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minachan95-written-works-on-ao3 · 5 months

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Title: I'll Never Return... Chapter 1

Fandom: Togainu no Chi

Characters: Original Male Character, Shiki, Akira

Pairing: Shiki x Akira

Status: Completed (4 chapters)

Summary: [This story was made as entry for November's month Aarinfantasy Writing Challenge.]

[This story takes time during Bitter Sweet and after it. However, it can be read as a stand-alone story]

One average student barely managed to settle down in the new place. However, everything has changed when a couple of officers frame him and use him as a bribe to the most powerful man in the country. What terrors awaits Shiro in the hell which he was brought, and will he live long enough to survive it? Read and find out~

AO3 Link

Finally, with the sounds of a ringing bell, the last lecture is over. And thus, after picking up his textbooks, one silver-haired male with gray eyes in his twenties leaves the auditorium.

After walking in the corridor, he turns his head and gazes through the window. However, the sun’s reflection on the rustled tree leaves makes him gloomier.

After all, just when he managed to settle down in the new place for a while, the recent news struck like lightning from the clear sky and ruined his momentary happiness.

Apparently, Shiro’s days of reckless freedom are counted, and soon he’ll be placed in the meat grinder. That’s right, Shiro received a recruitment letter from the military a couple of days ago.

Of course, he didn’t tell about it to his mother because he perfectly understood that it might break her heart, and she wouldn’t let him perish on the battlefield like his late father.

Unfortunately, he knows well that he won’t be able to hide the needle in the bag for too long or ignore this cursed piece of paper that kills countless men. However, he doesn’t care about being taken by the force but is afraid of what these awful, unpredictable, corrupted officers may do to his mother if he doesn’t cooperate with them.

But for now, Shiro continues on his way, trying to forget that letter, focusing on group assignment tasks, and thinking about what place he should pick for incoming practice.

____________________________

Some time has passed. As Shiro expected by this time, the streets are already crowded by the mass of constantly changing people, and he blends into the moving gray mass in no time.

Suddenly, he widens his eyes as someone from behind grabs his arm. At first, he shakes off the stranger’s hand without turning back.

Besides, maybe it’s just a random stranger wanting to mess around. At least, it’s not as uncomfortable as the passengers on the train either being too close to him.

Therefore, Shiro decides not to pay too much attention to such a petite thing and minds his business as usual.

Unfortunately, another stranger is bolder than the previous one and slips something small inside his uniform pants pocket.

Yet, the silver-haired male’s reaction is faster, and as he grasps the white-gloved hand, he turns back. “What do you think of doing?”

To his surprise, it’s a middle-aged man in a military uniform grinning at him like a hungry wolf.

As that man grips Shiro’s wrist, he addresses him. “Where do you think you’re going, you little thief?”

“Let... let me go!” The gray-eyed male resists. Yet, he gasps as another officer holds his other arm.

“Not only you’ve caught stealing, but you also have an audacity to disrespect the authority.” Another officer replies in a mocking tone.

While one of them puts the handcuffs behind his back, he adds. “You have a lot of guts, kid…”

Despite being the center of the crowds’ attention, Shiro struggles. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then, what’s this? How did end up in your pocket? Or are you telling us it jumped right into your pocket?” The middle-aged man asks as he pulls a tiny plastic bag filled with white powder and shows it in front of the poor student.

Shiro freezes in the same spot while his eyes follow the small object swigged. A few seconds later, he only closes his eyes and calmly explains. “You are the ones who slipped it in. So, please do not blame me for it.”

“Still playing innocent, eh? Perhaps staying in the prison cell will fix your rotten behavior.” The officer replies as both start dragging him.

In the end, the scared crowd distances themselves from a couple of officers taking away the young criminal while murmuring between themselves or rushing from the crime scene.

Meanwhile, Shiro is stubborn and indignantly addresses the people. “Help me! Let me go! How… How can anyone can be so blind and allow these bastards to do as they wish and commit crimes? You clearly have seen how they just taking an advance of their position and bullying average people! If we all unite, we can defeat these coward men and bring the justice!”

Yet, his speech is silenced by receiving a hit into his head by the sword handle.

“Hey, you better be careful with that! The commander may dislike him and we’ll get no reward if that brat is injured or dead.” The older man scolds his colleague.

After they approached their car and opened it, the other officer replied. “He’ll take him anyway and will even applaud us. Just look at him. He is the copy of that lousy secretary.”

When he picks an empty sack and rope, he orders. “Just make sure that he won’t try to escape.”

While his colleague holds Shiro tight, he puts the bag over him and wraps the surrounding rope.

“Where are you taking me?” The silver-haired male asks.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon. So, you better behave yourself or else your parents may get very upset finding out that their dead son was a drug addict.” The older man explains as he tosses him like a sack of potatoes to the back seat.

Lastly, Shiro remains silent and feels anxious, without having any idea where he is taken or how these cruel men will torture him before his corpse is disposed of.

Some time passed. After the car stops, these men drag the restrained student and prompt him to go. However, very little he knows how drastically his cursed fate will change.

_________________________

As time passes, Shiro becomes more uncomfortable and stiff by only walking in the never-ending corridors.

One thing is being treated like a criminal who gets closer to his execution. Another thing is the heavy, chilling, and unwelcoming atmosphere in the air and feeling watched by countless eyes that he cannot see.

Even on their way, Shiro becomes more concerned and pale after listening to how the older officer proudly explains to someone how they brought something that should interest the commander.

But for now, a couple of officers finally reach their destination place. Or so the silver-haired male assumes as he hears how one of these men knocks on the wooden door. “Commander, we brought him as you requested and you would love to see him.”

After a brief pause, the supreme ruler permits this couple to enter the office while dragging the sacrificial lamb.

Just from the menacing and cold energy surrounding this room, Shiro feels as if the ruthless tyrant’s eyes pierce his body. He can even swear that there is an invisible wire wrapped around him that cuts him if he makes a single move.

Perhaps this is how small animals feel being cornered and looked down on by the serpent. The gray-eyed male ponders.

“Show him to me. Or do you intend to waste my time?” Shiki briefly orders.

“R-right away, sir!” the older man agrees.

When the surrounding rope becomes loose and falls off, the bag is finally removed.

Suddenly, Shiro widens his eyes in terror and gasps upon seeing the military tyrant indifferently staring at him behind his desk. At that moment, the poor student trembles like a leaf and falls on his knees like a rag-doll. Fortunately, his weak body is supported by these men.

Meanwhile, Shiki stands up and approaches the offered creature, studying his every movement and facial expression.

After the red-eyed male stands in front of the unfortunate young man, he narrows his gaze.

For now, Shiro hisses in pain as one officer pulls his hair to lift his head and fixates his eyes on the supreme leader.

“How is it? Will he be enough for you, sir?” Another man asks impatiently.

Shiki only states. “His eyes are gray.”

“We can easily fix that! Please, just tell us what color you prefer and it will be done in no time. Whatever you wish for, we will adjust him in shape or form until you will be satisfied.” The other boasts.

Even if Shiro is speechless, his teary eyes speak louder than any words that beg for mercy.

In the end, the dark-haired male announces his final verdict. “There is no need. Leave him and you are dismissed.”

“B-but what about our reward for our hard work?” The older officer objects.

‘Tsk, what a bunch of greedy vermin…’ Shiki gives them a cold, disgusted look before picking a thick pile of bills from his uniform jacket and tossing it like food for the pigs, which eat anything like shameless animals.

As these men pick up the money, one of them bows and thanks before leaving the room. Lastly, Shiro is left alone to face the ruthless tyrant.

“Your name?” The supreme ruler addresses him. After receiving no answers, he adds. “Or do dogs like you don’t have it?”

Instead of saying anything, the silver-haired male only turns his head away and closes his eyes. Even if he accepts his bitter ending, he refuses to see it.

However, he immediately opens his gray eyes as the commander takes something from his pants pocket and fixates his eyes on him.

While Shiki studies the student ID card, he cracks a smile. “Heisei University? Isn’t it where you learn a bunch of useless nonsense?”

After he gracefully places the card on the desk, he continues his speech. “Well, whatever you’ve been taught here, you’ll be still a fine replacement.”

When Shiki walks behind his prey’s back, he picks his sword from the sheath. Lastly, he cuts the handcuffs.

At that moment, Shiro stares at the floor while leaning on his shaky hands.

A second later, the military tyrant orders. “Strip.”

For sure, it shocks the gray-eyed male, who only hugs himself. “No…”

Unfortunately, the poor student realizes he made a terrible mistake, and these red judging eyes will be the last thing he sees before he perishes.

Suddenly, he loudly gasps and closes his eyes as the naked blade slashes his uniform jacket and shirt.

Although, he still cannot comprehend how he is alive or even scratched as if the sword didn’t aim to cut through his flesh.

As soon as Shiro realizes that his back is exposed, he covers his chest with the remains of his clothing and murmurs. “Barbarian.”

As Shiki allows his sword to rest in the sheath, he gives a questioning look at the creature below him.

After he kneels in front of Shiro and grips his throat, he makes him face him. “Did you say anything? Speak louder.”

Without a second thought, the gray-eyed male shouts. “Barbarian!”

Meanwhile, Shiki only narrows his gaze after he grabs the student by his uniform and sends a harsh slap across his face. After removing the bothering clothing, he looks down on the fallen Shiro covering his stinging cheek. “You don’t understand against whom you raise your voice?”

When Shiro sits on one leg, he lowers his head and bites his lower lip. After a brief pause, he speaks up, nearly sobbing. “Why me? Why are you doing this? I did nothing wrong to deserve this!… First, these bastards framed me, then kidnapped me… And for what? Is human’s life worthless to you!? I hate this… I hate how it’s nothing more than a joke to you… So, kill me as anyone else who is nothing more than a pest for you… It’ll just prove that this country has fallen from the grace and rotten like a fish - starting from the head of it…”

The military tyrant only indifferently stares at the silver-haired male, who barely holds back from crying.

But for now, he reaches out for his unsheathed sword. When he is about to point the tip of it at Shiro’s cheek, the poor young man closes his eyes and shrugs while whimpering.

Who knew that someone similar to his personal secretary trembles like an aspen upon the smallest threat? On the other hand, maybe it’s for the better. After all, this stray animal learns quickly its place. More importantly, it might be interesting to see how his prized possession will react to this cheap imitation of him. Or so Shiki ponders.

When he narrows his gaze, he instructs him before taking his leave. “Wait here until I return.”

In the end, Shiro is left alone in the supreme ruler’s office while being eaten by uncertainty and anxiety.

_________________________

A half-hour passes. However, the military tyrant hasn’t returned yet.

In the meantime, Shiro investigates his surroundings and realizes that he won’t escape this hell place in one piece.

Firstly, if he jumped through the window, he’d splatter his brain on the pavement.

Secondly, he may get shot or cut by the security guards. After all, the commander might be the unpredictable man who can think of anything to get what he wants.

Even if he stays here obediently, he may suffer like a war prisoner for speaking up his thoughts about this dictatorship and tyranny. On the other hand, he doesn’t understand why the commander hasn’t ordered to execute him or sent him to the labor camp as a dangerous person.

But for now, Shiro sits and leans his back against the leg of the desk while sinking deeper into despair.

Some time passed. Finally, the opening door and someone walking in makes the silver-haired male lift his head.

When Shiki approaches him, he tosses a pile of neatly folded clothes at him. “Wear this.”

After Shiro studies the given clothes, he notices it is some military uniform. Instead of asking unnecessary questions and not to anger the most powerful man in the country, he nods and answers in a gloomy voice. “Yes…”

Meanwhile, after Shiki sits behind his desk and crosses his legs, he places his elbows on the desk and rests his head on his hands.

At the moment, Shiro feels like he’ll burn from the embarrassment of being watched by how he undresses before changing his clothes.

It doesn’t help that the commander keeps the same poker face, making it difficult to read what is hiding behind these crimson eyes.

Despite that, the gray-eyed student doesn’t dare to ask Shiki to leave and endures such humiliation. On the other hand, it’s better than being forcibly undressed or threatened.

After Shiro handles the current task, he fixes his posture upon hearing the commander’s question. “Do you know why I asked you to wear this?”

“N-no, sir.” The gray-eyed male immediately replies.

“Starting today, you are my personal secretary.” Shiki announces.

“Then what about my studies?… Excuse me, but I cannot simply drop them.” The silver-haired male politely objects.

The supreme ruler gives a mocking look. “When you were supposed to be recruited in the army?”

After noticing how the secretary in front of him lowers his shoulders and widens his big, gray eyes as a scolded puppy, he cracks a smile. “After contacting the director of your university, I canceled them. Your mother was also informed about this as well. However, if you serve me well, I’ll fund your university.”

Yet, Shiro becomes pale and hangs his head as he sells his soul to the devil when he hears such a decision.

For sure, such an unexpected reaction entertains Shiki, and he asks. “What’s wrong? Anyone else would be ready to bite into each other’s throats just to be in your position. You’ll even support and honor your family.”

Meanwhile, Shiro understands that no matter how far he runs from the war and to avoid staining his hands with blood, he doesn’t escape his bitter fate. Yet, he is still curious whether he’ll be killed like Shiki’s previous secretary.

Therefore, he gathers all his courage and acts as formally as possible. “I’m… I’m sorry, sir. I just got overwhelmed a bit… and I won’t do it again. However, there is one thing that I need to ask, of course, if I can.”

After clenching his hands into fists, he asks. “If I’m not mistaken, you already had a secretary. Did anything happen to him?”

Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize that the commander can read him like an open, predictable book or that it is just a quick pass of time for him.

“He decided he needs to take a long vacation before he’ll be able to continue his duties.” Shiki calmly explains.

“I see…” the silver-haired secretary replies.

In the end, even if Shiro is aware this won’t end well, for now, he has to play along with his new role. Otherwise, his fears will come true.

After all, like any great leader, Commander Shiki is like a sun - for those who are far away from him will freeze to death, while those who are too close will burn. Therefore, one should aim for the perfect balance of staying around the middle.

Unfortunately, Shiro understands the harsh truth that his side was picked for him. And thus, he has to learn to live like constantly walking on eggshells for his own survival.

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Chapter 2 Link

#togainu no chi #tnc #fanfiction #shikiaki #shiki x akira #shiaki #skak #post canon #suggestive themes #shiki (togainu no chi)#akira (togainu no chi)#ao3 #archive of our own #i'll-never-return

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riredrhodyblog · 2 years

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My Thoughts on Roe V. Wade

Trigger Warning: If you’re sensitive to sexual assault or rape, feel free to avoid this Blog. But PLEASE be aware that I don’t condone censorship of important topics, so I will never place an asterisk in words that speak the truth.

Even if it’s an unpleasant one. Quite frankly, I’m fucking sick and tired of both Conservatives and Liberals censoring speech:

Conservatives: “Don’t say ‘gay, Critical Race Theory,’ or anything that contradicts our agenda!”

Liberals: “It’s okay to talk about rape, sexual assault, suicide, etc. as long as you don’t use the words ‘rape, sexual assault, suicide,’ etc…”

Enough!! And now, with my preamble out of the way…

A Letter To All My Christian Friends:

I’ve told you that I’m beyond furious with the Supreme Court’s decision on Friday June 24th, 2022. And since most of you have responded with the usual…

“Well, abortion to me is murder… This ruling gave power back to each individual State…”

… I decided to explain why this infuriates me!

I’m angry because the Country-wide protection that has been in place for forty-nine years no longer exists.

I’m angry because poor people (as usual) are going to be the most affected. Not everyone can afford tubal litigation or moving to another State and many doctors won’t even perform the procedure.

I’ve spoken to women whose doctors had the audacity to tell them: “But what if your future husband wants children?”

What fucking century am I living in again?

I’m angry because a young woman on TikTok recently had to be transferred from one hospital’s ICU to another— AMA, I might add— because her doctors refused to treat her for blood clots in her brain. And why? Because she’s sixteen weeks pregnant and a non viable fetus is more important to them than her life and the two children she has at home!

Gone is the Hippocratic Oath… for some, I guess! This woman’s doctors literally didn’t give a shit if her two kids have grow up without her!

I’m angry because an eleven year old can be impregnated due to rape or incest and will be expected to give birth if she lives in a Red State. Again, some people can’t afford to move, etc.

I’m angry because, since Roe V. Wade was overturned (depiction provided by Philip DeFranco in his Monday PDS), SIXTEEN STATES have already outlawed abortion! That’s approximately SIXTEEN MILLION AMERICANS who no longer have reproductive rights!

And you can be sure that there’s more on the horizon!

I’m grateful to you, @PhillyD!

I don’t talk about this, frequently (or publicly), but I was sexually assaulted, on separate occasions, by both my father and my babysitter’s brother. I know what it’s like to feel powerless and I hate to see it happening to anyone else.

The bottom line is simple: Government, whether it be States, Federal Local… anything, has no business whatsoever dictating what ANYONE— specifically, in this case, women and Non Binary people with uteruses— are allowed to do with their bodies.

I understand you are Christian, Dear Friends, as well as Pro-Life. You have every right to be both of those things. But Republicans who share those values with you are trying to force those values down everyone’s throats and it’s not going to stop with the overturn of Roe V. Wade.

Clarence-remember-I-was-tried-for-sexual-harassment-Thomas literally said the Supreme Court was going after same sex marriage. Contraception and Transgender surgeries are soon to follow.

This is not hyperbole. Conservatives in positions of power have been trying, for literal decades, to regress the United States back towards a PRE-Civil Rights America. And now they’re succeeding!

Again, to all those who are Pro-Life and Christian: You have every right to be. However, YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT to force this upon those who are Pro-Choice.

But that’s literally what’s happening right now. Separation of Church and State exists for a reason.

American needs Roe V. Wade! There are far too many who cannot afford the alternative. Abortion isn’t meant for birth control. It’s meant to protect US Citizens; as legally, safely, and rarely as possible.

Even as you’re reading this, Friends, I hope you don’t think I’m attacking you. You don’t have to agree with me. But I would have done myself a huge injustice if I didn’t elaborate more clearly than I initially did.

I love you.

#roe vs. wade #pro choice

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

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Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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multi-fandom-freak0221 · 3 years

Text

You Killed Me, but I Survived and Now I'm Coming Alive

Hey guys. It's been a minute. My job have been kicking my ass. I quit one of them a few months back cause 16-18 hour days were kicking my ass. But my dad died of Covid 1/20/21, on my older sisters birthday and month before my 20th birthday. I am half a country away from him and I won't be going to see the rest of them, but I do have 3 paid days bereavement and while I'm trying to distract myself I decided to try and finish this part. Your feedback motivates me so much. This part was the part I've been waiting for. The whole reason I created this fic. Like for real I had like maybe one sentence summaries planned for the other two parts in my head but this part played out like a full movie in my head down to the last details. This one will probably be the longest. It also has like 3 songs in it because it's the concert/gala scene hopefully I'll be able to cut it down some because i won't need descriptions between every lyrics but who knows. C'est la Vie. Anyways this will be the official last part, but I do already have one for sure bonus planned and a possible bonus that I might do if enough people want it.

This part's title is from "Miss Moving On" by Fifth Harmony. And this part includes the songs "Sorry (I'm not Sorry)" by Demi Lovato, "Home" by Philip Phillips, and "Symphony" by Clean Bandit ft . (Which for me is like a fucking poly anthem. I'm mean a symphony is a perfect metaphor for a healthy poly relationship! I mean it is a lovely way of asking to join into a poly group! Anywho I'm ranting and projecting. Ignore me.)

This is Part 3 of my fic based on @maiisdaddy 's Love of Three.

Tagging list:

@thestressmademedoit @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @lizziejay @indecisive-mess-named-me @captainmac6 @luveverything12 @kris-pines04 @brokenwordsarehard2 @roselynfey @mewwitch @stainedglassm

Part 1 Part 2

Marinette was ecstatic. She was extremely proud of all that she had accomplished in the 6 or 7 seven months since she left Damian. She became a singing sensation and recorded a whole album that would be releasing soon. She spent time healing and hanging out with her friends and pseudo family. Hell she even created outfits for herself and all her friends for the album release/identity reveal gala her Uncle Tony decided to throw for. Not that other guest knew that what this gala was for. Uncle Tony had picked the next closest international holiday and claimed it was a charity gala in honor of said holiday. While he may mot have been being entirely truthful there is never a bad reason to give to charity so she wasn't going to dwell on it.

She could truly say she totally over Damian. She even had Adrien take the ring back to her old apartment for her. She was not worried about him anymore. She had more important matters to attend to. Like the 3 boys who stole her heart while helping her piece it back together. Which she would say was great timing because she was sure Bruce Wayne would be at this gala. She guesses it was some kind of billionaire/millionaire code to never miss a charity event hosted by a fellow billionaires/millionaires.

Either way it was for the best because as soon as Uncle Tony had suggested a gala to reveal at, she had Uncle Jagged help her with two songs that she kept secret from everyone. One to show her appreciate for all her family and friend's support for her and one to confess to the 3 boys who loved her when she felt unlovable. She was going to preform these song for her friends in front of a lot of influential people but she wasn't even nervous. Not even when Alix told her that the gala was to be live streamed. No she was just excited and happy to let her friends know how she was feeling.

The gala was in full swing. All the guests who were coming were already there by the time Marinette and everyone else she came with arrived. She was talking with Chloe, Kagami, and Alix when she decided to grab herself a drink. She was walking to the refreshments table when accidentally bumped in someone's back slightly. "Oh! I'm sorry, sir."

The man then turned around to reveal to be Bruce Wayne himself. "Marinette! I'm surprised to see you. Damian said you were feeling too sick to attend."

Marinette wanted to scowl, but she managed keep her face neutral. She knew there were reporters swarming here and she did not want to make a spectacle. "I'm sure he did. Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Wayne I was on my way to get a drink." She didn't even get a chance to leave Bruce in confusion from her statement. No sooner than she took a step to leave did Dick walk up to her.

Dick smiled at her as he greeted her kindly. "Sunshine! It's been a while. I thought Damian said you were under the weather?" As he moved in to hug her she sidestepped out of his reach.

Once upon a time she loved Dick's hugs, but now it would just feel fake. "I'm sure your brother has said many thing about my lack of attendance to many social gatherings. Unfortunately those claims were false as Damian has not been privy to my whereabouts in months. Now if you please excuse me."

She went to walk away again, but she guesses Dick's interference was enough time for Bruce get over his shock because he blocked her path again. "What are you talking about Marinette?" Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Mr. Wayne it has been nice talking with you but this really is a conversation for another time." Marinette sighs. She was trying to be civil. She was sure there were reporters everywhere waiting for the big scoop. She wanted that to be her reveal not her past relationship with an asshole. "Besides this is probably something you'd need to talk to Damian about."

"Talk to me, about what?" There is no God, she was convinced. The sigh that left her mouth was long and full of suffering as she turned around with a clearly fake smile. Facing her now was Damian himself with Tim and Jason behind him. Damian was clearly extremely shocked to she her, but he played it off quickly. "Angel I thought you weren't feeling well. Why didn't you tell me you changed your mind? You could have came with us."

Marinette ducked out of Damian's reach, barely restraining from stomping on his foot with her heels, as he tried to kiss her. "Do not call me Angel. And don't you dare even try to kiss me, Wayne."

Before Marinette could lose her temper anymore Luka came and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Everything okay, Melody?" Marinette took some calming breaths as she attempted to regain her composure.

While she was trying to calm down, it seemed the Wayne family was getting worked up. "And who is this, Marinette?" Bruce asked accusingly.

Marinette looked at the family in front of her in disbelief. "You all met Luka. He's my best friend. Signed under Jagged. In a committed relationship with two of my other best friends, Kagami and Adrien." She shook her head as the all held sheepish expression for assuming the worst. "Not that who I'm with is any of your business anyways."

Before any of them could question to her statement, Felix comes to her other side and whispers into her ear. "Do you want me to call security?" She didn't even get a chance to respond before she heard Dick gasp, scandalized.

"Marinette!! Are you cheating on Damian?" Dick exclaimed. At this point Marinette knew they were drawing a crowd she was trying to keep everyone's dignity intact, even though her reputation wasn't the one at stake.

"Mr. Wayne I once again implore you that we have this conversation in a more private setting." Marinette spoke calmly, but through gritted teeth. She was on her nerve.

Bruce crossed his arm and spoke loudly drawing more attention to them. "No. I demand you explain to me at once why you are here with another man when you are supposed to be marrying my son. Was this all some kind of ruse to go after the Wayne Fortune?" Her jaw dropped. She knew it did but she couldn't stop herself from the shock. The sheer audacity of this family before her. She quickly shut her mouth as her eyes narrowed into a deadly glare. Her Ladybug glare. The Wayne family would never admit it but an involuntary shiver went down their spines at the sight of it.

She knew her friends had gathered behind her at this point and see could see the reporters pushing past each other to get the scoop. Vicki Vale was the closest one. In the corner of her eye she saw the camera that was set up for the livestream as well.

Marinette face finally settled on a look mixed with anger and mischief. "Oh? So want to cause a scene, Mr. Wayne? Well how about I put on a show?" She continued to stare Bruce in the eye as she spoke to one of her, "Chloe, can you tell Jagged that I'll be opening with Sorry. The rest of the show will go as planned." Chloe smiled wickedly before going to do asked.

The Wayne family began to smirk when they heard her say sorry, but whatever they began to feel was quickly shut down as she spoke to them again. "Let's get this straight, Mr. Wayne. I am not cheating on Damian and I never once desired to a part of your family's fortune. It was foolish of me to even once want to be a part of your family but I quickly learned better. I would not want to even look at the money that is connected to your family's name if the requirement was to be even cordial with Damian, let alone married to him."

She then towards the crowd the surrounding them. "If everyone would please take their seats facing the stage the show is about to to begin." Without a second thought Marinette headed towards the stage while the rest of her friends took their seats. Some one who was in the staff working tonight led the Wayne family to seats right in front of the stage. Soon everyone was seated and Marinette was standing center stage with a microphone.

Marinette smiled brightly at the crowd. "Thank you all for coming. I'm sure you all know me as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, pseudo niece of Tony Stark and Jagged Stone, and for some of you ex-fiance of Damian, but for others you still current fiance of Damian Wayne. Well I hate to inform that some of you are wrong. Anyways I'm sure your wondering why I'm up here. Well Uncle Tony promised a surprise musical guest so I'd like to reintroduce myself to all of as Neon Titanium! I'm going to be preforming a few songs for you tonight from my new album about to release but before that I decided I should clear the air. Let me start by saying it has been about 7 months since I broke off my engagement to Damian Wanye. While most of you know I chose to kept the reason of said break up private, someone here tonight decided that they were entitled to the reason to being told to them, very publicly. And who am I to deny such a request?" There was a false sincerity to her final sentence that seemed almost menacing.

In the front you can see the paling faces of many of the Wayne men as Tim is on his phone. He finally pulls up Marinette interview that was released prior to Damian announcement. "Damian, what the hell did you do?" Tim voice was barely above a whisper but they all heard it.

Marinette continued on quite content to the situation before her. "Well here's the truth. Damian did the unforgivable. He repeatedly cheated on me while emotionally abusing me and gaslighting me.

"He kept me from seeing everyone I cared about and his own family, claiming it was for my own safety and called me selfish for wanting to leave the apartment he kept me locked in. And while at first he seemed to actually be concerned my wellbeing, over time he stopped caring.

"He became distant, turning back into the Ice Prince you all knew him to be. He would lie about why I wouldn't leave the apartment constantly while still leaving me alone in the apartment constantly. Then he started getting late night calls from "work" to the point I would barely see him. I overheard one of these calls once. I heard him telling who ever was on the other side of the phone that I had no clue and to be waiting for him naked. But I stayed hopeful. I thought I could fix things. But he got worse.

"He was slept with the one person who made it their life goal to take everything from me. Even before I moved to Gotham, this girl hated me and she took all of the people who I thought were my friends and turned them against me. My true friends stayed and knew the truth but it still hurt. And Damien knew this. I told him all about this girl abd how she hurt me. Yet he still slept with her.

"The girl knew I was Damien's fiance. Somehow she got my number and sent me a picture of her in bed with Damian, both of them naked. I'm not going to lie I broke down when I saw that. Before her I could play ignorant and act like I didn't know what he was doing. But this? This was impossible for me to ignore. He cared so little about me that he slept with the one person who do whatever it takes to hurt me. I left that same night with only the things that were mine. Everything I bought came with and everything he bought me stayed. Including the cell phone he bought me when I moved in with him. The only thing that wasn't mine that came with was the engagement ring because I couldn't bring myself to truly accept the truth that it was over yet. I later on had it returned because I remember Mr. Wayne saying it belonged to his mother, though I'm guessing Damian didn't notice."

Marinette saw Bruce whip his head towards Damian who shrunk in on himself.

"Oops. Guess it wasn't noticed indeed. Anyways. For the last 7 months I have been living in Stark Towers with my Uncle Tony, healing with some of my closest friends helping me. And after some convincing working on an album with Luka and my Uncle Jagged. I will preforming a few of those songs for the gala tonight and they will also be live streamed for those who paid for virtual tickets. My album will be released in the next following week." Marinette took a deep breath as she prepared for her first song.

"Originally I planned to open with a different song tonight but after this impromptu info dump, I thought only fair to follow it with the song I wrote dedicated to Damian. I like to call this one Sorry" As Marinette finished the music started playing over the speakers. Soon she was singing passionately.

Now I'm out here looking like revenge

Feelin' like a ten, the best I ever been

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this,

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

She pointed to Damian while rolling her eyes.

Now you're out here looking like regret

Ain't too proud to beg, second chance you'll never get

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

She took the mic off it's stand as she walked along the front of the stage.

Now payback is a bad bitch

And baby, I'm the baddest

You fuckin' with a savage

Can't have this, can't have this (ah)

And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

Baby, fineness is the way to kill

Marinette gestured to herself from head to toe.

Tell me how it feel, bet it's such a bitter pill

And yeah, I know you thought you had bigger, better things

Bet right now this stings (wait a minute)

'Cause the grass is greener under me

Bright as Technicolor, I can tell that you can see

And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this

But it gets worse (wait a minute)

By this point Chloe, Kagami, and Adrien had got up and started dancing along to the song.

Now payback is a bad bitch

And baby, I'm the baddest

You fuckin' with a savage

Can't have this, can't have this (ah)

And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

Marinette waved to her 3 friends to join on stage for the next part.

Talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

If you talk, if you talk that talk, baby

Everyone was clapping to the beat while Marinette pranced across the stage, except for the Wayne family.

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

Oh yeah Talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby

If you talk, if you talk that talk, baby

Better walk, better walk that walk, baby (oh yeah)

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Being so bad got me feelin' so good

Showing you up like I knew that I would

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned

Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns

As the song came to a close, there was a roar of applause as her friends went back to her table.

Marinette did a little half bow. "Thank you. Thank you."

She wait till it was quiet again as she returned the mic to the stand. "Now as you can all see I'm doing much better now and I'm happy without him, but if it wasn't for the support system I have I never would have made it to where I am. My parents are in France so in my time of need I turned to my family who was close. My uncles Jagged and Tony, and my aunts Penny and Pepper. They're wonderful and they have always been there for me when I need them. And also my friends, both old and new have stood by me through all of this and helped me come out stronger. So this next song was a surprise gift for them."

Jagged had grabbed an acoustic guitar and was playing her in sitting in the background of her as a projection shined on the wall behind her, showing pictures of her with her friends and her uncles and aunts.

Hold on, to me as we go

As we roll down this unfamiliar road

And although this wave is stringing us along

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear

Don't pay no mind to the demons

They fill you with fear

The trouble it might drag you down

If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

She took the mic off the stand again as she walk off the stage to her friends and family in the crowd giving the hugs as vocalized along with music.

On the screen was several pictures she found. She put together the slideshow herself. There was a picture of herself crying in the midst of group hug while the people around her comforted. Another was her and all her friends playing in the pool. There was one where they had an impromptu free-for-all dodgeball game and she had won. She was laughing as the guys lifted her into and the girls were all cheering around her.

She made her way back to the stage after the final hug.

Settle down, it'll all be clear

Don't pay no mind to the demons

They fill you with fear

The trouble it might drag you down

If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone

'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

She smiled as projector turned off and the crowd applauded again. "Thank you all. But truly thank you to my friends and family for helping and supporting me."

She waited till it was quiet once more before speaking again. "All those who love me have done so much for me, but right now I wanna talk about 3 very special people."

She smiled softly as she looked over to where Peter, Felix, and Jon were sitting. "These 3 boys did so much for me even though they were the ones who knew me the shortest. They've been kind and patient and understanding with me. They all started to love me when I felt my most unlovable. And soon they found a love in each other as well. The best part is even after loving each other they offered to include me in their love as well, whenever I was ready. They gave me their friendship unconditionally no matter what my answer came to be and never rushed me for an answer ever. So Jon, Felix, and Peter this song is for you."

She saw the Wayne family's eyes widen, but she paid them no mind as she started singing.

I've been hearing symphonies

Before all I heard was silence

A rhapsody for you and me

And every melody is timeless

Life was stringing me along

Then you came and you cut me loose

Was solo singing on my own

Now I can't find the key without you

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

I'm sorry if it's all too much

Every day you're here, I'm healing

And I was runnin' out of luck

I never thought I'd find this feeling

At this point Marinette had walked down the stage grabbed Jon's hand and led him back to the stage dancing.

'Cause I've been hearing symphonies

Before all I heard was silence

A rhapsody for you and me

(A rhapsody for you and me)

And every melody is timeless

She repeated the process with Felix as Jon danced nervously danced on stage.

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

She left Felix and Jon dancing together as she brought Peter back to the stage with her. She continued to dance with him as she sang.

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

Ah ah, ah

She smiled as Peter dipped her before bring her back up and handing her off to Felix.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

Ah ah, ah

Felix twirled her, letting her dress flare, as she spun right in to join awaiting arms where he lifted her into the air.

And now your song is on repeat

And I'm dancin' on to your heartbeat

He slowly set her down and she turned until her back is against his chest. His hand are on hips as they sway gently.

And when you're gone, I feel incomplete

So if you want the truth

Peter and Felix were mimicking her position with Jon in front of her and she put an arm around Peter's neck while the other still held the microphone.

(Oh, oh, oh)

I just wanna be part of your symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Symphony

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

Symphony

Like a love song on the radio

Will you hold me tight and not let go?

This time as she finished singing the crowd was silent as she looked at the 3 boys who held her heart. "Jon. Felix. Peter. You guys are some of the best people to ever walk into my life. I want nothing more than to be with you 3. So if you are still willing, will you do me the honor of calling me your girlfriend?"

She looked hopeful as the silence filled her ears. It felt like hours, even though it was definitely seconds, before she heard them all say yes.

Cheers erupted as Peter kissed her and Jon and Felix kissed each other over the former two's heads. She then turned kissed Jon as Peter kissed Felix, before kissing Felix as Jon kissed Peter. She grinning wildly when the all finally pulled away from each other.

She raised the mic to her lips as she closed out. "Thank you all for being here for my reveal/debut! I got one more song that I'll be preforming at the end of the gala, so y'all have fun and mingle. Once again, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng aka Neon Titanium, I'm glad you enjoyed the show!"

She winked at Bruce on her last word as she walked off the stage with the loves of her life to where her family and friends were waiting for her.

Her and her boys (and Kwami does she love that -Her boys) were in the midst of getting congratulations when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Bruce Wayne stood as tall as ever though he refused to meet any of her group's eyes.

"Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I apologize for my early behavior tonight, I was missing the whole story." He voice was steady but some shame shone through. His boys were behind him all of them also looking sheepish except Damian who was glaring at her new loves Jon in particular.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "You know as well as I do that the media are sharks, and events like these are a feeding frenzy for them. I tried my hardest to keep all of our reputations intact tonight, a lot harder than I should have since I had nothing to hide since I was the victim here. Yet, you in no regards of the truth, attempted to smear me with no hesitation. Personally the rest of you did nothing to me so I had no ill will towards you, but you forced my hand. The results of today are direct consequences of your own actions."

Before anyone else could speak up Damian did. "Kent," He nearly growled. "Why didn't you inform me as soon as you knew she was gone. As my best friend you should have informed me immediately!"

Jon answered lowly in a dark tone no had ever heard him use before. "My father tried to warn you father, Wayne, but when questioned you just dug your own grave deeper. Besides as my father explained to me it is not our job to make sure you two are aware of the going ons of your own household. Also you lost the right to be my best friend when you decided to be so cruel to the person you were supposed to love and then lie when confronted about it."

Marinette scoffed. "I figured when you finally noticed I was gone you'd assume I was off throwing a temper tantrum in hiding somewhere and that I'd come back. The fact that you weren't even worried about me in all that time I was missing is really telling."

Bruce glared Damian down from respond as his brothers held him back. "I just have one more question before we rightfully leave you alone. You said you had the ring return? Where could it possibly be?"

Marinette shrugged. "I had Adrien return it a couple months ago. Damian was fucking some girl in his apartment when Adrien walked in and he didn't even notice him set it on the dresser. I believe heard on the grapevine someone named Lila is claim she's Damian's true love and he had to keep up our engagement for appearances. She also claimed he proposed to her with a Wayne family heirloom until he get away from me. I guess maybe next time Damian should pay better attention to his house guests." She giggled sarcastically afterwards.

Bruce frowned as he nodded. "I see. I'll leave you all alone now. Have a wonderful evening, and congratulations." As he led his family away Marinette could hear whispered yelling but could make out a few phrases like "PR Nightmare", "priceless heirloom", "huge mistake", and even "major fuck up".

As soon as they were out of hearing range Marinette started laughing, causing everyone around her to laugh too. She finally calmed down eventually but her large smile never went away. This is the happiest and the most free she's felt in the long time.

#maribat salt #marijon #maribat #marivenger #felinette #spideybug #OT4 #me????projecting onto characters????? It's more likely than you think #honestly at this point #yall should clearly see i got issuses #also the wayne family gets burned!!!!!#mari might forgive most of them #but Bruce and Damian are dead to her #bamf marinette #she takes no shit #am i projecting my poly ass?#you mcfucking bet #she got no time for assholes #neon titanium

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haliyam · 3 years

Text

interim (ii)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 3

Hi again! I forgot to note in the first chapter that Reader here is 19 years old, while Zeke is 25. (Clearly, before the developments of this story, there was nothing but friendship there.) For the other Warriors, I put Pieck at 19 as well, while Porco is Reiner's age (around 17/18 that year). Marcel would have been the same age as Pieck and Reader in my headcanon. If you're not comfortable with the age difference, I understand.

Also, about university here so you don't get confused this chapter - I lifted the medical school system for Marley from Germany's current system where after a competitive state exam post-high school, students are able to head straight for medical school for a 6-year track followed by specialization.

Reminder that the Reader/OC, default name Lucy, is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, but please feel free to set the substitution for the Reader to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension if you’re reading through the browser! So that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

Chapter 2

You don’t even get a moment to breathe. General List launches into a speech about the nerve of other so-called nations almost as soon as you sit down. Apparently, those in the Mid East peninsula have grown considerably bold over the last few months, with several navy ships withdrawing from the port of Ichakar and transferring, presumably, to Qali - which gives them a better angle from which to attack the mainland if they so wish it. They’ve also fortified their borders—ground troops distributed across the land close to Marley’s newly acquired cities—which is of course the sovereign right of those nations, but it’s blasphemy to the regime’s unending ambition.

You wish they had given you a brief with all this information before the meeting, the kind you have seen Willy and father poring over in their office in the past, but you get the feeling that the general is unloading information on you with the intent to overwhelm.

“On the diplomatic front,” he continues with a hint of mockery, because of course he thinks of such things as futile, “they have been making demands. Asking that we keep to our waters when it is they who have encroached upon ours! The audacity—the delineation clearly states—” He continues to ramble until he is red in the face, but your neutral expression must slip into a wide-eyed look at some point, because he regains his composure with a visible wrinkle of his nose. “This arrogance can only mean one thing.”

He stares at you, and you realize he is expecting you to answer. You feel all eyes at the table on you, the Commander’s especially, and clear your throat. “...Weapons research, Sir?”

“Weapons development, Miss Tybur,” he corrects you. “Advanced and more prolific than we may have considered.”

He pauses, and you can’t help but speak. You can tell Magath knows it because he sits up straighter somehow, and in a moment of rebellion, you refuse to recognize the caution in his posture. “With all due respect, Sir, the… armaments race among the other nations is no secret, and on Eldian labor, no less.”

A fist slamming on the desk causes everyone around it to jump in their seats. “It’s what Eldians deserve!” the general next to List says, so naturally that he might have been born saying it. You blink, the heat of embarrassment and indignation crawling up your neck, but it’s only with List’s raised hand that the man remembers that the white band on your left arm is only for show. He glances away. “Present company excluded, of course.”

With the exception of his hand, List continues as though neither of you ever interrupted him. “And now, to the point. We need further information on the status of this little race. That is where you come in, Miss Tybur. You will use your family’s connections to enter the peninsula with our people - the peninsula and beyond, as the exact lay of their operations lies beyond our ken - and retrieve this information.”

It’s one thing to predict a general’s words and another to be confronted with them. You suppose you were still hoping he wouldn’t say it. “General List, are you saying you want a Tybur to be a spy?”

List glances over at Magath. “They were trained for interrogation, weren’t they?” Your old instructor is barely able to nod before the general recalls to you, “Ah, yes, I read the file. You withstood all but the final test. A failure then, but rather more a fluke, in my opinion. An irreplicable circumstance.”

You don’t say anything. You would rather not remember that night. Or that particular moment.

He takes your silence for agreement. “And so I answer, why not? You became a Warrior candidate - unprecedented initiative and involvement by the Tybur family. Why should this be any different?”

“Because—” Because becoming a Warrior isn’t a choice a child makes of their own free will, not really, but a Tybur doesn’t question the decisions of the former head of the family, of father, before all these strangers. No matter that they were loyal to him. You purse your lips. “Sir, I just don’t believe I’m the right person for this.”

“Your file did say you were always hasty, Miss Tybur,” List says, and you both glance at Magath at that. He doesn’t nod, only meets your gazes. He seems as trapped in this as you are, which makes your resentment for him ebb only slightly. “But you should know better now.”

Now you’re getting irritated. The temper that was your closest companion in your early childhood, and then your early adolescence seizes your fist under the table as List continues. “How goes Foundation operations?”

The Tybur Family Foundation. Set up by Walter Tybur when he first became head of the family and operated by the eponymous Tyburs - most often chaired by the spouse of whoever leads it. Your mother first, once, when she cared to, and now Mila. It provides healthcare and educational opportunities for ‘peoples once oppressed by the Eldian Empire,’ as part of continuing reparations for sins the Tybur family did not commit. Or so they say. Many of its employees now are Eldian, part of Willy’s initiative to improve Eldian relations… but in reality it does little when the Foundation is only a grantmaking organization.

“Well enough, Sir.”

“Is that so? From what I hear, the Foundation is unable to set up even offices in several countries in spite of the family’s stellar international relations.”

“And,” you add carefully, “if they ever catch wind of my close involvement with the regime even after all this time, that will not improve.”

“Clearly, Miss Tybur.” His level gaze shifts to patronizing in all the ways you hate. “But say you become more independent. Distance yourself from the military that leads our fine motherland… Say,” he smiles, “that you make overtures of dissatisfaction with Marley’s cruel expansionist policies and express the utmost sympathy for other nations. Perhaps then they will permit you to expand your operations within their borders.”

Your jaw almost drops at the very suggestion. You’ve always thought, since Willy became Lord Tybur, that only the Tyburs have the power to change the direction of Marley. For obvious reasons, not so obvious to the rest of the world, but also for the heritage you represent. If the Tybur family can be good Eldians, why can they not be only one of many good Eldians? Why not introduce the concept that any Eldian can be good, as any other race of people?

“You…” You rein in your reaction even as your imagination sets off in the direction List has set it—and far more. Especially the part where the Tybur family spreads the good name of Eldians throughout the world. No more ‘special’ treatment, no more interment zones…

No more Warriors.

Maybe. If Marley gets what it wants.

You would allow that? was your question. But the answer, you understand suddenly, is that they would allow perhaps the chance of it, in exchange for Marley’s continued expansion using Eldian bodies on the front lines. A slim chance of sparing Eldian lives for the certainty of losing them. You feel lightheaded just considering it. You want to help, but you are the last person who should hold so many lives in her hands.

Your eyes refocus on General List. A pleased smile brims beneath his well-trimmed beard, like he’s already read your mind. But he can’t know—you’ve shared your thoughts with no one but Willy and Lara, who have been as dismissive as they have been receptive. In other words, as though you’re still the child father sent away thirteen years ago they expect will eventually forget all her questions.

“Does Lord Tybur know about this, Sir?” You eye the intelligence officer not far from List.

List clears his throat. “Not as yet. Lord Tybur might be more receptive to such a scheme were his sister to present it to him herself. We are aware that Lady Tybur chairs the Foundation. Her movements are conservative, but she may agree to a more generous, active Foundation on your word.”

Scheme. That’s what it is, but that isn’t what really catches your attention. Willy and Mila, listening to you? You want to burst into laughter, tell them that they have severely misunderstood the dynamics of the Tybur family. But that intelligence officer is here, which makes you think List is lying.

“Why not ask Lady Tybur to head the operation?”

“Lord Tybur would never allow us to risk his wife,” List laughs. The implication of his words is hardly lost on you, but the general tempers his mockery with a compliment. “And we believe a new, younger face for the Foundation - perhaps one our enemies believe to be foolishly idealistic - will better suit it.”

Foolishly idealistic. Like the sort of person who would agree to this plan. Your face doesn’t fall, but your eyes do - toward the table, the way the fingers of each general drum against the wood. Magath’s hands clasp each other, firm as ever. When you look up to List again, you frown.

“Sir, you know that I’ve returned to Liberio to enter the university’s medical program.”

“Yes, yes, we were quite impressed when we learned of your state exam results, Miss Tybur,” List waves, impatient. He’s been relaxed back against his chair, but now that his certainty is dwindling, he leans forward on the table. “But think. Look at the bigger picture. As a physician you may help a man in need one after the other - years and years down the line. Six years at the shortest, and if you mean to be a specialist, how much longer? But with the Foundation’s resources, and with our backing at that, you will aid hundreds, thousands - and the motherland most importantly. Within the year. Half, if we move quickly.”

You bite your lip. You want it and you don’t. The Tyburs must do something, or else we are nothing were your exact words to Willy before. But the idea of retaking your name when you have only just arrived here nauseates you, and assisting the expansion, the destruction, under the guise of aid more so.

“I… would like time to give this some thought, Sir.”

A sigh seems to echo around the room, but it’s only all the men with you and their exasperation. Only Magath is expressionless as List visibly bites his tongue. He gives the commander a glare for good measure, as though it’s his fault you did not agree at once. “Very well,” he says. “But know that prolonging this will only bring harm to the motherland.”

You only nod. Much as you would like to have it, you have no intention of getting the last word here. You avert your gaze from the Commander when you permit the men to leave the room ahead of you.

It seems like the start of a rather miserable day - you’re practically scheduled to overthink all this some time this week, if not this afternoon - when, once the steady march of power has cleared from the hallway, Pieck meets you as you step out of the conference room.

“Boo.”

Your hand flies over your chest, but it’s a chuckle that comes out of you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“So I’ve been told.” She peeks into the room behind you right as you close the doors. “The brass did not look pleased.”

You wince. “I gave them no reason to be. I hate to get the Commander in trouble, but...” You trail off. You both know you can’t say much more.

It’s Pieck’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“...Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” she shrugs. “I came here for lunch, not information.”

You doubt she knows the extent of the Tyburs’ relationship with the regime, but you can always trust Pieck to know not to pry. “You know, I remember now why you’re my favorite Warrior.”

“Oh?” Pieck grins. “Not the Boy Wonder?”

“Boy Wonder,” you repeat, the way the two of you always have when that name comes up - with a snicker and definitely with no one else around. You’ll never understand how the brass can say it with such straight faces. “So how about that meal?”

She pinches at the skin of your elbow through your sleeve. “Changing the subject doesn’t work on me, you know.”

You sigh. “Can we please eat first? I’m miserable enough without an empty stomach.”

“I guess some things don’t change.”

“Hey!” You half-scoff, half-laugh. With a wink, Pieck slips her arm around yours, and you start down the hallway in companionable silence.

Or you would, if you didn’t know that you owe her a little more than that. Reaching over to rest your free hand over the arm linked with yours, you look at her. “I’m sorry, Pieck. I really am.”

Pieck waits a moment, and then meets your gaze. She searches yours for the lie, but she already knows it won’t be there. You always were too candid for your own good. With a squeeze at your hand, she nods. “I know. Tell me all about it after that meal. Your treat, right?”

You blink, and then laugh with shaking relief. “Of course.”

You and Pieck fall back into the easy rapport you’ve shared since you became friends more than a decade ago. Contrary to her words, she doesn’t press you for answers as you decide on where to eat in the zone. For old times’ sake, you agree on the sandwich place two blocks from the Yeagers’, and you end up sharing a meal in your bedroom.

Sitting on your bed together, legs dangling over one edge as you nip at your food, you finally work up the courage to speak through your guilt and explain yourself and the past five years—or most of it. And of course Pieck is understanding, which makes you feel even more pathetic. True to form, she picks that up as well and gracefully changes the subject.

You’re the one who brings it back to what still hangs in the air over you when you’ve finished eating. Nothing personal—but though Marcel was the only one with whom you were ever close friends with, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie were your teammates too. You’d suffered your superiors together during training, and you’d been there for each of their first transformations. For all the experiments too; even their first assault mission.

“What happened?”

Propped up on one elbow, Pieck is lying on her side, legs tucked under her skirt as you set aside your trash. She accepts the glass you hand her from the table, eyes distant. “Zeke hasn’t told you?”

“Zeke won’t look at me unless he absolutely has to. You know how he is.”

Pieck groans. She knows. “He was so irritating after you stopped writing.”

You click your teeth in a wince. “Really?”

“Imagine, Lucy—after you all left, I was stuck with him and Porco. The abandonment issues didn’t just double, they were exponential. Multiply that with the ego and the sarcasm? The Commander was my favorite person those days.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “I am so sorry, Pieck.”

“You should be,” she grumbles, but the remark is softened with a grin. When you grimace, she braces herself with a deep breath.

She tells you everything, or most of it: that the people of Paradis were shocked to find others alive outside of the walls, what Reiner and Bertholdt and Annie went through the past so many years, how the latter were captured—and exactly what happened to Marcel. She saves that one for last, and though you are infinitely more curious about the world behind the coward king’s walls, you reach for her hand again.

“I’m sorry, Pieck.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to make apologies all day, you know.”

“Don’t I?” you grin, embarrassed, teeth gritted even when your feigned mirth starts to droop. The dreamy way she speaks throws others off, but you know Pieck. She’s always been the most pragmatic of the Warriors and so she must feel silly, thinking about what could have been, had Marcel returned. Would a childhood crush have become something more between them if things were different? He had promised his family, and her specifically, that he would come home after saving the world. The thought, the regret for a chance not even yours gone, has a weight settling in your throat too.

You clear it and huff. “Well, it’s a great loss. I think everyone was a little in love with Marcel.”

Pieck glances at you.

“...Except Annie,” you add.

The sudden exemption makes Pieck choke with laughter, with tears not far behind. “Except Annie. Of course.”

You giggle, and both of you pretend not to see each other wiping your own eyes. “You know. Annie was always the toughest among us.” You pause. “Is. She is.” When Pieck’s laughter gives way to somber agreement, you ask, “What about Reiner? What has he said? I know what he’s said, but… two weeks of debriefing… it sounds like a little much.”

“He was there for years,” Pieck shakes her head. “He grew up there, Lucy. He’s… completely different now. Kind of like you.”

“I think that’s giving me a little too much credit.” You haven’t done anything remotely in the way of serving the motherland; not that you begrudge the others that the way you once did. “All I’ve done is see things and get upset. Until I can get my degree, and then until I can get the War Hammer, there’s nothing I can do.”

That’s a lie. There is apparently the Foundation—but the idea of directly assisting the regime in its efforts is something you cannot consider as you are.

“If you do become a doctor, will they let you have the War Hammer?”

You bite your lip. If only for Lara, you’re still bitter about that. “What was it all for otherwise? Though… I guess if I had inherited it then, there’s no way I’d ever be able to come back and see you all except under specific circumstances. Much less be permitted to study.”

Pieck only sighs, reaching for your hand. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. And when I think about it… a part of me is glad Marcel didn’t have to see all of what Marley has done. What we had to do in Paradis—and I only saw a speck.”

You know what the others did, but Zeke and Pieck’s involvement apart from retrieving your old comrades is still vague.

You squeeze her hand reassuringly, but you can’t help it. “What did you have to do?”

“What we’ve always had to,” she answers with a faint smile. Your friends always had tells when they would rather not say more, and this is unmistakably hers. Given your earlier explanation, you understand why. She intertwines your fingers with gratitude at your silence.

“So,” you start after a while, “how about some dessert before I walk you back to HQ?”

“Sure. I might as well treat myself a little before we have to head out to the mountains again.” At your questioning gaze, she says, “Training with the Panzer Unit. That’s what all the paperwork was for.”

“Gross.”

She chuckles. “That’s exactly what Zeke says.”

Your face falls at the mention of him. Relieved as you are with your progress with Pieck, Zeke is an entirely different ball game. You hate that that’s the phrase you even thought of.

“You know what?” Pieck sits up smacks her hands on her lap. “I’ll treat you, too.”

You perk up. “Really?”

“For a price.”

“...What’s that?”

“Talk to Zeke already. If I come back after a month to your gloomy faces still, I’m going to go crazy.”

“It’s only been a day,” you mutter. “And I’ve tried to apologize to him.”

Pieck gives you a knowing look.

“I did,” you insist helplessly, but you both know that’s probably a lie. In Pieck’s case. You know it is absolutely false: when Zeke came upstairs after dish duty, quietly closing the door to his room, you stepped out of yours and stood outside in the hallway, your hand raised to knock on his door. You just couldn’t do it. You can take Porco’s jabs any day, but last night, the thought of Zeke and his silence, or worse, his caustic cheer, sent you scurrying back to your room.

You sigh. “Fine.”

Amused, Pieck gets to her feet for the opportunity to loom akimbo over you. “Good. And if you start to lose heart, try to remember that six-year old who used to glare at Magath like she had nothing to lose. That girl had guts.”

“You mean the half-dead one who wasn’t allowed dinner and got a Warrior class’s worth of cleanup duty alone, whom you specifically told to get over herself if she didn’t want to actually die a few months into training?”

“Exactly. What is Zeke going to do? Tell you to go to your room without dinner?”

Maybe. You sigh. “Sometimes I don’t like it when you’re right.”

Pieck grins. “And when Zeke gets over himself—maybe he’ll tell you about his brother.”

Your shock would be better illustrated in this moment were you sipping a drink you could spit in her face. “His what?”

“Shh. I don’t think he’s told the Yeagers. I think… he only told Magath because I was there when he discovered it. Still,” she says when your eyes remain wide and expectant, “it’s not my place to say. So talk to him.”

Medicine is one of the few fields for which Eldians are permitted to pursue higher education. It’s only logical—there are only a few non-Eldians who care to treat pig-blooded devils, and the efforts of those who do are wasted on said filth. And so the regime allows the admission of more Eldians than often permitted under quotas for other majors, even if the number does remain small regardless.

After parting ways with Pieck, you find yourself standing in line in some administrative building in the University of Liberio in the midday heat of summer. The line stretches outside because this is the queue for Eldian students wishing to confirm their intention to enroll over a month from now. That’s all—you need only submit a form and pay a fee, and the line for non-Eldians students has long finished—but of course the line has barely moved for your kind.

You’re clutching your envelope and your permit to your chest, which you quickly realize is a terrible idea. Sweat is starting to trickle down the nape of your neck, and you start to fan yourself with the envelope. Talking to the other applicants in line is prohibited - you must be spaced far from one another so as not to make noise and distract students who actually deserve to be here.

It’s ridiculous. You can’t even leave the line because saving spots is prohibited. Something about being fair.

The frustration crawls up your neck in the form of prickling heat, and you feel a headache coming. You fan yourself more vigorously, trying to calm down. It takes a minute, but the background buzz eventually starts to soothe you, and you begin to accept that you can simply return to the Yeagers’ and change as soon as this is over. The glares your line receives from passing students and the guards watching you, ensuring none of you causes a ruckus (as if any Eldian would dare), fade under the memory of your childhood. You withstood it before, with Magath and the other drill instructors screaming in your face. You can ignore a few nasty looks.

With that as a frame of reference, the line is even almost... peaceful. The heat is dry, not humid, there’s no mud, no blisters in your feet, no rucksack weighing you down, and no rifle either.

Only the sudden rustle of paper as it slips from your thumb interrupts that peace.

“No!” you gasp, watching your permit flutter closer to a guard with his back turned.

Just then a hand swoops in to save it - its owner bent forward, dark hair falling over his face until he rights himself, permit in hand, and glances around. You sigh in relief when you spot the band around his arm and wave him over.

He jogs over to you, hand already extended with the permit. “Confirming your slot for the medical school?” he asks, brushing away the bangs that fall over his face. He’s got the slightest stubble around his jaw, which he brushes his fingers over when he notices you looking.

You meet his gaze when you notice you’re looking. “Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. He smiles at once, as if he can tell you’re embarrassed, but he only casts a glance at the line behind and ahead of you. “It was a lot worse during my time. They had us looping around the gate.”

“Ugh, really?”

He nods, but swallows down his grimace to lick his lips. “I’ve… never seen you around the zone before.”

You blink. Smile a little as you glance around the line. “You know everyone in the zone?”

He opens his mouth to respond with a sheepish grin that makes his eyes twinkle when movement behind him catches your peripheral vision. One of the guards watching the line has noticed him and is stomping his way over. Noticing your alarm, he sticks out a hand. “I’m Kellan, by the way.”

“Lucy. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lucy,” he repeats, and you’re barely able to shake his hand when the guard yanks him back.

“Damn pig’s blood—!”

“I’m going, sir. Sorry,” says Kellan, ending the apology with his eyes on you even as he winces from the shorter man’s grip. When he’s eventually released, he ducks away and walks off. He glances over his shoulder to wave, but another guard keeps him moving with a shove.

The shorter one glares at you when he’s gone, and though you remember Pieck’s words, you know this isn’t the time or the place.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes to the ground as you turn ahead. Once he’s assured of your submission, he leaves too.

The line takes longer than you expect, but you survive the sweltering heat and submit your form just before the offices close. You hurry back to the zone afterward, dropping by the Galliard bakery to call on Mr. and Mrs. Galliard and offer your condolences. They are shocked but overjoyed to see you, and insist that you take your old favorites when they discover that you’ll be dropping in on Mr. Finger afterward.

You don’t stay long, though Mr. Finger is pleased about your choice of future employment. You feel even guiltier at the unspoken regret in his smile, and beg him not to mention it when he tries to thank you for the support the Tybur family has sent the Fingers over the years—the one thing you think Willy has ever done right.

You return to the Yeagers before dark, early enough to help Mrs. Yeager start with dinner. Dr. Yeager is apologetic as always, but you’re able to change the subject by serving the blueberry pie from the Galliards for a mid-meal dessert of sorts, and the dinner table relaxes soon after. Zeke is absent - he still hasn’t come home from work - so you make sure to leave some for him. This time, Mrs. Yeager allows you to take over cleanup, and the couple retires to their bedroom once the conversation fades into a comfortable silence.

You hope to meet Zeke right as he arrives, corner him into talking to you somehow unless he decides to miss dinner himself, but after half an hour of sitting at the dinner table, cleaning anything you might have missed in the kitchen and the dining room, and rearranging anything out of place in the living room, it starts to look like he won’t be coming anytime soon.

That’s fine, you tell yourself. You feel slimy from being out in the sun all afternoon anyway, and you treat yourself to a relaxing bath. Zeke is still away when you return to your room, and the calming warmth of your evening has you yawning. You have no choice but to change into your pajamas.

In truth, you’re a little relieved. Not that you’re particularly answerable to Pieck anyway, at least not until she finishes training with the Panzer Unit, but it won’t be your fault that you and Zeke weren’t able to talk tonight. But just to feel as though you’ve tried your very best, you keep yourself up by starting to write to Lara—and then regret your principle when you hear heavy footsteps outside and a soft click of the door across yours.

The word you’re writing skitters off to the edge of the paper in your surprise. Your heartbeat invades the tense silence of your room, but you manage to take a deep breath, folding your unfinished letter and slipping it under the paperweight on your desk.

Your door is your next obstacle.

Overlapping images of how Zeke will surely reject you race through your mind alongside the words you wish you could say, and you’re able to keep up with about... none of them. You thought that the words would come to you, and maybe they will, but the moment is about to come and you can’t think of a single word to say.

If you have time to worry, you have time to just get over there and do it, you tell yourself. You shake your head, regretting your own harshness, but also nod as you hastily gulp down the glass of water on your bedside table. Those words in mind, you move, switching one door for another. No longer standing nose-to-panel with your bedroom door, you’re doing it with Zeke’s in the hallway instead.

Hand raised to knock, you eye the light peeking out from the gap beneath the door. Knock. Just knock. The worst he can do is turn you away, and you’ll probably want to wriggle under the dirt and cry, but you’ll at least have tried. You owe it to him to try, like you did with Pieck, and you know you’re braver than this. Or you were, once upon a time.

If you’re still the same girl from years ago, you don’t get to find out just yet.

You hear his footsteps coming from the bathroom too late. No, it’s the heat of another and the familiar scent of his soap which alert you to his presence.

That and his voice, still too deep for the older boy you remember. “Aren’t you a little too old to still be knocking on my door at night?”

“Zeke,” you say, trying to pull your heart down from your throat before you turn and meet his flat expression. He’s in pajamas himself, his hair damp. You must not have heard him head for the bathroom you share down the hall. “Hi.”

That’s more than your mind could summon a while ago, but you still want to smack yourself.

His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. His jaw shifts even as his pale eyes stare down at you in the dim light, as if deciding what to do with you... and then he sighs. He’s too tired to be glib tonight. “Can I help you, Lucy?”

Your lips purse with trepidation, but you stand your ground. “Can we talk?”

He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Looking down at you is clearly work. “I’m listening.”

You hesitate, trying not to make another face. It seems to come naturally with Zeke around, but you resist the urge, and instead tilt your head to the side. There is no light coming from the master bedroom down the length of the hallway. When you glance back up at Zeke, you give him a pointed look.

Zeke sighs again, and then… decides to just brush past you to grab his doorknob.

Your stomach twists with both disappointment and pique. “Zeke,” you whisper furiously, barely just stomping your foot.

He whips his head to face you, halfway inside already. “What?” he whispers back, like you’re nagging him. Then he rolls his eyes, swinging his door wide open and backing into it to give you room.

“Get in.”

Sorry for the dearth of Zeke moments this chapter, but the next one will mooostly feature him and yes we'll finally find out why Zeke is upset. I used to write very long chapters with fics, but that really exhausted me so I'm trying to write shorter now to keep myself from burning out. But I'm enjoying writing in 2nd person! I never used to do it because it was frowned upon long ago, and possibly still is now? But idc anymore it's fun to try.

Thank you for reading!

#zeke x reader #zeke x oc #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager x oc #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke jaeger x oc #aot #snk #aot fic #aot fanfic #haliyam #interim #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #snk fanfic

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starryseung · 4 years

Text

han jisung + smut

☾

request; can i request jisung roommate au which they are both rival word count; 2.7k words warnings; enemies to lovers!au, roommates!au, orgasm denial, semi-public sex

Black Shirt

You drag your heavy suitcase throughout the corridors of your campus, a white sheet of paper with black scribbles made by your friend to guide you through the hostel dangling carelessly between your fingers. She had already found her room, which she shared with a guy; something absurd for your conservative mind.

No doubt, you had guy friends, but you never even thought of sharing a room with the opposite sex, let alone actually doing it. Your new hostel had such a policy though, and they justified it by saying that it would ‘help them come out of their bubble’ and all that. You were anticipated to meet your new roommate, hoping you would click with him soon.

—

Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Especially when your roommate was going to be Han Jisung; your rival since 8th grade. You didn’t just dislike him, no. You two loathed each other. All the synonyms of hatred combined still wouldn’t be near half of how much you despised him. And unluckily, he ended up being your roommate for the next two years.

There was no turning point in your lives where you just started hating each other. You two were overachievers. Anything one would do, the other did better. Not only did it lead to the growing feeling of distaste in you two, but it also did something good. Put you two into amazing universities in the country.

But the fact that you two ended up in the same room as well, your friends kinda knew what they were going to be facing soon.

The second you enter your room, the only thing leaves your mouth is, “What the fuck?!”

Jisung looks at you, snarling and clicking his tongue as he sees you at the doorstep with your red suitcase in hand. You knew where this was leading to, but you liked watching his face turn red in anger. You liked watching his face in general, though.

“You! You followed me here too!” he cried, pointing a finger at you as he stood up, slow steps walking towards you.

“Um, no? This shitty piece of paper brought me here? Also, why the hell would I ever follow a dickhead like you!”

“You know what? Just—”

“Hey there! What’s with all the yelling?” another voice calls from the kitchen. A taller male with blond curly hair walks up to you two, eyebrows quirked up in amusement. He eyes the two of you as he picks up his bowl of cereal, walking round the island top and leaning against it as he digs in his breakfast.

Jisung groans and storms to his room, leaving you and Chan alone.

“I’m sorry, he gets his period once in a while. Do you guys know each other..?” he laughs, swirling his spoon in the white bowl.

“Yeah, we went to the same school for a couple years and stuff—”

“Oh so you’re friends! Tha—”

“No. I hate him. He hates me. He sucks and we’ll hate each other until he dies.” you cut him off, dragging your stuff inside the living room. You hear a ‘You suck more!’ from Jisung’s room, and Chan chuckles. He helps you with your stuff and shows you your room, instructing you about the small details of the place.

—

It was time for dinner, and you heard your stomach growl. With a little help from Chan, you were able to almost set up your room by the end of the day, and now you were starving. The delicious aroma of flavor rolls by your nostrils, and you take in a long breath. You place the pile of books neatly where you wanted them, and trudged towards the kitchen, where something was cooked.

You saw Chan and another girl, mindlessly humming and wiggling their hips to some song playing softly, their backs facing you as they cooked pasta. You quietly walk forward, but somehow the girl hears your footsteps and turns around to acknowledge you.

“Hey! You must be Chan’s new roommate! Come, have a seat, dinner’s almost ready!” she squeaks happily, smiling as she returns back to cooking, the loving grin not leaving her lips.

You set up the table and sit down as the girl served the delicious food onto your plate. Chan sits next to you, and the girl sits closer to him.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself,” she giggles as you’re about to start eating.

“I’m—”

“Saerom! Hello~” Jisung exclaims as he trudges out of his room, making his way to the table. He glances at you and pokes his tongue out, but before you can retract, the girl, or Saerom, starts.

“So, I’m Saerom, and I’m Chan’s girlfriend! He told me about you earlier, I hope we can be good friends!” she speaks as you all start eating. You didn’t have heart eyes for Chan, but you didn’t expect him to have a girlfriend. But then on the other hand, he did have the looks and brains to have ten.

“Sure! The food’s great by the way,” you speak mouthful, devouring the best dinner you’ve had in weeks.

You and Jisung act like you don’t know each other, and you keep talking to Saerom and Chan about regular school stuff. You felt Jisung shaking his legs under the table, restraining everything in you to not yell at him to stop. Then again, he might as well be doing it to piss you off.

His leg hits yours— and to be very honest, your whole body was sore from all the work you had done today, and you were exhausted. Jisung’s kick pisses you off even more and you kick him back, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yah! Why’d you kick me!” he asks, eyebrows raised and fork shifting in his hands as if one wrong move and he would stab you.

“Excu— Me? Your dumbass purposely kicked me when I was clearly minding my own damn business,” you counter, pissed off at his audacity.

“I didn’t hit you, I hit the table leg!” he defends, and you scoff, amused if he was being serious or shocked if he was comparing your leg to the table’s.

“Hey hey, now, let’s have a nice dinner, yeah?” Chan muses, grinning as he sees the two of you fighting like preschoolers. You finish off your food, occasionally glaring at Jisung who does the same, and wash off your dishes.

“Thank you so much for today! The food really was delicious,” You compliment, and Saerom and Chan call out a ‘good night’ and ‘thank you!’ as you walk off to your room.

—

“Yes! Fuck yes!”

You couldn’t hold in your excitement as you jumped up and down on your bed, hands holding the paper Chan had given you. After weeks and weeks of assessments and projects, you were finally shortlisted into the University’s International Representatives team. It was a huge honor for you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling all these emotions.

Chan has to hold you by your arms and pull you down when he starts hearing the weak bed squeak under you, afraid that the furniture might break under your actions.

“I’m so happy! Oh my God this has to be the best day of my life.”

“That’s great! Now y/n please go to bed it’s pretty late and you have the interview tomorrow,” Chan sighs, looking up at the clock.

He wishes you night before signing off for the day, heading to his room retiring for the night.

—

You admire yourself, twirling around in the red pencil skirt and black dress shirt you’d worn for today’s interview. You were totally going to ace this, and nothing could stop you. You hop on into Saerom’s car as she told you she could drop you off for your big day.

You walk inside the dimly lit restaurant, a fresh smell flowing through your lungs. You feel confidence rush through you once again and you smile, walking into the hall. The receptionist asks you if you needed a reservation or if you were here on invitation.

“Yeah actually, I’m here on invitation. I’m here for the interview for the University of Seoul.” you reply, tapping your heels on the marble tiles. She kindly directs you to a table not far away, and you thank her before walking towards them.

There was a female teacher you recognized from your lectures, and the other was a random man you’d never seen before. You smile and greet them, sitting in front of them.

“Good evening, y/n! How is your day going,” your teacher smiles, shuffling through some papers. You talk about some basic daily events, possibly to get you to be comfortable with them.

“So we’re waiting for another student, so when he arrives, we’ll— here he is! Welcome,”

You turn to look at who the student was and your jaw almost drops down. It was, of course, Han Jisung. Of course, he was here too, ready to ruin this for you as well. He looks at you with a blank stare, eyes immediately dropping down to your exposed thighs. You turn back around, mentally crying at what you thought was going to happen.

“Great! So we’ll start off with the interview now. We’ve seen your reports, and we’d like to hear from you, how would you tackle situations based on international conflicts...”

—

So far you've done pretty well. You couldn’t deny, Jisung was a good speaker as well; he almost impressed you with his answers. You noticed how his eyes close up to crescents when he would smile widely, the small grin everlasting on his face. His honey skin basked under the glow of the yellow lights paired up with the soft sunset glow from outside the restaurant.

His hand rests on your right thigh and you snap out of your daze, shifting your eyes back to the teachers assessing you. All your attention which was on them snaps when you feel the hand on your thigh rise higher and higher. You feel goosebumps rise on your skin where his fingers touched.

At this point, the two older professors at the other end of the table are busy discussing something among themselves, and you can’t really excuse yourself from this mishap. Jisung’s fingers rise higher and higher, and he briefly looks at you and you slowly nod, approving his actions. He gladly moves ahead, smirking as his fingers are dangerously close to where you wanted him the most.

He feels the lacey material of your panties on his fingers and decides to tease you, running his fingers up and down the damp fabric that stuck to your folds uncomfortably. You slowly grip his wrists, signalling him to work his way quickly without the teasing.

He smirks at your eagerness, pushing your panties aside and prodding his fingers at your hole, using your slick to coat his fingers. You sigh softly, clenching your fists under the table. He pushes his index finger inside, slowly thrusting in and out of your hole. You bite your lip to hold back any sounds as his finger curls inside you. He maintains his steady pace pumping his fingers, his ring touching your walls every now and then making your toes curl.

He adds in two more fingers at once and you almost yelp, stomach churning in pleasure. Your walls clench around his fingers and he continues his sinful actions underneath the table. He places his thumb over your clit, pressing down on the nub. You feel your high approaching, legs bouncing up and down as his fingers keep thrusting your leaking hole. You’re about to let go the knot, when—

“Thank you for spending your time with us, students. We’ll talk about this in the next few days. I’ll keep contact…” and the rest of the words spoken by your professor are a haze as frustration of your lost orgasm takes over. You force a smile, bowing and thanking the older for their time. Fixing your skirt, you and Jisung walk out of the restaurant. You rush ahead of him, and he follows close by. He opens the door of a cab, motioning you to sit inside before himself plopping in, directing the driver to take you to the dorms.

The ride back is extremely quiet, and all you think of is having sex with Jisung.

—

Luckily, Chan and Saerom were out for a study date, so you had the whole room to yourselves. Just as the door clicks open, Jisung pushes you inside along with him, locking it shut before pressing you up against the door.

“Fuck y/n, you look so hot in that dress,” he moans, grinding his hips onto yours. You turn your head back, moaning at the feeling of his lips latching onto your neck, his clothed member grinding against your wet heat.

“Plea— Please Jisung, just fuck me already,”

He unbuttons your dress shirt, tossing it onto the floor before pushing his lips against yours. You moan at the plush feeling of his lips on yours, teeth biting your bottom lip. He licks your lip and pulls away, breathing heavily. There’s a tug on your wrists, followed by Jisung pulling you to your room.

You quickly skim out of your pencil skirt, watching Jisung as he unbuttons his shirt. He walks towards you and you lie down on your bed as he crawls up to you. He leans down to kiss your shoulders and you feel his hard-on on your thigh. You arch your back as he goes lower and lower on your body, kissing and nipping at your skin.

He knows Chan won’t be out for long, and so doesn’t waste too much time foreplay-ing. He pulls down your panties, harshly rubbing his fingers on your cunt. You yelp as his nimble fingers spread open your folds. All you hear in the room is his breathing and your soft noises, paired with the soft wet noises his fingers make in your cunt.

He prods his fingers at your hole, circling at your folds. You whine at his tease, bucking your hips in his grasp. He chuckles breathily before pushing two fingers in at once, curling them upwards to hit the spots that had you moaning in no time. Innumerable curses and groans leave your lips as Jisung pumps his fingers in and out of you just like he had done in the restaurant.

His silver ring touches your walls and you shiver, your action not going unnoticed. He draws his fingers from your convulsing hole, bringing down the cold ring on your clit and pressing it gently. You whine at the sweet pleasure coursing through your veins due to the stimulation, your vision turning blurry from the tears in your eyes.

He licks his lips before removing his dick out of his boxers, pumping it a few times and rolling on a condom before pushing it into you. You grip the sheets tightly as he enters inside slowly, filling your walls deliciously. He wasn’t too big, but was of perfect girth and size to satisfy you.

He is balls deep in you, and he feels his head spin as your walls squeeze around him. He places his hands on either side of your head, making eye contact with you and kissing your jaw.

You feel him slowly pulling out with a whine, before slamming in gratingly. You scream as he sets a quick pace, thrusting in and out of your tight hole. You clench around his length and you both moan at the tight feeling in your abdomen. Your head spins as you reach your high, Jisung’s pace slowing down as well. His thrusts reach deeper in you, finger drawing rough circles on your clit.

You release around him, your warm orgasm coating his dick. You both moan at the sensation, Jisung following soon after. He comes hard, filling up the plastic. He stays that way for a moment, plopping himself on you.

You hear the front door unlock, Chan’s voice booming through the halls.

“I’m home!”

Fuck. Your black shirt was still out on the floor.

—

a/n; i’m kinda pissed with how this turned out lmao jsdhjs ALSO my series is in progress! i’ll start publishing it when all my requests are done :)

taglist; @ffelixxie @cherryeol04 @stayletters @yooniversalstudios @bruh-changbin (message me if you want to be added!)

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violetmuses · 3 years

Text

Silhoutte || Chapter 7

Tag Team: @eyelinerandcigarettes @thisworldwecallsleep @stylesthesunflower @mysoftboybensolo @xoxabs88xox @anteroom-of-death @zemoslittlebird @karimac

=====

2016

Helmut Zemo

“What are you doing here?” Nicole questioned Gregory, rising at the moment to pace in an effort to avoid fidgeting on our sofa located here in this front room.

“Can we talk for real this time? I’m sorry.” Gregory sighed towards Nicole, acting as though I was not around and watching his every move during the conversation with her.

“Have you lost your mind? You might as well have been stalking us and Helmut’s supervisor could be missing. I don’t want to speak with you.” Nicole defended in return, already fuming with good reason.

“First of all, I wasn’t stalking you. The public already knows that you stayed here for quite some time to begin with. Secondly, how was I supposed to know that a low-ranking nobleman was living with you? To make matters worse Nikki, can you even name his country?” Gregory ranted, even dismissing my home at one point.

“Wait a second. What? It’s one thing if you come here and argue with me about our relationship, but it’s a completely different issue now. What gave you the audacity to disrespect Helmut that way, especially given how much Sokovia means to him? Have you done any research?” Nicole continued, nearly shouting in response.

“Nicole.” Gregory failed, recoling back once Nicole refused his incoming touch. Instead, Nicole reached out to hold my hand, interlocking our fingers as I stood up to match her movements.

“Get out. Now, I remember exactly why we broke up and why I’ve forgotten that you even exist. All you do is care about yourself. Leave before I actually call the police and file a lawsuit for threatening us.” Nicole lowered her voice, angered.

“Please we can talk. You really don’t need to bring out attorneys for this…” Gregory seemed miserable now, failing once again in an attempt to reach her for the millionth time.

“She said to leave. How stubborn are you?” I spoke up at last, stepping closer to Gregory and releasing Nicole’s hand from my palm to make this point even more substantial.

“You don’t scare me.” Gregory affirmed, almost giving me this form of a once-over as we stood directly across from one another.

“If you dare to taunt me one more time, both of us will ensure that you may never breathe fresh air again.” I tilted my head, warning this childish “man” for what would hopefully be the final occasion.

“Fine.” After glancing between Nicole and I, Gregory hadn’t weakened his stance, but still backed away, leaving us alone and departing the penthouse.

____

“Do you have any updates on Karpov? It’s only been a short time since Gregory left those weird calls on your work phone.” Like an angel, Nicole had checked in on an almost regular basis, calling to see if Kaprov returned to his post as my supervisor.

“It’s true. He is safe, but has been working remotely in Ohio for the past few days and hasn’t returned yet. I still do not understand what is going on, but someone else will be leading my department until further notice.” I groaned, still drained.

“Oh, thank God. At least we know he’s actually not hurt.” Nicole answered, clearly relieved because of this “news.”

“Something still does not feel right, though. I just cannot describe the problem yet.” I told her, still puzzled by so much of what happened recently.

“For now, just breathe, Helmut. Maybe everything you’ve thought of will connect in the future.” Nicole continued giving advice in an attempt to calm me down. Her sweet voice alone would’ve usually settled these nerves, but my mind still raced, asking more and more silent questions.

“Perhaps we should celebrate another date night. I’ve begun to overthink again.” I admitted, trying to distract myself and channel intimacy.

“Good idea. Destressing might actually be your best solution right now. What did you have in mind?” Nicole asked once more. I just knew that she smiled in person on the other line now.

“We should stay at home this time. Let’s cook dinner together and I will finally open that bottle of Merlot that you have been hiding from me.” I laughed, still typing through more work during this conversation.

“I’ve never hid the bottle! You just haven’t asked me to open it yet.” Nicole chuckled in return, warming my heart and easing these frazzled thoughts once more.

Despite ongoing issues, tonight would hopefully be quite enjoyable.

_____

“Baby, I love you, but please stop eating these mushrooms. If you keep snacking, I won’t have extra pieces left to mix with the pasta.” Like memories of my mother, Nicole took charge in the kitchen, cooking with me around despite affluence that swarmed around us.

“The mushrooms sauteed perfectly. Did you ever consider attending culinary school?” I asked, hoping that she would smile because of this compliment. Meanwhile, soft music which I did not recognize played from a Bluetooth speaker that cornered nearby.

“Mom and Pop couldn’t afford it, so we pulled loans and I went to college for my Hospitality degree instead. As long as I kept grades up, they were proud. Can you please take out the Parmesan container? I’m almost finished cooking here.” Nicole revealed more details on her own life, which piqued my attention once more. Still, I walked over to our refrigerator and handed over that container as she asked, but we continued this conversation.

“Perhaps cooking is just one of your many talents beyond work.” I smiled again, moving towards cupboards and planning to set the table. In all honesty, despite our plan, no matter how many times I genuinely offered to help make dinner tonight she refused. My best friend worked almost entirely alone as I mostly handed over various items.

“Thank you, Baby. It's a nice break from constantly ordering food or asking one of your staff members to make something. Life gets hectic and I’m too tired to actually make dinner for both of us when you’re home with me.” She nearly laughed, finally allowing me to help plate our meal. Even another beautiful smile reached her lips.

“You’re quite welcome. Now, let’s eat and simple appreciate more of this much-needed time together.” I hand, leading Nicole towards the table shortly afterwards.

_____

“What should we toast for now? Your birthday has already passed, of course.” I smiled, holding this glass of Merlot wine between these bites of delicious pasta crafted this evening.

“Us. We hit that one rough patch earlier and now I’m pretty sure that you and I are trying to improve for the better. I love you.” Nicole grinned, lifting to her clink mine in return.

“And I love you.” I promised, joining her glass to give out that shared chime here in the room this time.

As we each took gentle sips and set our glasses back down on the table, Nicole spoke up again, tilting her curls.

“I’ve got brownies in the fridge too. Would you like to share those with me and watch a movie together or something?” Her request sounded adorable and gave a almost youthful sense of flirtation.

“Thank you, but I have a better idea.” I said, moving my head towards the Bluetooth speaker before taking another sip of wine.

“Okay, then. What’s that?” Nicole held her glass without drinking more between words.

“Let’s clean up our kitchen, take out the brownies, and then we may try to finish this bottle of Merlot whilst discussing your musical choices.” I suggested, now arching my brow for “good measure” by this point.

“You don’t like my playlists?” Whilst facing me, Nicole gaped.

“No, don’t worry. I’m not offended at all. Your musical taste is actually fascinating.” I encouraged her instead, still genuinely curious.

“Deal.” Nicole winked.

“All right. We will see what happens next.” I chucked back.

_____

“Let me get this straight: You like EDM?” Nicole felt shocked once more as soon as I listened to music that boomed with faster tempos than expected.

“Believe it or not, yes. Why else do you think we danced together all night in Madripoor?” I laughed after wiping my lips. Our plate of brownies set onto the coffee table across from this sofa as we sat alongside one another. The Merlot had been half-empty now.

“We were both tipsy as hell that night and even though we were already together, you wouldn’t stop flirting with me. I just thought it was the ambience that encouraged you.” Nicole nodded her head to the music whilst replying back to me.

“At university back in Sokovia, I would actually bypass my security detail and go clubbing with classmates.” I winked, wondering what crossed Nicole’s mind as I revealed this new information.

“Oh no!” Nicole snickered now, holding her stomach and adorably fell onto my chest in response.

“What?” Humored once more, I looked down towards Nicole with a smile, adjusting my own body to keep her close.

“I could only imagine what that would look like. Young Baron Helmut Zemo dancing in nightclubs around two in the morning. I’m sorry, but that would’ve been hilarious to see.” Nicole shook her curls, but could not fight another grin that had crept onto her beautiful face.

If I knew then what I know now…

#zemo tag #exes #marvel fics #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #civil war #year: 2016 #cannon x oc #tw stalking #tw: stalking #diffrent

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ladyanput · 4 years

Text

Seeing Green Ch.15 {End}

Warning: light gore.

Once they landed back in Paris, Marinette felt a sense of finally being home, but it wasn't as overwhelming as it used to be. Part of her yearned to go back to Gotham, to be with Damian and the others, there was a sense of belonging there, now that Paris was once again safe.

Oddly, no one once mentioned anything about Marinette being Ladybug. In fact, when she talked to them, playfully suggesting about Ladybug's identity, they all began saying their thoughts, but not once mentioned her. Odd, but she didn't push her luck. Maybe the Miraculous Cure had been extremely generous and wiped their minds? One less thing for her to stress about.

Once she got back to school, her, Miss Bustier, Lila, and Marinette's parents were immediately summoned to the principal's office. Mr. Arquette did not look the least bit pleased, his hands folded neatly as they all shuffled into his office and took a seat.

"I received many disturbing reports while you all were in Gotham, reports that I should have known would happen since I left those children in your care." Arquette spoke, his voice firm and cold as he glared hard at Miss Bustier. "You abandoned a student in the middle of a dangerous city, you left your students roam as they pleased with no supervision, one student stole the money from another, a student was kidnapped and you never once reported it to myself or her parents, much less the police. You even had the audacity to say that her kidnapper did nothing wrong. Caline, you've been on thin ice for quite some time now, but this gross negligence is the final straw. One of the students was even assaulted at the Wayne event and you did nothing to break it up and just stood back and watched. I don't believe we have a place for you here at Saint Louis anymore, not after your behaviour."

"Please, you don't understand, it's all a misunderstanding! Marinette manipulated Adrien and-" Lila began, looking tearful.

"And you," Arquette turned his steely gaze on Lila, cutting her off before she can try and spin another flimsy web of lies. ", You have crossed many lines. Lying about medical records, of how to contact your mother, long series of absences, and I heard much about your deeds in Gotham. Your mother is almost here, Miss Rossi."

"What?! No, she can't-" Lila was on her feet within seconds, her body trembling. Caline, herself, looked quite shaken as well, as if she were about to be sick.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng, I am greatly sorry for what you've had to endure all of these years. I should have taken a more firm stance on things, I should have gotten someone else to attend the trip with your class." Arquette turned to Marinette, his expression turning to one of regret. He stood, then rounded his desk, kneeling next to her chair. "I take full responsibility for what happened to you in Gotham."

"No, Mr. Arquette, please. No one thought I would be kidnapped, and luckily Batman saved me." Marinette put in quickly, feeling a sense of relief, now that Miss Bustier would no longer be around. That pressure of being the perfect example was finally lifted from her shoulders. "You're a great principal, you couldn't have known. But I appreciate your actions now, you're more than making up for this."

His shoulders seemed to relax and he nodded before returning to his desk. It wasn't long before Lila's mother showed up, and then the show truly began.

"You've been lying to me? Me?! Your own mother?!" Mrs. Rossi screamed at her pale faced daughter, before pulling a few brown envelopes out of her bag and holding them up. "Do you know what these are?! These are court orders! Court orders from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the Waynes! What were you thinking, having your friend slander their names all over her blog?! You basically accused Jagged of being a pedophile by saying he wrote a song especially for you, that you're his muse!"

"She is also saying she's the personal muse to Gabriel Agreste, ever since she became his model." Marinette put in helpfully, and sat back as she watched Mrs. Rossi got red in the face and continued to berate her daughter.

"And now you'll be going to live with your aunt back in Italy, if these lawsuits don't bankrupt me! I'm only a secretary, Lila, what made you think we could travel like that?!"

Marinette merely watched as Lila was reduced to tears, and expelled from the school. Mrs. Rossi dragged her daughter out and Caline Bustier was promptly dismissed to go and collect her things.

"What will happen to my class?" Marinette asked the principal once she and her parents were about to leave.

"Well, they will get a new teacher, it might be a bit difficult with only a few months left before you all graduate." Mr. Arquette admitted, looking thoughtful. At the tense silence, he cleared his throat. "Miss Césaire will be thoroughly punished for her actions as well, in Gotham. Assaulting another classmate is completely u acceptable. I was told by her parents she is already being punished as we speak."

Marinette left that school, her parents figuring that she needed a day off after all that had happened. So she silently went up to her room and collapsed onto her bed, finally processing it all.

She was finally free of Lila. Hawkmoth was defeated, and she had both Nooroo and Duusu back, after having fixed the Peacock Miraculous.

When she heard her phone buzz, she picked it up and smiled to herself.

{Damian} I miss you, Angel, I hope your flight landed safely.

{Damian} I miss you already Angel. And Plagg's taste in cheese is the smelliest ever. Alfred is threatening to throw him out.

The smile on her face didn't drop for the rest of the evening, as she spent the entire evening messaging Damian.

…

Ladybug stood firm at the podium, her teammates standing with her as they faced the flashing of cameras with stoic expressions, press members shouting out questions. She merely stared at them, waiting for them all to quiet down. The crowd quickly got the clue and did such.

"Today, I am here to announce that Hawkmoth has finally been defeated. The terror he reigned over Paris for so long is finally over." Ladybug announced, and this only caused the crowd to go into a bewildered frenzy once again. Ladybug waited, and the media was quick to quiet again, realizing they had to be polite with this one. "Gabriel Agreste, formerly known as Hawkmoth, has been arrested and placed into the custody of the French authorities."

"What about his son, Adrien Agreste? Was he in cahoots with his father?" A reporter blurted out, and it took everything in Ladybug not to flinch at that name.

"Adrien Agreste was not in league with Hawkmoth, he and his mother are innocent." Well, as innocent as one could be. Adrien had been arrested, but anyone could see the boy needed mental help due to all of the mental abuse and grooming that had been forced upon him by his father. So Adrien and his mother, who had indeed woken up, had moved out of the country, where Adrien was getting good care in a good facility, not that he'd ever leave it, not after all he had done.

"What happens now?" A young reporter asked. Ladybug recognized her from her school, Estelle Desrosiers, a sweet girl who always sought out the truth, but was respectable about things. So Ladybug gave her a gracious smile.

"Well, Miss Desrosiers, the Miraculous will be retired and I shall be leaving the city. There are dangerous villains in the world and the world needs the help of the Miraculous to stop it. They're here to keep the darkness from taking over." She spoke firmly, and everyone could see the hero they had all grown to love and admire. There was much outcry at her stating she was leaving, but she stopped the noise and set a hand over her heart. "I love Paris, I love France. This is my home more than anything, but I cannot stay, cannot sit by as the rest of the world suffers. So thank you, Paris, and embrace your newfound freedom. And here's my final Bugout!"

With that, she and the rest of her team took off, followed by the cheers.

Back in her family apartment, Alya was seething as she sat between her parents on the couch, watching the live broadcast. That should be her up there, basking in the glory of defeating Hawkmoth with Ladybug, if Ladybug had actually used her head and gave her back her Fox Miraculous! No one was better suited to be a hero than Rena Rouge! Or it should at least be her at the front of that media stand, asking all of the important questions, getting the big scoop. But her parents had made her delete her blog. She had lost every single electronic she'd had, due to her actions in Gotham and her recent attitudes towards everyone. She had even screamed at her little sisters to the point she had made them cry.

The future was not a bright one for Alya Césaire.

…

Graduation had quickly arrived and when Marinette left her class, she didn't once look back. Sure, they had all apologized, save for Alya who had been expelled and needed to repeat her senior year, but they had thrown her aside so easily for a complete stranger. The kind of trust she had had with them was never going to exist again.

As she arrived back at her place to pack her bags, she saw Luka, Kagami, and Chloé in her room, waiting for her. They each gave her a grateful smile, before they began giving the Guardian back their Miraculous.

"I'm going to miss you." Chloé whispered as she nuzzled Pollen, then handed the hair clip over to Marinette, who tucked it safely into the Miraculous box. "And we'll miss you too, Marinette."

Marinette smiled and opened her arms, Luka, Chloé, and Kagami moving in for a group hug. The four of them held onto each other tight, before finally letting go.

"Have fun in Gotham." Luka whispered, ruffling her hair gently before he kissed her temple. "Keep in touch."

"I will." Marinette tucked the Miraculous box into the hidden compartment in her suitcase, then made her way downstairs, embracing her parents tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. She was finally leaving the nest, leaving the home that was full of such love and happy memories. But she still felt something deep inside of her calling for her to go back to Gotham, her new home.

Once she got in the taxi, she settled back and glanced down at her phone buzzed, biting her lower lip to hold back a giggle.

{Damian} Once you land in Gotham, go to the Wayne Botanical Gardens. I have a surprise for you, Angel.

"I'll be home soon, mon prince.."

…

Marinette stepped into the greenhouse and grinned at the sight of Damian standing there, next to a checkered blanket and a picnic basket. She dropped her purse and ran towards him, hugging him tightly as he lifted her up and spun her.

"I missed you, Angel." Damian whispered into her ear as he set his giggling girlfriend back onto the ground, then motioned towards the picnic. "I thought I'd surprise you, to welcome you back home."

"And here I thought you and your brothers were gonna throw me a party." Marinette grinned, taking a seat beside him. When he began setting out the food, she felt her smile only widen. "You really spoil me."

"Well hopefully I don't spoil your appetite too much. Jason decided to go into the kitchen today and bake you a 'welcome back' cake. Pretend to like the inedible mess." Damian gave her a wry smile as he poured them both a cup of sparkling juice, before holding his up as a toast. "Welcome home, Angel."

"Glad to be home, mon prince." She tapped her plastic cup against his and took a long drink, unable to wipe the smile from her face. The hour passed with them joking and eating the food Damian had brought, Marinette glanced at the time and sighed. "We should get back. I really want to see everyone, I've missed them."

Marinette stood and stretched her body, groaning softly as she managed to loosen a few tense muscles, then took a step towards the exit.

"Marinette."

She turned towards Damian. Damian met her gaze, then raised his gun. A shot rang out and Marinette stumbled back a few steps, clutching at her chest as a bewildered look on her face.

"D- Damian..?" She dropped to her knees, then was jolted onto her back when he shot her again.

"I thank you, Marinette. The Miraculous are much more powerful than I would have ever thought." He smiled thinly as he made his way over and knelt down next to Marinette, who was choking on her own blood.

Marinette stared up at the boy she thought she was so deeply in love with, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks as she tried to reach up for him.

"I'm glad you were at least useful. You really are a ditz, aren't you?" He stood and ground his foot into the gunshot wounds, making her let out a choked scream.

Marinette's mind was in a whirl, struggling to breathe as her world began to dim.

So she had just been a pawn…? Been used to get the Miraculous…?

He had lied to her?

How could she have been so stupid?

As the light left her eyes, the only thoughts were on betrayal, and the fears of what would happen to the Kwami, to Tikki.

When her body went limp, Heretic grinned.

…

Damian rushed his entire way to the Botanical Gardens, silently cursing Mr. Freeze with every inch of his being. Because of the bastard, he was two hours late in meeting Marinette. He knew she'd understand, but still, no one deserves that. He feared she was angry because she wasn't answering her phone.

He rushed through the roof doors, when a strong coppery smell hit him, a smell he was very familiar with. His body instantly tensed as he reached down the small knife in his pocket, carefully making his way into the greenhouse as his eyes darted this way and that.

And what he saw made his heart stop.

Marinette was sprawled out on the floor, staring skyward, with two gunshot wounds in her chest, a puddle of blood beginning to congele around her. Hovering over her was a loudly weeping Tikki.

"Tikki,what happened?!" Plagg burst from Damian's coat pocket and rushed towards her, hugging her close as his dearest friend broke apart in his arms.

"I- I don't know! I was asleep, I was so tired because I- I'm still trying to help Nooroo through his trauma, and I just woke up! What happened to her, Plagg? She can't be dead, she just can't be! I can't lose her, please, tell me she's not dead!" Tikki wailed.

"Marinette…?" Damian knelt next to the body, cupping her face ever so gently. He felt tears burn his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers, desperately wishing for the reality to not be true. She was gone, he had lost her and he hadn't been here to protect her. The tears began to flow as he let out a sob and hugged the body close. "No, please, Angel, please don't go.."

He sat there and rocked as he sobbed. Eventually, he got the will to call his brothers. They'd have a horrible call to her parents.

…

Tom and Sabine wept as their little girl, their only child, was lowered into the ground. Damian felt numb, like nothing was really worth it anymore. But beneath that numbness was an angry ready to burst forth and cause the death of whoever caused this. The police hadn't found anything, no DNA, no fingerprints, nothing except for Marinette's. Why couldn't they do their goddamned job and find the murdering bastard?!

"Diana, what are you doing here?" Bruce's surprised tone brought Damian's attention, and he watched as Diana Prince approached them, looking grim.

"I am here to honour a brave and dutiful Ladybug. My mother had wished to attend as well, but we did not want to cause much ruckus." Diana admitted, looking down at the casket being slowly covered in dirt. She let out a long, defeated sigh. "But one so young… No one should ever die so young."

"Why would your mother care about this?" Damian snipped, but Diana took no offense, seeing how torn up the boy was. Many people lashed out in their grief.

"She was a previous Ladybug." Diana admitted, noticing Plagg peeking out from Damian's coat pocket. She smiled down at the Kwami and knelt, pretending as if to tie her shoe. "Hello Plagg."

"Hello there, Princess, you've certainly grown." Plagg said rather sadly, before looking away. "Tikki.. She's not doing so good."

"I have no doubt." Diana nodded and stood once again, turning towards Bruce. "What will happen with the Miraculous now?"

"They need to ensure somewhere safe. You said that your mother was once a Ladybug, yes? Perhaps you can take the body back home? I know it would be greatly protected there." Bruce glanced over at his son, who was staring at his ring. "But the Black Cat Miraculous…"

"It can stay here." Diana assured him softly. "You never separate a Black Cat from their Chosen."

"It was the last thing Marinette gave to me." Damian murmured and Diana felt her heart break at how defeated he looked.

"Keep the ring safe, Damian. And Plagg, help Damian as well." Diana reached down and stroked Plagg's head gently once she was sure no one was watching. "I shall take the box home to Themiscyra."

"Thank you, Diana." Bruce turned his gaze back to the grave, his hands curling ever so slightly into fists. "I know Marinette would appreciate it while we hunt down whoever is responsible for this."

"Once you do find out who it was, make them suffer." Diana hissed, a dangerous threat in her eyes. "Or I shall."

…

That night, Diana took the Miraculous box, sans the Black Cat ring, and returned to Themiscyra.

That night, in a graveyard in Paris, several people approached the grave of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and began to dig.

…

Marinette felt as if she were floating, the entire body full of warmth and strength.

She opened her eyes and realized she was seeing nothing but green.

Then something took hold, something indescribable. She burst forth from the green water, letting out a scream of rage as memories began flooding back, memories of her murder. Eyes almost blind to anything around her, she charged towards a faint figure in front of her and body slammed them. When another person came forward, she flipped them over her head. She broke another man's arm and leg.

"Hold her down!" A feminine voice snapped out, and quickly Marinette found herself being restrained on a cold floor, snarling and snapping, screaming out for Damian's blood.

But eventually, that madness faded and she found herself staring at a beautiful woman who knelt over her.

"Who… Who are you?" Marinette croaked out, her entire body still shivering, tears beginning to flow from her eyes.

"Oh Marinette, do not weep. My name is Talia." The woman stroked the hair from the young girl's face, smiling kindly down upon her. "Do not fret, I shall take care of you from now on. You are in safe hands."

{To Be Continued in the sequel}

Taglist: @realrandomposts @interobanginyourmom @ladybug-182 @ladylb @zalladane @mochinek0 @persephonebutkore @urbanpineapplefarmer @vixen-uchiha @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @thewheezingbubbledragon @northernbluetongue @thequestionablyhuman @ginamarie1512 @maude-zarella @2sunchild2 @saphiraazure2708 @ayuchan07 @virgil-is-a-cutie @thepeacetea @miraculous786 @enchanted-nerd @ficsforthestars @emo-elaine13 @caffeinetheory

#Seeing Green #maribat #daminette #damimari

432 notes · View notes

luffles424 · 4 years

Text

Lucidity (7)

☼ Pairing: BTS x reader (no pairing this chapter)

☼ Genre: vampire!BTS, succubus!reader, smut, fluff, angst

☼ Count: 4K

☼ Warnings: mentions of death (minor character), mentions of past trauma, blood, violence (there’s a physical fight at the end), depictions of injuries

☼ Summary: You’ve spent years jumping from country to country, starting countless new lives. Crafting new lives is as easy as breathing for you, lies flowing easily and people are charmed with a simple bat of your eyes. When you meet a witch who offers the idea of opening a supernatural club, using your powers combined with hers to ensure safety to those who enter, you decide to join her in an adventure that is entirely new to you. But your new life in Seoul is drastically changed when you’re forced to face something you’ve spent centuries hiding from. But just because you might be running for your life again doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun along the way, right?

☼ a/n: I’m sorry, this is like, all angst but with all different people lmao but we getting to some truths 👀👀 But is it the whole truth? 🤔🤔 As always, let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

Yoongi has only just sat back in his chair for a moment when there’s a knock at the door. He wants to laugh that you’ve already had to come back, probably just because you forgot something but he’s definitely going to take the opportunity to tease you about it. He stands and makes his way to the door, tugging it open with a grin and a quip about you missing his cock already on the tip of his tongue, a remark that very quickly dies before it can even leave his mouth. The smile quickly drops from his face when instead of you, he’s met with Hoseok.

He swallows, something like dread settling in his belly. He thinks he manages a weak smile. “Oh, hey Hobi. What’s up?��

Hoseok frowns, eyes searching Yoongi’s face. Yoongi’s not sure what he’s looking for but it seems like he doesn’t find it. Instead, he pushes past Yoongi and into the studio, nose wrinkling as he does so, it probably reeks of sex. He gives Yoongi a look that’s full of accusation.

“Why?”

Yoongi flounders, he wonders if he could claim it was someone else. Hoseok would see through that lie. How much did Hoseok hear? See? “Why what?”

“Don’t play dumb Yoongi. I saw her leaving.” He looks so hurt, like this was a personal slight against him. “You claim to be Namjoon’s best friend. And yet here you are, fucking the one person, the only person ever, that he’s told us to stay away from. Why would you do this to him?”

Yoongi feels indignation rise in him at the accusation that he’s somehow betrayed Namjoon. This is nothing like betrayal, this is just… working with the information at his disposal. “Excuse me? Whatever Namjoon’s issue with her is, is entirely his problem. If she were a serious threat, she would’ve been dealt with by someone already. You don’t get to live for centuries being a shitty person who puts our existences at risk.”

“That’s bullshit and weak and you know it. Namjoon’s problem with her is all of our problems with her. We’re together for a reason. We’re a family.”

“If that’s true then why won’t he tell us what she did, huh? Don’t you think it’s weird that he won’t say anything about it? Namjoon’s never held information from us like this before.”

Hoseok sighs. “You know he has his reasons-”

“Yeah, reasons that he won’t share!”

Hoseok blinks at Yoongi’s outburst and Yoongi looks just as surprised. He doesn’t understand why he’s getting so worked up, but something about this whole situation digs under his skin.

“Are you seriously defending her over Namjoon?” Hoseok asks incredulously, like that’s the only conclusion to draw from his behavior.

Yoongi’s jaw works. “I’m not defending anyone. I’m simply pointing out the flaws in this blind belief in him. We’ve been around long enough to be able to think for ourselves. We’re not children. Not by a long shot anymore.”

Hoseok shakes his head in disappointment and pulls his phone out. “I’m sorry Yoongi, but I’ve got to tell him.”

Yoongi feels panicked as he stares at Hoseok’s phone. He wasn’t sure who he was more worried for, you or himself. “Hobi, please. Don’t do that.”

Hoseok hesitates for a few moments, something unreadable crossing his face before he’s pressing Namjoon’s contact name. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” He says as he walks out.

Nothing happens for a couple of days after that. Yoongi’s on edge the whole time. He tried to hole up in his studio but your scent lingered and it made his chest ache that he could possibly be putting you in danger. When Namjoon finally arrives back home, he calls a meeting. He doesn’t look angry and that sets Yoongi even more on edge, Namjoon’s default setting regarding you seemed to be rage, but right now he seems calm and collected. The others look confused as well, exchanging looks as they all sit around the table and wait for Namjoon to begin. The only time they have meetings in the dining room like this is when they’re having serious talks, but nobody can recall anything major that happened recently. Nothing that would warrant a dining room conversation.

Namjoon stands at the head of the table, waiting as Hoseok finally enters, the last to arrive. He takes a seat across from Yoongi.

“Thanks for coming home a little early from breaks. Hoseok said that we needed to have an emergency meeting.” A murmur ripples through the boys and Namjoon sits down.

Hoseok stands and Yoongi shoots him a look, trying his best to communicate how bad of an idea this was. Praying his hardest that Hoseok doesn’t do this. Hoseok stares at the table. The others are quiet as they wait for him to speak.

“Yes… Um… I know this will be hard to talk about…” He trails off, looking at Yoongi. Yoongi can see the indecision written across his face, he has no idea what Hoseok might say next. “I think it best benefits the group to know what your problem with that succubus is… with Y/n. Seoul is a big place, but it’s not that big for supernatural folks. We’re bound to run into her at some point. We deserve to know what to look out for so that we can protect ourselves.”

Yoongi only gets a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before the atmosphere of the room plummets. Namjoon’s face turns hard and Hoseok shrinks under his gaze.

“You think you know better than me about what’s best for the group?”

Hoseok doesn’t reply, head ducked like a child being reprimanded so Yoongi speaks for him. It’s the least he can do after Hoseok just covered for him. “Joonie, that’s not what he’s saying at all. He’s just saying that we can be better prepared for anything if we know what we need to look out for.”

Namjoon’s gaze snaps to him but Yoongi doesn’t let him intimidate him. He’s tired of being left in the dark like this. They deserve to know. “All you need to know is that she’s dangerous and you need to stay away.”

Jin pipes up. “That doesn’t tell us anything. In what way is she dangerous? Is it a matter of her using her powers against us? Will she use other people to do her bidding? Joon, if we don’t know, we can’t stop it.”

Yoongi hadn’t expected further support but he’s incredibly grateful for it. He doesn’t think he could’ve gotten through to Namjoon alone. “We just want to help you keep us safe. But you need to keep us informed too.”

The rest voice their agreement. All eyes turn to Namjoon. He looks a little like a cornered animal, like he’s trying to calculate an escape route. His gaze darts around to each of them like if he stares at them enough, they’ll back down. When the tense atmosphere doesn’t shift, Namjoon sighs in defeat.

“Fine. But I’m only going to give you just enough so that you see how dangerous she is. You don’t need to know everything.” Namjoon remains quiet for a long moment, gaze far off. “We knew each other when we were young. Like very young, less than 100. We had… another friend, Jaeho. He was a vampire too. We spent a lot of time together. She…” Namjoon looks like he’s about to cry and Yoongi reaches out to place his hand over Namjoon’s. Namjoon gives him a pained smile. “She drained him. Not enough to kill him, that would’ve been too kind. She drained him just enough to turn him feral. He ran to the nearest village and caused a rampage. The local werewolf clan put him down.”

Namjoon lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s not even the worst fucking part. When I confronted her, she had the audacity to act like it wasn’t her fault. Then she ran. I hadn’t seen her since until we saw her at the cafe.”

The room is silent when Namjoon finishes his story. No one knows what to say, emotions high as everyone tries to pair this version of you with what they personally know. Yoongi swallows, squeezes Namjoon’s hand. He should be the primary focus right now, pained as he is at the relived memories.

“Thank you for telling us, Joon.”

Namjoon shrugs in indifference and pushes himself up. He looks tired. “I hope you see now why I said to stay away. She’ll cause you nothing but pain.” With that he leaves the room.

You regret being at this cafe already. The ominous text from Jin and Yoongi about wanting to meet here was enough to have you on edge. The fact that they messaged you together is further proof that you shouldn’t be here. As far as you knew, they didn’t know that the other was seeing you too. Which means that something made them talk about you. And nothing good seems like it can come from that. Just like how nothing good comes from this place.

Your phone pings and you look down to see a text from Ari.

Ari: Someone just stopped by looking for you again? Said you were supposed to work today?

You frown. No one knew you were working tonight because you didn’t tell anyone. It was only written in the office on the calendar. And even so, you switched with Ari to have this meeting. Even more perplexing is the only people you can think of that would be looking for you there, are the ones who are going to be meeting you here very soon.

Ari: She said she’d catch you some other time.

You’re even more confused by that. Who could possibly be looking for you right now? But your musings of your mystery person are interrupted by the seats around you being pulled out as Jin, Jungkook, Jimin, and Yoongi all take a seat. They all look tense and your heart feels like it’s in your throat.

“Wow, you boys must be pretty desperate if you wanna have a go all together.” You attempt to joke but there’s no reaction. You clear your throat awkwardly. “Right, no jokes then, got it. Well, what did you call me here for if not that?”

“Why did you pull away from us like that?” Jungkook blurts.

Jin smacks his arm. “You idiot, that’s not what we were going for.”

Jungkook glares at him. “I don’t care. I want to know.” He turns back to you, face set in determination. It makes guilt well up in you. “I want to know why. And don’t give me that you needed time shit, we all know that was a lie.”

You don’t think you can do this. You don’t know what they’ve come for, but whatever it is it’ll be painful. Your gaze darts around, looking for a way out.

“Please…” Jungkook’s voice cracks.

“You don’t need to answer that.” Yoongi shoots Jungkook a look when he goes to speak again. “That’s not why we came.”

You chew your lip, alarm bells ringing in your head. “Then why?”

“What happened between you and Namjoon?”

You should’ve known this was coming. It was always bound to happen. There was no way they’d continue when being torn between you and Namjoon. They were bound to get too curious sooner or later. You give a shrug of feigned indifference. “We’ve crossed paths before. You know how it goes sometimes.”

None of them look like they buy it. “But what happened? I’ve never seen Joon act like that with anyone.” Yoongi presses.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never met someone you just didn’t like.” You can feel the panic rising. This isn’t good.

“Yes, but not with him. He sees the best in everybody. Why are you different?” Jimin this time.

You shrug helplessly. “Must’ve caught him on a bad day then.”

“What happened when you were young?” Jin says, then freezes as his own words register.

You stare at him with wide eyes. How did he know when you knew Namjoon? You glance at the others and they’re all giving Jin a dirty look. They knew. They all knew. Namjoon must’ve finally broken down and told them what happened. You blink away tears that are suddenly threatening to spill. You don’t even know why they bothered to want to meet you then. To tell you in person how terrible you are? How they want nothing to do with you and wish they’d listened to Namjoon in the first place? You feel like you're going to be sick.

You stand abruptly, your chair scraps against the concrete but you don’t hear it. You can’t hear anything over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. The boys all look concerned. And you can’t stand the thought of seeing their faces morphed with hate the way Namjoon’s was. The way it still is.

You do what you do best, you run.

Your days are rough after that, time blurs together as you try your hardest to keep it together. You hate how much the boys had managed to put themselves into your life, even after you tried to keep them at arm’s length. They slipped in and filled every little crack and crevice and you hadn’t even realized until it was too late. They were too rooted in your life to easily rip out. You hate how lonely you feel without one of them around. You get texts from them every so often. They take turns texting you; they all sit unread. You can’t even imagine what terrible things they might be saying.

Ari has noticed the difference too. You’re at the club more than you used to be, even before you met the boys. But as much as you try to throw yourself into the club atmosphere, the people here just do nothing for you anymore. It’s a poor replacement for Jungkook’s adorable smile, Jin’s laugh, the way Jimin clung to whoever was closest, Yoongi’s quiet way of caring. You sometimes wonder how Yoongi would’ve fit in with the other 3 if they’d all known about each other before. Before you pushed them away. Before Namjoon told them and ruined whatever idea they had of you. It makes your heart ache.

You know you can’t blame him. But after all these years, it still hurts. You’re really not sure what to do. Your apartment is half packed, not that you usually travel with that much anyway. You seriously think moving will be best, but you just can’t force yourself to do it yet. You know Ari is fully capable of running this place though, if you were to go. And you’ve got the money to be able to stop back in when she needs it. Ari’s been dating a siren, she’ll have capable help around after you leave. And you can easily work remotely.

You stare at the wall of your office. You can feel the beat from the main part of the club. The joy it used to bring you feels like acid in your chest. You wish the night would hurry up so you could go home and curl up in Jungkook’s sweater. It doesn’t smell like him anymore but the small amount of comfort it brings is still there. You wish you could tell him that you understand why he wore it on long trips.

You zone out until your closing bartender knocks at the door. You blink at him, a little startled that you don’t hear music anymore. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. He gives you a small smile and holds the cash drawer out to you.

“Everything’s all cleaned up. You just gotta do the drawer.”

You smile as you take it from him. “Thanks, D. You’re free to clock out and head home now.”

He thanks you and leaves. You set about finishing everything up, shutting the lights off and heading for the exit. You’re locking the door when you feel someone else in the small back lot with you. You’d assume it was Namjoon again, the scenario almost identical. Except when you focus a little more, you realize it’s not a vampire with you but a werewolf.

Worse, you know this wolf. You whip around, keys clutched tightly in your hand as you search the shadows for her, heart beating wildly. This can’t be happening. Not now, not again. She doesn’t remain hidden for long, stepping out into the small pool of illumination from the sole light source in the alley lot.

“Y/n. I finally caught you.” Her grin is malicious.

You swallow. “Taria.” You don’t know what else to say. You don’t know why she was here. You thought you were done with her after everything that happened.

She pouts mockingly. “Aw, is that all you’ve got to say to me? We have so much to catch up on don’t you think?” She takes a step towards you and your back slams against the building as you try to keep as much distance between you, trapped. Fear claws at your throat, looks like Namjoon might not have to worry about you for too long. “Like how the fuck you’re still alive.”

Your mind races, dozens of half ideas forming before you discard them. There’s no way you can take her in a fight, you’re strong but werewolves far outpower you and you haven’t fed recently. Your gaze drops to her hands, covered in gloves and tucked into the sleeves of the turtleneck she wears. Fuck, how did she know to cover her skin. You can’t do anything helpful if you can’t touch her skin.

She seems to be reading your assessment, adjusting the glove with a gleeful smirk. “Ah, yes. I know your little tricks, you whore. I’ve had lots of time to plan this out.” She starts walking slowly towards you. “You have no idea how thrilled I was when I heard your name again while visiting a friend here.”

Your gaze darts around the lot, empty and far too late for anyone to happen to pass by right now. You side step, trying to keep some distance between the two of you. She’s effectively trapped you here. She laughs.

“I should’ve finished you off to begin with. Who knew that little fucking vampire would be weak enough to just let you go.” She scoffs in disgust. “But it’s okay. I’m gonna have some fun now.”

You try to come up with a plan. There has to be something you can do. Something you can do to get out of here. Shaking your head, you push the memories of the past away. You can’t afford to think about them and the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you right now; you just need to get out of here. You know you can’t outrun her either.

You’re going to have to fight her, at least a little bit. Enough to either incapacitate her or to get a way to touch her and knock her out. You should’ve taken more self defense classes. You know enough that while you can’t overpower her, you are definitely more agile than her and that will be your biggest strength here if you want to make it out of this. Sudden panic of what she might do to Namjoon for letting you go, for not taking care of her problem like she clearly planned for has you more worried for him than for you. You have to make it out of this. You have to lead her away from the city. If she’s too busy chasing you, then she’ll leave him alone. He’ll be safe.

With the vaguest plan possible, you tuck your keys away, shaking your hands out to prepare for her to make the first move.

She wastes no time, lunging at you and you quickly duck under her arm, using her own momentum to push her face first into the wall you were just standing against. There’s a crunch. You dart a few steps away as she lets out a furious roar. She turns, eyes wild and glowing and blood dripping from her already healed nose. She comes for you again, this time low and you have no hope for dodging as her shoulder slams into your gut, knocking the breath from you as she forces you to the ground.

She rises to her knees above your prone form, fist connecting solidly to your jaw. You squirm beneath her, adrenaline pumping as you scramble for anything that might help as she lands another punch. Your hand finally finds a large chunk of loose concert, ripping it completely free even as the jagged edges tear at the skin of your fingers. You lift it, slamming it to the side of her head with all the supernatural strength you can possibly manage.

She slumps off of you and you don’t even wait for her to fully fall before you’re flipping over and pushing yourself up to run.

You make it two steps before your hair is grabbed and you’re pulled back against her once again. “Aw, you couldn’t possibly have thought it’d be that easy?”

Her other hand reaches up to wrap around your throat and you claw uselessly at her hand as she begins to constrict your breathing. You pull at her shirt, black ringing your vision when you get an idea. You tug frantically at the sleeve, trying to remain coordinated enough to pull her sleeve from her glove and expose the skin of her forearm.

She seems to realize your plan because as soon as the sleeze is tugged free, she throws you to the ground, sending you sliding a few feet away from her. You gasp, trying to regain your breath as you shakily push yourself back to your feet. Your arm and thigh burn where the rough ground scrapped against you. You feel blood trickling down, leaving your side wet and sticky. Your throat feels raw and you can already tell there’s bruises there ringing it. Your cheek feels swollen and there’s something dripping down your cheek and you can’t tell if it’s blood from your skin splitting or tears.

You can’t keep up for too long. Your body is already beginning to use your energy to heal and if you let it get too far then you’ll have no hope of getting away. Taria casually fixes her sleeve, the perfect picture of nonplussed aside from the blood that trickles from her nose and temple. She looks at you with disdain.

You have no choice but move to the offensive. You have to try to do something to get the upper hand, to give you a chance to get away. You rush her. You have no idea what you hope to accomplish with this, but you’re getting desperate and out of ideas. She pushes you away easily, like swatting at a bug, and sends you sprawling onto your back once again. She steps up to you, giving you a good kick to the ribs before she leans over you. She reaches out to choke you again and you’re too tired to do more than feebly grab at her arms.

You cough and gag, blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. You may as well give up. Your energy is basically at its end and she still looks completely unphased. You can’t do anything. Your vision is narrowing and you belatedly realize there is maybe one last thing you could do. Something that might save you, something that she forgot to cover. You steady yourself, gathering all of the power you can in you and quickly reach up to touch her face. She doesn’t seem to realize what’s happening right away but the second she does, it’s already too late. You release all your energy in one big burst and Taria instantly loses consciousness, collapsing on top of you.

You lie there for a moment beneath her, feeling a little delirious that it actually worked. Then panic because you don’t know how long it will work, you were nowhere near powered enough to do it for long. You manage to drag yourself out from beneath her, taking a moment to catch your breath once you’re upright before you’re quickly running away.

#bangtanarmynet #btsguild #kwritersworldnet #thebtstown #magicshopnet #bts x reader #bts vampire au #bts angst #vampire bts #bts au #bts fanfic #lucidity au

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jubans · 4 years

Text

title: chance encounter pairing: settsu banri/fem!reader rating: g (general) premise: on a perfectly normal morning, at the perfectly flourished breakfast table, taichi asks banri a perfectly off-putting question.

"ban-chan, how the heck is your hair so silky?!"

Banri usually starts up his day skirting everyone else in the lounge to be the first one in the showers. Unlike most of the men that reside in the Mankai dorms, he actually takes the time to scrub down every niche in his body until it's squeaky clean. But, oh, don't even get him started with the intricacies that came with taking care of his hair. That conversation is something none of the members of the troupe (except, maybe, Azuma) are ready for, and he likes to keep it that way.

But on a perfectly normal morning, at the perfectly flourished breakfast table, Taichi asks Banri a perfectly off-putting question.

"Ban-chan, how the heck is your hair so silky?!"

The neo gangster, as Yuki typically calls him, just finished shrugging on his school blazer when he casts Taichi a bizarre look. He has a notepad and a textbook in front of him, balancing a pen in his fingers as he stares back at Banri expectantly. The little brat is in the middle of cramming his homework, and he has the audacity to distract himself like that?

"Conditioner," is all he says in return, grabbing one of the toast slices Omi left for them.

Juza scoffs from where he's stuffing his face with pancakes on the other end. "That ain't very helpful."

"I wasn't fucking talking to you, Hyodo," Banri grates at him dismissively.

"Banri-kun," he hears Sakuya calling out from the lounge, where he and Masumi are already slinging their schoolbags across their shoulders. "You ready to go?"

He spares Taichi a minute nod of the head, telling him to stop doing his homework the day it's due before picking up his own bag. Then, he gives Juza the finger, earning a momentary scolding from Sakyo, who just happens to pass by when he does it. Then, after a few words in farewell bid to those who don't work nor study—Citron delaying their departure a little because he'd wanted to show how to make a blade (braid)—the Hanasaki High boys were on their way.

"So noisy," Masumi mutters as he pulls the door behind him. "But if it was the Director, I wouldn't mind."

Sakuya laughs, leading the way for the three of them. "There's never a dull moment in the dorms, huh?"

As they traverse the short distance to school, Banri hangs back a little when Sakuya asks Masumi about the younger boy's literature class. Their conversation fades into background noise in his ears as he let his eyes wander around the neighborhood. But when they pass by a familiar intersection, Banri instinctively flickers his gaze at the tall, white house in the corner lot—a girl in a dark green uniform closing the gate behind her.

You're preoccupied with something on your phone, oblivious to the three boys that are walking past your house—him included. But given that Ouka High is the opposite way from where they're headed, he doesn't even get the chance to slip in a quick hello.

Well, it's not like you'd remember someone like him, right?

"Ugh, this sucks!"

A week after Banri moved into the Mankai dorms, he found himself facing a rather pressing dilemma: the shampoo provided for the troupe members made his hair disgustingly greasy.

And that was how he wound up at the nearby grocery store, grumbling about how cheap that yakuza, Sakyo, was being with their commodities. If you want something else, buy it yourself, he told him. Giving the old man the last word might have let his pride take a hard blow, but it was a small price to pay for comfort. He'd rather kiss ass to the cheapskate than live another day with greasy hair.

But when he reached the toiletries section, he realized another thing.

The brand he used at home was something his sister imported from another country.

"Having trouble picking something out?"

Banri cast a withering glare at the girl who dared to point out his predicament, but his irritation morphed into curiosity when he noticed that you donned the familiar green of the Ouka High uniform. The next thing he noticed was the way your shiny, luscious hair cascaded down your shoulders, as smooth as a waterfall. He retracted his hostility for a minute, wondering if you could be his saving grace. Banri was good at a lot of things, but he didn't want to make any gambles with his current conundrum.

"Yeah," he answered hesitantly. "Uh, do you know which brand doesn't make your hair oily? Shampoo brand, I mean."

You blinked up at him for a second, confused, before your eyes lit up with realization. "Ah, O'Real is a really nice brand. Makes my hair really bouncy." To demonstrate, you swished your head around, making your long tresses sway with the movement in a dazzling fashion. "But you can't just settle with the shampoo. It's better to buy the value pack with conditioner over...here."

Plucking one of the aforementioned value packs, you handed it to Banri without much preamble. He glanced at the price tag stuck to the bottom, and he had to force himself not to wince with how much it'll cost him.

He was momentarily spared from his monetary concerns when he noticed you struggling to carry the basket you held in both hands. It was filled with an assortment of products ranging from laundry detergent to cold cuts. While he usually didn't offer girls his help lest they asked for it, Banri decided to make an exception.

"You need a hand with that?" He flicked his gaze downwards.

You flushed at his offer, shaking your head (his eyes staring a bit too long at the way your hair moved once again). "Oh, no, no! I couldn't possibly bother you with—"

"Come on," he said, clicking his tongue as he plucked the basket from your grasp. "I ain't taking no for an answer. Consider this as...payback. For helpin' me out."

Relenting, you folded your arms across your chest, smiling up at him cheekily. "Would you at least tell me your name, then?"

"Settsu Banri," he replied coolly. "You still headed to the other aisles?"

"Nope. I remembered last minute that I still have an unopened bottle of conditioner at home," you sigh, giggling at him. "You're not very delicate with girls, are you?"

He stiffened for a moment. Well, you weren't wrong. His sister was one of the toughest women he'd ever seen, and even though he didn't expect every woman to turn out the same way, Banri never once treated girls like fragile glass. His raucous behavior around them prompted most of his female classmates to steer clear of him—not that he'd minded, but this was the first time someone had spoken the words to his face.

"What about you?" he wondered gruffly in hopes of switching up the conversation. "What's your name?"

"(Surname) (Name)," you told him with a cheeky grin. "Shall we go, Settsu-kun? I mean, you'd want to wash your greasy hair as soon as possible, right?"

His mouth hung agape with disbelief as you happily pranced out of the toiletries section—leaving him with the realization that there were people aside from Juza that could pick a fight with him.

And, surprisingly, he'd let this one slide.

"You know (Name)?"

Okay, he didn't expect Juza to react like that when Banri decided to ask him about you when his roommate arrived at home.

"Yeah, I ran into her at the grocery store a few months back," he says, ticked off. "What's it to ya?"

"Stay away from her," Juza tells him off sharply as he swings his school bag up to his bed. "I mean it, Settsu. Fuck around with me, I don't care. But I swear to god, if you touch my cousin—"

Banri does a double-take on that one. "Cousin? How much fuckin' family do you have, Hyodo?"

"A lot," he replies like he doesn't want to talk about it, but Juza's glare doesn't ease up and for a minute, Banri feels a genuine spite emitting from his roommate. The neo gangster sighs, twirling his phone in his fingers. He sort of knew that asking Juza about you would be a stretch even if you both went to the same school, but how the hell was he supposed to know that you were his goddamn cousin?

After you checked out your groceries that day, you managed to scam him into carrying them for you to your house as well. You were quite the charmer, he had to admit. You'd smooth-talked him into doing your bidding so easily that it was hard to imagine you being related to the mumbling nervous wreck of an actor that was Juza.

It was a chance encounter, he thinks. He could have gone to a different grocery store at a different time at a different date, yet he was there specifically when you found him glaring at the shampoo and conditioner on the shelves. Banri doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny, but it was a little freaky when he'd seen you again this morning after Taichi asked about his hair—months since he'd last seen you.

"If it means anything, she's always been going to our shows, though," Juza mumbles a few minutes later, catching Banri by surprise. "She's been curious about the guy that's been pickin' fights with me all this time, and I told her it was the one who played Luciano in Picaresque."

"O-Oi!" he yells out. "Don't sully my name before she can even properly meet me!"

"Why do you care?" Juza challenges, brows raised with curiosity. "I thought you didn't give two shits about girls."

For the first time, he can't offer up a single retort. In a battle of wits, he thought he'd win against Juza in every instance, but now...

"Fuck off!" Banri shouted at him, storming out of their room as he hid the blush creeping up his neck from his roommate's view.

#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3 #a3 x reader #a3 fanfiction #a3 headcanons #banri x reader #banri #banri settsu #settsu banri #juza hyodo #fluff

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iloveyou3thousand · 4 years

Note

Witch Peter x Werewolf Tony. Every witch has a familiar

This is sad. I made it sad. I’m sad :’)

CW: mentions of character death, mentions of past pepperony, angst with a hopeful ending

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Tony had promised himself again and again, night after night, that this would be his last drink. That he’d stop after that, leave the booze the hell alone, but every time he picked up the glass and put it to his lips he knew that he wasn’t going to.

It was the only constant in his life these days. Food was scarce and that had worn him down to the slim, almost sickly figure he currently was, and he didn’t see any reason to spend what little money he had on food instead of another couple of glasses of something that would help him forget.

He would give anything to forget.

Ever since Pepper passed away, things had been going downhill, and they’d been going downhill fast. He had never managed along very well, and being without his witch took the cake. He’d lost weight, gained a nasty drinking habit, and had never been more nihilistic. But how could he be anything else if he knew that he was going to die shortly if he didn’t find another witch anyway?

He was never going to survive for very long, but Pepper had swept in and taken him under her wings, she had been kind and nurturing and had helped him up when he’d been at his lowest.

Although maybe he had never been lower than he was at that moment.

When Tony’s hands shook and he could barely sit straight, he slid off the barstool and decided to spend what could very well have been his last night on earth taking in the streets he’d once loved so dearly. Maybe he could find his way back to where he’d first met his witch. That seemed like a good place to rest his head.

He started making his way down the street, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched against the cold. He thought he could feel someone’s eyes on him as he crossed to take a shortcut through some side streets, but he shook the feeling. People probably thought he was up to something. He didn’t blame them.

He continued down the street, ducked into an alley, crossed it, and ducked into another one. The fewer people saw him the better. That way he could get to his destination unnoticed and unbothered.

But it seemed that wasn’t in the stars for him.

Although his senses had weakened since he’d lost Pepper, he still picked up on footsteps behind himself. He knew that if someone jumped him now, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself – he didn’t stand a chance. He forced himself to go a little faster, until the voice of a young man reached him, uncertain and curious.

“Sir? Um, Mister?”

Could be a trap, Tony thought. He’d heard of people using kids to lure others in now, for human trafficking but also for the collection of familiars. Tony did not want to end up forcefully bonded to some witch he didn’t know, in a country he’d never been to, among people he’d never seen before. No thank you.

And yet Tony stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to face the young man standing a couple feet away. There was a safe distance between them, and there was a bright light overhead illuminating the narrow alley, yet Tony couldn’t help but feel cornered.

The person standing at the mouth of the alleyway was young, but he didn’t look as young as he sounded. Tony assumed those were nerves bringing the boy’s voice up an octave or two. Huh.

Tony looked at him cautiously and expectantly.

“Hi,” the boy said, and he fumbled a little with his hands, “Sorry to bother you. It’s just—I saw you cross the street back there, and I couldn’t help but notice your shadow.”

Tony looked at the shadow cast just behind himself. Although it looked like a normal, human silhouette to him, he knew that to witches it looked different.

“You’re a familiar, aren’t you?” The boy continued, “A… A wolf, if I’m not mistaken.”

“What’s it to you?” Tony snarled. He didn’t have time for this. Nor the patience. At least the kid had the audacity to look sheepish before he spoke again.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but you look like maybe you could use some…help?”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, but before he could even think of a good way to reply to that, the witch opened his mouth again, and a flood of words came out, leaving Tony stunned for a second.

“I’m really not trying to be mean. I promise. It’s just that I was raised right, you know? And so when I see someone in need and there is something I can do about it, then I can’t just walk away without doing what I can. And when I saw your shadow, and I saw how weak it really was, I knew that like… You’ve probably lost your witch, pretty long ago by the looks of it, and I don’t have a familiar myself so I thought I could approach you to offer you a place to stay for the night—not that you have to accept. And not that you can’t fend for yourself, or that you need to accept me as your new witch or anything, I mean we barely know each other and I’m just kind of springing this onto you, but—”

The boy took a deep breath, and bit on his lower lip.

“So what I mean to say, is, um. If you’d like, you could…come with me. Just for the night. I know even just staying with a witch alone will help you feel better. You have a very vibrant aura, and I just… I just don’t want someone like you to waste away.”

Tony was perplexed.

He’d been wandering the streets by himself for close to a month now, trying to get by after he’d lost everything. He had the worst time trying to find a new witch and had eventually given up because no one wanted a familiar like him. No one wanted an old, greying wolf. And now there was this kid, approaching him in the middle of the night, offering to give him a place to stay alongside a witch so that he could regain some of his strength.

Something in the back of his mind told him that this could still be a trap. It very well could be, and he was walking right into it, because there was something about the boy that made Tony want to believe him and go with him.

He realized that silence had fallen between them when the other spoke up yet again. He really was trying, huh?

“My aunt is a nurse so I know of some pretty good potions. I know of one that can help avoid a hangover? I’d suggest one that sobers you up but something tells me that that’s not something you want.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but once again, he didn’t get the chance. Was he getting slower with every passing minute or was the kid just that fast?

“Oh, I’m Peter by the way. What’s your name?”

“Tony,” Tony finally managed, shaking his head slowly in disbelief, “Why should I trust you?”

Peter looked a little taken aback for a moment, then almost hurt, before he put a sheepish smile on his face. “I mean, you don’t really have any reason to, I know. I thought I might offer. You don’t have to say yes. I just saw you, and—you looked so lost.”

Tony huffed. Lost. Yeah, that was one word for it.

He had to make a decision. Either he went with this kid – Peter – now, or he walked toward certain death in the place he’d first met Pepper. And while he had already kind of resigned himself to that fate, he realized by just considering his options now, that he didn’t actually want to die just yet.

So he took a hesitant step forward, and watched how Peter’s face lit up. The young man gestured with his hand, and a portal into a cozy-looking living room opened up.

“It’s okay, Tony,” Peter said softly before Tony ducked through, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

The living room was warm and it smelled like someone had been burning scented candles. There was a comfortable couch that looked beyond inviting to Tony, a soft rug, small coffee table, and a television on an old, wooden television stand next to a bookcase filled to the very brim with books on all types of subjects. The room wasn’t big by any means, but it was comfortable. Tony wondered if Peter lived there alone.

Speaking of Peter, the kid appeared by his side again after he’d rummaged around the kitchen, and he was given a mug with something warm in it, steam rising up from the surface. It didn’t smell like anything he’d had before.

“Drink up,” Peter encouraged. He went to sit on the couch and patted the space next to him so that Tony could sit down, too, which he did.

He sipped at the mug and found the taste strange but not repulsive.

“It’s a homemade blend. I was really drunk like, once, and it helped really well. Oh—do you want something to eat? You must be starving.” Peter hopped up from his seat and disappeared into the kitchen again, only to return with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup and a few bread rolls, some of which had slices of ham in between them. He set it all down in front of Tony, who had just about finished off the potion.

“Do you always invite strange familiars into your house to give them chicken soup?” Tony asked when he looked up from the food. He was hungry though, starving, so it didn’t take long for him to tuck in at all.

“Um, well no. But there’s a first time for everything, right?”

Tony couldn’t help but huff a small chuckle at the way Peter said it. As if this was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in a while. Maybe it was.

He finished the soup and the bread rolls and was happy to say that he hadn’t felt this satisfied in a long time. With a full stomach, his other aches and pains were much easier to manage, as it didn’t all come crashing down on him so heavily all at once.

But it also made the truth hit hard.

He wasn’t aware of the tears in his eyes until Peter’s hand landed softly into his hair and his fingertips scratched ever so gently at his skull. Tony’s face felt hot with embarrassment, but he couldn’t stop the tears. Peter – bless his heart – saw what was happening, and recognized it for what it was, and pulled Tony closer until Tony gave up and wrapped his arms around the young man while his face buried into Peter’s shirt.

No one had held him since he’d lost his witch. He didn’t think anyone had bothered, or cared. But now there was this boy who didn’t know him but who held him like he understood exactly what was going on. Tony briefly wondered if maybe Peter had lost his familiar. Witches usually met their first familiar early on in their childhood, but Tony couldn’t smell one on Peter. Maybe he was alone, too.

Peter held Tony until the man calmed down, stroking his hair and petting a hand up and down his spine.

“Do you want to shift?” Peter asked when he calmed down a little.

Tony nodded, but then backtracked a little. “I don’t think I can,” he breathed out. Peter just held him a little bit tighter.

“Of course you can. Just relax. I’m right here.”

And so Tony shifted.

Not with ease by any means. It had been so long since he’d last done so, since he’d last felt comfortable enough to. With Pepper, it had always been so easy. But now that he no longer had her, it felt impossible.

But Peter held him through it all, as promised, soothed him with softly whispered words of encouragement and gentle touches to the places that ached most as his body changed to fit his alternate form.

Tony was exhausted by the time his head sank into Peter’s lap. All the energy he had left drained from him, and yet at the same time he felt strangely invigorated. He had shifted! It was scary being so vulnerable around someone he’d just met, but Peter had given him no reason to distrust him so far. Even now, he held Tony, and stroked both hands through his fur, and he was beaming when Tony looked up at him.

“You’re beautiful,” Peter said, and Tony could have sworn that his cheeks looked a little pink, “Sorry if that’s a weird thing to say. Um. Time for bed?”

And so it was.

Peter cleaned up and said his goodnight after he’d found some extra pillows and a nice blanket for Tony to curl up among on the couch, and then he disappeared into his bedroom.

The couch could have, and should have, been nice enough for Tony to sleep on, but he was restless. Exhaustion kicked in again after a short while, and it wasn’t the type that helped him fall asleep any better. He itched to go and find his way back to Peter again, which came naturally to Tony, but it was also surprising to feel that way so quickly.

He’d barely known Peter for more than two hours and now he was aching to be next to him again already.

Tony stayed on the couch for a little while longer to see if that feeling would go away naturally and allow him to sleep, but it kept him awake. Frustrated, he hopped off the couch, and followed the trail of Peter’s scent toward a closed door. Tony could have easily opened it, just reached a paw up to the door handle and push it down to let himself in – but that kind of felt…invasive.

So he scratched lightly at the door instead. If Peter was awake, he’d hear it and he would let him in. And if Peter was asleep already, then he’d just have to go back to his own nest and simply rest. Or wait until the exhaustion got the best of him.

Tony scratched for a few moments, but he didn’t pick up on any sounds on the other door, any movement. Peter must have already been asleep.

With a huff, he dropped to the floor, and rested his heavy head on crossed paws, nose tucked against the door. He felt like a defeated pup. Jesus, when was the last time he’d acted like that?

Tony had just closed his eyes, when the door opened a crack, and Peter’s head poked out. When the boy’s eyes landed on Tony, he blinked at him.

“Hey, Tony,” he said slowly, and opened the door further so he could crouch down in front of the wolf, “What’s the matter? Was that you scratching the door? Why aren’t you in bed?”

As an answer, Tony lifted his head and crowded into Peter’s space until Peter’s hands fell into his fur again, a soft whine in the back of his throat. God, that alone already felt miles better.

It was quiet for a long few moments while Peter gently pet him again, Tony’s head in his lap and his tail wagging slowly.

“If you want… You could sleep with me?” Peter suggested, almost loud in the quiet of the night. Tony didn’t need to be told twice. When Peter stood and stepped aside to allow him into the room, Tony took the invitation and sniffed around for a bit before eventually making his way toward what smelled like the epicenter of Peter’s scent – his bed.

Peter crawled back under the covers, and when he patted the space next to him, Tony lay his head there, sitting down next to the bed. Peter ruffled the fur between his ears.

“Not like that, silly. Come on. Hop up. I know my bed’s not big, but… I’m sure we can fit. If you don’t mind snuggling. I don’t know if that’s weird.”

Tony would have told Peter that he was the king of weird, if he’d been able to speak. Instead, he jumped up onto the space Peter had made for him, and tried to lay his large body down in a way that didn’t have Peter pressed up against the wall all the way. It was tricky, and didn’t exactly work until Peter curled himself around the wolf and snuggled up like he’d promised, but the result could have had Tony rumbling with satisfaction.

He hadn’t felt this content in weeks.

Granted, this didn’t solve everything, but the mere fact that a near-stranger could make him feel like maybe things were starting to look up a little bit, made him hopeful for the future.

With Peter’s arms around him and his face tucked into his neck and his hands in his fur, Tony fell asleep with surprising ease, and he slept all through the night and well into the morning. Thanks to the potion Peter had given him, he woke up without a hangover, to the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen.

God, when was the last time he’d woken up like that?

Tony stretched leisurely in the empty bed, and was slow to push himself up on all fours and hop off the bed. He was hungry, he noticed. Hungry at last. He finally had his appetite back.

And as he made his way into the hallway and toward the sound of friendly voices in the kitchen, Tony realized that things were changing.

Peter had never made the promise that he could stay more than just one night, and Tony had never insinuated that it was something he wanted or even just wanted to consider, but the fact of that matter was that he was feeling good, all things considered. He wanted to hold on to that feeling for a little while longer, and if Peter was the person who brought that out in him…

Maybe he could find a way to stay. Maybe he could put the effort in and make this work. Peter was likeable, and he’d been so very good to him up until now. Tony would be lucky if the young man decided that he wanted Tony to stick around.

So he would try. For the both of them.

After all, he was pretty sure it was what Pepper would have wanted.

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #starker fanfic #marvel #ironspider #tony stark #peter parker #past pepperony #pepper potts #my fanfic #my writing #aus #werewolf au #witch and familiar au #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #angst #silentsunplays #replies

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Two: Life Being What it Is

AN: Surprise! Back to back chapter postings! So, I know said this about the last two chapters, but this is by far the darkest chapter yet. Read at your own comfort level. There’s a link of a song attached to a word in one of the paragraphs below, to me, it made the scene I wrote much more haunting.

Word Count: 3.9k

Trigger Warnings: violence, attempted rape, racism, racial slurs, torture, abuse

Chapter Three: Steal Away

Today was October 6th, 1862.

It had been officially one week since Marc Martin returned home from the Confederate Army on leave. Sabine was disappointed to say the least, she had hoped that Marc would die a slow, gruesome death within the first year of the war. The war, Sabine could hardly believe that it’s been a whole year since the fighting had erupted within the country. The nation was divided, brothers against brothers, fathers against sons. And nowhere did this sentiment ring ever truer than on the Martin Plantation. Master Martin supported the Confederacy along with Mistress Genevieve and Marc joined the army. Leaving Alain to be the odd man out, he was the only Martin that supported the Union. Sabine recalled the day Alain had left the plantation, it was only a week before the Confederacy seceded from the United States.

“You tell me that I need to escape and yet here you are packing without taking me,” Sabine whispered harshly, as she handed Alain his briefcase.

“Sabine, if I took you with me, there’s only two possible outcomes,” Alain began, grabbing the leather bag. “The first outcome would be the two of us dying. The second outcome would be me dying and you being returned to this plantation,” he explained, keeping his voice low. “God, I feel unclean even saying this, but in the eyes of the law you are property of my father Sabine,” he continued, Sabine’s eyes narrowed and scoffed at his statement. “If I take you with me, my father will accuse me of stealing and they’ll shoot me dead,” he finished, looking over at her.

“Only if we get caught,” Sabine retorted, picking up another piece of luggage.

“It’s too dangerous Sabine, I’m sorry,” Alain said, shaking his head. “My father will raise hell once he notices that you’re gone, even more some when he realizes I’m the one who took you,” he stated, a grimace forming on his face.

“This isn’t fair Alain and you know it,” Sabine said, a frown lining her forehead.

“I know and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Alain apologized, sincerity shining in his eyes. “Listen, the Underground Railroad is your best bet,” he informed quietly, taking the suitcase out of her hands. He placed his luggage down in the carriage and let out a sigh, hanging his head low. “Sabine,” he called softly.

“Yes,”

“If you see an opportunity to run, take it,” Alain stated, lifting his head up and staring at her. “You take as many slaves as you can and you run,” he repeated, his tone hushed. “It has never been safe here for you, it will never be safe here for you. So promise me, promise me that you will do that,” he finished, his tone serious.

“I promise,” Sabine answered, nodding her head and Alain exhaled loudly in relief.

“We are going to see each other again Sabine,” he promised. “You’re going to be a free woman, when we do,” he added, smiling at her.

She mirrored his expression, “I look forward to it,” she replied.

“Once I’m settled up North, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for Henry,” Alain said, and Sabine felt her heart sink at the name. She only nodded in response, words escaping her for a moment. “Now, get back up to the house, we don’t need Sydney getting suspicious before he runs off and tells my parents anything,” he finished, shaking his head.

“Farewell Alain,”

“Farewell Sabine,”

Sabine never did find an opportunity to run away from this god-forsaken plantation.

It seemed like the moment the Confederacy seceded, there was an immediate crack down on the plantation. More overseers were hired by the Martin’s, punishments were harsher, and Alice was no longer the “head slave”, she was replaced by Sydney. Oh, the Martin’s couldn’t have asked for a more obsequious slave than Sydney. The silver haired house slave seemed to be the most observant man she had ever encountered. Sabine believed that Sydney made it his personal mission to strike terror within the hearts of every slave once he was promoted to his position. Alice would be firm with her fellow slaves, but she balanced it out by being loving as well, because deep down Alice knew that they all were just trying to survive their hellacious circumstances.

Sydney on the other hand, was at the beck and call of Master Martin and Genevieve, he was more than happy to inflict their cruel orders and follow it to the letter. Not only that, he was more than willing to sell out any slave, all in the name of remaining in the good graces of the Master and Mistress. Sabine hated his guts, her hatred of Sydney was right up there with her hatred of Master Martin and Genevieve, which was quite remarkable seeing how Sydney was also a slave. She didn’t think she could loathe the man anymore than she already did, but boy did he prove her wrong.

Sydney was the reason that Sabine’s husband was stolen from her.

Henry, was one of the stable boys on the plantation, him and Sabine had been sweet on each other for awhile before he finally worked up the courage to ask for her hand. Even before their marriage Henry was Sabine’s rock, with all the daily abuse she faced the one thing she could look forward to was being wrapped up in Henry’s arms where she could find some solace. But all that was ripped away from Sabine last year. Whispers from the kitchen slaves about Sabine and Henry jumping the broom together had reached Sydney’s ears, he made sure that would be put to an end. By the next day, Sabine was forced to watch her husband be hauled away to be sold at a slave auction in town.

Master Martin was punishing her, the only person that could have Sabine was himself.

For Sabine’s audacity of getting married, she was thrown into the ‘hot box’ for a whole day. The experience was tortuous, Sabine felt like she was being burned alive while simultaneously being suffocated, the airway in her throat felt like it was growing smaller and smaller by the minute. When she was finally released, Sabine was barely conscious and had to be carried to her cabin. She felt like she was on the brink of death. Her throat felt drier than a desert, her body was so weak from the heat rays that damn near cooked her alive, and several areas of her skin were tender and flaming red from the burns she received in her temporary metal coffin.

Sabine’s fellow female slaves had to care her for the rest of the night, they bathed her, dressed her, made sure she drank plenty water, and fed her food that had been smuggled out the kitchen. Exhaustion soon took over her body and Sabine fell into a fitful sleep that night, she couldn’t even mourn the loss of her husband properly. Her mind was too busy replaying her experience of being trapped underground, where the walls surrounding her seemed like they were closing in slowly but surely, nearly about to crush her.

The next morning Sabine made up for it, she sat in her cabin and crammed her apron into her mouth and let out body rattling screams of agony or cries, sometimes both. She screamed till her voice was raspy and too painful to even use.

But that was the past.

If Sabine dwelled on it any longer she might drown herself in misery. The only thing she could do now was focus on the present.

~~~x~~~

“I look like shit,” Sabine thought.

She gazed into the vanity mirror that was located in one of the guest bedrooms she had just finished cleaning. Her warm, brown skin had lost its radiance and sets of dark bags fell below Sabine’s eyes. The hickory brown irises were void of the lively spirit they once held, now they were just…empty. Sabine was exhausted, it was almost impossible to see her signature smirk on her full lips anymore. Sabine was surprised that her face still retained some of it’s softness, the roundness of it and full cheeks made the small, round mole on her right cheek pronounced.

Sabine looked away from her reflection and turned around to make sure that Genevieve or Master Martin were nowhere around. She didn’t hear any movement in the hallway which meant Genevieve was still having her morning tea downstairs. And Master Martin must still be out in the city running errands. Sabine faced the mirror again and lifted her hands to her head, pulling off the headscarf that covered her hair. Two plaits formed a makeshift crown around her head, Sabine ran a hand over the soft, black hair, not caring that she was messing it up more than it already was. She was just happy to see her hair was growing again. Not long after Sabine’s time in 'the hotbox’, she had her hair chopped off to the point that her hair resembled some of the male slaves.

It was a nightmarish experience for Sabine, she didn’t feel feminine anymore, most importantly, she felt like a part of her identity was stripped away from her. Sabine was sure that the torture she endured was because of Sydney, he had the ear of Genevieve and Sabine knew that Genevieve would be more than happy to go along with his suggestion if it meant humiliating her. Unfortunately for them, Sabine’s hair had grown back faster, almost in defiance of Sydney and Genevieve. It wasn’t below her armpits like it was before, but her hair had reached down her neck.

And that made a small smile form on Sabine’s lip.

“My, my, my, aren’t you looking mighty fine Cecile,”

Sabine’s body froze and she felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach, hearing the voice of Marc behind her.

Sabine spun around to see Marc standing in the doorway, “M-Master,” she stuttered, unconsciously gripping the scarf in her hands tightly.

A slow, evil grin curled on Marc’s mouth, “Mmmm, I love it when you call me that Cecile,” he stated, fully stepping into the room. “Say it again,” he ordered, letting his eyes trail over her body.

Sabine had to stop herself from glaring at the bastard in front of her, “Master,” she repeated, gripping the scarf even tighter.

A menacing chuckle came from Marc’s mouth, “You know, it is so nice to be home,” he began, taking another step forward which made the wooden floor creak, almost in a foreboding manner. “This war has left me weary, but that’s nothing my bed can’t fix,” he continued, moving closer to Sabine, but this time she moved herself and stepped to her left. “Do you want to know what else this war has left me feeling for?” Marc asked, staring at Sabine.

Sabine timidly shook her head, afraid to know the answer, “No, Master,” she answered, her voice slightly wavering.

“Well, you see Cecile, I haven’t seen a woman in months while I’ve been off protecting us from those Yankees,” Marc stated, and Sabine wanted to scoff at his use of the word 'protecting’. “And that can do something to a man, take me for example, I’ve been finding myself a bit frustrated as of late,” he explained, and Sabine’s breathing became unsteady as she had an inkling on where this conversation was going. “But with you standing here Cecile, I think I found the remedy to my ailment,” he finished, a wicked smirk forming on his lips.

Sabine’s eyes were wide and her mouth slightly fell open, it felt like her stomach dropped six feet to the ground. Her eyes darted to the door that was behind Marc as she sensed her heartbeat accelerating. Sabine couldn’t help but shudder in disgust at his leering gaze as he inched closer and closer to her.

Sabine swallowed deeply, “The M-Mistress is c-calling for m-me, Master” she stated, her voice trembling.

A sinister look came over Marc’s face, “I didn’t hear anything,” he replied, a smirk on his face.

And just like that, Sabine bolted for the door but Marc beat her to it, slamming it shut and blocking it with his considerable height. He leered at her hungrily and Sabine felt her entire body trembling with pure fear. Marc was a sadistic man. She had seen the outcome of what happens to the female slaves who are forcibly brought into a room alone with Marc. Sometimes, she could hear the consequences of her fellow female slaves being with Marc. It was rape, they were violently raped. Sabine saw women become a shell of themselves after their inescapable encounter with him.

There was no telling what he would do to her now that he finally trapped her.

She was stuck with this vile monster.

“There’s no escape now, wench!” he declared, staring at her hungrily. “My little brother is no longer here to protect you anymore,” he continued, locking the door. “You are here and you are mine,” he finished, before grabbing her and pulling her close towards him.

Sabine let out a high pitch squeal of horror at feeling the growing pressure against her hipbone. She started to struggle in his arms and that only made Marc grip her arms tighter, bruising her arms with his fingers.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered gruffly, and Sabine almost went dizzy with terror. She just shook her head, unable to speak. Marc roughly pushed her back towards the bed. “I said, 'get on the bed’. Now!” he shouted, his tone poisonous.

Sabine glared at him fearfully, “No!” she croaked, the word slipped through her mouth so easily, she barely had to think about it.

She had been violated in more ways than she thought was humanly possible, but she couldn’t let this happen to her. No, she refused to let this happen to her. Sabine would rather die than be raped by Marc. She had little to live for at that point anyway.

Marc’s expression darkened, “No?” he repeated deathly calm.

Sabine’s eyes narrowed even more, “That’s what I said,” she answered firmly, sounding a lot stronger than she actually felt.

A deep roar tore Marc’s throat as he threw himself on top of Sabine and they both fell on the bed. His body was on top of hers, pinning her hands to each side of her head.

“Let me go!” Sabine screamed, trying to fight him off.

“You need to be taught a lesson!” Marc exclaimed, maintaining his crushing grip on Sabine’s wrists. “And I have just the thing in mind,” he added, grinding his groin against her.

A desperate and frantic scream erupted from Sabine’s lips, her heart was racing and fear consumed her body once more.

“No, no, no!” Sabine thought.

She started to panic and began thrashing underneath him, but to no avail. She foolishly wished that Genevieve would come upstairs and unlock the door to stop her son from having his way with her. But she knew the idea was hopeless, if anything, Genevieve would blame Sabine for her own rape.

“I like it when you struggle, it makes the experience all the more enjoyable,” he said, a cruel smile on his face as he chuckled.

Tears fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Marc’s eyes roved her breast before he began to lower his face toward them and Sabine did the only thing she could think of, she headbutted him. She almost immediately blacked out from the pain of skull hitting skull, but hearing the furious cry of Marc and no longer feeling the pressure of his body on top her gave Sabine motivation to stay conscious. She scrambled off the bed, seeing gold specks from the sudden motion, barely managing to steady herself and make a run for it. Grabbing the skirt of her dress, Sabine lifted it away from her feet and dashed for the bedroom door.

“You goddamn bitch!”

Suddenly, Sabine found herself being yanked down to the wooden floor and let out a loud shriek as she went. Marc’s face was red in fury and also with the crimson liquid that ran down from his forehead. He bared his teeth at Sabine with a growl and she began quickly crawling backwards from him, only for Marc to harshly seize her by the left ankle. Instinctively, Sabine’s right foot shot out and connected with Marc’s nose in a sickening crunch.

A howl of pain escaped from Marc, “I’m going to fucking kill you, you negro whore!” he bellowed, his eyes darkening with pure hatred.

From that moment on, everything sort of became a blur to Sabine. One moment she was scrambling to get up from the floor, and then the next thing she knows is that she is letting out an inhuman, blood-curdling scream as Marc lunged towards her. It was the first blow of Marc’s fist across her face that put Sabine in a daze, she never stood a chance.

And one after the other, the punches came.

Sabine believed she had to be going in and out of consciousnesses during her pummeling, when she came around one time, she felt herself being repeatedly kicked in the ribs before becoming unconscious again. The next time she awakened, she could a hand brutally gripping her by the hair as he pulled her barely conscious body with him down the hallway and down the stairs. Sabine’s head started spinning and nausea washed over her at the unexpected motion of being roughly jerked along, she hardly had time to get her bearings.

Sabine could already feel her face swelling black and blue, there was a stinging sensation underneath her right eye and Sabine wondered that could be. She also felt the same stinging sensation on her bottom lip, which also felt fatter than usual. Swollen, that’s what it had to be, her bottom lip was swollen and split. She was just now beginning to taste iron in her mouth. Her nose felt runny, like there was snot coming from her nostrils, but from the metallic scent she could smell, she knew it was not that.

And the left side of her ribs, it felt like they were on fire. She barely touched the tender spot before she felt herself wince. Her ribs were most likely bruised, if not broken.

“Sydney get my goddamn pistol!” Marc spat, stepping down from the last step with Sabine in tow. “Alice, ring the bell outside! I want every slave to witness what’s about happen! Go!” he ordered, and Sabine could hear her footfalls running out the house.

Sabine was about to die, she knew there was no way around that.

“Marc, my dear!” Genevieve said, letting out a gasp. “What did Cecile to you?!” she exclaimed, and Sabine could envision Genevieve sending her a hateful glare. “You have blood all over you!” she commented, moving closer to them.

“Cecile here,” Marc began, tightening his hold on Sabine’s hair which made her sharply gasp in pain. “Has forgotten her place here at this plantation, she’s gotten a little too uppity for my taste,” He explained, as a set of footsteps approached them.

“Here you go, Massa,”

Hearing Sydney’s weaselly voice made Sabine’s blood boil.

“But don’t worry Ma, I know just the punishment for Cecile,” Marc reassured, grabbing the gun from Sydney’s hands. “You’re more than welcome to watch,” he offered, before yanking Sabine along to follow him outside the house.

Sabine nearly tripped over her feet as she was pulled down the porch stairs, faintly she could hear the murmuring of the slaves off to the side of the house. She had faint idea of where she was being dragged to, it was more likely than not the Whipping Tree. The murmuring of the slaves became louder as they approached the congregation of people and that’s when Sabine heard the gasps of horror. A silence swept over the crowd and Sabine could only imagine what she looked like, she knew it was bad though.

Her face was probably stained red along with her dress.

Suddenly, Sabine felt herself being shoved unto the hard, dirt ground. She fell onto her left side and an ear-splitting scream of agony ripped through Sabine’s throat, the force of her fall made her see stars and left her struggling to breath. Tears began to form in her eyes as she struggled to sit up.

“Get up!” Marc roared, pacing back and forth in front of her. Sabine let out a ragged breath and looked up at Marc, squinting her eyes as the morning sun blinded her. “Stand up now!” he shouted, waving his pistol at Sabine.

On shaky arms, Sabine pushed herself onto all fours, breathing heavily from exertion. She fell back onto her knees and lightly placed her hand on her injured ribs, slowly she raised herself from the ground with a small cry of pain.

“The reason you all are gathered here today is to show you what happens to an ungrateful slave like Cecile here!” Marc stated, with a sneer as he began circling her like a predator would do its prey. Sabine was too exhausted, in too much pain, to even roll her eyes at the laughable description of her. “Here on the Martin Plantation we treat you all just fine. We feed you, clothe you, and give you a roof to live under,” he continued, now staring out into the sea of faces of the slaves. “My family and I have extended charity to you slaves, and we expect that in return,” he went on. “So if I tell you do something, remember, it is not a request, it’s an order. Even if it means you lay on your back and spread your goddamn legs open for me!” Marc shouted, and Sabine flinched and squeezed her eyes shut when she felt the cold steel of his pistol shoved into the back of her head.

Sabine’s muscles began to lock up as a slight nervousness sat in the pit of her stomach. She had already accepted her fate, so why was she so tense? This is what she wanted, an escape from this hellish existence that she was born into. Death, that was Sabine’s freedom and she received a small taste of it when she headbutted Marc. She was going to “steal away” just like the hymn they sing on Sundays, and while she didn’t put much faith into believing there’s a lord above her, because how could God watch her and her fellow slaves not save them from their suffering? Still, the spirituals and hymns painted a beautiful picture of the Promised Land and it gave her something to cling to through her torment on this plantation.

If that was what freedom looked like, then that’s where she wanted to go.

“Let Cecile here be a lesson to you all, my family and I will not tolerate any form of disobedience,” Marc said, standing in front of her now and addressing the slaves. Sabine must have went into a daze with all of the thoughts that raced through her head. “Do not be mistaken, every single last one of you are expendable. We can always buy another slave to take your place,” he finished coldly.

Laughter bubbled out of Sabine, a crazed laugh. One that caused her shoulders to shake.

Marc whipped his body around towards her, “Something funny Cecile?” he questioned, glaring at her.

“Oh it’s comical,” she corrected, her laughter subsiding. “You and your family will not be able to hurt me any longer,” she said, with a light chuckle as she shook her head. “For I am about to become a free woman, Marc,” she finished, addressing him by his name and not the title she was forced to call him for so many years.

Marc’s nostrils flared at the usage of his first name, which for a slave, was absolutely forbidden. Immediately, he aimed his revolver at her head, the steel gleaming in the bright sun. Staring down the barrel of the gun, a wide smile grew on Sabine’s face, showing the layer of blood that coated to her teeth. She watched as he slowly cocked the hammer back and Sabine smirked, her signature smirk. The sound of a gun firing one single bullet echoed in the air and just before the bullet ripped through Sabine’s forehead, she had one single thought.

“Freedom,”

Chapter Four: Resurrection

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leam1983 · 3 years

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It’s the end of the work week and, well...

I’m having thoughts on labor culture.

My father was born in 1958. He lived as the son of an absent father of five children who had no ability to truthfully express his love and care, and who instead chose to bury himself in work as a means to display his commitment. My paternal grandfather made and sold mattressees and died quite young of a cancer strain that today would’ve seemed benign. He was described as a hard worker, either up to his neck in his business or wanting just a scant few hours per day to himself. It made an aloof lover out of him and a distant father - who still loved his wife and children to bits but who felt emotionally castrated in a sense, as were men of the era.

The family consensus is that his work killed him.

My father is now 65 and survived a bout of Non-Hodgkinian Lymphoma. The oncologist and anyone with half a brain agreed that stress was the culprit. Early on, Dad had the family as an excuse for his tendency to overwork. He had to provide for us, after all, and garnish my mother’s meagre savings. All she has is her government-issued pension plan, while my father does have his own pension as a retiree of the City of Montreal’s Real-Estate Appraisal service. Considering, he felt obligated to pull a heavier load to bring in more, so they’d have better investment opportunities. Later on, he kept working out of a sense of fealty and attachment to his division, breaking out of retirement during the pandemic to join the work-from-home team. He wanted to help techs and city officials find ways to bring more of the traditionally snail-mail-based parts of the system online so the city’s Land Management service wouldn’t be paralyzed by COVID-19. What was supposed to be a single month turned into four, which turned into twelve.

By the end, they were begging him to stay on the team and to pull longer hours. We’re talking twenty hours per day, in some particularly grueling stretches. That means being logged in by breakfast and scarfing bagels down with Urban Design techs on Zoom instead of your own family, or having supper with your boss because she needs a play-by-play of the situation to stave off her executive anxiety.

Long story short, I didn’t see Dad much during the first wave. His reasoning was that he’d eventually stop, pool all this cash, and chuck it into his and Mom’s Registered Retirement Savings Account - with maybe an extra two thou or so in case the country reopened enough for their postponed trip to Cuba to take place.

Guess what? His zona flared up and he ended up with odd, shingly bumps along his scalp which to this day the local dermatologist grimaces at and tentatively has us dab with cortisone cream.

Mom, though? She’s a retired and registered nurse with a self-negating streak and a chronic propensity to undervalue her own physical ailments. Someone who quite literally understands the pain of busted hips on a clinical level because she was trained in Gerontology - and also someone who refuses to schedule an appointment with her GP and who inexplicably self-medicates with white wine.

As for me, I’m a 37 year-old man with a paycheck I consider massive with its meagre six bucks above the minimum-wage threshold - someone who chose to shack in with his folks until the current crisis ends and who therefore has a history of a single, willingly terminated apartment lease that originally began in the Planned Housing market. The apartment I want is basically a Barbie doll house for adults, a gleaming fantasy I’ll never have enough capital to touch unless I feel like trying my hand with criminal applications of my skills. The apartment I can get right now is a shithole, and I have the audacity to think I deserve a shithole that at least wasn’t someone’s former cockroach den.

Now here’s the kicker: I value my sanity and my health. I know my mental stamina levels and I know from experience that after working seven-point-five hours per day with the occasionally shorter Friday, I’ve found my limit. I could invest more if I worked more, yes, and I’m already in a better position than my parents, retirement-wise. I’ll never be rich, but I’m already set to be comfortable, provided I don’t spend my golden years trying to make it as an unsponsored TechTuber or anything else that’s equally ludicrous.

Where that’s a problem is in the toxicity this is generating. See, I have the gall to slide my daily schedule later so I can start at an hour that fits my biological clock and ends at an hour where I’m at my most creative. That means the folks saw me spending my pandemic mornings on Animal Crossing while Dad was trying to wrangle Excel spreadsheets for non-tech-savvy fellow Boomers while preventing the dog from eating his meeting notes. That means they guzzled vinho verde like it was Kool-Aid after seven while I made sure to find more concrete means to distance myself from work - ideally ones that didn’t involve functional alcoholism.

Naturally, what was bound to happen, happened: Dad soon spent his evenings calling me shiftless or “unwilling to commit”, while I was stuck watching him miss all the cues his stressed-out body were sending him. We already had Trump’s last desperate months and a global plague to handle, I really didn’t want my work to turn into more of a nuisance than it already is. I already love the people I work for and hate what I do (repeating the family cycle, it seems), but I’ve at least decided to give myself ample Me time every single day.

I’ve paired that with smaller, if consistent portfolio investments, along with a few new habits I wanted to get into to stay saner. Dad pulls crosswords or plays competitive chess in the wee hours, while I usually lay down to meditate around midnight and fall asleep by 1 AM at the latest. I’m half-expecting my father to pull a Tyler Durden and to sneer at me, at some point. “Self-care is masturbation,” he’d probably say.

Looking at classifieds for rentals, it’s obvious that the entire system is predicated on abuse. Work yourself down to the therapist’s office, right down to the fucking bone, and you just might earn a half-decent retirement because nobody’s taught you to invest incrementally. Nope, Society seems to say, you’re supposed to buy, buy and buy some more, until you realize you have ten years left to start from scratch!

I remember Dad’s face on my eighteenth birthday. “Why would you want a Disability Care Savings Account, Brain? You just turned into a legal adult by Canadian standards - you’re in no rush, right?”

I told him the real gift I wanted for my birthday, that day, was a ride to the family’s Financial Investments counsel. I pulled up the PDFs I’d printed out and filled and brought them over. From then on, if I dropped a penny in my nest-egg, Ottawa would drop another one. If my share grew, so did the government’s. In the twenty-odd years since, it’s expanded exponentially.

Dad thought I’d done this to have a big cushion by the time I’d retire. Mom thought I’d done this in case my disability worsened and I started requiring equipment or physical assistance. Honestly, my dumb, if slightly prescient eighteen year-old self figured I’d rather spend my time reading or playing video games than working. I knew I’d need something to help cushion my admittedly low career-related ambitions. I might throw several thousands at a new computer every seven to eight years, but that’s because I’ve saved them up for just as long, little by little. I have no vices beyond what sillicon offers and what you’d find in the pages of a book and don’t exactly need a big ‘ol, stonkin’ humidor stuffed with conoisseur stogies.

I have a shoebox with a poked-out Ziploc bag and a sponge, with a handful of joints and a few Santa Anas I got off of a buyer’s pool from work. Five of us occasional chair-bar goons pooled cash together on Cigar Chief and cushioned prices with a single, shared and massive order. I’m nowhere near rich, but assuming the housing market can catch its breath eventually, I’ll be able to live modestly - with one or two markers of occasional luxury I’ll have chosen.

I have a shittier job than my father has had and I’ve chosen to be happier than him. It’s just sad that the usual response elevates overwork as the supposedly one, true way to leave a mark in society.

No, Dad. I don’t want to die while my own cells eat me alive, I want to die blazed out of my fucking mind, happy because I’ll have had time to enjoy my friends’ company and to finally make some sense out of Kerouac’s Subterraneans or to figure out what the fuck is going on in Joyce’s Illiad. I’ll die crusty as shit and fulfilled as a Pop Culture jockey, because I’ll have either finished Persona 5: Golden in my lifetime or I’ll have watched the entirety of the MCU’s output before Disney finally manages to kill their golden goose.

I want to die decades from now, feeling like I at least owned my choices and didn’t spend my time tethered to someone else’s professional expectations of me.

#personal life #thoughts #work culture #overwork #cancer #free time #mental health

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soobiniebaby · 4 years

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Angels & Devils Part XI : I’m Yours, You’re Mine

A n g e l s & D e v i l s || Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

Over the weekend, B and Kai had spent most of their time lounging around the living room, finishing the entire season of It’s Okay to Not Be Okay on Netflix on Saturday and having a movie marathon on Sunday. They ordered all their meals and had all the food they wanted delivered to the apartment, their food cravings ranging from donuts and milk tea to egg tarts and mint chocolate ice cream. It felt like one of the many sleepovers they used to have when they were kids, only now it was just the 2 of them in a place of their own, without nosy siblings or strict parents to bother them or tell them what they could or couldn’t do.

Other than stuffing their faces with food and drowning their emotions in Netflix, they finally had all the time in the world to do all the catching up that they hadn’t been able to, asking questions and telling stories about what they had missed out on each other’s lives through the years.

“First kiss?” B asks.

“Oh, I think I was in the 7th grade, and it was with Im Yeojin. You?”

“Lucas Wong. A couple of years ago.” B responds.

Kai shakes his head. “That guy was your first kiss ever? Lucas? Your ex?”

B nods. “The one and only. Next question please?”

“Alright, worst ex?” Kai asks intentionally.

“Ningning, you know I’ve only had 1 boyfriend.”

“Yes, and he was the worst! He had the audacity to cheat on you! And all because you wouldn’t ‘put out?’ He's lucky I lived 3 hours away or else I would’ve kicked his ass.” Kai says, huffing.

B laughs, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat that formed whenever she talked about her horrible ex boyfriend. There was so much more to their relationship than him cheating on her cause she wouldn’t put out, but she wasn’t ready to let her best friend know all about it just yet. “Thanks, but judging by the size of his biceps, I don’t think that could’ve ever happened anyway.”

Kai pouts. “Are you saying I should start going to the gym?”

B laughs at him dismissively before changing the subject.

Also, sharing a living space with another person was also a bit of an adjustment for B since she had already gotten used to living alone. Her apartment only had one bathroom which she now shared with Kai, and now she had to keep all her personal toiletries set aside and her feminine hygiene products kept away, not wanting a repeat of the horrifying moment when her best friend walked out of the bathroom with his face all red.

“What happened to you?” she had asked, noticing how flushed he looked after being in the bathroom for 20 minutes.

“You know that when I’m, um, taking a shit I like to read the back of labels of whatever I see in the bathroom, right?” Kai starts slowly.

“Okay, weird, but go on.”

He takes a big gulp before continuing. “Well, let’s just say I now know how to properly put on a tampon. And let me just say, I’m glad I wasn’t born a woman.”

After that incident, B made sure to keep all feminine hygiene products hidden away in the bathroom cabinets. She ensured to leave a stack of random books and magazines on the bathroom counters so Kai would have something to read when doing his business. Other than that, B also had to remind herself that it was no longer socially acceptable to walk around her apartment in nothing but a tshirt and underwear on, since she had gotten used to roaming the space without worrying about other people seeing what she looked like. She usually went to bed in just a shirt and underwear and roll out of bed and straight into the kitchen for breakfast without a care in the world. Now, she had to double check and make sure that she was wearing bottoms and a bra before stepping out of her bedroom.

Even though there were many things she hadn’t considered before inviting a guy to stay in her apartment, she had to admit that it was nice to have company around. She hadn’t realized how lonely it was to live alone until Kai had come along, and now she was already sort of dreading the day when he’d get better and move out. She was starting to consider finding a room mate before then, knowing that she’d feel lonely once her company had to leave.

Come Monday morning, B woke up feeling excited. She rolled out of bed, put on a pair of shorts, and made her way to the kitchen, only to be surprised by the sight of breakfast already prepared on the table. A plate full of bacon and sunny side up eggs, a bowl full of fresh fruit and cereal, and a glass of blue lemonade were all neatly laid out on the table, and Kai was sitting there with an apron still tied around his waist. When he saw B step out from her room, he immediately greeted her “Wakey wakey Baba, time to go back to school!”

B rubs the sleep from her eyes, making sure she wasn’t just dreaming that Kai had prepared breakfast for her. Once the smell of freshly cooked bacon filled wafted in the air, she immediately brightens up and walks on over to give her best friend a hug.

“Ningning, you did all this for me? Thank you so much!” she says in awe.

“Yup, I wanted to make it special since it’ll be your first day back at MOA today.” Kai says. “Now hurry up before it gets cold. You have to be ready in 40 minutes.”

B all but gobbles up all the food that Kai had prepared for her before jumping into the shower, drying her hair, putting on some make up and changing into her school uniform, making sure she had everything she needed before letting Kai walk her to the front door.

“Have fun, Baba!” Kai says.

“Sure thing. Make sure to keep the door locked and call me if you need anything.” she says, waving goodbye before making her way downstairs to meet Taehyun.

As soon as Taehyun sees her, his eyes visibly light up.

“B! Finally, I’ve missed you so much.” he says, waving hello before stretching his arms out towards her. “Come here!”

B excitedly runs up, preparing to hug Taehyun, until at the last minute he folds his hands across his chest and takes a step back, which stops her in her tracks.

“On second thought, don’t touch me. You may be medically cleared already, but since Hyuka’s staying with you, you might still be carrying the pox.” he says. It’s only then when she notices that he was wearing a face mask and had a small spray bottle of alcohol hanging from his school ID lace.

She smiles at him sheepishly. “I missed you too, you know.” she says, opting to wrap her arms around her own torso instead.

He laughs at her silly antics before following suit, wrapping his arms around himself. “Let’s just pretend that we’re hugging right now.”

B nods. “Alrighty. Thanks, Tyun.”

“Don’t mention it. Now come on, put on your face mask and make sure you have hand sanitizer before we go.” he says, adjusting the mask on his face.

She puts on a mask and puts a small bottle of hand sanitizer in her pocket before they start making their way to school.

“I’ve missed these walks of ours.” B says happily, breathing in the morning air.

“I’ve missed them too. And I’ve missed you. School was a bit boring without you, and walking to school alone just didn’t feel the same.”

“How have things at MOA been, apart from the health protocols? And how are the guys?” B asks.

“Apart from the implementation of health protocols, school has pretty much been the same. The guys miss you. I think they’re excited to see you.” Taehyun responds.

“I miss them too.” B says, sighing. She and Yeonjun had FaceTimed every night through the weekend, but she missed him, and she felt a bit sad that they had to cancel their supposed last date. She had to admit that she missed the other guys too. “What makes you think they’re excited to see me, though?”

“They told me to ask you if you could meet them by the front gate of MOA before classes start this morning.” Taehyun says.

“Oh? They did? Weird, but okay. I wonder why.” B says, trying to think of why they might want to meet up. “How have you been? Has anything in your life changed in the past week?” she asks.

Taehyun shrugs. “Not really, same old same old. Just the usual studying at school and working at the café.” he says. “What about you? How have you been doing?”

B shrugs too, mimicking his response. “I’ve been good, nothing much going on.” she says casually, which was a lie. She wanted to tell him about Yeonjun and about how he asked her out and all the dates he put together, but a part of her was scared about how he’d react, so she thought it would be better to tell him when the time was right.

As she and Taehyun approach the campus, her eyes catch sight of 3 familiar figures standing right outside of the gates, particularly to the head of blue hair.

B feels her heart jump out of her chest, speeding up her walking, and Taehyun runs to catch up to her as she starts waving her arms in the air the closer they got until the 3 boys look up in her direction and they all wave back.

“Seriously, you 3, why aren’t you wearing face masks?” Taehyun says as they meet the 3 boys outside the gate.

“Well good morning to you too, Tyun.” Beomgyu says playfully. “Relax, we’re not within campus grounds so we don’t have to wear masks yet.”

B laughs at their banter. “I think Tyun’s just worried that you’ll catch Kai’s chicken pox germs if you stand too close to me without a mask on.” she jokes. “So, why are we meeting up here outside the gates instead of at the front steps like we usually do?”

“Hey, B! Good to see you again.” Beomgyu says.

“Well, you see, there are new health protocols set in place on campus right now, and as members of the student council, we can never be caught violating any rules set within the school.” Yeonjun begins, smiling at her brightly, like there was a secret that only the 2 of them shared.

“Alright, and…?” B asks, not sure where they were going with this.

“And before we go in and start off another week of school, there’s just this 1 health protocol we’d like to violate.” Beomgyu continues.

“Okay, which one? Is it the face mask thing? Why are we standing outside the school gates?” B asks, still confused.

“So we can do this.” Soobin says, before taking a step towards B with arms outstretched and pulling her into him, his whole body engulfing her in a hug.

He feels time stop the moment his arms wrap themselves around her body, her face buried in his chest, the top of her head inches away from his chin, the smell of her lavender-scented shampoo tickling his nose, his hands resting on the curves in her waist.

When Soobin woke up feeling excited that day, he told himself it was just because he was excited to start a new week of school, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case.

When the guys suggested that they wait for B outside the school gates so that they could greet her a proper ‘welcome back,’ he felt a flutter in his chest, and he told himself that it was just because he was happy that their group would be complete again (minus Kai), but deep down, he knew he was only fooling himself.

When he and the guys stood outside the school gates waiting for B and Taehyun to arrive, he could feel his heart start to beat even faster in anticipation, and he told himself it was just because he was looking forward to see their friend again after a whole week, but he knew there was more to it than that.

When he saw her waving her arms in the air and walking towards them, he felt his breath catch in his throat, and he told himself it was just because he was surprised to see her looking so radiant and healthy knowing how badly sick she was, but he knew it was because of how he was just now realizing how beautiful she really was.

When he took a step towards her and engulfed her delicate figure in his arms, feeling the warmth of her body against his, a feeling washed over him unlike anything he’s experienced before, as if by having her in his arms everything in the world was finally falling into place and the pounding in his chest and the flutter of butterfly wings in his stomach finally made sense, and it was at that moment he knew with absolute certainty just what it was.

It was her. It was B.

He didn’t know how it came to be, or why exactly it happened, but all he knew was that it was her.

It was him realizing that he was falling in love with her.

And the feeling hit him so suddenly with such clarity that for a moment, it felt like the whole world stood still, as his breath seemed to catch in his throat and time seemed to stop as he held her in his arms, savoring the moment and all the emotions that were hitting him all at once.

She lets out a surprised squeal as Soobin pulls her in, only to be muffled by her face being buried in his chest as they embrace.

“Soobinie!” she says, laughing in surprise. “I missed you too.”

Soobin smiles to himself, tempted to rest his chin on her head, but he was aware of the presence of their friends, so he slowly lets her go, his eyes meeting Taehyun’s as he does, and Taehyun’s expression quickly changes as he realizes what was happening.

Taehyun raises his brows in question, and Soobin gives him a quick and discreet nod in response, to which Taehyun shakes his head.

Soobin keeps his head down to conceal the blush creeping into his face as B steps away and Beomgyu tackles her into a hug.

“We missed you so much! I wish I could’ve gotten an excuse to skip school for a week too, though.” Beomgyu says slyly.

“Hey, I did not skip school! I called you everyday to listen in on lectures, remember?” B says defensively, hitting Beomgyu’s chest. “If you wanna stay at home so bad, maybe you should come over to my place. I’m sure Hyuka would gladly give you a big hug, along with the chicken pox of course.”

Beomgyu steps away and holds his hands up in the air in front of him. “No way, I don’t want chicken pox. I’d rather endure school than have hideous spots all over my body.”

B looks at him offended. “You think I have hideous spots all over my body?” she says through gritted teeth.

“Oh, now you’ve done it, Gyu.” Taehyun says, watching as Beomgyu runs away from B to hide behind him. “Don’t worry B, I’ll help you kidnap him after school. I think Hyuka would like to have an extra playmate.”

“I never said that!” Beomgyu cries, running from Taehyun to Yeonjun now, hiding behind the blue haired boy. “B, you look beautiful as always. If anything, the spots just accentuate your beauty.” he says desperately.

B scoffs. “Oh shut up. You’re lucky I like you, or else I would’ve slapped you so hard that the spots would transfer from my skin to yours.”

Yeonjun laughs, shielding Beomgyu behind him. “Wow, I never pegged you to be violent.” he says.

B shrugs. “I’m not. I’m just saying, I could slap someone if I wanted to.”

Yeonjun shakes his head, pulling her into his arms. “Welcome back, Baby.” he whispers in her ear, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and slowly stroking the small of her back, making sure that the other boys don’t see, before letting her go.

Once she pulls away, her face is noticeably red, and Yeonjun can’t help but laugh. God, she looked adorable. He gives her a quick wink before saying “And now that that’s settled, shall we head to class?”

The 3 boys put on their facemasks and let B lead the way into the school gates, each of them having their body temperatures checked and their hands disinfected before walking through the gates.

As B walks ahead of the boys, the 4 boys pair off.

Beomgyu slings an arm around Yeonjun’s shoulders, keeping his voice low as he says “So now that’s she’s back, will you guys have the talk now?”

“What talk?” Yeonjun asks.

“The talk? The relationship talk. You know, the talk about your feelings and where you guys stand and what your label is and stuff like that.” Beomgyu says knowingly. “If the 2 of you don’t want to put a label on whatever it is you 2 are, then you should at least let the other guys know that you’re dating.”

Yeonjun shrugs. “Don’t worry, Gyu. I’ve got it all planned out, you’ll see. I’ve been planning this for days now, but considering that we’re at school, I’ll have to make do. At the end of the day, we might even let you guys know about us.” he responds, his eyes glued to the girl in front of them, which automatically puts a smile on his face. “I’m gonna make that girl mine.”

Meanwhile, Taehyun attempts to sling his arm around Soobin’s shoulders, but with the other boy being much taller and walking a bit faster, he settled for interlocking his arm around Soobin’s instead.

“Oh, hey Tyun.” Soobin says, surprised by the sudden lock on his arm. “What’s up?”

“’What’s up?’” Taehyun says, mimicking him. “You tell me. All your questions about falling in love and stuff…were they about B? Is it her? Are you in love with—”

Soobin cuts him off. “Shhh, the other guys might hear you!” he says, hurriedly looking around and seeing that no one was within ear shot. “Yes, it’s about her. Let’s talk about this later, okay? Alone.”

Taehyun sighs. “Fine, but wow, I should’ve known. I had a feeling it was her. You 2 would make a great couple.” he says teasingly.

“Oh shut up, you know-it-all.” Soobin says, flustered. “I’m sure you would’ve figured it out sooner or later anyway, you’re too damn smart, you know?”

Taehyun laughs. “It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’ve got it bad, Binnie.” he says. “Let’s talk about it soon, okay? Just hang in there.”

Soobin sighs, his eyes focus on the girl walking in front of them. “Trust me, I’m trying.”

•°•

B had to admit that Yeonjun’s sudden request had her heart fluttering, but more than anything it got her head buzzing with curiosity. Within 5 minutes she had excused herself from class, 3rd period biology which she didn’t share with any of the guys, and she was on her way to the student council room, which she had only been to once before with Soobin and Yeonjun. Technically, she was cutting class, but a few minutes probably wouldn’t hurt.

B takes a deep breath, not knowing what quite to expect, before turning the knob on the double doors to the student council room, taking a step inside.

The room was dark, the blackout curtains doing their job, and was only illuminated by the light spilling in from the door and a set of candles in the middle of the conference table, which also highlighted the fact that the conference table seemed to be overflowing with blue rose petals.

And there was Yeonjun, leaning against the table, a single blue rose in his hand. It’s only then when B looks down and notices that the carpeted floor all the way from the entrance of the room to the spot where Yeonjun was standing by the conference table was littered with blue rose petals.

“Yeonjun? What is this?” B asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind her, the only source of light in the room now coming from the candles. She removes her face mask, noticing that he wasn’t currently wearing one, and pockets it in her blazer.

“Baby. Come here.” he says, patting the spot on the table beside him. B walks over to the table, stepping on countless blue petals as she did so, and once she reaches him, Yeonjun takes her by surprise and carries her, lifting her up and setting her down on the table.

“Yeonjun!” she squeals in surprise, clinging on to him for dear life. As her bottom hits the table, she lets go and whacks his arm. “You surprised me!” she huffs, surprised by his sudden maneuver. “And you’re breaking the health protocols! What’s all this for anyway?”

He stands in front of her, simply staring at her, admiring how she looked in the candlelight. A few blue petals had fallen over the edge when he set her down on the table, but that didn’t bother him. He had skipped the entirety of 3rd period to prepare for this moment, so he wouldn’t let anything distract him now.

“All this?” he simply says. Upon seeing the confused look on her face, he takes a step towards her, situating himself in between her dangling legs, and he rests his hands on either side of her, his palms laid flat on the table just centimeters away from her thighs. The whole mood in the room shifted from playful to something different with just that simple action. “All this is for you.”

B could feel her heart start to pound in her chest again. She tried to keep a level head but Yeonjun was standing so close that she could smell him, the scent of his cologne now very familiar to her, and she could feel parts of his uniform lightly tickling at her inner thighs where he stood, sending shivers down her spine. “For me? Why?”

“Because, Baby, you deserve it. You deserve all of it.” he begins carefully, slowly, his gaze locking her in place. “I told you I want to give you all the good things you deserve, and during the past week I tried. Those dates meant a lot to me and I can only hope that you enjoyed them half as much as I did. My plans were cut short because of your unexpected temporary roommate,” he says, fondly referring to Kai, “and maybe I should’ve waited a little bit longer to do this, but I don’t think I can keep this to myself any longer.”

B looks down then, her cheeks starting to heat up. She sees how close his hands are to her thighs and her mouth goes dry. He was standing so close. “What are you talking about?” she says, her eyes transfixed on his hands.

Her eyes follow as he raises one hand to cup her face, lifting it up slightly to meet his gaze. “I want you, Baby.” he says, looking right into her eyes. “I want you to be mine.”

B takes a deep breath, finding herself unable to look away, before she says “I want you, too.”

And with those words, Yeonjun couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned forward, closing what little distance was left between them, and pulled her face up to his, their lips crashing together.

~ w a r n i n g : makeout scene ~

Praying that he couldn’t hear her pounding heartbeat, B returns the kiss with equal fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Her fingers entwine themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, effectively disheveling his blue hair.

Yeonjun’s hands inch away from the table and come in direct contact with her thighs, the sudden warmth of his palms on her bare skin causing B’s mouth to open a little to let out a breath of surprise. She feels him smile against her lips, amused by her reaction, before taking the opportunity to trace her lower lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, which she allows.

His hands start to move slowly up her body then, he slides them up from her thighs to her waist, her skirt hiking up a few inches higher in the process. He breaks the kiss, allowing a moment for them to catch their breaths, before bowing his head down, his lips coming in contact with the sensitive skin on her neck.

“Oh god.” B breathes out, surprised by the contact, and again she feels his lips form a smile against her skin. She tilts her head backwards, his lips trailing kisses along her exposed skin, her heavy breaths starting to make her feel lightheaded.

Just as he’s about to pull away, his lips brush against the dip in her collarbone, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist and her fingers in his hair to dig in deeper, her body reacting to him before her mind could grasp what was happening.

“Fuck.” he breathes against her skin, feeling himself start to lose control.

B’s grip loosens then, her hands dropping from his hair to rest on his shoulders, her breathing heavy as she lets her head fall forward to rest on the top of his head, his face still buried in her neck. “Sorry.” she whispers, trying to control the rise and fall of her chest.

His grip on her waist remains tight, her blouse bunched up in his fists, his head buried in her neck as he tries to calm himself down, his breath coming out through clenched teeth. For a moment, they stay like that, until Yeonjun’s grip gradually starts to loosen, letting go of the fabric of her blouse as his hands go from clenching her waist to gently tracing circles on the now exposed skin on her hips.

~ end of makeout scene ~

“You…” he begins slowly, lifting his head and letting it rest against her forehead, their breaths mingling. “You drive me crazy, you know?”

She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head lightly against his. “Not really, no.”

He laughs too, reaching a hand up to caress her hair, his eyes on hers once again. “Baby.” he simply says.

“Yes?” she responds, unable to stop a smile from creeping on her face. He smiles too, his heart fluttering, and he takes a deep breath before saying the next few words.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

She nods her head eagerly, their foreheads rubbing together. “Choi Yeonjun, I’m all yours.” she says, laughing upon seeing his bright smile. She kisses his nose, then his forehead and each of his cheeks. He starts laughing as she showers his face with light kisses. “I’m yours, you’re mine, Baby.” he says, the feeling washing over him.

“You think it’s safe to let everyone know now?” Yeonjun asks her, remembering how he promised Beomgyu they’d tell the rest of the boys about it soon.

B nods, biting her lip as she thinks of how people would react to the news. Yeonjun was her boyfriend. “Yes.”

He uses his thumb to free her lower lip from her teeth, gently tracing it before kissing her softly again. “Let’s tell the guys later. At lunch.” he says, referring to their daily lunchbreaks spent at the gazebo.

“Sure.” she says. Then she pulls away and pushes herself off the table, straightening out her uniform as she does so. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Biology class to get back to.”

Yeonjun smirks, watching her pull her skirt down and tuck the hem of her blouse back in, straightening her blazer and running her fingers through her hair. It gave him some sort of satisfaction, knowing that he had gotten her so disheveled. He leans back against the table, running a hand through his hair and straightening out his necktie as well, keeping his hands in the front pockets of his trousers.

“Aren’t you coming back to class?” B asks, pulling the face mask out of her blazer pocket and putting securing it over her nose and mouth. “There’s only a few more minutes, and then it’ll be our lunch break.”

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I never went to third period.” he admits. “You better get back to class and surrender your hall pass though. I’ll meet you at the gazebo for lunch.” he says.

B’s mouth drops open. “You skipped third period?” she exclaims. “Please promise me you won’t skip classes again, please?” she pouts.

He laughs, taking her hand and pulling her closer. “I promise. Except for when my father requests it, though. But this is the last non-business related time I skip class.” he says, kissing the back of her hand. “You better hurry back, the bell rings in about 10 minutes.”

“Oh my god, I am so dead!” she squeals, her eyes widen as starts to pull away, but Yeonjun’s grip on her wrist keeps her in place.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he says pointedly, his brow raised.

“Oh.” she simply says, before standing on her tiptoes and using a finger to pull her mask down, giving him a quick peck on the lips before pulling the mask back up. “That?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You are adorable. I meant this,” he says, planting the single blue rose in her free hand. “but thanks, Baby.”

She blushes beet red then, straightening out her blazer one last time and quickly saying “See you at lunch, Yeonjun!” before dashing out the door.

He uses the remaining 10 minutes of 3rd period to distract himself from his thoughts by cleaning up all the rose petals he had set up. He wasn’t expecting things to get so heated, he only wanted to ask her to be his girlfriend, but he had to admit that he was pleasantly surprised by the turn of events. Just thinking about how she had reacted to his touches and how adorably flustered she got made him smile to himself, but the memory of her wrapping her legs around his waist and tilting her head back sent his mind wandering into the very place he was trying to distract himself from in the first place.

He sighs, shaking his head as he forced his thoughts to go focus into another mindset instead. He checks his watch, the petals all put away in a garbage bag. As the lunch bell rings, he grabs his things and locks the student council room behind him, putting on a face mask before making his way to the gazebo where he would meet his friends and his girlfriend for lunch.

Now he just had to tell his friends about his girlfriend.

•°•

When B got back to her Biology class, the teacher fortunately didn’t seem to notice that she was gone for well over 5 minutes, but her friends definitely did. When she sat back down beside Ryujin and Yuna, they definitely noticed how long her absence was, and they took note of how flushed she looked, and of the blue rose that he had haphazardly tucked under her blazer.

“Spill it. Now.” the 2 girls eagerly say, eyeing her like a hawk.

“Yeonjun asked me to meet up with him at the student council room.” B whispers to them, making sure that they were the only ones within earshot.

“Ooh, a steamy secret rendezvous in the middle of class?” Ryujin says teasingly.

“No, it wasn’t like that.” B aggressively whispers back, well-aware of how her cheeks were heating up as she tries to push away thoughts of Yeonjun’s lips on her neck.

“So what was it like then?” Yuna asks innocently.

Unable to contain her smile, B says “He asked me to be his girlfriend. And I said yes.”

The 2 girls quietly squeal at the good news. “Wow! Congrats!” Ryujin says.

Yuna nods. “Wow, and just like that for the first time in 2 years, Choi Yeonjun has a girlfriend.”

“2 years? He hasn’t had a girlfriend in 2 years?” B asks, surprised. Since everyone kept mentioning Yeonjun having a record for being one of the biggest flirts on campus, she was expecting him to have a long list of complicated past relationships.

“Well, real serious girlfriends, yeah. He’s been on a few dates with some girls since then, but it never really went beyond that so I wouldn’t call them girlfriends. And if I’m not mistaken, she was his first girlfriend. His first love, actually.” Yuna says thoughtfully. “I don’t really know her since she was never a student here.”

“I did, sort of.” Ryujin pipes up. “Gyu told me all about the guys’ past relationships. He mentioned Yeonjun and Rose’s relationship a lot. He said she was…” she starts, trying to choose her words carefully. “well, a complete bitch.”

“Rose?” B says, the name completely foreign to her. “His first girlfriend? So he’s only had 1 other girlfriend before me? And she was a complete bitch?” she asks, her head spinning with information.

Ryuji nods. “Yeah, despite his track record and dating history, he’s only ever had 1 serious relationship, and that was with Rose.” she says. “Gyu said they were intense. It was one of those relationships that were just so, um, loud I guess?”

“Loud? What do you mean?” B asks, genuinely curious yet a bit afraid to find out the answer.

“Gyu said they were one of those couples who were always so in-your-face about their relationship. Yeonjun wasn’t active on social media back then, but she was, and she was flaunting her relationship all over, showing off all the stuff he’d spoil her with and everything. Not only that, but they were one of those couples that, when going through a fight, the whole world would know about. According to Gyu, their relationship was dramatic and fiery and intense and so damn toxic, but Yeonjun was head over heels for her, which annoyed the guys to no end.”

“That sounds kind of awful.” B says, unable to imagine Yeonjun in such a relationship. “Kind of weird that the guys didn’t seem so supportive, either?”

Ryujin shakes her head. “That’s not even the worst of it. Apparently, she cheated on him with another rich kid she met while she was on vacation or something. Gyu says he hasn’t hated anyone as much as he hated Rose.”

“Now that sounds really awful.” B said, the information overload swirling around in her head. She couldn’t even imagine how awful this girl must’ve been for even Beomgyu and his friends to hate her so much. Why had Yeonjun fallen in love with such an awful person? And how could he have stayed in such a toxic relationship? And how could anyone cheat on him?

“I can’t say for sure since I personally don’t know her, Gyu just showed me a few of her pictures before, but he made her sound like the devil incarnate.” Ryujin says.

“Well, devil incarnate or not, Yeonjun’s definitely taken his standards to a different level with you.” Yuna says a bit comfortingly, squeezing B’s arm, trying to move away from the unpleasant topic. “And the best part is, I’m pretty sure all his friends love you already, so you won’t have to worry about that either. You and Yeonjun are solid.”

“Thanks, Yuna.” B says, smiling in relief. Then, remembering what Kai had told her about wanting to ask Yuna out, B giggles to herself.

“What was that for?” Yuna asks, noticing the sudden giggle.

Just then, the lunch bell rings, and B stands up instantly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Nothing. Just excited about my new relationship, I guess.” And about your soon-to-be relationship with my best friend. she thinks to herself, before greeting the girls goodbye and leaving the room.

Due to Kai’s absence, she had to walk to the gazebo alone, growing accustomed to having him pick her up outside her classroom so they could walk to the gazebo together. Now that she was left alone with her thoughts, she was starting to feel overwhelmed about everything that had happened that morning, from being back in school to her meet up with Yeonjun to officially being his girlfriend to learning about his ex. Even though she had learned a lot from Ryujin, she had to admit that her curiosity was still taking over her thoughts, which she knew would probably do no good for her new relationship.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder about Yeonjun’s past relationship, and worry about how similar it had sounded to her relationship with her one and only ex boyfriend.

As she approaches the gazebo, she sees that Yeonjun and the rest of the guys were already there, sitting at their usual places. Without Kai, she wasn’t sure where she should sit. She usually sat beside Soobin cause that’s where Kai would usually sit before welcoming her into the group, but now she wasn’t sure.

Before she started to worry too much about where to sit, the boys spotted her approaching the gazebo and started waving at her. She smiles and waves back, stepping into the gazebo.

“There you are! Ah, it feels good to see your face around here again.” Beomgyu says, welcoming her in. “And just in time, too. Yeonjun says he has an important announcement that he’d like to make.”

“That we’d like to make, actually.” Yeonjun says, offering B a hand as she steps in, and she takes his hand shyly, letting him guide her into the small space.

“Oh?” Taehyun says, eyeing the 2 with a bad feeling in his gut. “What announcement?”

B takes a deep breath suddenly feeling shy and nervous, her eyes on the ground. She was starting to feel worried about how their friends might react, and guilty about not telling them about the whole thing in the first place. She had grown very fond of the boys and felt very comfortable around them, their closeness making her feel safe, as if she belonged. She was afraid that being Yeonjun’s girlfriend would change the way they see her or the way they treat her.

Sensing her nerves, Yeonjun squeezes her hand, urging her to look at him instead. He offers her a small smile, which she nervously returns. He nods at her before turning his attention to the 3 boys seated. “First thing’s first, I just wanna say that I’m sorry we didn’t tell you guys about this sooner. We just agreed that it would be best to keep it between us until we were sure about how things would go.”

“Whatever it is, we understand.” Soobin says with a smile on his face yet with a sinking feeling in his stomach, his mind buzzing at Yeonjun’s choice of words.

We.

Taehyun looks at his president with worry, a part of him dreading whatever Yeonjun would say next yet already sensing what was coming.

Yeonjun smiles brightly, his heart fluttering as he looks at the girl by his side before slinging an arm over her shoulders and pulling her to his side. “Baby and I are together.”

As the words leave Yeonjun’s mouth, Soobin’s gaze instantly falls on B, wanting to see if it was true or if it was some sort of weird prank that Yeonjun was pulling. When he sees her smile shyly, attempting to bury her face in the blue haired boy’s chest, his heart sinks.

“We’re officially a couple.” she confirms, her face getting redder by the second as she looks up at Yeonjun, who he could tell was grinning behind his face mask.

Soobin didn’t know what felt worse, the fact that his best friend and the girl he just realized he was falling for were now a couple, or the fact that now he was falling in love with his best friend’s girlfriend. Seeing them together now—her with her flushed cheeks and her tight grip on Yeonjun’s necktie and him with his arm dropping down from her shoulders to her waist, securing her by his side—made Soobin feel a bit sick. But what made him feel even sicker was the fact that seeing them together was making him feel sick in the first place. His best friend had finally found an amazing girl 2 years after his horrendous break up and was now dating said amazing girl. He wanted nothing more than to feel happy, but the fact that he didn’t made him feel terrible.

Before Soobin’s guilt starts to consume him, Beomgyu suddenly claps, sending a jolt through everyone in the gazebo. “Wow, congratulations B and YJ!” he says, approaching the couple and happily slapping the older boy on his back. “You 2 look great together.”

“Thanks, Gyu.” B says shyly, her blush visible even through her face mask, one hand fisting Yeonjun’s necktie as he kept her close to him.

“Don’t mention it, I’m happy that this guy has finally moved on.” Beomgyu says teasingly. “And that he was able to score someone way out of his league.” he says, wiggling his brows at the pair.

“Shut up, BG.” Yeonjun says, playfully shoving Beomgyu away before they share a quick high five “You’re right though, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” he says, using his free hand to caress her hair.

“Shut up, both of you.” she says, flustered. She looks at Taehyun and Soobin anxiously, holding her breath as she waited for their reactions. So far, the two boys had either been staring at her and Yeonjun or at each other.

Finally, Taehyun stands up, approaching the couple. “B.” he simply says, which causes her heart to sink a little.

“Tyunie?” she asks, nervously waiting to know his verdict. She and Taehyun had formed a sort of special bond over their walks together, and his opinion was the one that she worried about the most. She wanted to apologize on the spot for not telling him about it sooner, and explain everything about the past couple of weeks to him to make him understand why she had chosen to keep her relationship with Yeonjun a secret. She didn’t know why, but she wanted Taehyun’s approval.

He smiles at her then, and she feels the weight lifted off her chest. “Congratulations.” he finally says, stepping towards her and hugging her, which she wholeheartedly returned. She lets out a sigh as he rubs her back, her chin tucked into his shoulder, before he pulls away. “I just broke a health protocol for you.” he suddenly says, horrified. He instantly steps away then and starts to vigorously spray his hands, arms and neck with alcohol, which causes B to burst out laughing.

“You did it cause you looove me.” she says teasingly. “And thanks, Tyun.” she says, glad that he approved, though she made a mental note to tell him about all the details later on. She felt like she owed him that much.

It’s quiet for a moment as Yeonjun’s gaze lands on Soobin, the only one in the group who hadn’t shown any reaction towards the news as he had just been staring back and forth between him and B the whole time.

For Yeonjun, it was Soobin’s opinion he valued the most. Soobin was one of the few people in the world that Yeonjun would trust with his life. He was the only one among his friends who supported his relationship with Rose, valuing Yeonjun’s happiness above his own when he was clearly unhappy about the whole incident.

He was the one who was there for Yeonjun when everything came crashing down, the one who helped Yeonjun pick himself back up after being cheated on by his first love, the one who helped save Yeonjun from the nights when he would drown himself in alcohol in the hopes of numbing the heartache, the one who would sneak into Yeonjun’s house in the middle of the night to make sure he was asleep safe and sound in his bed rather than hooking up with random girls and picking fights with random guys at the bar, the one who would talk Yeonjun into giving his father a chance and reason with him that his father only wanted what was best for his son, the one who encouraged Yeonjun to join the dance club and the jazzed club and the student council, the one who begged the faculty and advisers to give Yeonjun a second chance at finishing school at MOA promising that he would keep his friend in check, the one who would do anything to make Yeonjun smile, and the one who would always tell Yeonjun the truth.

He stares at Soobin until Soobin’s eyes finally meet his and he stands up, making his way towards the blue haired boy. Once they stood face to face, there’s a moment of silence before Soobin’s face melts into a warm smile, his dimples peeking out from under his mask, his eyes crinkling at the corners, which instantly puts a smile on Yeonjun’s face as well.

Yeonjun pulls him into a hug, relieved. “Congratulations, Yeonjun.” the taller boy says, patting his back a couple of times before pulling away. “I’m so happy for you.” he says.

“Thanks, Binnie.” Yeonjun says, patting him on the back as well. “This means a lot to me.”

Soobin nods at him before turning to B, and before he can say or do anything, she throws her arms out to him and pulls him in for a hug, her tiny body feeling especially fragile as her arms squeezed around his waist.

He looks down at B then, finding her in his arms for the second time that day, in almost the exact same way. Again, he feels time stop the moment his arms wrap themselves around her body, only this time she had her arms around his waist as well. Her face was buried in his chest, the top of her head inches away from his chin, the smell of her lavender-scented shampoo taking over his senses, his hands resting on the curves of her waist.

Only now it felt completely different.

When he hugged her this morning, it felt like everything in the world was falling into place, the feeling hitting him so suddenly with such clarity, as if time seemed to stop as he was hit with the realization that he was falling in love.

As he hugged her now, it felt like everything in the world was falling apart, the horrible feeling hitting him as he felt his heart sink deeper and deeper, as if time seemed to stop as he was hit with the reality that she was Yeonjun’s, that what he felt for her was wrong, that he could never let his feelings for her go past what they were now, that he probably shouldn’t even be hugging her anymore.

“Thanks, Soobinie.” she says in response to how he had congratulated Yeonjun.

“No problem, B.” he says, lifting a hand up to gently stroke her hair, taking a deep breath and taking in her lavender scent, savoring the warmth of her body against his one last time, telling himself he’d never hug her like this for as long as he could handle it. As he lays his chin gently at the top of her head, his eyes meet Taehyun’s, who was standing behind her, staring at him with a sad look in his eyes.

Soobin squeezes his eyes shut, prolonging the hug for a moment longer, before finally pulling away, looking directly at her eyes. She was glowing, her face flushed yet radiant, her smile so big that it was visible under her mask, she looked so so happy that it made his heart ache, knowing that the next few words he’d speak out loud would kill him yet knowing that he meant every bit of it.

“I’m happy for you.”

•°•

Author’s note:

Hello, thank you for reading! I’m trying to get more familiar with Tumblr, so if you have any suggestions or comments don’t be afraid to drop them! (PS I’m not even sure how to reply to comments, that’s how bad I am at using Tumblr lol but I promise that all replies are highly appreciated!!) PS: Happy 1 year anniversary/birthday, MOA! <3 Also: STREAM DRAMA MV!

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