’re not going to let him bring us down another time. A litany. It was our blood on the skiffs, in the sand, on the rocks of a mountain. I’m nothing like him. An enchantment. And we’re together. He had taught her wrong. One day she would be free of this last cage, too.

#genya and zoya have my heart #i don't know if you can tell but i love genya as much as zoya and nikolai #genya safin #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #mainly genya and zoya friendship #rule of wolves #nikolai duology #post kos #my writing #fan fiction #grishaverse

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 years

Text

Fanboy (Jeff the Killer and BEN Drowned)

Thank you @scrollypoly for commissioning this!! They’re always so fun to write I’m 🥺💕💘💖💗💞💓💗 Also you mentioned both characters and I just?? Couldn’t choose??? So I did smthg for both and I’m sorry if this is way too long shdjdjdjdkfkcjfhdjfidof

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Jeff the Killer

Jeff clicks on the refresh button

Nothing

He clicks it again

Still nothing

With a sigh like a low groan, he checks the time at the bottom of the screen

10:04 pm

You‘re late

Your show should’ve started four whole minute ago

He runs his fingers through coarse black hair, brows furrowing

“What the fuck”

He‘s already hard, having worked himself up at the thought of seeing you again, but just to worsen the anticipation, you‘re making him wait

Refresh refresh refresh

10:09 pm

He scrolls down to the chat

At least he’s not the only one getting impatient

He can’t but scowl at the loads of messages popping up, each and every one of them absolutely reeking of horny entitlement

As if those creeps could ever stand a chance with someone like you

Not that he‘s any different, but at least he isn’t half as brain dead as most of them

By 10:11 pm, he thinks maybe something isn’t right

He convinces himself to wait six more minutes before he really can’t take it anymore

People in the chat are starting to leave

Others are getting upset

How badly he‘d love to drive his knife across their throats—slowly and painfully, to watch their measly lives flicker out before him

They don’t fucking deserve you

He snarls a curse under his breath

He doesn’t want to resort to this, but he very badly needs to see you

So he grabs his knife, comforted by the way his fingers curl around the hilt, and then he’s getting up and shoving out of his room

Up the basement stairs and then up another flight of stairs, he finally finds himself in front of an all-too familiar door, closed shut with nothing but a faint light glowing from the bottom

His knuckles rasp against tinted wood

“Put it in your pants, I need help with something”

It’s all the warning he provides before barging in

The blond, as per usual, is sitting at his desk, legs crossed on his chair with a controller between his button-mashing hands

He hardly offers a glance at his intruder and smirks

“Shouldn’t I be taking it out of my pants if you want help?”

Jeff has to hold himself back from smacking him upside the head

“I need you to find someone’s address and then bring me to it”

BEN snorts

“Why should I?”

The scarred man folds his arms over his chest, brows quirking expectantly

“Remember that favor you owe me?”

He watches, admittedly gloating in self-satisfaction, as the other’s face reddens and the smirk‘s wiped from his mouth

“You, uh, you have their username?”

A few minutes is all it takes to find you, but the first try to hack into your computer isn’t successful

BEN pops out of the internet with a shrug, explaining how he can’t access your pc and that it’s probably broken

So they go through your phone instead

You’re in a room with a familiar bed and backdrop, which Jeff recognizes immediately

What, or who, he doesn’t recognize is the guy you’re with—who looks to be around your age and caught up in some kind of argument with you

Whoever he is, he’s yelling furiously and gesturing at a shattered laptop off to the side

The sound is warped through the screen

He can’t make out the argument, but the fact that the bastard has the nerve to talk to you like that has Jeff’s blood boiling

“Welp, good luck with that”

A harsh smack on the back fused with a static jolt shoves him out the screen

The transition from virtual to material existence has his ears ringing and the world spinning around him as he shakily tries to pull himself up

But then his eyes lock onto the fucker that was harassing you

And he sees red

He charges at him, knocking him to the ground and with a satisfying whack of the back of his knife straight to his temple—the body goes limp

Rage and adrenaline pump through his system

But then he hears you gasp, and it stops him dead in his tracks

Slowly, he tilts his head, bringing his full attention towards you

You‘re beautiful on camera, but god, you‘re absolutely ethereal in person

He almost can’t believe how good fear looks on you

There’s a pause, predator staring down prey, and then you’re bolting

But you can’t even make it through the door before he catches you arm, spinning you to face him and slamming you into the wall

One hand has your wrists pinned above your head, the other holding the sharp blade to your neck

The warmth of your body squirming beneath him, the beat of your heart thrumming against his chest—it’s exhilarating

He’s done this millions of times before, but it’s different with you

And he’s already addicted

“P-please… please don’t hurt me”

Dark eyes roam over your features, taking you all in—and you shrink beneath his consuming gaze

“Mmh, don’t worry, Princess. I’m not gonna hurt you”

He presses the blade harder into you, continuing with a deep, naturally menacing hum

“Not if you don’t do anything stupid. After all, I‘d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours~”

He leans in closer, and his breath warm against your cheek

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling his strong build nearly crushing your smaller one

He’s like a wall of muscle

It’s suffocating

“And I’d hate for you to lose the confidence to perform your little show anymore~”

The blood drains from your face at the mention of your show

He pushes the blade deeper into your throat and you feel his groin stir at the sound you make

Such a cute little whimper~

“Please”

Your voice is quiet and small and shaky

His chest rumbles with a deep, appreciative hum in response

All those times he watched you, dreaming of having you beneath him—and now here you are, so perfectly trapped and already begging

You’re his

No one else could ever have you

“Don’t worry, Princess, I‘ll treat you right. I won’t let any fucking creep push you around or perv on you anymore. You’re all mine now, princess~”

BEN Drowned

You’re completely unaware of how he watches you behind the screen

You take a seat on your bed, adjusting the camera, and then with the few presses of a button, you’re going live

Almost as soon as you do, Th1cc-M4st3r-Sw0rd-B01 immediately donates with the request of a private show

You chuckle, promising to come back later to the other viewers, and accept the invite to a private server

“Hey Benny Boo~”

You give him a teasing wink as his camera connects

He’s in his usual setup

His room is so dim you can hardly see anything, as per usual

All that’s visible is the lower portion of his face, revealing his mouth and cut jawline, along with his torso

He’s man-spreading on his chair, which also grants you a good view of the bulge in his pants at the bottom of the screen

“Hey, baby~”

He’s wearing his signature smirk, one arm thrown over the top of his chair, leaning back comfortably

“You have a good day at work?”

He tilts his head to the side playfully, and there’s something secretive in his amused grin, like he knows something you don’t

You pout

“It was boring, like usual. I just wanted to get home so I could finally have some fun~”

His teeth sink into his lip as you trace a finger between your breasts, and he hums appreciatively

“You know, you don’t have to work, (y/n). I already told you I could easily provide for you”

“Ha. And then what would I be doing all day long instead?”

He leans in, pearly whites gleaming through a shit-eating grin

“You’d entertain me~”

You roll your eyes and shake your head

“I doubt even you wouldn’t get bored of that. Besides, I don’t want the entire source of my income to rely on one stranger from the internet”

His lips part in feigned shock

“Oh? So I’m a stranger now?”

You cross your arms over you chest

Always with the games

“I’ve never even seen your face, of course you’re a stranger”

He lies back in his chair, contemplating

“Hm... I’ll show you my face if you give me your number~”

You run your fingers through your hair

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked for this kinda stuff—a connection to your private life, and while his offers were admittedly tempting, you weren’t sure you could trust him

There was just something strange and mysterious about him, despite his charms, and it unnerved you sometimes

“How am I supposed to trust you?”

He groans

“C’mon, babe. What do I have to hide? Why would I possibly betray you?”

You shrug, trying to keep things playful

“Dunno. Maybe that’s how you make all your money, by blackmailing camgirls and poor saps who just don’t know any better”

He gasps through the grin dancing on his lips

“You wound me, baby~ Is it really that hard to have faith in little old me?”

You shake your head again, but can’t help laughing

Suggestively biting your lip is all it takes to have him stirring in his seat again

His tongue swipes out at his own bottom lip and you can tell he’s craving the taste of yours

“Maybe if you showed me your face, I’d consider trusting you in the long run...”

You tilt your head, toying with the lace of your lingerie

“Mmh, maybe another day”

His voice is husky

You can feel his eyes, even despite the shadows draping over them, roam up and down your body, taking in every inch of you, mapping you out by sight alone

So you slowly work yourself up, teasing at your sides, your collarbone, then down over your chest and back between your breasts

“What else would it take for that number?” he murmurs, one hand palming himself through his pants, matching your slow, borderline torturous pace

“Why do you want it so bad?” you retort, voice a breathy hum

“Because I wanna see you more often, (y/n). And if you really can’t trust me, I wanna be able to work something out”

You thumb over your nipples, grinding your hips down onto nothing, trying to keep an innocent expression like you aren’t about to touch yourself and get him off to it

“Like what?”

“Meet up with me. We’ve known each other long enough, haven’t we?”

You know you shouldn’t agree

But maybe it‘s because you’re tense and horny, and you really are attracted to him, and you haven’t been getting nearly enough action recently

Or maybe you’re just sick of routine and want to try something different, something daring

Whatever it is, in a split-second decision, you find yourself agreeing

His face lights up with a grin

“Perfect~”

You spend the rest of the private show making arrangements to meet—in a public place, of course, before his time begins to near its end

“I’ll be seeing you there, babe~” he hums

His smirk never once falters

“Wait, I still don’t know what you look like”

He chuckles

“Don’t worry, you’ll know it’s me”

He reaches for his mouse, but his hand hovers over it for a second

“Don’t stand me up and you’ll have nothing to worry about~”

Then with a final click, he’s disconnected and you’re left facing a blank screen

A shiver crawls up your spine

You close the tab and get up off your bed

You need a shower

You’ll deal with your other viewers later

As you ready a change of clothes, BEN continues to watch you, reveling in your blissful ignorance of his prying eyes

He didn’t need your number and he didn’t need you to meet up with him

He could whisk you away at any whim and you’d be powerless to stop him

But he enjoyed this little game he played with you, and he’d promised himself he’d try to ease you into things before claiming you

Meeting up would grant him the perfect opportunity to gauge what you’d be like when he finally took you

But one way or another, you’d be ending up in his arms

You were already as good as his~

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #ben drowned x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere #fanfiction commission #commissions

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kazledazzel · 3 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering, for the au + trope + prompt game: can I request the Merry thieves in the hogwarts au? I can totally see them as marauders! Maybe prompt 23? but honestly any one of them would be cool 💕💕💕

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like this. I tried to stick to the Merry Thieves as much as I could, but I did end up wandering to Thomastair... so I’m sorry about that, but I have been wanting to do a Shadowhunters Hogwarts Au for ages, so I plan to do a series of one shots for this au. (I want to do more Thomastair, Blackdale, The Merry Thieves, Gracetopher, etc...). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. I have a part two of this if anyone is interested.

Click here to read on Ao3 or keep reading below :)

“Are you sure this is legal?” Thomas asked, peering down at the quidditch field from where he sat on the bleachers next to James Herondale. The two gryffindors sat together, supervising the other half of the friend group.

The pitch was empty, and the group had taken this opportunity to sneak down and test out Matthew’s new broom. Matthew Fairchild was a Slytherin who was as ambitious as he was cunning, and had jumped at the opportunity for a better broom. His old one, though a cleverly crafted broom made by Matthew’s father, had suffered a rather disastrous encounter with Alastair Carstairs, and was long in the bin. It had just so happened that Christopher had been in the process of making a broom, better than any Nimbus or Firebolt. He had accomplished one of his lifelong goals; to combine magic, science and mechanics.

Only Thomas seemed to be worried about this experiment. He was proud of his cousin, but there was often a thin line between success and disaster when it came to Christopher’s inventions. However, Christopher did seem utterly and completely focused on his latest invention. He was so lost in his work, he seemed to have failed to noticed that he was wearing the wrong tie. Grace Blackthorn was probably in the castle somewhere, searching her room for a green tie and instead finding a Ravenclaw blue one.

“I am sure-,” Matthew started, giving Thomas false hope. “- that what the Ministry of Magic doesn't know won't kill them,”

Thomas frowned. He turned to James for backup, but he had his head in his book. Thomas scowled, and returned to his babysitting.

“It’s almost done,” Christopher said, raising his voice loud enough so that both guys on the bleachers could here. He raised his wand and cast a silent charm. He cleared his throat. “Matthew and Gentlemen-,”

“Kit!” Matthew demanded. “Are you implying that I do not qualify as a gentleman?”

Christopher shrugged, but James took this opportunity to poke at his best friend.

“Anna told me otherwise,” James called down. “Did you or did you not have a rather scandalous encounter with a Hufflepuff prefect last week?”

“Hufflepuff? Alastair Carstairs’ house? Really, Jamie? I would never,” Matthew lowered his voice. “It was a Ravenclaw,”

James laughed, while Thomas only smiled. Although the situation was funny, he was getting rather tired of Matthew’s hatred for Alastair Carstairs. Was all this nonsense really over a broken broom, or did it run deeper? Thomas didn’t know, but he needed an explanation before he could hate Alastair Carstairs. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as James and Matthew thought.

Then again, maybe Thomas was just being silly. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit that he had strong feelings for Alastair Carstairs. Strong feelings that caused great confusion, and Thomas couldn’t tell if those strong feelings were born out of love or hate. He’d thought about talking about it with Christopher, but Kit hadn’t really picked up on the fact that Thomas may lean more towards boy, nor the fact that his science goggles were upside down. God bless Christopher and his obliviousness.

Then again, Christopher may have been oblivious, but he wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was one of the smartest people Thomas knew. The sorting hat had known it when placing him in Ravenclaw, and even the Slytherin prefect Grace Blackthorn had known it. Not only did Grace seem to be aware of Christopher’s genius, she seemed to be falling in love with it. Grace Blackthorn, who was so set on maintaining her reputation of being sensible and too mature for love in all its silliness, had fallen for a softie like Christopher. Thomas often found it funny; plenty of quidditch stars from all the different houses fancied Grace Blackthorn, but she was too busy looking at Christopher with cartoon hearts in her eyes to notice.

Thomas was constantly seeing romantic love. He saw it every time Cordelia Carstairs had walked past, making James blush red like a tomato and leaving him stutter for five minutes as he tried to remember his own name. He saw it every time he went looking for Lucie only to find her writing her manuscript with I heart Jesse Blackthorn and Lucie Blackthorn written around the edges. He saw it most of all in the way Anna and Ariadne talked about each other. Thomas was constantly surrounded by his friends and their lovesick hearts, and yet he couldn’t figure out his own.

“James, and Matthew,” Thomas said, glaring at both boys harmlessly. “Let Kit finish,”

“Thank you, Thomas” Christopher began again. “As I was saying, I present to you all, The Lightwood Flamethrower,”

James chuckled softly. “Lightwood. I get it. Light-wood. Brooms are made from wood,”

The rest of the group turned to look at James, who was slowly realising the obvious. He slouched, as if he was trying to make himself smaller.

“Come on then. Let’s try it out!” Christopher said enthusiastically, gesturing for Matthew to get on the broom. He rambled on excitedly. “It should go faster than any Nimbus or even Fire Bolt, and it has a spacial awareness feature so that you’ll be able to tell if there are any bludgers coming your way. It started producing sparks last night, but that probably won’t happen anymore-,”

“Probably?” Thomas asked worriedly. “Have you ran any safety tests?”

Matthew grinned with bright green eyes. “What do you think we’re doing now?” He began to mount the broom, and Thomas felt he might go into cardiac arrest. Matthew picked up a helmet and put it on his head. “Besides, I’m wearing a helmet,”

“That’s great Math, but you haven’t strapped it on right,” James pointed out.

“Oh dear god,” Thomas said, exasperated. He buried his face in his hands, while James patted his shoulder.

“Don’t look now,” James said, his voice low. Thomas heard Matthew give an annoyed groan, and he looked up from his depressed state. He spotted the cause of Matthew’s annoyance right away.

At the entrance of the quidditch pitch was the entire Hufflepuff team. Leading the team was Cordelia Carstairs, in full quidditch gear and carrying her broom, the Cortana two thousand, as if it were a mighty gold sword. To be fair, it was the greatest broom one could buy. They were extremely rare, and had been discontinued. Thomas recalled how Christopher hadn’t compared his own broom to Cordelia’s. The Cortana two thousand was faster than any other broom, and could change direction easier than even a Fire Bolt. With Cordelia as their Captain, Hufflepuff was a hard team for any house to beat. It didn’t matter if the weather was against them, Cordelia flourished in rain, hail, sleet and snow.

Next to Cordelia was Lucie, who stuck out like a sore thumb in her Ravenclaw robes. She didn’t really need to be there, but she often went along anyways to support Cordelia.

“And to look at Jesse Blackthorn,” James had once said to her, with both the disapproval of a protective older brother and with the satisfaction of teasing on a sibling.

“Very funny, Jamie. How long did it take for you to form a full sentence the last time Cordelia spoke to you?” Lucie has snapped back, while Matthew burst out laughing.

Alastair Carstairs wasn’t far behind his sister. Being the older sibling, some might have thought Alastair would be annoyed that the position went to his younger sibling. If he was, he didn’t seem it. He seemed perfecting content being Head Boy. Not that Thomas payed much attention to Alastair’s behaviour, or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the way he-

“I’m going to do it,” James whispered to Thomas, interrupting his thoughts. James closed his book and practically bounced out of his siting position. “I’m finally going to talk to Cordelia Carstairs,”

“Okay, Jamie,” Thomas said, standing up and following his friend down the bleachers. “Just remember that your name is James Herondale, not-,” Thomas made a series of spluttering noises. James blushed.

“What’s all this about, Carstairs?” Matthew demanded, glaring at Alastair. Cordelia didn’t seem to realise the question wasn’t directed at her. She seemed a little hurt.

“Quidditch practice,” Cordelia replied, eyebrows raised. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, sorry, I-,”

Cordelia had her head held high as Matthew struggled to explain he was speaking to her brother. Alastair looked amused, as Thomas tried to rip his gaze away from him. He often found it amusing how Matthew could hate one Carstairs so much, and be fighting with his best friend over the attention of the other.

By now James was my Matthew’s side, and had gained a new confidence from Matthew’s humiliation.

“That wasn’t very nice, Matthew,” James gloated. He was looking at Cordelia hopefully. Cordelia broke away her gaze, and Thomas could see the scarlet colour against her brown skin. Cordelia Carstairs was blushing over James Herondale.

Maybe Thomas wasn’t as fluent in love as he thought he was.

“We booked the pitch,” Alastair said, moving to his sisters side. Matthew seemed to have forgotten his desire for Cordelia immediately, and was now looking at Alastair as if he was the Devil himself coming to drag Matthew back to Hell with him. Not that Cordelia noticed. She and James were both stealing glances and giving each other soppy looks. It truly was a wonder that they didn’t know their love was requited. Lucie was making her way towards Thomas and beaming. No doubt she was about to write James into her newest chapter of the Beautiful Cordelia.

“It’s true,” Lucie said, rolling her eyes at Matthew and Alastair’s petty feud. Her and Thomas had discussed it often, but neither of them knew the root of the rivalry other than the fact that Alastair had once broken Matthew's broom after they both collided in a quidditch match, but that had been an accident. Perhaps their hatred had always been there, and this had just triggered it. Still, even that didn't add up. Matthew wasn't a hateful person. That was something all the Merry Thieves were aware off, especially James. All of Thomas' friends were like little lights in his life, and Matthew was sometimes the shiniest. Despite coming across as overly charismatic or vain, Matthew never failed to radiate what good was in him. He was constantly willing to be the guinea pig in Christopher's experiments, and never let his obvious crush on Cordelia get in the way of his friendship with James. Thomas sometimes wondered if James was even aware of Matthew's feelings for Cordelia.

Then there was Alastair. Mysterious Alastair, whom Thomas had never cared for until his fourth year at Hogwarts. Up until then, Thomas had known nothing of the other boy save the fact that he was a fifth year Hufflepuff with a repuation, that his friends with Clive Cartwright and Charles Fairchild, Matthew's annoying older brother, and that he and his posse sometimes liked to pick on first years. It wasn't until that one day in Third Year, when James had been locked up in the infirmary with a broken leg and Thomas had been sent on the Honeydukes run while Christopher, Matthew, Lucie and Cordelia had stayed behind to keep James company that Thomas even spoke to Alastair. It had been snowing outside and it had been difficult for Thomas to see where he was going. He accidentally walked straight into Alastair as he entered the shop. Thomas had been almost terrified; Alastair had been so intimidating when he'd had his two friends by his side before. He hadn't seemed intimidating that day in Honeydukes, though. He'd seemed lonely, and as Thomas bent to help Alastair pick up his chocolate he could see that Alastair's dark brown eyes were brimmed with red. Sometimes people weren't scary; they were just sad.

Thomas, being Thomas, had asked the other boy if he was alright. Instead of brushing him off, Alastair had admitted he needed a bit of a distraction. This led to casual conversation, and eventually the two ended up chatting over chocolate cauldrons and fudge flies. They parted on friendly terms, and had a few encounters after. These encounters were a secret, of course, and mostly accidental. Still, Alastair seemed to enjoy Thomas' company. Thomas couldn't help but feel a glimmer of satisfaction every time Alastair laughed at something he said.

These accidental encounters became less frequent when Alastair and Charles became a couple. Thomas tried not to feel annoyed that he'd barely spoken to Alastar all year. It wasn't like he was in love with Alastar, was he? Besides, Alastair was a year older. There was no point in falling for someone who was going to leave Hogwarts in a year.

"We just wanted to try out Matthew's new broom," Thomas said, trying to avoid an argument. "We didn't realise the pitch was booked,"

"The Lightwood Flamethrower," Christopher said proudly. Cordelia's eyes widened slightly.

"Does it work?" Cordelia asked, making her way towards the broom. Alastair looked a little put off, but then his eyes met Thomas'. Thomas could have sworn that Alastair's expression softened.

"We don't know yet," James and Matthew said, simultaneously. Both boys blushed. Cordelia smiled.

"Well," Cordelia said, her smile radiant. "Shall we try it out and see?"

#asks #prompt #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #tlh #tsc #chain of gold #hogwarts au #fanfic #el writes #el writes fanfiction #thomastair #jordelia #blackdale #gracetopher #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

Text

Just Say the Word: Fifteen

You pushed your shopping cart ahead of you, idly digging through your purse for your keys, “Always at the bottom,” you murmur, “Fuck me.”

You can hear people. Cars. Footsteps. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to raise the hair on the back of your neck and set you to walking faster.

All you wanted to do was find your fucking keys.

Keys you didn’t know that you didn’t have. Keys that had already been lifted out of your purse while you were considering bottles of rum. You stop by your car and thud your head against the door gently, “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it,” you mutter.

“Missing something?”

The voice, vaguely gloating and terrifyingly familiar makes you turn. “Greg,” you say, instinctively backing up.

“The one and only,” he said smirking, “Now angelface, we can do this two ways. The easy way or the hard way. And Brock would rather have you do it the easy way.”

“The fuck does Brock want with me?” you ask, cursing silently. This was gonna be bad. Real bad. And you weren’t sure how you were gonna get out of it. How you were gonna get word to anyone. Or who to fucking call. Cops were a death sentence. And Colin, bless him, was gonna call the fucking cops.

“What he always wanted,” Greg snorted, grabbing your arm and pulling you forward roughly.

“Pretty sure he’s not gonna want me bruised,” you say wincing.

“Darlin’“ Greg said, pulling a gun from his pocket and cocking the hammer back, “Bruises are gonna be the least of your worries.”

_______

“I’m coming, hang on!”

The banging on the door was incessant and loud. It sounded like police and Colin felt his heart jump into the approximate region of his throat. When he swung the door open, the last thing he expected to see was half a biker gang.

“Jesus,” he breathed, “What-”

“There’s no time to explain,” Bucky said, “But Y/N’s in trouble. Big trouble. And she’s gonna need a doctor.”

“The cops-”

“Not if we want her back alive,” Bucky said grimly, “Be ready. I don’t know how bad this is gonna be.”

And Colin doesn’t have time to reply before Bucky is down the steps and shouting orders.

________

Bucky glanced down at his phone and swallowed hard. Hours. You’d been trapped. Scared. For hours. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that. All there was, he told himself, was getting you back.

And to get you back, he had to play the game.

“Buck,” Steve said tensely, “Do we know why they took her?”

“I have a hunch,” Bucky said exhaling slowly.

Steve gestured waiting for Bucky to continue and Bucky took a deep breath, “If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else,” he said, “Not even Nat.”

“As if Nat doesn’t already know,” Steve snorted.

“She doesn’t,” Bucky said softly, “I wasn’t even supposed to know.”

Steve hissed and nodded. Silently giving his word that he wouldn’t let what he was about to hear go past this point and Bucky took a deep breath.

“Do you remember that one guy Debbie dated? Back when we just started high school?”

“Which-” Steve paused, thinking and felt his eyes widen, “The creepy one?”

Bucky nodded, “The one with the son, yeah... Well. Y/N didn’t move out because her mom made her. She moved out because that fucking kid was hiding knives and shit under her bed. Stealing her panties. The whole thing. It was gross. It’s still gross. And he still wants her.”

“Wait-”

“The kid never had his dad’s last name,” Bucky said. “He had his mom’s... And after his dad went to jail, someone had to take over the empire.”

“Fuck me,” Steve groaned.

“And every king,” Bucky said bitterly, “Wants a queen.”

__________

“Son of a bitch,” you groan, blinking back tears from the pain in the side of your face. You aren’t sure when exactly men learn exactly how to hit a woman in the face and make it hurt Just So. But you have a sneaking suspicion it’s during sex ed, sometime AFTER you all yell penis really loudly in a desperate bid to make it not funny but BEFORE you sign a thinly veiled abstinence pledge.

“You know,” mused the man in front of you, tilting your chin up with the blade of his knife, “Dad was right. If you want a girl you have to ugly them up a little.”

You don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say that won’t give him some satisfaction. All you can do is wait. Wait and pray that Brock kills you quickly or Bucky finds you sooner.

Or at least finds a couple scraps big enough for Colin to bury.

#Bucky Barnes #biker!bucky #biker!au #angst #violence #stalking #sugarbaby!reader

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minniewoos · 5 years

Text

Golden ➣ Han Jisung

Genre: best friends au, bit of angst, fluff

Pairing: reader x jisung

Word Count: 3,321

Warnings: swearing, online harassment, stalker(?)

Summary: Being best friends with Jisung could get tiring sometimes, but he proves that he’ll always be there for you. Especially after you reveal a secret you’ve been keeping.

It was a wonder how you never fell for Han Jisung. He was almost perfect, almost.

He was like a golden boy. He had the personality: hilarious, cool, and could probably make any girl swoon. The guy could probably make the most humorless human beings shit themselves from laughing as well as make them fall in love. He was very musically inclined as well as a borderline genius. Jisung was sociable and popular within the little community you lived in. So there weren’t many people who haven’t heard of the larger-than-life boy in the small town.

He may not appear to be much at first glance, he gets startled easily and his ego could rival the Eiffel Tower. You swear he was the most confident person you knew. He wasn’t the tallest guy around and his cheeks gifted him the uncanny resemblance of a squirrel, but god were his eyes beautiful. And amid all his humanly perfect faults was a heart of gold. But those faults didn’t keep him from perfection in your eyes; if anything, they made him more human. More perfect.

No, what made him almost perfect was the fact that he was incredibly fucking obnoxious. Every time you felt an inkling of feelings for the boy, he opened his mouth and those feelings ran for dear life. And you seemed to be the only person with a negative opinion of him, which really just served to annoy you more.

“Hey y/n”

“y/n~~~”

“y/n!!!”

“What! Jisung, what do you want? I swear to god-”

Oh yea, and he was your best friend.

“You’re spacing out again, thinking about me?” He smiled charmingly and gave you a wink as he leaned towards you, this cheeky bastard.

“You wish.” Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention back to your homework. You weren’t going to even begin to give him the satisfaction of letting him know you were, indeed, thinking about him, “Just help me with this trig homework.”

Jisung took one look at the equation, “The answer is π halves, are you dumb or something?”

You huffed and shoved his shoulder, “Shut up and actually explain this please, the test is tomorrow and I can’t afford to fail.” You pouted, getting irritated the longer he dragged this on. You two sat in his room on the floor; you attempted to study while Jisung helped, but he seemed to be hindering instead of helping at the moment. He was really good at this sort of stuff while you seemed to lag behind. And considering how he was your best friend; it was only natural you asked him for help. But it was Jisung and of course, he had to make it hard for you.

“Okay, I will as soon as you admit you were thinking about me.”

This insured a very unamused look from you while you rolled your eyes, “Fine, I was thinking of you…”

Jisung smirked triumphantly.

“…and how fucking annoying you are. Now help me.” You smiled promptly and shoved your homework between you two, your sweet tone contradicting your attitude. Jisung clicked his tongue in disappointment and picked up a pencil.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, continuously. You only sat up a little straighter and ignored it.

∎∎∎

The morning after the test you were anxious to know what grade you got, but you were confident it wasn’t lower than a C. So, you at least had that going for you.

You got a B, and while it might not seem that impressive, that B bumped your D to a C. You were just grateful that you were not at a complete loss in trigonometry. After nearly failing your last math class, you weren’t going to put yourself through that stress again. Things were looking up, at least they were starting to.

School wasn’t the only thing stressing you out, and it wasn’t the worst. Your phone buzzed a few times, urging you to look at it. You let out a shaky breath as you put it on silent and turned it off, shoving it into your pocket. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Wow…I owe Jisung one.” You mutter to yourself while standing in front of your locker, staring at your B+ trig test.

“Owe me what?” You heard the oh-so-familiar voice of your friend as he hung an arm around your shoulder and leaned into you. He spotted your test in your hands and frowned, “Damn and I was aiming for an A this time.”

You had to resist the urge to shove him off but you left him be with his arm around you comfortably, “I’m very satisfied with a B+ Mr. Genius, it brought my grade up either way.”

“It brought your grade up but you could’ve done better”

After that snarky comment, you shoved him off.

“You really know how to say the most annoying things don’t you.” You scoffed and shut your locker to face Jisung.

He only smiled in response. He held his arms out as if to offer a hug, but you knew he was gloating on the inside, “But you still love me.”

You crossed your arms and shoved past him, grumbling, “I don’t have the patience for this right now.”

Jisung knew something was up with you. While you would usually act annoyed with him, you were never rude or would straight up ignore him. Something was off with you, he figured it could be stress from school but he had a feeling it was something more. It wasn’t like you to just shove past him like that.

Jisung frowned, he knew how to get on your nerves but he could see something else was bothering you. So, he dropped the smug act and caught up to you, not saying anything but simply being a comforting presence. He even helped you carry some books to class and didn’t say anything more.

You suppressed a smile as your heart warmed up a little, it was a feeling you often felt around Jisung. Maybe you did fall for the boy, just a little bit.

Jisung may not have seemed like it, but he had more going up in that head of his than meets the eye. He’s a real people person and it shows. He’s especially good at reading you, so he knows what’s up most of the time and you don’t even have to say anything for him to understand. And right now, he knows not to pry into your business, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying his ass off. He didn’t know how you didn’t realize his super obvious crush on you, but it’s not like he didn’t hide it. He just kept quiet about it and stayed by your side. You would never admit it but he’s probably the biggest comfort and supporter you had; you’d be devastated without him.

When you got home after a long day at school, you sat in your room, staring at the phone you overlooked all day.

‘Why are you ignoring me?’

‘y/n please’

‘I love you, don’t do this to me’

‘You’re going to regret this when I see you’

Those were only some of the texts you received from this guy, there were days you’d get hundreds. There were too many messages from him to count, as well as missed calls. It was too much. He was too much. This guy, Wonseo, would not leave you alone and it terrified you.

Actually, you met him on a dating app, and the app was really only to pass time. You never looked for an actual relationship from it, just somebody to talk to and chase away boredom. But Wonseo was somebody you clicked with pretty well; he was funny, witty, and wasn’t bad looking at all. And you two became real friends in the process of talking, he wasn’t just some guy from that dating app anymore.

But at one point, he decided that being friends wasn’t enough for him. And despite letting him know you weren’t interested, he kept bugging you about dating him. And over time it just got worse until the situation advanced to the point it is now. Wonseo was really possessive and even threatened to find you, but he never said what he would do. It was really getting to you and you desperately didn’t want it to show. There was no way you were going to tell somebody about Wonseo, it would worry them too much, especially Jisung; this was something you were hoping to blow over and forget about soon enough.

‘Wonseo please…’

‘I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I really want you to stop. I’ve asked you before but I’m serious. Stop talking to me.’

Your hands were shaking, you were waiting for threats in response. That was what he usually did; you would ask him to stop then he’d say something along the lines of ‘I’m going to find you’ or ‘you’ll regret this’. Maybe he had some loose screws, but he really did seem like a good guy at first. It really just took some time for his true colors to show.

You were exhausted by him at that point and regretted even responding to him. Before he could text back and say anything, you turned your phone off and got ready for bed. You decided it was time to ignore him for good, come morning time you would block him and forget all about it.

When you woke up, you were surprised to see your phone clear of any message from Wonseo. Whenever you would ask him to stop, he’d blow your phone up. But now, it was empty. Relief flooded through you as you got dressed for school, Wonseo finally got the hint and you couldn’t have been happier. And it was really freeing in a way, that heavy burden was lifted from your shoulders as there was no pressure from Wonseo. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

You could almost cry right now, but not quite.

You shook off the odd feeling you got. Maybe this silence was only temporary, but you were going to enjoy the freedom to the fullest. And when you got to school, it showed. You laughed a bit more and your smile was just a bit wider; your overall disposition exuded joy. A clear contrast to your previously exhausted aura. And Jisung definitely noticed.

While walking to class, Jisung gave you an odd look. He looked at you as if you had three heads.

“What?” you laughed, “Do I have a couple extra heads or…?”

“Might as well, you seem happy today. Any reason why?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the good weather” You shrugged just as thunder and lightning struck somewhere outside. When Jisung gave you an unimpressed look but you only smiled and sat down at your desk.

“Aish you’re seriously creeping me out,” He sat beside you and shook his head, “the past couple weeks you’ve been in the worst mood and now you’re…glowing.” his nose scrunched up.

“Like I said, I don’t know.”

“Bullshit,” He looked at you for a moment, as if he was trying to analyze you. Then he gasped, “Do you have a boyfriend!?”

“What!? No, don’t say things like that. You might spread rumors.” You quickly shushed him, “Why would you think that?”

Jisung was internally panicking. Why else would you be so happy, as far as he knew nothing else major was going on with you. Either you met a guy and don’t want it to spread until it’s official. Or it’s already official and you knew about his super obvious crush on you and don’t want to hurt his feelings. Either option wasn’t very appealing.

“Hey, you’re frowning.” You reach over and squish his face up into a smile, laughing at how ridiculous it looked. Jisung only swatted your hand away and rolled his eyes. It shocked you when your heart skipped a beat, cause wow, he was cute. You smiled quietly as class started and you took out your notes, trying to think of why in the world Jisung would make your heart beat so fast.

Throughout the day, for some reason, Jisung stuck to your side more than usual. He could be clingy sometimes, but today he was with you constantly. Not that you minded, but it didn’t help to calm your beating heart down. You’d be lying if you didn’t say it annoyed you a bit.

You’ve never felt like this for him before, so why now. Sometimes you had that warm feeling around him, usually when he was able to cheer you up or vice versa. But this feeling was different; you were a little nervous, a little more cautious, and a lot more aware of his little mannerism. Just the way he would eat with his cheeks stuffed full, the way he would put his hand to his lips while thinking, even just the way he stood. You began to notice these little things more.

The last bell of the day rang and you walked out with Jisung, laughing at his impression of your very boring English teacher. You lightly shoved his arm with a smile.

“By the way, Ji, did something happen between you and your friends or something? You’d usually eat lunch with them or hang with them after school. Not that I mind, but it’s a little strange you’ve been with me all day.”

With a look of indifference, he looked at you for a brief moment, but he quickly smiled and just put an arm around you, “What can I say? You’re just that important to me.” he said with the utmost confidence.

You sputtered as your stomach did little flips, “Don’t say things like that…” You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hide the smile and blush rising to your cheeks.

“Whaaaa why??” He whined, “I know you like it. Admit it.”

You smiled teasingly at him, “You. Wish.”

He just nudged you back in response and rolled his eyes, “Fine Fine, you wanna go to the cafe down the block? It’ll be on me.”

And with that, you found yourself at the nice little cafe on the street corner. With Boba tea in your hand and Han Jisung sitting across from you. It was a cafe you visited often with Jisung, so often that it would feel weird if you ever went without him. It was almost routine for the two of you; you would get boba and Jisung would get an americano. Then after a half hour or so he would walk you home. You smiled to yourself, mindlessly jabbing your straw into your boba; what would you do without that boy?

“Seriously, why are you so happy all of a sudden? It’s been doom and gloom with you until this morning.” He said after taking a sip of his americano, his eyebrows scrunched up, “It’s kind of worrying me.”

You shook your head with a same, then rested your hand over his on the table, “Listen, it’s nothing to worry about okay? It’s just a small thing that blew over eventually.”

He gave you a skeptical look, “Okay but I’m not buying it.”

“Whatever, but what’s up with you today too. As I said, you hung out with me more than usual today.” You change the subject, genuinely curious.

He cocked his head to the side, “What I can’t hang out with my best friend?”

“Mhm, sure.” You say, not believing his excuse either. You start to get up and he looks at you, “I’m just going to the bathroom, relax. Watch my stuff, thanks”

You set your purse and phone down as you walk towards the back. You really were curious as to why Jisung was suddenly so clingy, it was in his personality but something was up. Maybe it was because you were acting strange too. After being harassed by Wonseo so much, it felt so freeing to not hear from him for a whole day. It’s possible he even gave up. You could only hope.

You headed back to your table with Jisung to finish up your drink and head home, but when you get to the table Jisung gave you a worried look. He looked halfway between disappointed and concerned. And that’s when you noticed your phone in front of him and messages flooding your screen. Your heart dropped as well as your expression, you avoided Jisung’s gaze.

You slowly pick up your phone and shut it off, you motion for Jisung to get up, “Hey, lets head home. I’ll explain on the way.”

The two of you took the usual route, Jisung would walk you to your house first and then he would walk the few blocks to his home. But instead of the usual laughter and comfort that filled the air, you only felt embarrassment and discomfort. You could tell Jisung was getting impatient, so you stopped stalling and let out a sigh.

“You’re probably wondering who that was.” You said, hands clasped behind your back. Jisung nodded, ready to listen.

“He was a friend I met online, and he was cool and everything. But after a while…he began to just, become possessive…” You trail off and continue to explain everything to him. Starting out slowly and carefully, but eventually, you started on a tangent and began to rant. All your complaints and feelings finally coming out after months of keeping your little secret. You told Jisung everything and how he constantly harassed you, threatened you, and wouldn’t leave you alone.

And finally telling Jisung had lifted a huge weight off your chest, and feeling that relief, you had tears welling up in your eyes, “I…I’m sorry. I really meant to tell you sooner but I didn’t think it was that important and I just really really really hoped it would blow over quickly and he would just give up but now I see he’s not going to and-”

You were cut off when you felt Jisung wrap his arms around you, gently rubbing circles on your back with one hand. He rested his other hand on your head, letting you sob openly into his chest, “Shhh sh, hey it’s okay. You’re okay, I promise.”

You shook your head, face still buried in his chest. The waterworks were flooding now, you were just glad he wasn’t able to see your face; you were sure it was red and tear-stained by now. But you stayed like that, with Jisung’s arms around you as you were able to let it all out. It was finally when your sobs began to still is when Jisung pulled away. You almost pouted until he held your face, his thumb wiping away the leftover tears running down your face.

“Hey,” he looked at you seriously, “you never have to hide anything from me. I’ll help you and support you however I can. Okay? We’ll deal with this guy; we’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again and we’ll both be happy.”

You nodded your head, sniffling you wrap your arms around Jisung’s waist again, wanting his comfort back, “Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

You nodded again and just rested your head against Jisung, “Thank you, you’re the best.”

You could just feel the smirk he had with that little compliment as he replied with a cheeky tone, “Yea, I’m aware.”

You smiled and squeezed him a little tighter, “I’m sure you are.”

The two of you stayed like for a couple moments, a couple quiet, comforting moments. With Jisung’s arms around you, the world felt perfect. It just felt right. You wanted to stay there, his arms around you as you listened to his steady breathing. It was the calmest you’ve been in a long time.

“Hey y/n?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Yea, Han Jisung was perfect.

421 notes · View notes

austennerdita2533 · 4 years

Text

A/N: My contribution to the KC New Year’s Day Exchange for the lovely Charlotte. (Modern P&Pish/The Hating Game AU + All Human + Romcom Tie-ins)

(AO3)(FF.net)

xx Ashlee Bree

(Spite) of Their Lives

For the past ten months, the routine has been this: Monday through Friday she avoids his eyes, claps back when he crosses a line at the office because it’s only a matter of time before he does something rash and destructive and she has to help fix it - again. Saturday she ignores his emails and text messages. A bevy of unreads she collects like bills, like love letters. However, not because she wants them or anything but so she has an excuse to ream him for his you can’t avoid the devil forever, sweetheart 😈 assholeness later. Like, come on, get a hobby. Or a girlfriend. Or a freaking life outside work already. Seriously. And Sunday…Sunday she reminds herself of all the reasons why he’s the biggest pain in the ass she’s ever met.

A right charming prick, really.

He’s the kind of man who, with a natural blend of arrogance, genteel good looks, cunning, money and rapier’s wit, knows just how to poke and pinch at every last nerve she harbors beneath her skin until she wants to scream. Until she does. Until she’s cursing the name Klaus Mikaelson before her first cup of coffee in the morning and after her last sip of wine before bed at night.

To call him a colleague is a stretch for Caroline. A big one. Let alone a friend, at least not in the conventional sense.

They clash more often than they collaborate on anything, after all: with him demanding speed and severity when it comes to finding ways to cut their competitors off at the neck; and her countering with options that preserve dignity, that allow for diplomacy as well as smooth transitions of power that begin and end with a cordial handshake. Theirs’ is a total conflict in tactic, in personality. A spark of opposition that means business—you know the type. It’s ugly courtesy mixed with innuendo that slides into begrudging respect twenty-four hours a day, fifty-two weeks of the year.

They’re opposites in every sense of the word, but it works.

Together they make for a surprisingly prosperous combination in the corporate world, and it’s one that just so happens to help them rake in diverse clients on top of big bucks revenue.

So where Klaus snarls at almost everyone, Caroline beams. Likewise, where she's poised and reliable in the midst of a crisis, he rages. Sometimes throws things. Expensive things. Once or twice at people’s heads, though that “rumor” lives in the Do Not Discuss Or Else vault with all of those shady concerns about certain members of his family.

Since she’s neither short on smiles nor sociability either, it follows that he tends to be gruff in comparison. Or as most other employees like to whisper, as grouchy as a wealthy Brit has any right to be.

Needless to say then, the muscular tick along his jaw is a measure of his mood. It’s a physical marker to watch for so one knows when it’s okay to broach a sensitive topic with him or when it’s smarter to bow out, zip it, lay low, waiting for a better time to tackle the issue at hand without any measure of solvency. Caroline’s become an expert at dissecting it. That little quirk. She knows precisely what to look for. Figured it out in matter of weeks. Not to boast or anything.

(Hint: the key is in the rapidity with which the tick comes, its root cause. Next comes deducing how long it’s likely to last. Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Calculate the potential damages. Then follow up accordingly.)

So now she knows to attack in the evenings, negotiate in the afternoons, and relent in the mornings. She’s learned what strategies to unleash on him and when.

Call it an Unwind the Big Bad Prick science, if you will. A crash course on all Mikaelson whims and asshole-isms.

The truth is Caroline’s not afraid to provoke him. To rattle him. She never has been, never will be.

She’ll call bullshit directly. to. his. smug. face. when he deserves a good tongue lashing or needs a simple lesson in civility, which just so happens to be much more often than one would think.

Summa cum laude honors, and unmatched organizational skills aside, she knows that’s one of the reasons why the Mikaelson siblings had Klaus hire her in the first place. She’s the hip check he needs. The temperate balance to his foul, distrusting moods and impulsivity.

There’s an entire arsenal of cutting glares at her disposal for him now. A challenge that sits on the tilt of her nose when they arrive somewhere simultaneously, both intent on being the first in the room. It doesn’t matter where it is, with whom they’re meeting, or why. The point is to compete…to be the one who’s holding the ace in her palm.

She aims to outsmart, outthink, and out win him in as many schemes as possible. In as many days, too, if she can swing it.

It’s how Caroline has come to carry arguments in the strum of her fingers. Wear them in the slight curl of her upper lip when they disagree. Her hair flip’s perfected, a real asset. A true silencer when she needs it to be. Like when he tries to pull rank or won’t listen to logic at all. (Which, again, happens more frequently than it should. May even prompt an eye roll or two. Sometimes three - you know, if the chip on his shoulder starts to burnish gold and he downshifts into being ruthless and impossible again.)

Not to mention the fact that her verbal comebacks slap harder than Klaus’s do since she smiles as she delivers them, the effect as disarming for him as it is satisfying for her—and oh, boy, can she sure deliver a line! Then watch as it lands like a whap across his cheek.

None of that has anything on the swivel of her heels, though. Or the sashay of her retreat which she enacts only once she’s successfully shaved him down a peg or two, knocking his ego back down to planet earth where it belongs. At least for the rest of the day.

It’s safe to expect that it’ll be back in tact by tomorrow - it always is - but she still lives for the dimpled purse of his mouth, anyway. That rough swallow of his Adam’s apple. The sag in his seat which precedes the defensive crossing of his arms that lets her know she’s one-upped him, and he’s impressed. Intrigued. Put out in a way that makes him borderline congratulatory…almost flirtatious, really.

(Except they can’t stand each other so she brushes the latter thought into the back of her brain where it can asphyxiate and die. Like - as soon as possible.)

A backward wave of her hand is the only thing Caroline leaves behind as her red-soled heels click down the hallway afterwards. Headed back toward her own office. Sometimes she steers toward the elevators afterwards because it’s late, because she now has something to gloat about on her ride home.

She prefers to abandon him when he’s at her mercy like that: stunned, speechless, reeling, his head still turning over her last competitive taunt.

It makes him look boyish even though he’s pushing thirty. Pleasantly caught. Not to mention a smidge more attractive than she wants him to be with those rumpled blond curls and abandoned tie, his sleeves cuffed up to the elbows.

Klaus seems to derive some kind of twisted satisfaction from the leveling of odds between them regardless. And why the hell not? So does she.

It’s adrenalizing, plain and simple. A grin always seems to snake its way onto their faces at the same moment. Win or lose. Every time.

Wrapped up in their little game of professional chess, though, Caroline is too full of plans and spite to worry over what that zing she feels between them means.

Klaus is fond of endearments. And he uses them.

A lot.

They tend to be ridiculous at best, his pet names, downright inappropriate at worst. And he knows it. Designs it so, his grin stretching wider at the edges while he gauges her reaction to his latest assignations.

They slide off his tongue freely, suggestively, relentlessly, until they’re an avalanche of “love,” “queenie,” “venomous cupcake,” “Care-ella de Ville” monikers that fly in her direction more often than not as they go toe-to-toe over some work issue or find themselves cloistered together in the Brainstorm Wing, alone, far too long to be considered tolerable.

He talks and teases. She mostly ignores it because she’s focused, determined - a freaking whiz at professionalism - though he does win a scoff every now and again over their electronics.

That’s simply the way it is between them. How it’s always been.

Occasionally Caroline will threaten to set his pants on fire or will offer to drown him in his most expensive bottle of bourbon for extra measure. Anything to shut him up. Anything to curb his persistent interruptions whenever they’re up to their elbows in files, arguing, warding off a loss before an important meeting or a deadline. But it never works. It never sticks.

Seriously, nothing phases him.

The man is either impervious to rebuff of any sort or his encouragement hinges on the one stupid traitorous blush (one!) that seems to accompany any glare Caroline fires in his direction. (A weakness she’s more than desperate to delete from her physiology.) His audacity is incredible to witness in person. Absolutely incredible.

Suspicion rankles in her gut because it’s as if Klaus has no other targets even when there are other associates present, which doesn’t make sense. It’s just her. Just this. Just endless time and opportunity to pun her to death.

Talk about sucks!

Can’t someone else be his designated prey instead? Why her? Why now? How’d she get to be so unlucky as to have to put up with him all the time?

Rifling through documents one evening in late November, forced to work in tandem per their boss and CEO, Elijah’s, request, the two of them nibble on Chinese takeout and work. Bicker. Pour over contracts. Plot strategy in the B-wing late into the morning hours.

“I know you’re loath to admit it, sunshine,” Klaus says with a yawn after they concoct a one-two punch right as the clock strikes three; it’s a killer solution on all fronts, “but you and I are good together. We make a formidable team.”

“Oh, stop with that.”

“Stop with what?”

“You know it annoys me,” she frowns. “Come on.”

“Annoys you? It was an observation, Caroline. I was under the impression those weren’t illegal.”

Tossing her iPad and color-coded notes aside, she runs a lazy hand through her hair before leveling him with a look, “I wasn’t talking about the team comment and you know it.”

“Weren’t you?”

“No.”

“Pity,” Klaus says with a sigh and a stretch, raking her over while amusement dances in his rimmed eyes. “I’d hoped we were on the same page for once.”

“Well, we’re not.”

“Clearly.”

“An apology would be welcome at this juncture, you know. I’m open to hearing one,” she suggests.

“An apology?” Caroline waits. Taps her monogrammed company pen on the table’s ledge. He smirks before unhooking another button at his collar and angles closer. “For what?”

With a huff, “We’ve talked about this and you can’t just—how dare you keep—I—”

“Yes?” Klaus doesn’t say it but another endearment hangs from his smirking lips. It waits to shoot her way any second. “Go on then. State your grievance with me.”

“There’s no point.”

“Why’s that?”

“You already know what it is,” she says.

“Do I now?”

Growing perturbed, she ignores the flutter in her belly under this intense scrutiny, his expression a mixture of steady, sarcastic, and softly admiring. “This whole conversation is ridiculous!”

“Fair point. Though, personally, I disagree.”

“You…” she says, fighting back a blush and a laugh then shaking her head, “you are the actual worst.”

“Funny. That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one.”

“Perhaps not, sunshine,” he dimples, slumping back casually before interlocking his fingers behind his head, and sighs, “but I’ll take it as such anyway. Just this once.”

Caroline scowls. Flattens her lips. Mumbles something about “endearment harassment.” Resists another blush as well as the urge to strangle him before the paperwork for this deal is done.

Instead she decides to re-send him the Merriam Webster definitions of impertinent and dickhead from her phone again—you know, for clarity’s sake. Then she asks demurely, all eyelashes, her hands folded flat, if Satan has happened to set the date for his coronation into hell yet.

“Why?” Leaning over the armrest with his chair wheels squeaking against the floor, Klaus is all cheek and attentiveness and spicy cologne. “Care to be my escort for the big event?” he says without missing a beat.

With a snort, “In your dreams, Mikaelson. But so help me, if you don’t knock it off and focus so we can finish preparing for this meeting tomorrow, then I promise I’ll find a way for the devil to come and collect you early himself. Got it?”

“Sure thing,” he nods. “Can’t have you wanting to push me off the roof later now, can I?”

“Who’s to say I’m not already tempted?” Caroline mumbles.

He swivels to face her, all levity, with one eyebrow raised. Meanwhile she focuses on organizing their files into separate stacks. “Are you?” he says.

Shrugging, “I wouldn’t push it any further if I were you. Better to be silent but productive than flippant and airborne, don’t you think?”

A chuckle. A soft press of his palm over her wrist.

“Well played, love. I don’t know if hearing that leaves me feeling more wounded or paranoid, but…well played.”

Warm, certain, Klaus’s touch lingers far too long after he draws away.

—Archived Twitter messages from FIERCE AND WE KNOW IT SQUAD group chat on December 5th, 10:42 P.M.

thiskatRAWRS : i said find his celebrity doppelgänger for us, caroline. wtf !!

crowned caroline: i did

thiskatRAWRS: no, you defected. like a coward

crowned caroline: did not!

thiskatRAWRS: did too

thiskatRAWRS: besides, i think we both know there’s a better selection to be had here

enzobites: oh - this outta be good, lusty (or is it katTHRUSTY now?)

thiskatRAWRS: *middle finger emoji*

crowned caroline: ugh. don’t provoke her, okay?

enzobites: bugger me for wondering at Elijah’s reaction to his ladylove’s ranking + assessment

enzobites: of

enzobites: his

enzobites: younger

enzobites: brother’s

enzobites: sex

enzobites: appeal

thiskatRAWRS: i still have eyes, don’t i? just gotta keep my hands to myself. not that it’s anyone’s business but mine and Elijah’s if i do or do not 😼

enzobites: …and you wonder why you were reassigned from HR, love

thiskatRAWRS: *double middle finger emoji*

bonnie-b-is-me: Kat told me Klaus has an up-to-no-good Jude Law look about him. is that semi-accurate, Care?

bonnie-b-is-me: (me = works elsewhere = totes out of loop) :(

crowned caroline: nope

crowned caroline: i stand by my original choice

bonnie-b-is-me: which was?

crowned caroline: *inserts internet meme*

bonnie-b-is-me: 😯

enzobites: wut…why Grumpy Cat?

thiskatRAWRS: i told you ^^^ doesn’t count, pick a human

crowned caroline: but the resemblance is astounding! it’s uncanny, really

crowned caroline: look here, i’ll prove it further: *inserts another three memes, one with a side-by-side photo comparison*

enzobites: wicked Santa hat there, Klausy

bonnie-b-is-me: lmao

crowned caroline: Klaus is literally Grumpy Cat in human form bc 1) he’s surly 2) he’s miserable and repressed af 3) he’s one explosive hiss away from taking another corporate life at all times

bonnie-b-is-me: so let him be known, 4eva more, as Grumpy Corporate Klaus

enzobites: i dig it

enzobites: GCK ftw then, yea? ;)

crowned caroline: 👍🏼

thiskatRAWRS: sorry, but all i’m getting from care’s explanation is “overlooked sex kitten” vibes. so if that’s how you view Klaus then idk how to break this to you, girl, but…

enzobites: BOW CHICKA WOW WOW

thiskatRAWRS: exactly !! one of them is gonna pounce on the other before long—ruffled feathers and all of that meowww

bonnie-b-is-me: bets, anyone?

enzobites: count me in, gorgeous ;)

thiskatRAWRS: ditto

crowned caroline: OMG SHUT UP ALL OF YOU

bonnie-b-is-me: did either of you hear something?

thiskatRAWRS: sounds like denial chirping to me

enzobites: or uh…hate could be their preferred foreplay

crowned caroline: THIS ISN’T FUNNY

bonnie-b-is-me: wouldn’t be the first time

thiskatRAWRS: and def not the last !!

bonnie-b-is-me: *inserts YouTube link to “Dangerous Woman” by Ariana Grande*

crowned caroline: WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM??? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS, WTF

thiskatRAWRS: *inserts “You Can’t Handle the Truth” gif*

enzobites: from the way Klaus verbally paws at Blondie here in the office, to the longing look in his eyes when she speaks (or flirts) with any good-looking bloke who isn’t him, i wager it’s only a matter of time before—

crowned caroline has left the chat

A natural curiosity is there, of course. Call it a fatal flaw. A susceptibility. Whatever.

She’s only human.

No use in haranguing her about it forever, you know?

It’s a passing thought or two when the workload is mounting, when Caroline’s eyes blur numbers into scratchy colors of highlighter and her days are spun into spools of navy blue suits and unsigned contracts and poorly worded emails and coffee cart lattes plus beignets which she needs to keep her standing upright for another few hours or else she’ll peter out mid-sentence, toppling into the nearest chair; only to then find what she craves deposited, like a gift from the gods, onto her desk the exact instant she feels herself deflating into putty. No evidence at all that someone had been there. Not an item out of place. No note attached anywhere.

There’s also that prickle against the base of her neck sometimes. A tingle of awareness that tells her Klaus is either close by or he’s peering at her through the glass walls again, idly. Watching her with some soft and introspective intensity Caroline doesn’t understand let alone question thoroughly.

It’s a collection of moments.

Looks.

Coincidences.

Things that happen by accident because their schedules align - because, for example, they’re seated side-by-side on their way to the New Orleans airport one afternoon to catch a flight back home after closing Gerard Enterprises when the car swerves. The driver’s caught in a blast of turbulent traffic, and without thinking, she crosses the invisible boundary between them to curl against his side, her fingers fisting in his unworn seatbelt. Her head tucks against his clavicle, her eyelashes flicking over the buttons on his shirt. Their breaths heavy but in time.

“Are you alright, love? Are you hurt?” Klaus asks, his mouth burring like an ember against her crown of golden hair.

“I’m okay,” she breathes. In then out. In then out. “Just a little toppled and caught unawares is all,” she adds as his pulse slows beneath her ear, his hand hot on her bicep. “You?”

“Heart in my stomach, woman in my arms, so otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

“Yes - quite.”

Then there are the private conversations Caroline overhears. Like the one where he informs a slimy potential de Martel client the two of them are “a package deal” and that she is “not one to be trifled with, disrespected, or undervalued.” Or another where he confesses to his sister, Rebekah, that they’d “be bloody lost without her here.”

It’s how, any time they cross the street together, Klaus’s hand presses against the small of her back as if he wishes to offer another layer of protection. Almost like it belongs there.

It’s when, after a bout of flu descends like a hammer, leaving her phlegmy, feverish for days, and unable to work, a knock sounds at her door to reveal him standing on the other side. Looking sheepish, a shopping bag full of get well tea and medicinal items hangs from one of his arms while chicken noodle soup is Tupperwared in the other. To top it all off a fresh bouquet of sunflowers perches in the crook of his elbow, which he places in a vase with water before he leaves so she can rest. So she can recover her strength and faculties.

And even though everyone at the office whispers that Klaus only cares about himself, and about what comforts he can afford, Caroline knows he pays the secretaries’ bonuses directly out of his own pocket. He also offers use of his car service when the hour is late or the weather gets too dicey to walk to the subway, so he can’t possibly be that awful, can he? Can he?

These passing thoughts accrue over days, hours, weeks, to leave an imprint large enough to make her wonder. To have her questioning their so-called triviality.

Caroline hates to think it but - freaking hell - what if her friends are right? Is the in like vs. in spite line between her and Klaus really that thin, or is she only now realizing to admit so will change everything in ways she cannot begin to fathom?

Swipe left to descend into Emoville✔️

Swipe right for Distraction City✔️

(Both options suck equally for her, as it turns out.) (So she guilts Enzo into paying for drinks for the next three Saturdays and processes in true Forbes fashion: with lists a’plenty.)

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #it's been 84 years #since i last wrote for them #let's hope it's not 84 more #before i do again #ashlee bree's writing endeavors #ashlee bree's edits

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ That Don’t Impress Me (Yuushi Oshitari)

Genre: Slice of Life, Friendship, Comedy, Fluff ☁

Word Count: 1,608 ☁

Pairing: Reader, Yuushi ☁

World: Prince of Tennis ☁

Song: “That Don’t Impress Me Much” by Shania Twain ☁

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I’ve known a few guys who thought they were pretty smart. But you’ve got being right down to an art.

Yuushi sat quietly in class, breezing through the day’s work with ease.

Yuushi Oshitari was the Tensai of Hyotei Gakuen, with top marks in every subject. Not only did he have the brains, but he was also an excellent tennis player, and very popular to boot. Quite a few people looked up to the blue-haired male and he even had his own fan club – though it wasn’t nearly as big as Hyotei’s King. Then again, no one’s was.

Most of the boys at Hyotei often approached the tensai in hopes that he’d either do their homework for them or help them in some way. His answer was always the same – “no”. And yet, they still kept coming back.

You often found yourself wondering how his head hadn’t gotten half as swollen as Atobe’s. Then again, his ego was still quite large, thanks to his three years at Hyotei.

“Hey, Yuushi.” you poked his shoulder and he turned in his seat, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Yes?”

“Can you help me out with this math problem? It makes no sense.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to find someone else.” he turned back around, a smirk slithering onto his lips.

Your eye twitched as you stared at his back, fighting the urge to flick him with the tip of your pencil.

You think you’re a genius, you drive me up a wall. You’re a regular original, know-it-all.

You watched in silence as a blonde girl approached Yuushi during tennis practice that afternoon. Now, you were not thinking that blondes were dumb, but this girl gave stupid a whole new meaning. Or maybe she was just desperate.

“You’re going out with me tomorrow, right, Yuushi darling?” she was flirting, twirling her hair and swaying her hips from side to side.

“I never agreed to that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to practice.” he went to turn around, but she grabbed onto his arm, hugging it tightly between her large breasts.

“Don’t play hard to get in front of your friends, Yuushi!” she whined, glossy bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

He scoffed, breaking free from her grasp. “I’d much rather go out with someone that understands what the word ‘no’ means.”

She grabbed onto his waist. “What do you mean? I can look up ‘no’ if that’s what it takes!”

His eye twitched and you fought to hold back your laughter. Seeing him get so agitated, a sight that was rarely seen, was quite the entertainment to you.

“Perhaps I should rephrase that. I’d much rather go out with someone with an IQ higher than a two-year-old child,” he said coldly.

“What do you mean?” she tilted her head to the side, blonde locks falling into her eyes.

Yuushi sighed, trying once again to gain freedom from the clingy blonde.

You scowled in disapproval.

Sure, the girl may have been one of the stupidest middle schoolers around and sure, she may have been extremely clingy and downright aggravating, but that didn’t mean he had to be such an ass to her. He really thought he knew it all.

That attitude of his really drove you up a wall and you wanted nothing more than to take his title of genius and hit him upside the head with it.

Oh, oh, you think you’re special. Oh, oh, you think you’re something else.

They got their math tests back and you groaned, looking at the red 65% in the upper right corner. Peering over Yuushi’s shoulder, his grade had not changed since he first entered Hyotei. Yuushi had received yet another 100%.

He smirked in satisfaction when he noticed you looking. Not a normal smirk, though. One of those arrogant ‘I’m-better-than-you-times-ten’ smirks. You know the kind that Atobe always wore. You knew that boy was a bad influence! “Good grade, as always.”

Your eye twitched, “Don’t gloat.”

He smirked, turning around and running a hand through his hair. “Don’t be mad just because I’m smarter than you. There are not very many people in this world who can match my brains.”

How could that boy be so damned arrogant? You didn’t understand.

Were those fake glasses messing with his brain? Or was it that blue colored hair of his? No matter what the reason, he was taking it too far.

Okay, so you’re a rocket scientist? That don’t impress me much. So you got the brains, but have you got the touch?

It seemed as if his arrogance grew more and more with each passing day and it was quickly reaching unbearable lengths. Even his teammates were beginning to feel the aggravation that came with it.

Every time Yuushi got a good grade, he tried to rub it in your face. It was like he was trying to prove a point or something. Whatever it was, it was getting old, and fast. Something had to be done about him.

Now, normally, you had no problems with Yuushi, but arrogant Yuushi? You couldn’t stand him.

You were determined to figure out what the hell his problem was. Which meant paying close attention to him in class and watching him during practice. Subtle changes in his behavior would be what gave it away, and that’s what you were looking for. You tried to be as stealthy as possible, though, so he wouldn’t suspect anything out of the ordinary.

You had to admit, his tennis was pretty amazing. That large brain of his was pretty useful in-game. You’d never admit that to him, though, not in a million years.

His ego was big enough for ten Yuushis as is.

Now don’t get me wrong, yeah, I think you’re alright, but that won’t keep me warm in the middle of the night. That don’t impress me much.

You were sitting behind the school, back against the wall, reading a book you had borrowed from Yuushi’s bag earlier that morning. You were close to giving up on your best friend. You had tried to figure out what his deal was, but it was impossible. Either he was hiding it extremely well or there was no real reason for the change.

No matter what you did or said to the male, you just couldn’t come to understand why he was acting so cocky lately. Maybe you just weren’t smart enough to figure out the intentions of such a guy. You laughed at the thought. The whole ordeal was making your head hurt and you began to wonder if it was really worth it.

“Enjoying my book?” Yuushi had walked up to stand in front of you without catching your attention. Had you been that deep in thought?

“Yes, actually. It’s not so advanced that I can’t understand it.” you rolled your eyes before returning them to the page.

Yuushi took a deep breath and removed his glasses before running a hand through his hair. His words were soft, and you were sure he hadn’t meant for you to hear them. “Last time I take relationship advice from Atobe…”

“Eh?” you glanced up at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Tell me. Do you know why I’ve been acting this way recently?” he was dead serious, much different from the teasing arrogant side that he’s been displaying recently.

“No, I don’t…. are you bipolar, Yuushi?”

He chuckled, replacing his glasses and shaking his head. “No, I’m not bipolar. I didn’t want to lose your friendship, idiot.”

“Eh? Lose my friendship?” you blinked, thoroughly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard a few rumors… that you were hanging out with someone else. You’ve been really busy lately and rarely spending any time with me. I’m supposed to be your best friend.” he paused, taking a deep breath, “Atobe suggested that, if I act smarter, I’d get your attention. He told me it’d work but, I’m not so sure of that anymore…”

“You were jealous… of who?”

He knelt down in front of you, laying his hand on your outstretched leg to balance himself. “That boy. The blonde that you’ve been hanging around recently.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold in the laughter that would probably damage the male’s pride. You just couldn’t keep it in, though, and ended up busting out laughing, laying the book to the side so you could clutch your stomach.

Yuushi’s eye twitched and he demanded to know what was so funny. One thing the tensai could not stand was being laughed at.

You attempted to catch your breath, wiping your wet eyes before answering. “That boy is my cousin, idiot.”

He blinked in surprise, his eyes wide, “C-Cousin..?”

“Ahh. Shishido knew that… he didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head, imagining himself strangling the brunette in his head for making him look like such a fool in front of you. He pushed up his glasses, the light glinting on the lenses so you couldn’t see his eyes. “I suppose the plan only drove you farther away…”

“A little,” you murmured, thinking back to all the times you wanted to strangle him. Your eyes followed him as he moved to sit beside you. “Idiot, you’re my best friend. No one could replace you.”

He smiled, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer, resting his head against your own. “I should have just confronted you.”

“For someone so smart, you’re a moron to listen to Atobe’s advice.” you giggled, crossing your arms, “But, I think you’re alright, Yuushi.”

He laughed as you patted his arm, pulling you into a tight bear hug.

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blackmissfrizzle · 5 years

Text

A Tale of Two Soldiers Part 6

Title: A Tale of Two Soldiers Part 6

Characters: Erik x reader, Bucky x reader

Summary: Erik and Bucky come to save you.

Word Count: 5703

Warnings: Sexual assault and sex trafficking (Plesse don’t read if they’re triggers for you even though it does not go into depth.) Violence and a little torture

A/N: no keep reading link since I’m on mobile.

You awoke with a pounding headache, it was worst than the time you were matching drink for drink with Steve. Whatever room you were in the air was freezing and it didn’t help that Marcus or whoever he was working with left you in your lingerie set.

As you were coming to, you heard a murmur of voices. You got up to investigate where the voices were coming from. With each closer step you heard a bunch of:

‘She’s up’

‘She’s coming’

‘Is that Y/N’

‘Isn’t she an avenger’

When you found the voices, they belong to a group of women, scratch that not all of them were women. The youngest seemed to be about 11. All of them were in skimpy shorts and crop tops. Judging from their outfits, your new environment, and your abduction you just got caught in a fucking sex trafficking ring. Great, Bucky and Erik weren’t going to let you out your sight after this.

A young girl with big doe eyes tentatively walked to you.”Are you here to save us? You’re Y/N, the avenger, right?” Her eyes were filled with hope and you didn’t want to tell her the truth and break her heart but you also didn’t want to lie to her and give her false hope.

You didn’t know if it was luck or not but a girl who looked like life hardened her answered for you. “Does she look like she’s here to save us? She’s for sell just like us!”

To make yourself smaller you kneeled down to the other girl’s level. “She’s right. I’m here against my will. But, I got some powerful friends and they’ll find us sooner than later.”

Suddenly, you heard a loud slam of a door and the clicking of heels against the tile floor. A man in a full Armani suit was surrounded by his bodyguards appeared. He seem like the type of man to brag about his accomplishments and flaunt his wealth, especially with women. And if they didn’t do as he asked, he’ll call them anything but a child of God.

“I see that you met your new roommates,” the man stated smugly.

Already tired of the bullshit you punched ole dude in his smug face. In return you received a kick in the gut that caused you to fall to the ground.

Armani suit bent down and jerked your chin so you could look into his emotionless eyes. “They were already ordered not to hit you in the face. We don’t want to damage our money maker.”

“You’re really selling me and these girls? Oh, you don’t know what trouble you just got yourself into asshole.”

“Trouble? I don't think so. You’re gonna be worth more than all of them combined. Someone as beautiful and strong as you. You’re gonna make me a rich man.”

“Let’s say if you get the chance to sell me, you’re not gonna live long enough to spend it. My dad’s a senator, my uncles are War Machine and Ironman, my best friends are Captain America and Black Widow, and my boyfriends are the two most ruthless killers ever. I’m starting to feel bad for you bro.” You shrugged at the man and smirked.

“I knew you were a little slut.” He gripped your face harder to the point you thought he would break some of your teeth and then he gave you a bruising kiss. In return you head butted him, which he seemed to enjoy from his evil chuckle. “I wish I could keep you for myself. Do you know what’s the most satisfying thing about my job?”

“I don’t know. You get your tiny dick sucked? You must be overcompensating for something,” you sneered.

The big bad grabbed your hand and put it on his rather unimpressive hard on.”I assure you I’m not overcompensating for anything.” Great, not only were you kidnapped by an asshole but he was delusional as well.

“Anyway, my favorite thing about my job is dousing out fires. Now, your average sex trafficker wants to get easy girls. Girls who won’t put up fight. But me personally, I like it when my girls got fight in em, because I enjoy putting them out. I love when a break down a girl and make her submit. The more fight she had the better. And you, Ms. Y/L/N are one of the strongest women I ever had and to bend you to my will until I submit,” he took a deep inhale and palmed himself. “I would pay good money for that, but you’re the product and I can’t make money if I use my own product. But no worries, there are buyers out there with similar viewpoints as mines and they’ll pay a pretty penny for you. So, I’m not scared because I’ll have enough money in the world not to worry about your friends and family.”

As Armani suit gave his bad guy monologue, you found a random pipe on the floor behind you. Despite your better judgement you grabbed the pipe and whacked the smug smirk off your captors face. “I’m glad you like your girls with fight because I gotta whole lotta fight in me.”

When he faced you, you finally saw the anger in him instead of that giddiness he had earlier. “Make sure you don’t hit her in the face. Remember that’s our money maker, but everything else is fair game.” While he ordered his men to do their worst his eyes never left yours until he exited the room.

Soon as their boss left, the goons started pounding at you. Some used their fists, some used their feet, some used the butt of a gun, and some used a pipe. No matter what they were using, pain reverberated throughout your body. Although, you were in immense pain you refused to give these monsters the satisfaction of your screams in pain, so you suffered in silence. The only thing that could be heard were their grunts and vile words towards you. It wasn’t until you blacked out with thoughts of Bucky and Erik saving you were you able to escape the pain.

——

Charles automatically noticed something was wrong when you didn’t show for the family photo shoot. Even though you hated doing things like these you were always 30 minutes early, just in case someone needed help with something. So when his baby girl wasn’t there when he got there, he ordered his crazy daughter, Casey to track you down.

That was two days ago and there was still no word from you. HPD inform your parents that they couldn’t find Marcus, who you were last seen with and now he was officially a person of interest.

The whole family was gathered in the living room with the Wakandans, James Warren, Tony, Rhodey, and Detective Johnson from HPD.

“We have an update on your daughter’s case,” the detective informed the Y/L/N family as he handed a folder to your father.

His knees buckled once he saw what was inside. It was photos of you in your lingerie, posed for sell. The pictures got worse as he saw all the bruises on your body.

Your mother got a look as well and she instantly wailed. “Who would do this to my baby?”

Tired of being in the dark, Erik took the photos from your dad. When he saw them he was fuming and he knew just who to blame.

Throwing the photos at Bucky, Erik stormed towards Bucky and sucker punched him.”Its your fault! I was stupid enough to listen to you and let her go to that damn auction! Now look, Barnes she’s caught in a sex trafficking ring!”

Everyone except the Wakandans perked up at the mention of Barnes. “Bucky Barnes?” Tony and your mom questioned.

Bucky was outed now, so he took the nano mask off. “I’m just as pissed as you, Stevens and I blame myself more than you ever could.” Then Bucky turned his gaze towards Tony and your mom, “But all of you have a choice. You either can turn me in over duty or some personal vendetta or you let me be Winter Soldier and bring our girl home and kill those sons of bitches.”

Regrettably, Tony conceded to Bucky. He was far too worried about you to get back at Bucky and he knew how much those bastards needed to pay and the Winter Soldier was what they needed.

“Who took those photos,” Rhodey asked gravelly.

“We believe it’s Richard Dominguez. He just took over the Dominguez crime family and expanded into sex trafficking, which his recently deceased father was against.” Detective Johnson informed the room.

“What about this Marcus nigga?” Erik asked. He was ready to kill someone and if he couldn’t get to Dominguez then Marcus would have to do.

The detective felt uncomfortable under Erik’s murderous gaze. “Umm...we can’t find him.”

“Then what the fuck you niggas good for? Oh wait never mind y’all good for killing innocent black people.”

“Cousin!” T’Challa admonished his younger cousin.

Erik just shrugged his shoulders because he believed he told no lie. He looked at Shuri and nodded his head at her. “Lil cuz, can you find this Marcus dude if we give you his picture?”

Shuri looked at Erik as if he grew a second head. Did he know who he was talking to?”

“My bad, cuz,” Erik quickly apologized once he saw the look on Shuri’s face. “Can you find him quickly is what I meant to ask.”

“Give me the picture and I’ll tell you his last location within 30 minutes, cousin,” the Wakandan princess stated.

Detective Johnson handed a photo of Marcus to Shuri and she promptly went to work.

---

Everything hurt. You were sure that you had a couple of broken ribs. The girls took turns looking after you and in that time they told you who held the group captive. It was some dude named Richard Dominguez and he was fairly new to the game.

The door squealed open and the girls hid in their respective corners. You thought it was Dominguez coming to gloat about the offers he got for you, but it was a woman instead. She reminded you of a Kim Kardashian wannabe. Nothing on the woman was real. Her ass was disproportionate to her thighs, her lips looked as if they were stung by bees, and her tan was so dark that she was nearly the same color as you.

“So, you’re the one my husband can’t shut up about. He keeps on talking about your beauty, but from where I’m standing, darling, you ain’t that beautiful.” The woman sneered at you as she inspected you.

If her physical appearance didn’t put you off, her attitude did the job for you. Annoyed with the woman you sighed, “Don’t tell me your ok with this? And please don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Ok? Sweetie, I’m ecstatic with anything that allows me to afford my lifestyle. I would sell my own grandmother if it meant I could live like this. Honey, why would I ever be jealous of you?”

What a delusional one this chick was. You laughed at her and proceeded to read her. “Listen, sweetie, ummm, everything on your body is predominantly features of a black woman and under all that tanning lotion, you’re clearly not a black woman. You literally just came in here and called me ugly for having the same features you have that your plastic surgeon did a botch job on.”

You stood up face to face with Dominguez’s wife and even in your diminished shape she was frightened by you. “I bet your bitchass husband is fantsizing about me while he’s fucking you,” a look of embrassement from the woman confirmed your hunch and you contined. “I’m gonna go as far and say he called out my name on accident. Man, it must suck to be you.”

The wannabe was in tears by now and she ran out the room. Usually, you wouldn’t revel in the fact that a husband was mentally cheating on his wife, but since she was compliant, you didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

Once again the door creaked open and this time it was Dominguez and he was pissed. He stormed towards you and punched you in the gut. “You made my wife upset, you little cunt! Be glad that you are of value to me or you be dead.”

You knew Dominguez didn’t care about his wife, but she must’ve gave him an earful and that set him off. Holding yourself back, you smirked at the man. “I don’t know what’s worse for you. Me getting to you and killing you or the Winter Soldier and Killmonger killing you. Either way you end up dead and you better pray that nothing happens to me, because those two I mentioned are nothing nice to play with.”

All the blood drained from Dominguez’s face when you mentioned the Winter Soldier. He didn’t know about Killmonger, but he didn’t sound fun and now suddenly he was fearing for his life.

His silence stuck with you and you knew you had him. You decided to taunt Dominiguez some more. “Remember when I said boyfriends? I was talking about them. So, even if I end up getting sold, you won’t be spending any of the money.”

Richard continued to keep his mouth shut as he tried to calmly exit the room. When he was outside the door, he ordered his head of security to hire more guards in case the Winter Soldier came looking for him. Now he had to get rid of you much quicker than he would like to, because he refused to be a victim of the infamous Winter Soldier.

---

Shuri came through and she was able to locate Marcus in 15 minutes instead of 30, and the team had him in their custody no less than 45 minutes.

Bucky was sharpening his knife trying to calm himself before interrogating Marcus when Tony approached him. “I know you hate me, Stark, but I love Y/N, so don’t be mad at her when we get her back. She was just doing what she believed what was right by protecting me.”

Tony held back his disdain for Bucky. He had to admit that he admired how fiercely Bucky wanted to fight for you. “Barnes, I’m not here to fight you. Y/N would whoop my ass if I did right now. I just wanted to say I appreciate how you’re fighting to get her back and that none of this is your fault.” Bucky drew his brows in confusion at Tony’s statement. Did Stark really compliment him?

“I know. I know. It doesn’t sound like me. But you can’t fight at your best if you keep thinking its your fault that Y/N is captured. You were ok with Y/N going to the auction, because you knew she was going to do it anyway. Don’t beat yourself up over that,” Tony advised the soldier.

“Thanks.”

“I still hate you by the way. I’ll just hate you less once we get her back.” Tony effectively killed the chance of any reconciliation between the two and left the room

As Tony and Bucky were having a moment, Rhodey was talking to Erik trying to calm him down. “You can’t just go in there and start beating on the dude.”

Erik looked at Rhodey in disbelief, “Oh, I can’t? Watch me.” Erik was walking to the door that Marcus was behind and Rhodey pulled him back before he turned the handle.

“You need to calm down and do it quickly! I’m not letting you blow the only lead we have on finding my niece. Do you understand me?” This was the first time Erik seen the older man lose his cool. He heard from you how your Uncle James was always the chill one despite how crazy our mom or Uncle Tony could be. So, he knew he needed to calm down for the sake of your uncle.

“A’ight. I’m sorry, man. I just need to find her asap.”

Rhodey understood the young man’s urgency. He clapped his shoulder and warned Erik. “We need Marcus alive. The cops need someone to arrest.”

Erik caught Rhodey’s drift. He wouldn’t he able to kill Marcus but whoever was the real culprit was fair game.

When Erik finally gathered himself together he went to the door where Bucky was at and entered the room. The two killers had to school their faces as they entered the room. It smelled of bodily fluids and the heat in the room made it no better.

Marcus was sitting in the middle of the room in his own mess. He was a nervous mess because he didn’t know who kidnapped him and then the crazies had a jaguar and wolf snapping in his face.

“They miss their mom and they know you have something to do with her being missing.” Marcus instantly recognized the man talking. He was the Winter Soldier and he was casually flipping a knife around.

Soon as he recognized Bucky Barnes, Marcus soiled himself once again. Erik scrunched up his face in disgust and pinched his nose. “Really, nigga? You already pissed now you gotta shit! I bet you didn’t have that same energy when you let Y/N go.”

“Look man, I didn’t have a choice,” Marcus yelled in desperation.

Pissed off, Bucky echoed Marcus. “No choice!” Bucky kicked Marcus’s chair, causing him to fall and have Apollo and Artemis growl in his face.

“Are you really gonna let em eat him?” Erik pointed to the predators.

“They haven’t ate all day and he’s obviously no help. Is that a problem?”

“Nah, it’s chow time.” Erik broke out into a smile while Apollo and Artemis widen their jaws for their new meal.

“She’s in Huntsville! Dominguez has a bunch of land out there, but he has a small army. He’ll know you’re coming.”

“We don’t care!” Bucky yelled already texting T’Challa with the information.

Erik bent down to Marcus. “Before I rock yo shit, why did you betray her?”

Marcus was a sobbing mess by now, he feared for his life. “I had a gambling debt at one of Dominguez’s underground casinos. He said it’ll clear my debt and I could get a little extra if I help him get her. Y/N’s an Avenger, I thought she would be out by now.”

As Bucky heard Marcus’s explanation, he crushed the door knob in frustration. What kind of man traded his friend for money? He took his knife out and aimed it at Marcus and cut off the top of his ear.

Annoyed that Bucky threw the knife so close to his face, Erik reprimanded him. “You had to throw it next to my face?” Bucky nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and exited the room. Erik quickly followed Bucky after he punched Marcus to silence his wails.

Thanks to Bucky texting the intel while they were still with Marcus, Shuri had the location of Dominguez. Everyone suited up as soon as a plan was formed, even though Bucky and Erik just wanted to go in guns blazing.

“You know we don’t plan on bringing Dominguez alive.” Bucky warned your parents.

Your mother left her husband’s side and for the first time looked Bucky in the eye. “I don’t give a damn. If he’s begging for mercy, you better let him bleed out. Just bring back my baby girl.” Now Erik and Bucky understood where you got a fierceness from.

Both men gave a head nod and a yes ma’am to her and left to go save their girl.

—-

You were getting anxious. If it was just you held captive, you would’ve already escaped and killed Dominguez, but you weren’t. The other girls were your responsibility and you promised them all that you would get them out safely and alive.

“Miss. Y/N, are your friends going to save us?” Lexie, the 10 year old asked you with hope in her eyes.

“Of course, honey. They’ll be here soon. If we get lucky, we might get to see the Scarlet Witch.”

Santana being the pessimist she was told the child not to get her hopes up. You were on the verge to cuss Santana out, but you heard gunshots and the screams of Dominguez’s guards.

A smile broke out on your face, help had came. You ordered the girls to grab the shivs they made in the past days.

All of you gathered together and were approaching the door when you heard footsteps by the door. You pushed the girls behind you and got in your fighting stance.

You abandoned your stance and fell to the floor in relief when you saw Steve, Nat, Sam, and Wanda at the door.

“It’s okay. I got you,” Steve hugged you being mindful of your injuries. You hugged everyone else and asked Wanda where Vision was. She told you he joined Tony and should be here soon.

“This family reunion is great, but we got people shooting at us and we need to get these girls to safety,” Nat reminded everyone.

“Nat’s right. You guys get the girls out and I’ll handle Dominguez.” You offered to your former teammates.

Steve was heavily against the idea. He claimed that you would be outnumber and your injuries would be a clear disadvantage. But you weren’t hearing none of it. You needed to kill Dominguez and your friends couldn’t get caught since they were still fugitives.

In the middle of your argument with Steve, your sword Shuri made for your birthday was suddenly in your hand. Then you heard the roar of Artemis and the howl of Apollo.

You smiled at your friends. “Game time, bitches.” This time Steve didn’t argue with you when you ordered them to get the girls to safety. He knew Bucky was there to save you and nothing would get in his way.

Thanks to your sword being made out of vibranium you easily dodge bullets and sliced through Dominguez’s henchmen. Your goal was to kill your captor and everyone who helped him, and you weren’t leaving the base til you did.

Taking two stairs at a time, you ran into the master bedroom and found Dominguez’s wife frantically throwing clothes, shoes, and jewelry into a duffel bag.

“Materialistic to the end, huh?” Your chuckle halted her packing. Immediately she was begging for her life and in that moment you truly didn’t know if you would leave her alive. You asked yourself WWCAD (what would Captain America do?) and regrettably you only knocked her out with a vase.

As you were tying up Richard’s wife, he came running into the room seeking refuge. Once he spotted you, he pointed his gun at you. “Damn, I thought you would’ve killed her. She knows too much about the operation.”

Dang, this man really didn’t care about anyone except himself. “You know I would say I feel bad for her, but she’s as guilty as you are.”

“Then maybe you should give me the same punishment as her,” he tried to bargain with you.

“Too late,” you stated and then you charged the man.

Your fight ended up in the hallway and near the railing. Dominguez and you were dodging each other’s hits. You lunged to stab him, but he fell over the railing but he grabbed you to bring you with him. You were expecting to feel the coolness of the marble floor, but instead you felt the familiar warmth of strong arms.

“I got you, princess.” Tears threatened to spill out when you saw Bucky and Erik. You kissed Erik and murmur a bunch of I love you. Then you jumped out of his arms and limped towards Bucky to do the same.

Unfortunately, your reunion got cut short by the groans of Dominguez. Erik and Bucky instantly got in defense mode but you had to pull them back. As much as you understood their anger, this was your kill.

You slammed your foot into Dominguez’s chest to stop him from getting up. “Remember when I told you I didn’t know if it was worse for you if I got to you if they got to you,” you pointed towards the two soldiers. He gave no answer, but looked at you in pure hatred.

“Well, I forgot about a third option and I’m gonna go with them, cuz they’ll kill you slower than I ever could.” Confusion and then fear crossed Dominguez’s face as he saw the jaguar and wolf prowling towards him out of the shadows.

While Apollo and Artemis were snarling in his face, you bent down to his ear and whispered, “You know my favorite thing about you douchebag dudes is the fear on your face once you know you lost and how you’re gonna die soon. It’s the best feeling.” You patted his chest as you smugly mocked his first conversation he had with you.

Once you started walking away you heard the crunching and breaking of his bones and his cries of pain as Apollo and Artemis ripped into him.

The adrenaline must’ve stopped pumping through you, because you fell to the ground before either Bucky or Erik could get to you. Blood was seeping out of your stomach when the boys reached you. Each of them were yelling it wasn’t your time yet as you repeatedly told them you were sorry. Luckily, Erik managed to insert a Kimoyo bead into your wound to stop the bleeding. And once again you blacked out as you have done so many times this week.

—-

“You’re very lucky Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N based on all your daughter’s injuries she should be dead,” you heard the doctor inform your parents.

“Thank God!” Your mother praised as she sat in the chair next to your bed.

“Ummm, but is it necessary for them being here?” You could only assume that the doctor was referring to Apollo and Artemis, since you could sense their presence.

“They stay,” Erik ordered leaving no room for negotiations.

A few moments later and you felt your eyes flutter open. No one noticed that you were awake until they heard you groan in pain.

Your first words were where was Bucky and Erik.

Erik left his corner in the room and ran up to you. “Hey, princess. I’m right here and Barnes not here right now. We have too many eyes on us right now.”

Usually you would be understanding, but you didn’t feel complete until you had both men by your side. So, you pleaded with Erik to get him and he was about to comply when Secretary Ross entered your hospital room.

Automatically, you were on the defense and tried to sit up despite the pain you were in. Last time you saw Ross, you cussed him out so you doubted he would be happy to see you again.

“Y/L/N, it’s good to see you’re doing well.”

“What do you want,” you croaked out.

Ross widen his stance in an attempt to intimidate you. “We have reports from the other girls you saved and they said that Steve Rogers and the others were there helping them. Do you know where they have could’ve gone? And please don’t lie, the girls did say you did talk to Rogers.”

Your monitor was beeping quickly indicating the spike in your blood pressure. At this point, Ross was more than a thorn in your side and he was getting dangerously close to be on your kill list.

It also must’ve been your mother’s breaking point, because she jumped out of her seat and was in Ross’s face. “Are you fucking kidding me!!!” Your mama had to be furious to be cussing. You only heard her cuss a handful of times in her lifetime. “My daughter is in the damn hospital barely escaping death and you’re worried about capturing damn Captain America??? My baby girl is right, that heart attack must’ve fucked with your head more than you thought. Now I suggest you get out of this room or that wolf and jaguar are gonna have a new chew toy.”

Ross made the smart decision of leaving the room with no protests. You knew your mom could be scary, but for her to successfully threaten the Secretary of State, she earned a new level of respect from you.

“Damn, Mrs. Y/L/N remind me not to piss you off.” Erik laughed in admiration.

While looking at you and giving you a motherly caress, your mama replied to Erik. “I don’t play about my kids, even the ones who give me the most headaches. So, it’s best you and Barnes remember that.”

You almost couldn’t contain your excitement. That warning your mama gave Erik was also a seal of approval for both of them to date you. Who would’ve thought your mama would be open to you dating an assassin.

For a while you talked with your family. Shannon tried to apologize for unknowingly helping you get kidnapped, but you threatened to burn all her wigs if she tried apologizing again. That quickly got her to shut up.

The nurse came by and told everyone that visiting hours were over. Everyone left except Erik and when she tried to get him to leave, he gave her a deadly stare until she scurried off.

Running your fingers through Erik’s dreads calmed you and him. It was very possible that you wouldn’t have survived and never had the chance to see each other again.

Tears were forming in Erik’s eyes and this was the second time you saw him cry. Between sniffles Erik spoke for the first time since you two been left alone. “I almost lost you, Y/N. That scared the shit out of me. I’m about to ask T’Challa to assign a Dora to follow you when me or Barnes are not around.”

Half of you was grateful that you had a man that cared that much about you, but the other half was annoyed that you were about to get a 24 hour detail after this whole debacle. “I’m safe, E. But don’t you think it may be a little extreme to have someone watching me all the time?”

“Hell no.” Welp, there’s goes any negotiation. You didn’t have the energy to fight Erik on the topic, so you let it go for now.

Erik jokes with you for a bit to lift your spirits, but he knew eventually you would ask for Bucky again. He told you what you already suspected which was that Bucky felt guilty about your abduction and was avoiding you. You told Erik to get Bucky and tell him if he refused to come you would never speak to him again.

Within 10 minutes, Bucky was sulking in your room. Erik excused himself, knowing that you two needed this intimate moment and appreciative that he spent time with you already.

“You two seem really close now,” you pointed out to Bucky after Erik clapped his shoulder.

Seemingly nervous, his metal hand scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, when the girl you both love gets kidnapped it brings enemies closer.”

Bucky made no attempt to get near you and it broke your heart. In the time you needed him the most he refused to be there for you, but you understood it, he was still blaming himself.

“Doll, I really shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

“It’s not safe. I heard that Ross came by looking for intel. Someone can come by and turn me in.”

Although, it was a valid concern, you knew that wasn’t the real reason Bucky thought he shouldn’t be there. “I have my own hospital floor and Tony made sure everyone signed a NDA, so try again, Barnes.”

This time Bucky moved towards you and you could see the pain in his eyes. Hell, you practically felt the pain rolling off of him onto you.

Bucky was crying by the time he sat next to you. He laid his head on your stomach and you could feel his tears seeping through your hospital gown.

When he finally composed himself, Bucky spoke.”Fuck doll, if I hadn’t encouraged you to go to that damn auction you wouldn’t be in this damn hospital bed.”

You lifted his chin to get his attention. “I’m only gonna say this once. It’s not your fault. I was gonna go with or without your permission.”

Bucky opened his mouth to apologize, but you held up your hand to stop him. “James Buchanan Barnes if you are fixing those gifted lips of yours to apologize, I promise you I will cut off your dick and you know how much I love it, baby. You wouldn’t want to do that to me, would you, babe?”

Laughter filled the air and it was music to your ears. Bucky’s laugh was low like his voice but it held a certain lightness that Bucky must’ve retained before joining the army.

“Ok no more apologies. But you’re gonna have someone with you at all times just to make me feel better.”

“I basically told her the same thing and she didn’t argue with me,” Erik added while he was standing in the doorway eating some jello-o.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance at the two men. They really thought you were gonna comply with them. “I didn’t argue with you because I’m too mentally tired to do so. But watch, once I’m feeling better I’m cussing both of you out for trying to tell me what to do.”

Both muttered a ‘we’ll see’ and laughed at you. Throughout the entire night the boys kept you entertained and not once did they argue. It was a rare occurrence for Bucky and Erik get along and you hoped for more of it in the future.

Sleep eventually claimed you and you were glad that you had your two favorite men by your side as it always should be

Tags: @blackreaders-assemble @destinio1 @lildashofmelanin @nickidub718 @dumbchick @chaneajoyyy @wakanda-inspired @blackpinup22 @pastelastronomy24 @cyrioussoul @valkyriesnymph @bitchacho25 @yoyolovesbucky @toniilaney @euphoric05 @marvelmaree @dessianna1

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zetalial · 5 years

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03 Ed’s character development

So in my last post I started rambling in the tags and eh I figured I’d write it out in a separate post. (And as per usual it turned out way longer than I intended...) Enjoy this little post about Ed’s character development in FMA 03.

Okay, early on we see him getting into trouble and then solving problems and Ed is really confident and happy with big smiles. He takes great joy in outsmarting people or defeating people with his awesome alchemy skills. He gets moody at times - he doesn’t like being part of the military - but he is proud to be the alchemist for the people.

The first glance at him after the timeskip when he’s 15 has him talking to a taxi-driver about his lovely reputation and he’s visibly happy and gloating. (The wind gets taken out of him with a remark about his height though.) Now, he is sensitive to people’s suffering and wants to help others when he can - stuff like Nina still weighs on him. But mostly, he’s doing his own thing and thinks he’s awesome. (See Liore, Yousewell and the fullmetal versus flame episode.)

Al’s a little more humble and caring about others while Ed is less interested in other people’s problems - he generally wants to help only when he begins to care about them or if it’s really about proving himself. (In episode 10, the Phantom Thief, his problem with Clara wasn’t that she was a thief, it was because she was a thief using alchemy. He’s particularly opposed to the misuse of alchemy and actually helps her when he thinks she’s trying to help the town. Then when she’s tricked him, Ed wants to defeat her because she got the better of him and he hates that.)

Over the series, this arrogant attitude gets deconstructed. It starts with Marcoh, when Ed tracks him down and doesn’t care too much about his story about his Ishval and how the Stones he made were misused. He just wants the stone for his own goals - restoring him and Al - and doesn’t really care too much about the wider world. Then Marcoh gets taken by the military and Ed suddenly feels bad because he realises his actions caused this and he steps in to defend Marcoh from Scar. Complete with a flashback to Nina. (Separate post on this here)

So next, Ed finds out that the Philosopher’s stone is made from human lives and he starts to give up because pursuing their own goals would mean hurting others. It’s another huge challenge to his worldview. (Here’s a separate post I made on it.)

Then Lab 5 and he finds out the homunculi have been behind things and they’ve been secretly manipulating him and his brother all this time, leaving a trail to the stone to lure them in. Now Ed can no longer pretend that it’s their own quest independent of anything else. They’ve been controlled all this time and didn’t know it. Tucker is still alive. Barry the chopper is still alive. Ed hates being tricked and outsmarted and he’s really shaken by it all.

Meanwhile, you’ve got Al interacting with Scar. Originally Scar is just a bad guy to Ed and now they’re learning more about Scar and his sympathetic motivations and it’s not so black and white. Early villains tended to be framed as generically evil.

So Ed finds he’s more connected to the world than he’d like to be. He can’t just be selfishly pursuing his own goals with no care for his effect on the world. He learns about how the homunculi were created with Izumi and then he meets Greed. Greed’s just a bad guy to Ed. Then Ed kills him and Greed reveals he let Al go, that he’s been manipulated all his life and that he’s not such a bad guy. Ed has to deal with the fact that he’s taken a life and he has to try and move on.

Early episodes had Ed really happy and proud with defeating the bad guy and saving the day. (Nina and Barry the chopper are sort of exceptions but even then the bad guys were so clearly evil and he could at least take some sort of satisfaction from defeating them. Until lab 5...) These episodes show the opposite, Ed feels terrible for what he’s accomplished. There is no satisfaction here.

So the next couple episodes have some more of his assumptions challenged. His interactions with Ishvalans in episode 36 reveal that he’s been affected by propaganda more than he’d like and he confronts a bit of his own internalised racism (the show doesn’t really delve into the subject but it does touch on it a little.) Ed is starting to rethink his assumptions and his worldview. He makes this nice statement about how you can’t always trust what you’ve been told and you have to come to your own truths about the world. Martel informs him how the Ishval war wasn’t a single inciting incident based on different worldviews but an active insidious campaign by the military to start a war. What he’s been told before has been more lies and military propaganda which he’d never questioned.

Then the truth about Liore is revealed and Ed is now confronted with the fact that his actions didn’t help like he thought. He couldn’t solve their problems. All he did was cause worse problems even though it wasn’t his intention. All he can do is collapse in horror at the graves, realising that he was never the clever hero defeating the bad guy. His actions really had huge devastating consequences outside himself.

And he also faces Sloth, who he’d been in denial about for ages. Now he accepts that she’s his creation and his responsibility and he can no longer run from her. So he prepares, going to Risembool to get her weakness.

Lust has been his enemy for a long time and she’s done some terrible things. Yet she offers to work with him against his enemies. She wants his help and I like her line about how if he gives her what she wants and makes her human then they wouldn’t be enemies anymore. It’s like, these characters are more complex than mere bad guys and helping her would be the best move even though she’s never shown any remorse for the things she’s done. There’s no point to antagonising her now. (I’m probably not explaining it that well but I find this scene really powerful.) Meanwhile, Sloth is intent on being their enemy to the end and it’s necessary to go as far as killing her.

Ed’s fight to defeat her is every bit as clever and awesome as any of his earlier schemes and he’s aiming for the ending he got. (Whereas he was shocked by his own actions against Greed.) But there’s no happiness in victory here. Only bitter sadness. He’s beginning to understand the homunculi and that they’re not monsters - they’re tragedies.

At this point they have the stone and Ed could be trying to get his and his brother’s body back. I think it might well have been possible. Early Ed probably would have tried to do just that. But now Ed’s not thinking of his own goals he’s thinking of the greater world outside of his own dreams. His conversation with Mustang in Episode 48, Goodbye, discusses this. Mustang’s throwing away his dream of becoming Fuhrer to defeat the corrupt Military while Ed goes after the Homunculi’s master who’s been pulling all the strings and starting wars. War is not a far-off thing that doesn’t concern him as he believed in early episodes.

So we don’t see much of his cocky smile anymore. Ed learns he’s not as clever as he thinks he is and that his enemies aren’t as simple as he once thought and that the world effects him and he effects the world, whether he likes it or not. That’s some of his character development throughout the series.

We may not get so many big grins but we do still get some nice smiles from him at times. He’s grows more thoughtful about the world and more caring about others. He’s calmer and less arrogant and better at forgiving others for their mistakes, (like he’s able to forgive his father for all the terrible stuff he’s done upon seeing how he’s trying to be better). He’s still restless, and very attached to Al and can’t let go of his principle of equivalency entirely and this leads to his final sacrifice and then continuing researching relentlessly in the new world - he doesn’t become a perfect person or anything. But I adore his character growth.

Ed’s my favourite character in FMA and I absolutely love his character journey in 03. I hope this helps to explain why.

#fma #fma 2003 #edward elric #love his character so much!#and there's still plenty more to talk about #this post was specifically about deconstructing his cocky grins that show up early on #late fma is something of a deconstruction of early fma #so I can understand why people get turned away from the latter half #but I love it!#also BH Ed doesn't interest me nearly so much #which is why I don't like BH nearly so much #I'm here for Ed's character #if that's not obvious #this turned out longer than expected #but at least I cut down on loads of pictures?#I just like to be thorough #and I'm so bad at writing concisely #meta #myposts

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nekoabi · 5 years

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On the Verge of a Heartbreak - Epilogue

Here it is, the monster of an epilogue... that took two days to write... because I have no self control... *falls flat on her face* Well, yeah. I hope you guys enjoy this! Gonna do a last promo for my writing blog that I’ll officially start posting to with the next fic: @nekoabiwrites

AU: Human, (post) School Pairing: Moxiety, OC/OC Words: 9621 (ye it’s long) Warnings: Mention of alcohol and drunkenness, descriptive panic attack, Roman gets mad a few times, yelling, bad life habits. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Roman Ashworth is loving his life, or at least... he thinks he is.

Roman Ashworth was happy with his life. He was perfectly content with his job and his lifestyle. Everyone at his job was too stuffy and uptight, completely not his type of people. He preferred to leave them to their own devices, having always turned down their invitations to spend time together after work until they finally got the message. Instead, Roman would go back to his empty apartment, take a few hours to wash off the boring 9 to 5 desk job costume and replace it with a perfect party look, go out to one of the many clubs, and then just dance and drink the night away.

He had friends, though. While at work, he’d talk with his co-workers and they were always so pleased to be around him. At the many clubs, Roman was close to all of the security and bar staff, so clearly they were friends. He even spoke to his old school friend, Remy, on occasion. Yes, Roman Ashworth’s life was going just the way he wanted it to.

That was until one day, when all the things he’d been running from and pushing to the back of his mind came crashing down around him.

It all started when he got a message from Remy, asking to meet at their usual spot that evening. Roman was utterly delighted that his friend wanted to spend some time together, would be a nice change from the usual day-to-day life. So, that night he cut his partying short and headed to their usual meeting point – a small local diner. Upon entering, Roman was easily able to pick out his friend due to the signature leather jacket and the fact there were only three others in the diner at the time.

Roman slid into the seat opposite of Remy with an exaggerated sigh, “Man, I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted!”

In front of him, Remy simply sipped loudly through the straw between his teeth. He kept the sound going for a few seconds for effect, but eventually let it pop out of his mouth, “You’re half an hour late.”

Roman scoffed, “I’m sorry, I’m just such a busy guy. I’m sure you know how it is.”

Remy seemed to consider fighting the point for a moment, but then clearly thought better. He shook his head and took another long drink before speaking again, “I have something for you, Ro. Something from your brother.”

At the mention of his family member, Roman immediately went on the defensive. Originally, he’d looked excited at the mention of receiving something, but that quickly went out the window. Roman crossed his arms and pouted, “I don’t remember having a brother.”

Remy sighed, already tired of Roman’s game, “Look, do you want to know what it is or not, because I can throw it away.”

“No, I wanna see it so I can throw it away if I want to.”

Remy rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the plain envelope and placed it in the centre of the table, within reach of them both and stared at Roman. Slowly, the man leant back in his chair and seemed to relax entirely, as if a weight he was carrying was dropped off of his shoulders. He casually sipped at his drink once more, watching Roman carefully as he grabbed the envelope.

Roman purposefully took his time opening the envelope. He could feel Remy watching him, even after the man had flicked his sunglasses down, and Roman really didn’t feel like playing up to his friend’s expectations. It was hard, but he managed to accomplish his goal and slowly took the piece of thick paper out of its holder, flipping it open fairly quickly.

His heart stopped as he saw what was, unmistakably, a wedding invitation.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Roman turned the paper towards Remy, pointing to it accusingly, “Because it’s not very funny.”

Remy pulled his sunglasses down a little to make eye contact with Roman, giving the man an opportunity to show his exasperation. “No, Roman, it’s not a joke. It’s a real wedding invitation from your real brother.”

“I already told you, I don’t have a brother.” Roman huffed. He opted to ignore the continued disdainful look from his friend and focus on the invite itself. It was proudly proclaiming the wedding of his former brother and his fiancé, who just happened to be the same person from years back. The silver detailing was intricate, yet also very simple as it stuck mostly to the border of the letter. Roman read the words again and again, trying to come up with anything else to say.

He didn’t want to go to this wedding. He didn’t want to see the man who was supposed to be his brother and the kid who he’d lost years ago. He didn’t want to see who he was marrying and see them both looking happy once more. He didn’t want to go because he’d likely have to see the other’s family and deal with all of them, which meant seeing… him.

“Ugh.” Roman threw the paper down onto the table and pushed it towards Remy, “I’ve thought about it and I’m totally not going. I’d have to see Logan again. I am not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me and gloating in my face about how great he is and how much better his life is with his two brothers.” Roman pretended to puke, sticking a finger into his opened mouth.

Across the table, Remy had had enough. He roughly slammed the recyclable cup he was sipping out of against the table, not making a loud sound but getting his point across and managing to get Roman’s full attention.

“See? This-” Remy flicked his finger up and down Roman’s body, “-is the problem here. You.”

Roman spluttered, clearly offended. He went to speak but Remy took the sunglasses off of his face and snapped the arms shut, “I wasn’t finished.” Remy said, his voice somehow both calm and threatening at the same time.

“You are still holding onto the past, Roman. You tell me every time we meet up that you’re over it, that you’re done with all that, but look at you. You’re throwing away an invite to a wedding because you don’t wanna see one person. One person you’ve put characteristics onto that are not even a part of them.” Remy sat up straight for the first time, locking eyes with Roman, “How do I know that? Because I’ve met with them. I’ve met with them all, and guess what? They’re not dicks. They never were dicks.”

Roman was slowly getting angry. How could his friend turn on him like that?! “That’s not fair, Rem! I thought you were on my side!”

“OH. MY. GOD.” Remy threw his hands into the air, silencing Roman. The few people still around in the diner turned to see what was going on, “There are no sides, Roman. There have never been sides to choose. You made your own problems by focusing all your attention on ruining one guy’s life, and you are still so blind to all the shit you’ve caused.”

“Luckily, they’ve all been able to move on without you and they’re probably better for it. Do you wonder why you’re always alone, going out to clubs to dance with strangers, drinking the night away?” Remy asked rhetorically, “It’s because you’re unable to make friends. You never learned how.”

“That’s a lie! I-” Roman started to respond but Remy cut him off again, standing up out of his chair which caused it to make a horrible screech as it slid back.

“No, it’s not, Ro. You have no friends at work, which you happily gloat about because ‘they’re no fun’. You have no friends outside of work because all you do is go out and party with strangers who forget your name the next day because all of them are so drunk. You have half a friend, Roman Ashworth, and that is me.”

“Half a friend…?” Roman asked meekly, a little scared at Remy’s behaviour.

“Yeah, half a friend. Because I am getting sick and tired of all your high and mighty behaviour. You’re not better than anyone else, sweetheart. You’re actually worse off than most. And, if you keep this up, you’re going to lose that half as well, because I am gradually losing hope for you. I used to sometimes be able to see that kid I used to be friends with, the kid that was fun and wasn’t obsessed with himself, wasn’t obsessed with some other kid that had literally no interest in fighting him, and I’m really starting to lose sight of him.” Remy plucked his cup back up and made to head towards the door but stopped just as he turned his back to Roman, “If you ever start to wake up and see the destruction you’ve caused, call me. Or-” He reached back into his jacket again and pulled out a second envelope, this one noticeably thicker than the one he’d handed to Roman. He held it between two fingers, showing the other man that his name was written on the outside, “-I might see you at the reception.”

With that, Remy walked out the door of the diner.

Roman was left alone with the invitation still staring him in the face, along with the few other customers who were watching him with interest. Quickly, he grabbed the invite and walked back to his apartment.

He was absolutely furious that Remy would even say such things to him. How dare he insinuate that Roman was one of the worst people he knew! How dare he say that he was only ‘half a friend’ to Roman now! How dare he even try and compare Roman to those who’d dropped him so easily all those years back.

Roman stormed around his apartment for a while, thinking about what to do. “C’mon, Roman. Think. You just have to prove that he’s wrong about you.” He muttered to himself as he paced frantically.

Then he had the most brilliant idea he’d ever had. Roman dove for his laptop that rested on the small coffee table and switched it on as he took a seat on the couch. He drummed his fingers on the edge, a giddy sense of glee filling him. If Remy was so sure that everyone else was having a great time with their ‘friends’ and whatever, then Roman was just going to have to find evidence that he was wrong.

Roman searched through his social media in order to find either Patton or his fiancé. He first found the fiancé’s but then realised that he was blocked by the profile holder. Roman took offense and quickly moved to Patton’s, more determined than ever to find proof that their lives were not as perfect as Remy made them out to be.

“Oh, you were always too trusting, Patton…” Roman spoke low, as if he were taunting the statue of the man that resided in the profile picture. He wasn’t blocked here, he was even still a friend, which gave him access to all he could possibly want to find. “Let’s see what you have on here, shall we?” Roman spoke to himself as he began to scroll through the pictures Patton had posted over the years.

This trawling through the other man’s pictures and memories did not have the desired effect on Roman, however. Instead of finding pictures where they seemed to be faking their amazing life and great friends, Roman was being greeted by images that just proved Remy’s point. He searched desperately, trying so hard to find evidence to his theory, but ultimately came up short. He could reason out all the smiles with negative ideas as much as he liked, but there was no water to any of it.

Slowly, Roman started to give up hope and just began to click through the pictures. He’d not seen his little brother in well over 7 years, and the absence was suddenly hitting him hard. He’d gone all the way back to pictures that had been taken a little after the day they moved away from the old neighbourhood and was watching the young man grow into the adult he was today.

Roman clicked through picture after picture showing his daily college life; his dorm room, all the friends he was making, his relationship with his now fiancé. Everything looked idyllic and perfect.

Now, he wasn’t an idiot. Roman knew deep down that this was still an idealised version of Patton’s life, but there just had to be some truth behind it, especially as every photo was within a few days of each other.

He slapped the lid of the laptop shut in frustration. Roman decided to get some rest, he’d be able to focus better tomorrow anyway, and he would definitely be able to find something that proved his point.

The next couple of weeks went by in a blur of usual mundanity for the most part, though Roman was now hyper aware of how his co-workers acted around him. They seemed to grow quiet as he approached, either beginning to talk in hushed whispers or just entirely going silent. Before he'd had that talk with Remy, Roman saw these behaviours as invitations for him to start his own conversations with the groups he was passing by, but now he wasn’t so sure. Roman attempted to brush this off as a random coincidence and go about his day as normal, but the idea kept nagging at the back of his mind.

At the end of each day, he was more than ready to go about his usual evening routine and just go have some fun. Roman forgot about the social media scrolling and just did what he always did. He went out, got drunk and had a great time with some strangers, but one day, he left before the club closed because he still couldn’t get the odd nagging from his mind.

Roman huffed as he walked through the door to his apartment, kicking off his shoes roughly. He went to the bathroom to remove his makeup and his eyes caught the laptop still sitting on the coffee table where he’d left it weeks prior. He paused, considering it for a second before ignoring it and reaching for the makeup remover. It was only once he had fully cleansed his face that he looked at the piece of technology again.

Realising he’d never be able to sleep if he didn’t at least have a look, Roman threw himself onto the couch and flipped open the laptop. As he waited for it to load, he pulled out his phone and looked at his own profile.

He felt like he needed to compare himself, really visualise the difference that Remy had been talking about in order to understand it because he really wasn’t seeing it right now. His heart sank, and his stomach ached as he realised that every picture he had was usually of him alone; selfies of him in dark clubs or his own apartment. The ones that had other people in them were of people he didn’t know the names of or were of him and Remy. It wasn’t until he went back to his high school pictures that he was able to see photos of himself with people he could easily recognise and name.

Roman started to feel queasy so he threw his phone to the side and focused on getting back to Patton’s profile on his laptop. More pictures went by as he spent the next hour looking at them. Photos from holidays and vacations with his fiancé and their family, photos from date nights and anniversaries, photos of people Roman could vaguely recognise from their high school days. But then came the pictures from the last Christmas that had gone by.

The first was like most Christmas pictures he’d already seen on his travels through Patton’s life, showing him wearing a large festive jumper and his fiancé begrudgingly wearing one of their own. The next ones were what hit Roman the hardest.

He saw his parents. With his little brother. And without him.

Roman hadn’t realised that he’d not only dropped his little brother all those years ago but had also lost contact with his parents. He hadn’t spoken to them since he’d decided to move away to the city, figuring that he didn’t need to. Each and every time they’d invited him home, he’d been busy – or so he’d fooled himself into thinking. And they’d stopped trying after all these years. Patton had done the same back then, having moved away so suddenly and not really wanting anything to do with their parents, but he’d clearly patched up the relationship somewhat. It hurt to see this, see himself excluded from what could be seen as any normal family picture. The next one hurt even more. It was both of the families, sitting together for a posed picture. He finally got to see Logan’s face for the first time in years. He could seem him happy, alongside not only his parents, but also Roman’s own parents.

Roman once again slammed the laptop shut and left it to fall into sleep mode. He moved into his bedroom and attempted to fall asleep, trying to rid his mind of the image he’d just seen. The next day, he didn’t even feel like going out. He instead decided to sit on his couch and binge some TV. He tucked the laptop away in a place he couldn’t see it, trying to remove the temptation to torture himself some more.

This went on for another week, just Roman working all day and then sitting in front of his TV until he eventually passed out from exhaustion. All the while, he was cursing everyone he used to know, especially Remy. The man was supposed to be his friend and yet he’d cursed him like this, forced him somehow to look at all of those pictures and make him feel the worst he’d ever felt in his entire life.

It wasn’t until one of his co-workers approached him that Friday did Roman finally realise something was terribly wrong with his life.

Roman had almost fallen asleep as his desk due to his entire week involving him passing out at around 1am after laying on the couch for hours. So, when the meek young employee had approached and checked if he was okay, Roman was definitely startled.

No one at work had spoken to him so kindly in a long time. “I was just a little worried.” The young worker said, “You’re usually full of energy and life, but recently you’ve looked a little worse for wear and I just wanted to make sure you were okay…”

Roman awkwardly assured his co-worker that he was okay, or was at least going to be soon, still a little thrown off by the nice gesture. It felt good to be thought about by someone. Later, during his lunch break, he managed to catch up to the other co-worker and ask if they were sitting with anyone, before taking up a seat at the same table in the café.

That lunch had been the most enjoyable in a long time. Roman wasn’t sat at his desk alone or out somewhere by himself, he was laughing and learning about someone else. Later that day, he was still hung up on it and decided to pull out the laptop again.

He didn’t want to look at pictures any more, Roman decided as he unlocked the laptop once more. He moved back to the main page of Patton’s profile and scrolled a little through his other posts, reading the most recent ones that all seemed to be related to his upcoming wedding.

Roman paused for a second when he saw one that had a couple of names he recognised. Patton had made a post a few weeks back, talking about how his fiancé’s brother and his fiancé’s best friend had argued over who would be the best man, and both of them were tagged. Roman hesitantly clicked on the best friend’s name, just curious to see how he was doing.

There was some zing of joy that managed to sneak through the ever-present gloom that was filling Roman’s body as he saw that the old friend of his was doing well. He scrolled through the pictures for a moment, trying to figure out why he recognised the girl that was in a lot of the photos before giving up and heading back to Patton’s own page.

Roman paused as a thought entered his head. Remy had said he’d spoken to the couple, right? Did that mean…?

Without even really giving a single thought to the consequences of his actions, Roman looked at Remy’s profile. It was then that his world really shattered around him. Remy had other friends, Remy looked happy. Roman had very few memories where Remy was as happy as he looked in these pictures. He scrolled through a few, noting that the old friend he was previously looking at featured in some of the pictures along with the girl.

The laptop was quietly shut and placed back on the table. Roman was left in the dark of his apartment. It was now nearly midnight. This would usually be when he’d be in his element in the clubs, and here he was, sat alone. He reflected on everything he’d seen over the past weeks, slowly letting everything add up in his head.

He really did have no friends. He did nothing but work and party. He went to the clubs to fulfil that sense of companionship with drunken strangers who he forgot the names of before they’d even parted ways. He brushed off the invites to hang out with his co-workers and his family, which had made them start to ignore him. He’d deluded himself into thinking this was the best way to live his life, that he was free from all restraints and was doing exactly what he wanted. But those pictures told a different story.

Roman knew he wanted what those pictures had all shown him. He wanted friends, he wanted to have relationships that meant something. He wanted to get his family back, he wanted to laugh and cry with them and see them happy. He was starting to get that back from the singular lunch experience he’d just had, but that was only a taste – and Roman realised he’d been craving it for years now.

He groaned and buried his face in his hands, “What have I done…?” Roman once again spoke to the empty air, as if maybe some voice would respond to him. As his hands fell away and he stood to get a drink, the white of the wedding invite caught his eye. He’d dropped it onto the small table just outside of the kitchen area, thinking he’d throw it away eventually, but something was stopping him.

Just then, Remy’s voice rang through his head, “If you ever start to wake up and see the destruction you’ve caused, call me.”

Without thinking through the consequences, Roman reached for his phone and called Remy’s number. It rang for what felt like forever before Remy finally picked up.

“What?” came the sleepy voice. Roman laughed to himself; he’d forgotten that Remy was always cranky when someone interrupted his sleep. “Look, if you called to just laugh at me, coul-”

“I think we need to talk, Rem.” Roman quickly responded, before Remy could finish his thought, “I think… I need your help.”

There was a moment of silence, only broken by the slight rustling on the other end of the phone line. Roman fiddled with the ripped flap of the invitation’s envelope that was still sat underneath it on the table as he waited for Remy’s response.

“Okay. But we’re meeting late, I need my beauty sleep. Perfection like this doesn’t happen without good rest.”

Roman was able to hold back his laughter as his nervous energy poured out from him, “Sure thing. How about 5pm?”

“Uh, no, my terms. 8 or later.”

“Demanding as usual. Fine, 8.”

“You can’t talk shit.”

“Uh huh, sure. See you tomorrow, Rem.”

With that, they both hung up. Roman sighed and decided to head to bed, finding that rest came easier that night than any before.

----

Roman nervously tapped his foot as he checked the time on his phone for the umpteenth time since he’d sat down in their usual seats at the diner. It was now getting close to 8:45 and Remy had still not turned up or messaged him. Roman had already made his way through several drinks as his throat kept drying up.

As Roman was beginning to type out a message to Remy in order to check if he was actually coming, the man in question strolled through the door casually and slipped into a seat opposite.

“Sorry, I’m late. I’m just so busy… I’m sure you’d understand.” Remy flippantly stated, exaggeratedly gesturing and throwing his legs up onto the empty chair beside him.

Roman breathed out a self-conscious laugh at having his own words thrown back at him, “Okay, I deserved that…”

“Oh no, that’s just the beginning, darling. I have plenty more where that came from.” Remy pulled out his phone and opened one of the notes pages, “Should I list them for you?”

“Nah, surprise me next time.” Roman pushed the phone down. A moment of silence passed as Remy stared at Roman through his sunglasses, it took that whole time for Roman to realise his friend was waiting for him to say his piece.

He took a deep breath and began to speak, “I wanted to meet you to say I’m sorry for how shitty I’ve been. This whole month has been fucking torture because what you said has been playing on my mind, which made me see the truth. It made me realise I’ve just been pretending, pushing away the negative thoughts and making everything positive. I’ve been so focused on me, and I haven’t looked at anyone else around.” Roman thought back to the co-worker he’d spent lunch with the day before and smiled, “But now I realise that I need to be better. I need to listen to people, not just brush them off all the time… because that’s how I end up with no one in the long run. I figured the best person to start with in order to make myself better was you, Rem. You’ve been my friend for years, you’re the only one I’m still in contact with from back then and you never actually gave up on me, no matter how much I ignored you or frustrated you. I feel like I need to thank you and apologise a hundred times over before I’ve truly made up for all the shit I put you through, but I hope this is, at least, a good place to start…”

Remy was silently sipping at the drink in his hand. He said nothing, even after it was clear Roman was done. He let a minute go by, looking as though he was considering everything Roman had just poured out to him. “You’re right.”

“Huh?” Roman almost jumped as the man opposite suddenly spoke.

“You really do have to apologise a hundred times.”

Roman flicked his eyes around the diner. He was unsure if Remy had accepted his initial apology or not. He waited in yet more silence as Remy took another extended drink through the straw that was perpetually between his lips.

“…but I guess this is a good enough start.”

Finally, the cup was placed on the table and Remy smiled his half smile at him. Roman felt his entire body relax. He’d been so god damn tense this whole time without even really noticing it. He felt like laughing maniacally out of relief, but managed to reign himself in before talking, “Thanks, Remy.”

“That’s two.”

“Fuck... you’re actually going to keep count aren’t you?” Roman rested his forehead against the table, groaning.

“You know it, hon.”

“Great.”

“So, who’s next on your list?” Remy asked, changing the subject.

Roman raised his head and sighed, “See, I’m not sure exactly who I need to apologise to. Like, I know I should say it to my family and Patton’s fiancé’s family and everything, but who else?”

“Wow, you really do need my help. Alright,” Remy finally moved his sunglasses off of his face. He rested them up on top of his head, so he could look Roman dead in the eyes, “Let’s get started with this list.”

For the next two hours, the two friends sat and figured out a ranked list of people who Roman needed to apologise to. It started with the easier and geographically closest ones for Roman to handle, so he’d get the hang of what he needed to say and how to say it in a way that wasn’t awful. Remy listed off everyone he could think of on the top of his head before grabbing Roman’s phone and scrolling through his contacts and his social media. They left the obvious ones until last.

“So, when do you think you’ll speak to them?” Remy casually asked, as they’d now reached his family members.

Roman shrugged, “I dunno… Depends how quickly I get through the rest of these?” He said, clearly unsure of himself.

Remy raised an eyebrow, “Really? You can’t think of any time at all when you’d be able to see them all?”

“But… wouldn’t that be… kinda gross to do? Bring it all back up on their wedding day?” Roman was trying his hardest to think of a better time, but nothing was coming. After the wedding would be awful and he really only had two options before that: skipping out on their invite to the wedding and then showing his face after that when they would have already probably made a decision about him due to his absence, or turn up at the wedding, actively avoid interacting with anyone that might possibly recognise him but then that would also make it seem like he’d not cared to show up at all even though he had.

He began to search for even the smallest reason not to turn up, “Like, I don’t wanna start a fight on their wedding day, Rem. It would be bad.”

“Start a fight? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well, y’know… me and Logan haven’t gotten along and-”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Remy groaned loudly, rolling his eyes back. “Roman, come on. Are you still stuck on him? Just let it go, bitch. Oh my god. I don’t even know what he did to make you hate him so much, but it better be something fucking traumatic as hell or else I’m walking out of here.”

Roman shut his mouth. If he was completely honest with himself, he didn’t even remember what Logan had done all those years ago. He’d just ended up telling himself and everyone who asked that he was ‘just an uptight, controlling asshole’, but that still didn’t mean that Logan was in the clear. Also, yeah, he was kinda a huge dick to Logan and stuff, but that didn’t really matter anymore. He hadn’t seen the guy in years, so really it didn’t have anything to do with what he was currently trying to figure out.

“Wait.” Remy was currently reading his mind, if his facial expression was anything to go by when Roman looked back up, “You don’t even realise what you really did, do you?”

“Rem, please, just tell me stuff. Don’t ask questions like that… I can’t.” Roman whined, almost pleading with his friend.

Remy silently pulled out his own phone again. He scrolled through something that Roman couldn’t see from the angle he was currently sat. It was only once the phone was slid across to him that he was able to see that it was a social media chat. What he read caused his stomach to churn.

Message after message sent between Patton and Remy went by. He read all their discussions, from their first correspondence where they’d lamented the loss of their friend and brother, up until their recent talk about asking him to come to the wedding.

“Oh, that’s not all.” Remy plainly said as Roman attempted to push the phone back to its owner. Another chat was opened, this time with Reggie. He scrolled back up to a specific message before letting Roman read again.

This time all the messages described what had happened once Roman had left the school and the effect he’d been having on his little brother and their friends. He was only able to get to the messages that described what he’d done on that fateful day in the park before Roman had to stop himself before he puked.

“Okay. Okay. I get it. Just. Stop showing it to me.” Roman cried out, leaning against the back of the chair in an attempt to get as far away as he could from the phone screen.

“Do you really get it, Roman?” Remy asked, his voice measured and serious. “Do you get what you did? What your actions caused? Because you better understand before you even think about seeing any of them again.”

Roman swallowed hard and tried to calm himself down. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d been such a dominant source of anxiety and stress for his little brother and his friends. He’d never stopped and thought about how his obsession with proving Logan was somehow worse than him and taking him down a peg would even remotely cause such changes. He’d absolutely never thought that he would actually have been the source of arguments and disagreements. Something inside of him was thrashing about, yelling at him and punishing him. Maybe it was his morality that had finally been released from its cage after all these years.

He didn’t even realise he was losing himself to it all until a hand rested on his shoulder and Remy’s voice reached him, though it did sound like he was far away down a tunnel, “Hey, Roman. Can you breathe for me?”

Roman tried, but he found his lungs weren’t listening. They seemed to just want to breathe sharply. It was almost like he was drowning, he was shivering like mad, but he felt like he was in boiling hot water. His muscles were tensing to the point of being painful, causing him to start to curl up into a ball, which didn’t help his breathing.

“C’mon Ro. You can do it. Just follow this pattern as best you can.” Remy started to gently stroke a rhythm out on his back, keeping it perfectly in time. Roman could just about make out Remy vocally breathing through it at the same pace.

He managed one shaky breath, but then fell back into a couple quick ones. “Good, that was good, Ro. Keep trying.”

It took a few minutes, but eventually Roman was able to breathe deeply again. He was now able to notice Remy crouched at his side. They were still in the diner, it was still dark outside. Everything was getting back to normal. Aftershocks still racked Roman’s body from time to time, but he felt better, “What… what was that?” He asked, still a little dazed.

Remy stood up and took his seat across from Roman once more, “A panic attack, Ro. I guess that was my fault, shouldn’t have thrown that all at you in one go. Sorry.”

Roman shook his head softly, “Don’t. It’s okay. I just… I never realised. I didn’t know that-” His throat seemed to close as he went to admit it out loud. He cleared it purposefully and powered on, “-that I did all that. That it was all my fault.”

Remy nodded, “Well, do you get it now?”

“I think so…” Roman bowed his head and paused as another aftershock of shudders flew through his body, “I have so much more to apologise to them for, huh?” He smiled ruefully at his friend that was back to sipping at his new drink.

“Understatement of the century, sugar.” Remy responded with his own smile as he also flicked his sunglasses back down over his eyes.

From that night onwards, Remy would spend at least one evening a week leading up to the wedding with Roman. He was the one who critiqued the apologies Roman came up with and got him to change them for the better, while also being the support Roman needed in order to even go through with some of them. As the weeks went by, the pair found themselves just enjoying their nights together as they relaxed a lot more. Roman was still trying to get out of some of his old habits, but Remy wasn’t too pushy on it. He was finally seeing the kid that he became friends with back in middle school; the sassy confident asshole that complimented him so well. Remy had to remind Roman of his old self from time to time, especially when he started apologising for something that wasn’t a big deal.

One night, Roman and Remy were simply lounging on Roman’s couch, watching a show and chatting. Roman grabbed the wedding invitation off the coffee table and turned to Remy, “Hey, so I was re-reading this earlier today and it’s an invite to the reception, right?”

Remy looked between the invite and Roman, eyebrows raised, “Did you think they’d invite you to the ceremony? I thought we’d already worked through your delusions, but alright.”

“No, you dick.” Roman shoved Remy’s shoulder with an exasperated smile, “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Ohhhh, sure.” Remy held his hand still as he was shoved lightly again, making sure to not spill the drink he was holding.

“So, what about you?”

“I’m going to both.”

“Oh.”

Remy glanced to the side and saw Roman’s slightly downcast expression. Clearly the man had not been expecting that revelation to come out so easily, but he quickly managed to shake it off and smile unconvincingly once he noticed Remy looking at him.

“Okay, Ro, do I need to explain again how much I’ve been in their lives?” Remy sighed and tilted his head back to rest against the back of the plush sofa.

“Nah, I kinda knew it. I guess I just needed to hear it to really believe it. Y’know?”

The corner of Remy’s lip twitched into a smile, “Yeah, I get it.”

Then the week of the wedding came. Remy had to cancel their usual get together as he needed to travel, but he did threaten Roman gently in order to make him promise to show up. This threat was what made Roman turn up on time, finding himself swamped in a landscape of unfamiliar faces. Some of the more friendly and chatty guests tried to start small talk with him and Roman obliged them, being as polite as he could while also dodging around the question of how he knew the couple.

Roman eventually found himself lingering in the bathroom of the reception venue, checking himself in the mirror over and over. He kept finding small things that needed to be fixed, but a small part of his brain – that sounded strangely like his friend - told him that he was stalling so he didn’t have to go through with what was going to undoubtably be the hardest apology he was ever going to have to do.

He wasn’t deluded anymore. He was aware of what his actions had caused, at least as far as Remy could tell him. There was no way for him to truly know what effect he’d had on Patton and his parents after all these years, but he knew it wasn’t a positive one. Roman was highly aware of the fact that they might not accept his apology outright and – while he knew it would hurt – he wasn’t going to be surprised if that happened. The amount of pain and suffering he’d caused over the years was a hell of a lot, almost to the point of being unquantifiable, so he was prepared to take their decision with dignity. He knew it wasn’t about him - well, okay it was a little about him, but it wasn’t about him – so if he was left hurting at the end of it all, that was just how this was going to go.

His phone buzzed as he was bracing himself to leave the bathroom. Roman checked it to see a message from Remy.

Rem: Boy. You better be late or something, because I will ruin you if you’re not coming.

Ro: I’ve been here for almost 30 mins, just been in the bathroom for... For most of it.

All of a sudden, the door to the bathroom slammed open and crashed into the wall.

“You better get your cute little ass out of this bathroom right now or else, lord help you.” Remy shouted. Roman realised that the door hadn’t even shut as Remy finished his sentence.

“Rem!” He whispered harshly, “Shut up! The last thing I need is-”

“…It’s not a wedding without a fight, right honey?” Laughter followed the voice that floated through the small crack in the door as it finally shut.

Roman hung his head and turned away from his friend, “Great. Wonderful. Just perfect! Now people actually think I’m getting into a fight! Y’know, the whole thing I wanted to avoid!” Roman glared into the mirror, trying to catch Remy’s gaze.

The other man was leaning against the wall between two of the stalls and simply shrugged, “Wouldn’t have been an issue if you didn’t hole yourself away in here, honey.”

Roman scoffed and rolled his eyes before turning back to face his friend, “Don’t you ‘honey’ me. Ugh, I don’t know if I can do this, Rem…”

“You can and you will, unless you want-”

“Unless I want you to tell them that I’m a coward who turned up and wanted to apologise but skipped out because it was too difficult for me. Yes, I know, Rem. You’ve told me a hundred times.” Roman cut across the other, sounding exhausted.

“Alright, good, you listen. Now, you’re gonna stand up straight, walk out of here, go find your table, sit and listen quietly like a good little boy, wait until the moment you can move and then go say your thing, right?” Remy casually rattled off the plan they’d gone over and over in Roman’s apartment a few weeks ago.

Roman sighed heavily, “There’s no getting out of this, is there?”

“Nope.” Remy crossed his arms, “Either you do it yourself, or I drag you out of here to do it, and that wouldn’t look good, sweetie.”

“Ugh, I know! I know!” Roman almost cried to the ceiling, as if he were cursing some kind of omniscient being for putting him in this situation.

Remy blinked a few times before speaking again, “Are you done?”

Roman pouted but nodded. He followed his friend out of the bathroom, taking a deep steadying breath before stepping out into the large reception room. He stood just outside of the door for a moment, unsure of where to go. From what he could see, there was something like a photo booth on the far end of the room, which was decorated with pictures and memories of the couple as well as several things that bore the couple’s last names. Currently over there were some people he thought he vaguely recognised, there was a tug at his memory that told him they could be aunts or uncles or cousins that he’d only met a few times. Seeing them reminded Roman that family were going to be involved and he suddenly felt the need to hide back in the safety of the bathroom once again.

Remy made sure he couldn’t do that, however. Almost as if he had a sixth sense for Roman’s panic, the other man grabbed his wrist just before he was about to turn and run before dragging him over to the table that sat just next to the entrance.

“So, you’re back here. What are you going to do?” Remy prompted, pointing at the table plan for the dining area.

Roman found his name at the table furthest away from the head table. He’d expected something like that and so it didn’t come as much of a shock, but he realised that – in order to get to the head table – he’d have to walk through the dance floor, which would be completely clear and in full view of everyone attending. Roman could feel his heart starting to pound as he visualised the worst; being watched by all those pairs of eyes, being rejected immediately without even having the chance to speak and apologise, physically being dragged back across that empty floor and thrown outside.

Remy comforted him by gently stroking the pulse point on his wrist, “Hey, chill out. You’ll be fine. Patton will hear you out, he’s a good guy. Everyone else will follow his lead. Just chill.”

Before he could even respond, Roman was interrupted by the call for everyone to take their seats in the dining area. He shakily drew a breath and looked at Remy, who nodded to him. Both of them walked through the double doors, but Remy was being sat at a table near the front, so he left Roman to sit at his assigned table.

Roman tried to control his pounding heart and his shaking hands as the rest of seats filled up. He quickly realised that he was at the “Random People We Invited But Really Didn’t Expect Them To Turn Up” table, as three of the seats around him remained empty and the rest recalled stories of one time encounters or impersonal tales of how they knew the newly married couple. When it came to his turn, Roman made up a story of how he’d known the couple back in high school – it wasn’t a full lie, but it made it easier than possibly having to explain why he, the brother of one of the grooms, was sat here at the back of the room.

It felt like an eternity before the wedding party finally arrived, giving Roman a reason to stop talking to these people he didn’t know. He clapped politely along with the rest of the room as everyone entered and took their seats at the head table, though he was unable to take his eyes off of his parents and Patton once they’d come through.

They all looked so happy, like actually really happy. Roman had no memories of any of them looking like that, at least as far as he could recall. His stomach started to sink even more as the toasts began, the realisation that his awful behaviour years ago really affected his family in such a horrible way. He barely paid any attention to the toasts and speeches, especially when they came from people he didn’t know or were about events he’d never even heard about. It was yet another reminder that Roman had missed so much of their lives. He reacted in kind with the people at his table, smiling and offering a weak chuckle whenever they laughed, but none of it was real. The only time Roman really found he focused was when people he did know spoke, mostly his father and Logan.

Patton and his new husband – who Roman realised he should now refer to by his name, Virgil – took to the dance floor for their first dance. The moment was pure and adorable, yet Roman felt ill watching the two of them. All he could see as he watched the couple slowly sway were the young kids he’d thrown around and yelled at in the rain all those years ago. Guilt was dripping through his body, making him want to curl up and hide away from everyone. It also gave him the drive he needed to stick through it and make him want to apologise, he wanted to get his family back and see them happy. He wanted to replace that awful memory with ones full of smiles.

Roman almost missed the call for the buffet to start. They were going up table by table and, of course, because he was at the reject table, his was going to be last. He was not upset by this arrangement at all, however. It gave him more time to psych himself up.

The buffet was right across the room from his seat, which meant that if anyone looked just to their side, they would have a full view of him. Roman made sure to keep his face covered by his hand as the head table gathered their food, using the guise of propping his head up as the ruse. He watched and mentally counted down the numbers as each table was called up to get food. As Remy’s table went up, the two made eye contact and Remy jerked his head towards the long main table, a silent message that reminded Roman of his ultimate goal. He nodded in response, which seemed to placate Remy for now. Finally, his table was called.

Roman stood with the rest of them but lagged behind a little as they all passed in front of him. He wasn’t hungry at all. Throughout the process of all the guests gathering their food, Roman had seen many of them take a detour to the head table in order to congratulate the couple on their marriage, so him crossing the empty dance floor wasn’t going to be too out of place. The last member of his table passed in front of him and Roman took the plunge, walking directly towards the head table.

At first, no one seemed to respond in any negative way. They must have thought he was another well-wisher or something, not surprising as they hadn’t seen him in years. It was only once one person clocked that it was Roman that everyone else seemed to fall silent as they realised it themselves.

The rest of the room quietened in response, as other tables seemed interested in what was going on. Roman clenched his fist quickly to try and stop him shaking before he opened his mouth.

“I am here to apologise. To all of you. To my parents, for ruining your lives for years and destroying relationships you may have otherwise spent time enjoying. To all the people here who knew me in high school or college, specifically those who were there to witness… that day. I apologise for causing so much stress, for almost ripping your friendships and relationships apart. I am so sorry for being an ever-present thought in all of your minds and being such a problem for you all. To anyone I used,” Roman glanced to Remy for a second and then to Reggie, who sat at the head table, “I am sorry for being a blockade and a dick to you all. I wish I could have understood how to be a better friend and how much I had to lose back then. I am sorry I only saw you as a tool to further my stupid, self-imposed revenge that really made no real sense. To Mr and Mrs Mortenson, I am so sorry I targeted your son and almost ruined your other’s relationships. I’m sorry I stopped you from seeing my parents back then and I am so sorry for being the reason you moved out of a neighbourhood that appreciated you both so much.”

Roman paused for breath, knowing the hardest part was just about to come out.

“To Virgil,” He turned and looked the man in the eyes, trying to ignore the hatred that was blazing in them, “I am sorry for everything I did to you. I had no idea what impact my actions and words had on you, especially back then. Now, I am aware that I likely did lasting damage and for that I am deeply sorry. I am sorry for trying to stop you being friends with Patton. I am sorry for causing your brother so much trouble and hurt that he was worried I would turn on you. He was probably correct about me back then, and that is unforgivable.”

“To Logan,” Roman turned and looked at his self-proclaimed school rival, finding the knot in his stomach untying as his gaze wasn’t as rage filled as his younger brothers, “I am immensely sorry for everything I ever did, for all the awful things I put you through. I know my actions and my words were disgusting and I fully own that fact now that I have been able to see the consequences. I am sorry for treating you unfairly and making assumptions that pushed me to find new and creative ways to be a pain in your ass. I am sorry that I ruined so much of your life and practically forced you to worry even more about your younger brother, purely because you were worried my attention would turn to include him in that stupid vendetta I had. I’m sorry for every word I said against you, I am sorry for every action I took against you.”

“And… to Patton,” Roman could feel his eyes beginning to tear up a little as he looked at his younger brother, seeing the small vulnerable young kid he’d almost destroyed. He refused to let himself cry in this moment, it wouldn’t look good and would make him feel like he was trying to gain sympathy, “I am sorry to you, Patton, my little brother, for everything I did. I had no idea that the boy you came home excited to talk about from preschool would turn out to be the man you loved, and it is awful that I tried to stop that. I am sorry for trying to push you to be like me, I’m sorry for even considering and implying that you were even remotely like I was back then. I’m sorry for all the teachers that compared us, for all the stuff I spouted about how close we were, for all the times I caused you to panic and worry about me or anyone I was involved with. I’m sorry that I almost ruined everything for you. I am truly sorry for it all.”

“I understand that some of you may not accept this apology and I want to say that I understand and will respect your decision, no matter what. Everything I did was unacceptable, and I am disgusted with myself. I wouldn’t be here without your kindness and willingness to at least give me a chance, and I definitely wouldn’t be here without you, Patton, reaching out to someone who could get me to realise the problems and hurt I’ve caused all of you. Thank you for being so gracious in listening to me today and for even considering inviting me to the happiest day of your lives.” Roman bowed to them out of pure instinct. He blinked back the tears that were still pricking at his eyes. His throat had caught several times and he needed to now swallow hard in order to stop him from bursting into tears.

Roman stood up straight and looked along the head table. He smiled and thanked them once more before going to turn and leave.

“Roman, wait.”

A voice stopped him from moving. Roman turned back to see Patton standing up, along with Virgil and a couple of Patton’s side of the wedding party. They seemed to be having a quiet argument, so Roman stood still and waited patiently to see what was happening.

On the other side, Logan was watching the man stood in front of him with a soft smile. He was fully aware everything Roman had just said was sincere. So many times in high school did Logan have to sit and watch as Roman faked his way through apology after apology, empty promises that he’d never do anything like that again to any student. This time, the emotion was plain for all to see and his eyes didn’t hold the rage and promise of more hurt. Logan physically found himself relaxing. He even helped in coaxing Virgil off of his new husband.

Everyone was silent as Patton smiled warmly to Virgil, “I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry.” He whispered before pressing a kiss to the other man’s cheek. Patton turned and walked around the table, coming to stand in front of Roman. He could see his older brother was tense, was clearly trying to hold himself together and so Patton smiled a comforting smile before wrapping his arms around Roman in a gentle hug.

Roman’s eyes flew wide. He hadn’t expected this. He stared between the table and the man hugging him carefully. When he heard the next words from Patton, everything came falling down.

“I forgive you, Ro.”

Roman wrapped his arms around his younger brother, silent tears falling from his eyes. He knew he still had a lot to do to make up for everything he’d done, he knew he hadn’t won all of their trust back, but he was more than willing to put in the work to do it. Roman was determined to prove he’d changed. But now, all that mattered was that he had his little brother back.

Last Chapter

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noahstilinski · 5 years

Text

Just a Scratch - Derek Hale

Ok wow I got a little... Carried away with this one

You must forgive me lmao

Masterlist

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Hey I wanted to request a Derek Hale imagine- hope that's not too much. Fem!reader(has Hunter skills) and Derek are in relationship and in love. TheY both get in a nasty fight and reader get a *little* hurt but Derek goes all protective and AAAAAHHHHHH. Basically a little fluff. Thanks and have a good day.

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Word count: 3511

Warnings: Language, violence

"Remember you have an essay due for next Monday on the economic crisis of 1929" You reminded your class as the bell rang. "Mr. Dunbar, if you could please stay for a minute" You dropped the chalk on the holder and wiped your hands on your jeans. You waited for the class to empty and faced Liam, a sympathetic look on your face. "I know, I know" He beat you to it. "I'm sorry" "Liam, I understand that you're out there literally protecting this city from all kinds of evil, and I'm all the more grateful for it, believe me" You sighed. "But as your teacher, I really cannot give you anymore free passes without it becoming suspicious"

You had done your best to pick other people to summarize the readings or answer the questions. You even made him retake tests when you knew he had been on werewolf duty the night before. But you couldn't cover for him forever, especially not with the school board on your heels.

This time, he failed to give back a homework sheet that counted for five percent of his grade. You told him out loud he'd get zero out of it, but you knew you'd find a way to cheat the system yet again. However, you also knew you couldn't keep doing that for long without losing your teaching license. "I'll do it tonight, the sheet" He replied. "I swear" "Alright" You nodded. "And heads up, tomorrow I'll randomly choose you to do the readings summary. Don't make us both look like fools, please" "Thanks (Y/N)" He gave you a faint smile. "I won't, I promise" "Now woosh, go save the world" You tilted your head toward the door. "Let me grade my papers in peace" His smile widened a bit at your joke and he scurried out of the class, nodding in salutation at someone outside the class. You thought it might have been a student until the person stepped in the doorframe. "Don't tell him that, or he's actually going to do it" Derek snorted, walking nonchalantly in the class. "What are you doing here?" You had meant to be stern, but your happiness to see him betrayed your facial expression. "Coming to see you" He replied easily. "Isn't that obvious?" "What did we say about visit on work hours?" You scolded, even though you went straight for his open arms. "Technically, school's been over for..." He trailed off and looked at his watch over your shoulder. "Two minutes five seconds" "Smartass" You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "But seriously, did I forget we had a date or something?" "Can't I just pick you up from school as a grand gesture of love?" He raised an eyebrow, which made you squint your eyes at him in suspicion. You knew he wouldn't pick you up without telling you, he hadn't done it in the years you've been with him. Derek hated surprises. "Der" You warned, taking a step back. "What's going on?" "Nothing" He shrugged unconvincingly. "I just want to make sure that you're safe, that's all" "Is this about the wannabe hunters swarming the town?" You crossed your arms against your chest, and the shift on his expression confirmed your thoughts. "I'm fine, Derek. You don't need to watch over me" "What if they ambush you?" He asked with an edge in his voice, like he was genuinely scared they'd get to you. "We've seen what they're capable of" "Should I remind you I'm not a supernatural being?" You sighed as you sat back at your chair. "It's not me they want" "But they want me" He countered. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but we haven't been exactly subtle in terms of hiding our relationship. They could want you by association" "You're not wrong" You gave him a short chuckle. "Okay, let's say they decide to take me down to get to you. I doubt I'm high enough on Gerard's priority list for him to do it himself, so who'd he send? His pet, Monroe?" "She's more vicious than she lets on, (Y/N)" He almost pleaded. "I know how she is, and I'm not afraid of her" You smiled at him. "That little martyr act is quite pathetic, if you want my opinion. And no matter what she got, remember I've been doing this for way longer than she has" At that, Derek let a quick smile pass through his serious demeanor. He probably had an idea of what went down, knowing you and your hatred for people like her. She had cornered you after school a few weeks ago, pushed you in a corner in a poorly executed grip and sent you an ultimatum. Either you'd leave Derek, or you'd perish with the rest. Now, you weren't the one to get involved, but this direct attack on you had made you angry. When she had been done talking and gloating about how much of a champion she was, you had easily overturned her grip and changed role, pushing her back on the wall and kicking her down to her knees. Your grip, at opposite of hers, had been much more solid and efficient. You had then told her that you wouldn't play her game and wage war on her, unless she came after Derek or yourself first. Apparently, your little demonstration of force worked, because she had left you alone ever since. "I know you're not scared of her, (Y/N)" He said. "But it's not the point" "You think I can't defend myself?" You challenged, eying the little cylindrical shape poking out of your pencil basket. Derek followed your line of sight and shook his head. "That you definitely can, not arguing" He replied. "But if they decide to come anyway, we'll be glad we have each other. Strength in numbers, remember" "I know, but I'm at school. I doubt they'll hit a human here, in a public place. Too much PR to handle" You explained. "Besides, I have papers to grade" "Okay that was a lame excuse for a life or death situation" He pointed out and you rolled your eyes. "But it's fine by me, I'll stay here" You were about to protest when he pulled out a chair and dragged it back loudly enough to cover any other sound in the room. He let himself fall down and threw his keys on the desk, still making as much noise as possible. Asshole. "I'll stay here. If something happens, you'll be glad" He spoke again. "And if not, you'll have the satisfaction of being right and knowing you wasted my time for nothing" "Deal" You smiled tightly. "But not a sound, Derek Hale. Or I'll throw you out of the window" He made a zipping gesture over his mouth and threw the imaginary key over his shoulder. You sighed and shook your head, taking the first copy on your desk and getting back into the grading rhythm. Before you even knew it, the sun set and darkness took over. It was actually a yawn coming from Derek that made you notice that much time had passed and that you only had one copy left. You hurried grading that one, and you were sorry in advance for the poor student that would have to read your correction. But to be fair, you had a hard time reading his handwriting too, so much you couldn't even understand the last two questions. "Oh Greenberg, what the hell did you write" You muttered to yourself as you massaged your temples. You then heard Derek's chair scrape on the floor as he stood up abruptly. "Did you hear that?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "T’was just me complaining" You yawned again. "It's fine--" "No..." He trailed off, gesturing you to stay silent. You sat up straighter as you suddenly became more alert of your surroundings, your hand hovering closer to your pencil basket. Then, total silence fell over the room. Not even the pipes could be heard, and it made your blood chill in your vein. This could never be good. "Get down!" You felt it coming before Derek's shout by watching him tense up all at once, his eyes widening considerably. You dived under the desk, but not before snatching your weapon before you did. You ducked under the wood as bullets flew everywhere. Derek then came crashing down beside you and scurried for cover too. He nodded at you to let you know he was fine, and you nodded back. No bullet had gotten to either of you yet, or at least not fatally to him. You waited until the guns were emptied, and your attacker stepped in the room. "(Y/N)" Monroe taunted. "Come out, I know you're here" "Oh hey" You replied, still under the desk. "I thought we had come to an agreement. I'm disappointed" "I don't agree with people who protect murderers" She sneered. "Ah, and I'm guessing your current backup have picked firearms recently as a hobby" You scoffed as you and Derek quietly planned your strategy with hand gestures. He’d take half of her back up, you’d take the rest and Monroe. "Or have you brought kids this time?" "Those kids know the only way they'll stay alive in this town is if they take arms against those who pose a threat" She growled. "And that includes you" "Tamora, most things you say are painfully whiny, but I gotta admit" You nodded at Derek and slowly raised to your feet. Four men in black were standing at her side; too bad it wouldn't be enough. "You're goddamned right" You pressed the button on the black cylinder in your hands and it extended to a full staff with sharpened steel edges. Behind you, Derek roared, and you could almost feel the raw power emanating from him. "I am a threat" Before any of them could reload their guns, which you noted to be a beginner's mistake, you both jumped in action. You kicked Monroe's gun out of her hands, then kneed her in the stomach as she bent to catch it mid air. As she was catching her breath, you dealt with the man at her right. You spun your staff and brought it down on his riffle, sending it to the floor. You sneaked a punch before ducking his incoming fist, but you were thrown off your feet when another man slammed into you. "Son of a bitch" You groaned as you got back on your feet. You grabbed a book that fell off the shelf and slammed it in the face on your new assailant with a mean swing, sending him to the ground unconscious. The first man charged to you and backed you to the wall, pushing you into it hard enough to cave it in. You lifted your arms to block his punches, waiting for his rhythm to fade. When it did, you grabbed his fist mid air and twisted his arm, pushing his elbow inside out with a loud crack. While he howled out in pain, you grabbed your discarded staff and slashed both his shoulder muscles and the back of his knee, so he wouldn't be able to stand and shoot again. You wiped out the blood from your lips and nose and turned around to find Monroe, but you had to throw yourself on the ground before you saw her. A gun had fired, and you heard the bullet whistle past your ear. You saved your fall with a roll, and came face to face with the barrel of a gun, halting your movements all at once. At least you had found her. "You don't wanna do this, Monroe" It was Derek who said that, the two unmoving bodies at his feet. "I actually want to do this bad" She replied with a cocky grin. "If you try anything, I blow her brain" "It's find Der, let me handle this" You spoke carefully, giving him a quick glance and a nod. Then, you looked up at Monroe. "So. I guess you already have a story prepared to explain this mess" "Don't even try" She scoffed dryly. "I won't let down my guards" "Oh, I know" You chuckled. "It was probably the first thing Gerard taught you, wasn't it?" She cocked the gun as an answer. "Here's the thing" You kept talking, not breaking eye contact. "You think you're all high and mighty because you've been training with Gerard for a few months. You've learn a lot, you think. Maybe you really did. You think you're experienced because you've taken down scared teenagers, so you think you can go against targets above your skill set" "Does my gun on your forehead seems above my skill set?" She taunted, and you smiled. "You're feeling invincible now, don't you?" You hummed. "But let me remind you, that while you were still a clueless civilian, I had already years of experience. And right now, your lack of it gave the opening I needed" Before she could register your words, you swatted her wrist away and kicked her knees from the ground. Her gun fired again, but this time you didn't back down. You jumped on her and straddled her, a hand on her throat and your legs restraining her arms. "Next time you try that, no matter how much fire power you bring, I'll kill you" You hissed before knocking her unconscious with the rest of her men. You stood up and grabbed your staff, retracting it to the smaller cylinder shape. You then dusted off your material and put back the copies in your bag, sighing when you noticed Greenberg's was decorated with a long splatter of blood. You threw the strap of your bag on your shoulder and walked out of the class with Derek, wincing at your sore arms. No words were exchanged until you were well away from the school. The radio in Derek's car played some billboard's songs, but you tuned the sound out when you started feeling some pricking pain on your side. You reached to it and felt a wet liquid covering you, which you noticed was red when you got a glimpse of it under a street light. "You're bleeding" Derek stated and you didn't miss the new panic in his voice. "The bullet hit you" "It's alright" You reassured. "It's just a scratch, not even that deep" "Shit, I should have taken her down" He gritted his teeth and tightened his hand on the wheel, so much his knuckles turned white. "I'm sorry (Y/N), fuck" Your eyes widened when he floored the gas pedal, you knew he wanted to get you home asap. "No really I'm fine" You tried to make him realize that you were, in fact, okay. "I don't even think I'll need stitches" "We're almost there" He mumbled as he almost drove into the half opened garage door. "Are you crazy--oof" You winced when he slammed the brakes in his designed parking. He sent you an apologetic glance before rushing to your side of the car. "I can walk, you know?" He didn't listen to you as he gently picked you up and carried you to his apartment. You knew it was useless to protest, he was like a rock in every sense of the term. He then placed you on the wooden table and grabbed the first aid kit in the cabinet. "Take off your shirt" "I don't think this is the right moment for that, babe" You joked, but took off the ripped clothe nonetheless. "Really? You're doing this right now?" He scolded, eyebrows raised. "Come on, lighten up a bit" You laughed, but it made your side hurt. "Ouch" "Don't--" He caught your wrist before you could give in to the reflex to cover your wound with your hand. "Here, let me" You pulled back your arm to give him access to the wound so he could clean it and check the damage better. When he sighed in relief, you knew you had been right and that it was only a minor flesh wound. "Told ya it was nothing" You smiled warmly at him as he carefully cleaned the skin around that was covered in blood. "See, I'm alright" "Still need to bandage it" He mumbled as he grabbed the gauze and tape, getting to work without wasting time. "Better to be careful" "I know" You whispered back as your hand went to rest on his cheek. He looked up at you with tired and worried eyes when he was done patching you up, and it made your smile widen. "I'm tougher than you give me credit for" "I know how tough you are" He replied and nuzzled his face in your neck, intertwining his hand in yours. "I'm just scared one day the bullet will hit somewhere you cannot heal" "Then we make sure this doesn't happen" You shrugged lightly. "Damn right" He replied as he took a step back, but didn't let go of your hand. "I'm not letting you out of my sight until this hunter problem is settled" "That's a bit unrealistic, don't you think?" You raised an eyebrow. "Watch me" "And what about school tomorrow?" You asked again. "I doubt the school board will let me have my boyfriend looming in the back of the class" "Call in sick" He suggested. "Absolutely not" You gasped. "You're all banged up anyway" He tried to convince you. "Stay here. With me" "As much as it sounds appealing, I'm still going to work tomorrow" You denied him. "What if Monroe shows up and I don't? Bam. She wins. Besides, they won't try anything against a human during school hours, and if they're stupid enough to try it, Liam will be there" He knew you were right. It was just history classes on a Friday, after all. And unless the hunters decided to shoot a bunch of innocent kids just to get to you, they would get more legal trouble than they could handle. "Fine" He finally conceded. "But I'm driving you AND picking you up right after school hours. If you feel there's anything wrong, and I mean anything: with the wound or even just a feeling, you call me. Okay?" "Okay" You agreed, even though it was a bit much. But Derek was like that, and it was fine by you. "Should I call you mom? It would feel right after that speech" "Don't call me mom" He said sternly. "Alright then" You grinned at his offence. "Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna go to sleep" You started getting off the table, but Derek stopped you. "Nope" He shook his head. "You need to take it easy, so no walking tonight" "You must be kidding me" You deadpanned. "You saw the wound, it's nothing" "It's something enough to be careful" He argued, picking you up in his arms and carrying you again upstairs to the bedroom. He then put your down on the soft surface of the mattress and grabbed your pajama shorts from the dresser. He took off your jeans and replaced them by the stretchy clothing, all while you gave him an unimpressed look. It was something you could have done yourself without a problem. He then paused and looked away, a distant look in his eyes. His shoulders slouched as he made his way around the bed and laid down beside you. "Derek" You called softly, and his glance met yours. They showed vulnerability, which was a rare occurrence for your boyfriend. "Thank you. For taking care of me" "Always" He mumbled as he took your hand and placed a kiss on it. "I'm sorry you got hurt because of me" "It's not because of you" You said, carefully rolling on your good side to face him. "It's because they're stupid and wrong and they don't like that I'm exposing them" Derek cracked a smile at that. "I bet they'll be so jealous of my personal escort and bodyguard tomorrow" You added with a yawn. "They wish they had someone as good looking to do the job on top of it" "We've been together for two years and a half, you don't need to flirt to get what you want" He rolled his eyes playfully, poking your shoulder where he was sure it wasn't bruised. "What if flirting is what I want?" You challenged before laughing it off. Just seeing his smile made up for the terrible evening that had happened. "Come on, get your pretty ass closer. You can't protect me from all these feet apart" "Very funny" He tried to stay stern, but failed miserably. He scooted over and wrapped his arms around you, careful not to put weight over your injury. "I love you, (Y/N). So much" "I love you more" You smiled against his chest. "Goodnight, my fierce protector" "Goodnight, queen warrior" Your laugh at the nickname got lost as tiredness took over you, making you fall asleep in the arms of your lover.

#derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #imagine #requested

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