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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Win Me Back

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader’s ex-boyfriend comes back to town, he finds a way to make amends— with a little help from her niece.

Category: FLUFF

Warnings: None other than a few swears :)

Word Count: 3k (I barely made the limit, folks, that was hard lol)

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my entry for @homoose ‘s 2k Celebration!! And if this fic seems familiar, that may be because it’s a re-telling of the car-wash scene from Ramona and Beezus 🤭😂 It’s one of my favorite movie scenes of all time, it never fails to make me squeal, and I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!

Also! I tried very hard to find the scene for you to watch incase you haven’t seen the movie, but the ones I did manage to find on YouTube cut out THE BEST PARTS, so I’m sorry 😭 But in case you want to know the ~vibes~ I tried to capture and don’t feel like watching the movie, I made THIS post last night with some dialogue/background from the scene if you’d like to read it! Obviously it’s not required since what I’ve written is quite different, but it is encouraged 😊

I hope you like it!! And if somehow you haven’t followed Moose yet, you should! She’s the sweetest ❤❤❤

***

Y/N found an abundance of upsides to taking neighborhood walks with her niece. For one thing, it gave her a distraction, something to focus on as she made sure eight-year-old Piper wouldn't wander too far from the sidewalk. She found solace in quizzing her on the multiplication table as they made their way around the block, an activity in which Piper enthusiastically flaunted her love of numbers.

It was also nice to stay outside and take in the warm sun and soft rustling of the trees, though every once in a while all of it wasn't enough to keep the memory of Spencer at bay.

After all, it was kind of hard when he was back in town, and after all these years he was reaching out to her like he hadn't broken her heart in the first place.

"You seem sad, Auntie," Piper said, grabbing Y/N's hand as the turned the corner.

Y/N swung their arms together gently, smiling down at her with a tilt of her head. "Why d'you think that, hon?"

Piper gave a little shrug, her ponytail blowing softly behind her. "You don't smile as much. And you always smile when you're with me... And you asked me the same times equation 3 times in a row just now. You're distracted."

Y/N couldn't help the breathy laugh that escaped her. You sound just like Spencer... Instead, she told her, "Aw, I'm sorry, Kiddo. My mind is just in a... confusing place right now. But I'm very happy that you got to come stay with me this weekend, you always brighten my day." She punctuated her sentence with a little boop on Piper's nose, to which she giggled and asked for another math equation.

The two of them continued around the block a few rounds, though on their fourth and final one, Y/N noticed very familiar car parked just outside her house.

Heart jumping into her throat, she stopped in her tracks, and Piper kept going only to be pulled back slightly. The girl turned to her aunt and furrowed her brow. "Auntie, why did we stop?"

"Um... I just wasn't expecting any company today besides you..."

Y/N certainly wasn't ready to discuss everything that was going on with Spencer to anyone, let alone her eight-year-old niece who wouldn't probably understand or care anyway. So she explained it the best way she could, quickly coming up with a plan to avoid him as long as possible.

"See the car parked over there?" Y/N asked, and Piper nodded. "Well, that's an... old friend of mine... And we haven't talked in a long time because we don't really get along anymore. So when we get up to the house, he might try to talk to us, and I'm going to tell him that we're busy."

"He's not mean, is he?"

Sensing Piper's reservations, Y/N reassured her while letting her own contempt for her ex fuel the conversation. "No, but... He broke my heart. And he—"

"Y/N... Hi..."

She nearly jumped, mostly from surprise, but also at the fact that hearing her name coming from his lips and his voice and just him brought back a flood of feelings she'd rather have forgotten. Still, she turned to him and cleared her throat. "Spencer... Hi."

Piper suddenly let go of Y/N's hand, a small scoff escaping her. "Oh. Spencer..."

The two adults turned to look at her with surprise, though it was Spencer who spoke up. "You... know me?"

"Mhm," Piper returned with a nod, crossing her arms. "I heard Mom and Auntie talk about you yesterday, and she says you have a stupid, beautiful face."

"Piper!" Y/N screeched, heat rising to her face. "I... You can't tell people that, I— That's not... I..."

"Oh... I'm sorry, Auntie," the little girl said quietly.

Y/N was fully prepared to dig a hole and stay buried in it forever, and her embarrassment grew even stronger when Spencer spoke up again. "It's okay," he reassured gently, a small laugh sounding from his throat that regrettably gave Y/N butterflies. "You're auntie's definitely right, I do have a stupid face."

Before Y/N could stop the conversation altogether, Piper cut in quickly, being sure to add, "And beautiful."

Spencer's eyes flicked up to Y/N, drawing her in with amusement and charm, a fact which she hated to her core. Because it was working, and that was annoying as hell. "Yep," he said, never taking his eyes off of her. "And beautiful."

And then the corner of his mouth turned up slightly, flashing her the most amused, stupidly perfect smirk.

Piper started talking again, and for the second time that day, Y/N wished she hadn't even said anything at all, keeping this whole situation to herself.

"But we can't talk to you, because you broke Auntie's heart, and we're busy. C'mon, Auntie. Let's go." Piper grabbed Y/N's hand and led her up the rest of sidewalk until they got to the driveway. And even though it might have been childish to completely ignore Spencer as they walked past, not giving him a second glance, quite frankly she was quick to abort the situation as soon as possible.

Unfortunately for her, Spencer was persistent.

They were almost to the steps up to the door when he called out. "Piper! Can I ask you something?"

The little girl turned around, losing grip of Y/N's hand and greeting his gaze without batting an eye. "Sure."

Damn kids and their willingness to be nice to strangers, Y/N grumbled in her head.

"I know... your auntie is an important person to you, right?" Spencer inquired, walking up the driveway with his hands in his front pockets. Y/N swallowed, most certainly not noticing how the sun perfectly highlighted him in a glow that made him look more beautiful than stupid.

Piper nodded.

"Well... She's important to me, too. And I really hurt her feelings, but I want to make it up to her. Would you be kind enough to let me try?"

Damn him, Y/N grumbled yet again. Damn him, damn him, damn him to hell... Why was he so charming?

He'd always known that kids were a soft spot for her, and when they'd dated, they talked a lot about having some of their own one day. Every time they took a walk in the park and they passed a kid, they always gravitated to Spencer, giving him the biggest smiles, and in turn he would give them a high five or perform a little magic trick to make them smile even wider. And Y/N melted into a damn puddle every time.

He knew exactly what he was doing, using Piper as a means to win her back, but even still, she knew that because of his gentle nature, most of it was... well, nature. Deep down, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that he was a kind person. They may have ended things on bad terms, sure, and Y/N could pretend he was cruel all she wanted— The truth was that no matter how their relationship ended, he was a good man at heart.

And that's why it hurt so much.

Y/N thought for sure Piper would fall into his web, but she was pleasantly surprised when the girl responded with, "I don't know... I don't know if I trust you yet."

You and me both, Kiddo, Y/N thought to herself.

Spencer laughed again. "That's fair. Look, you can say no, but... How about I give you something in return?"

"Spencer, that's no—"

Piper crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, interrupting Y/N before she could finish protesting. "How much we talking?"

"Piper!"

"Well, I was going to offer to show you a magic trick, but I suppose I could work you a deal... I only have a hundred bucks on me, would that be enough?"

Sure enough, Spencer pulled a one-hundred dollar bill from his pocket, and the young girl's eyes went wide. Y/N's did, too, but more likely than not it wasn't a means of excitement.

"You have yourself a deal!" Piper squealed with a jump. She ran over to take the money, meanwhile Spencer looked up at Y/N with a smile.

She didn't return it.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked softly. Kindly.

"Well, I'm babysitting Piper today, so you'll have to come back another time," she returned a little coldly, hoping that she and Piper had just scored a free Benjamin to pig out on ice cream while Spencer was left waiting forever for a conversation that was never going to happen.

Funny how eight-year-olds always had a way of making things more difficult for you.

"Auntie, Spencer and I made a deal. He gave me money, and now he has to make it up to you. Remember?"

Y/N groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I remember..."

"Well, how about I... take you guys out for lunch? My treat? If it's alright, we can go to McDonald's..."

"The one with the play place?" Piper gasped, immediately turning to Y/N. "Oh, Auntie, please can we go? Please, please, please?"

She looked up at Spencer, shaking her head in exasperation as he smiled at her, those sparkling honey eyes reeling her in whether she wanted them to or not. Then she turned to Piper and sighed.

"How fast do you think you can eat?"

***

Y/N was surprised Spencer didn't try to talk to her more on the drive over. Though, Piper did most of the talking, telling Spencer about how much she loved numbers and math, and he even quizzed her on some multiplication equations on the way.

If she wasn't so annoyed with him, Y/N would have melted completely.

It was the getting into the restaurant that worried her the most, though. She knew that once Piper ran off to play while they waited for their food, he would spend whatever short amount of time he had trying to win her back. And she was afraid of two things, mostly that she would end up crying in the restaurant, making a scene and wishing she'd never agreed to go, no matter how heart-broken Piper might have been. But there was also a small part of her, nestled deep into her heart, that was afraid she'd fall for him all over again.

He certainly made falling easy.

When the three of them stepped into the restaurant, it was easy to see how excited Piper was to be there. She gently tugged on Y/N's sleeve before looking up at her. "Nuggets, fries, and Sprite?"

"Apples, too, and you've got yourself a deal," Y/N said.

Piper nodded, not really caring but eager to go and play. So she sighed and nodded, leaving her with a, "Be careful!" as she saw the girl quick-walk over to the play area. There was a decent crowd that day, but thankfully no one in the restaurant seemed to have any grievances or knacks for trouble.

Spencer on the other hand... Y/N scoffed to herself, thinking how he was the most troublesome person in the area.

He proved her point by nudging her with his elbow. "She's a fun one."

"Yeah, she's somethin' alright," Y/N grumbled. "I can't believe you bribed her just to talk to me... If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were being romantic. But I do know better, and you're just stubborn."

Spencer laughed, but she refused to look at him. "Aw, come on, give me some credit. You know I can be a little of both."

This time Y/N did look at him, squinting in a glare, like she was contemplating. "Eh... five to ninety-five. Leaning in favor of stubborn, of course."

"Obviously." The amusement in his voice made her hate his stupid, beautiful face even more than usual.

Thankfully he kept the conversation short after that, at least until they ordered. Since it was Spencer's treat, she milked his wallet for as much as she could afford to on fast-food. She ordered a large chocolate milkshake and enough food for her and Piper to share for dinner later— and probably lunch the next day, too. The amused chuckle Spencer let out as she was ordering did have her believing maybe she was being a bit childish. But the longer she thought about it, the more she stood by her actions.

He did break her heart after all. The least he could do was compensate through chicken nuggets and French fries.

The only thing she didn't count on, though, was how long it was going to take to make all her food, not to mention getting things done for other people. As she and Spencer made their way to the table, she realized she'd have to talk with him longer.

Spencer took advantage of this, naturally.

"So... How've you been?"

Y/N scoffed. "You show up out of the blue five years after you break up with me, and then have the nerve to ask me how I've been, in a McDonald's? Yeah, I've been great."

He sighed, his eyes flitting down to the table. "I know, I'm... I'm sorry. And I know I should have—"

"Spence, please don't... Look, I know... I know why we broke up, and I came to terms with the fact that your job was just to dangerous for us to be together, but... I mean, you weren't even willing to work it out, you just... ran away. That hurt."

"Y/N... I'm so, so sorry that it happened that way. I think about it almost every day and how much I wish I could have changed it..."

"But you can't change it. And now you... you show up here after all this time to—to what? Win me back? Use your kindness and your charm to reel me back in, like that'll somehow make everything better?"

He looked up at her through his eyelashes, the sight almost breaking her. "Maybe..."

"It's not that I don't appreciate the thought, Spence, because I do... I've dreamt about the day you'd come back and apologize, begging me to take you back... But I can't get hurt again. And you have to understand that."

"I do... Just..." His hands reached out across the table, gently touching hers. The feeling sparked something in her, something nostalgic and warm...

Something that felt a lot like home.

He was going to continue his speech, but a knock on the glass separating them from the playroom on the other side jolted them apart. It was Piper, a stern look on her face. "Don't try anything, Mister... You're still on thin ice."

She turned away then, running back to the slide when Spencer sighed. "I thought we had a deal."

Y/N laughed, nodding at Piper through the glass. "Even a hundred bucks and free food isn't enough to win someone's trust." Spencer looked over at her and waited, visibly swallowing. But Y/N flashed the smallest of smiles before finishing, speaking quietly, yet with all the truth and firmness in the world. "You have to work harder than that."

"Duly noted," Spencer replied, his gaze never straying from hers. "Looks like me and my stupid, beautiful face have some work to do."

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back in the chair as Spencer grinned like a fool... A stupid, beautiful fool. "Oh, alright... You know what... If you weren't paying for my mountains of food and giving me a ride home, that thin ice you're on would have just shattered under the weight of that comment."

"Oh, come on, it was funny."

"No, it really wasn't."

"Yeah, it was."

He stared at her, smiling until her forced frown slowly and reluctantly transformed into a smile of her own.

***

"Thank you for lunch, Spencer! And for the hundred dollars!" Piper skipped past him and up the driveway, stopping to turn and wave with her Happy Meal toy in hand. Y/N was carrying a bag of leftover food and half a milkshake, her stomach already regretting every choice she'd ever made.

"You're welcome, Piper," Spencer said, smiling at the girl. "And thank you for letting me get a chance to set things right with your auntie. You really helped me out today, I appreciate it."

"Sure thing. Just don't break her heart again, or I'll break your stupid, beautiful face. It'll turn into a stupid, ugly face then."

Y/N mentally face-palmed herself, turning to Piper and telling her to go inside and wash up. The girl gave Spencer one final wave and a smile as she did so, leaving the adults alone once again.

"Thank you..." he said quietly, shifting on his feet. "For giving me a chance. I really want to make things right with us... Make up for the way I hurt you, and... try harder. You deserve that much."

Years of heartache and trying to get over him begged Y/N not to believe it, but deep down she knew he was being truthful. He wasn't the type of guy to come around like this—especially with all the work travel he did—just to manipulate her into heartache again, with empty promises and hurtful intent.

She knew he was really willing to try to make things right, and that was a big start.

"Thank you... for saying that... And for making Piper's day. I know you didn't really mean to bribe her, but the fact that you did it anyway is absurd, so... I guess I have to give credit where credit's due."

Spencer laughed, and this time Y/N didn't hate the feeling of the butterflies in her stomach fluttering at the sound. "Well, I'm glad I could at least amuse you today. Does... this mean my romantic to stubborn ratio shifted a little bit?"

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately, taking a sip of her milkshake. "Hmm... twenty to eighty."

"Still leaning in favor of stubborn, I suppose..."

The smile they shared in that moment felt more like the ones they used to share back then, officially kickstarting the slow, meticulous mending of their love.

"Obviously."

***

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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Falling Angels

A/n this literally poureddd from me, might be bad bc recently i’ve hated everything i’ve written (my drafts are full lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life.

Pairing: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x psychic! sunshine-y! reader

Warning: mentions of sexual harassment, slight cursing, near death experience

Enjoy it, because it doesn’t last. That’s what the older girls whisper, mock casualness attempting to disguise bitter undertones as I walk past them. They say this, sharp nails ready to be covered in blood as red as their lipstick, because the pile of gifts from my ‘admirers’ keep coming. Circus hands keep approaching the long vanity in the dressing room tent, tapping me on the shoulder politely to shove cards and bouquets of flowers in my lap. They don’t understand that the praise isn’t because the patrons of our performances find me more beautiful--they’re desperate for my favor. They’re desperate to know their future.

Looking at myself in the mirror, the pageantry of it all has not yet grown old to me. My hair is still in the process of being styled, my stage makeup is half done, and I am not yet coated in that golden shimmer Senia always dusts across my cheeks and shoulders. But I am more enhanced than I normally am, eyes made bright by thick coats of mascara, cupid's bow made prominent by ruby lipstick. The lip look is more daring than I’ve been before, but there can’t be much harm in change. Not when half the women here keep looking at me like I’m the saint of virginity.

It’s not my fault that the Ringmaster thought an angelic aesthetic would work best for the fortune teller who walks around before the show, reading palms so that people can have their pockets picked. It’s not my fault people want an angel to take the stage and call people down from the audience to get a detailed reading around the crowded circus tent. I don’t pick the costumes, and while I acknowledge that mine shows the least amount of skin, the Ringmaster found a way to dress me as suggestively as possible without ruining the illusion of innocence.

At least the flowing tulle wings that are stitched into the back of my costume are beautiful. It’s easier when I enjoy the good.

“Y/n!” The familiar call of Senia. I turn my head, beaming. “You’re a vision, and all of those jealous girls--you can tell them to take their wrinkling faces and--”

“Seria.” For someone so much like a mother, she often needs to be reminded that not everything needs an aggressive rebuttal. “Think about it from their perspectives--their entire existence is dependent on how sellable they are, how attractive they are to men who only want to use them. If that makes them mad at me because they feel like my youth and novelty is taking from them, then that’s okay.” She raises a fine eyebrow. “I can take a few mean words.”

Seria purses her lips. “Okay, but I’m just as old and tired and you don’t see me trying to poison you.”

I roll my eyes.

“Look, it's our very own saint.” I roll my eyes, Via’s shrill voice piercing through me like an annoying papercut. “And in such a scandalous lip color--has the Ringmaster finally taken you to the ivory tent?”

Ivory tent. It’s been mentioned to me before and always in jest. “Where he takes me is none of your business, if not being the favorite hurts you so badly ju--”

She laughs, the sound is pure vile. “Being the favorite is the worst thing you could be in a place like this. You’re shiny and new and soon you’ll be as used as the rest of us--Seria’s use is waning, what happened to her today is proof of that. Soon you’ll have no one to protect you.”

When she looks at me I see more pain than hatred. “I think we’d get along better if I had it in me to hate you.”

She raises an eyebrow before shaking a cigarette from a small box into her palm. “You’ll get there, princess.”

The nickname leaves me burning. There’s nothing more consuming than fire. “You better pray to the real Saints I don’t.”

via laughs, lifting the cigarette to her lips and lighting it with her abilities. She walks away, turning my threat into that of a child’s.

“She’s right on two accounts.” Seria hums, “The Ringmaster will kill you if you wear that lipstick and Ketterdam turns people like you into people like me. We could save up, pay off your indenture--get you out.”

Seria doesn’t need to make sacrifices like that. Not for me. Besides, there’s no leaving Ketterdam for me. Not anymore. “Being like you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” I scratch my arm, see through material wrinkling as a result. “And I can’t--I can’t just leave. I’m a psychic, no Grisha can see the future. I need the facelessness of Ketterdam.” Her lips thin in protest. “And don’t think I didn’t hear what she said about you--what happened to your foot, and what’s in the ivory tent? People keep saying it, whispering it like there’s--”

“That tent is nothing that will ever concern you. I’ve given you my guidance, and the one thing I ask is that you never ask or go to the ivory tent.”

I swallow once, the intensity in her eyes leaving me raw. “What if he tells me to?”

“He won’t.” Seria breathes. “He doesn’t like that for you.”

This isn’t an argument I can have now, not with two minutes until the show starts. “And your foot?”

She shrugs, holding up a bandaged ankle. “You get older, your ligaments like the tightrope walk less and less. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not tightrope walking like that--”

“Yes, I am. The Ringmaster doesn’t know and he can’t--if I start giving him performance trouble--you don’t know what happens to the girls who can’t pay off their indenture by performing.”

I swallow once. “You’ll be careful?”

“Always,” she grins, “Besides--one day you’ll know enough about tightrope walking to help me on days like this.”

The last time I trained on the mini-tightrope had proven me to be a disappointment. Still, I smile at her softly. I open my mouth to respond, but a quick tap to my shoulder silences me.

“Miss,” a circus hand I recognize begins.

I smile politely. “Please leave any gifts on my vanity--”

“It’s not a gift,” he mumbles, voice taut, “You have visitors.”

Something solid pushes itself into my chest, wedging itself between my lungs. Have they found me? “I-I don’t take visitors. Not before shows, if someone wants a private reading they’re to go to my tent at the front--”

“We’re not here for readings or any of the other lies you sell.”

...Surprising. I let my gaze move from the face of the circus hand and towards the individuals behind him. A man, tall and dressed in business attire--hat and all. His face is all sharp angles and his eyes are emotionless. His leather-gloved hands grip the head of an intricate cane. Next to him is another tall man, dressed a little more casually, with dark curls. Lastly, there’s a girl, with oil-black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.

“Then what are you here for?”

Seria, never one to leave me unattended around strange men, takes a step in front of me. “I know who you are, Dirtyhands, and I know there’s no business you could find with her.”

What? Dirtyhands? Can people in Ketterdam ever just be normal?

“I wouldn’t speak so certainly.” I don’t like the way his eyes narrow at Seria or the way his grip on the cane tightens.

Thoughtlessly, I stick a hand between them, forcing Seria back slightly. “I apologize, she’s protective--always assuming the worst in people. Though considering she called you ‘Dirtyhands’, maybe that’s what you want.”

Ugh. All I do is ramble when I most definitely shouldn’t. “Want what?”

Eyebrows drawing together, I force myself to hold his gaze. “For people to assume the worst.”

The response seems to confuse him. That’s okay--I’ll take anything over aggressive. “The only people I want to assume the worst are those I want to be right.”

Okay. Dramatic was a fair assumption.

“Seria.” Oh no. I know that voice. I know that voice too well. “They tell me you're injured.”

Seria stiffens, as does every performer when he addresses them. “Not too injured to perform, sir.”

The Ringmaster sneers. “I can’t risk you falling and embarrassing me. Perhaps tonight you’ll make your money by spending the entire show in the ivory tent.”

The way she hardens wrenches my gut. I press my hands to avoid reaching out for her. “I can do the tightrope.” The Ringmaster’s gaze shifts towards me. “I can do it--and I can do it well and I’ll give the profit to Seria.”

He tilts his chin, regarding me in a way a woman should never be regarded. He’s a predator and I’m a lamb that’s lost its way. Still, I hold his gaze. I don’t flinch, even when he moves to brush his knuckles along my cheek. His touch is acid. Pure, burning acid. “The wings I placed on your back are decorative.”

“I don’t need them.” Total bullshit.

“Hm,” he breathes, letting the smell of alcohol fill the space between us, “I’ll allow it.” The Ringmaster drops his hand to his side. “Wipe that lipstick off your face before someone mistakes you for one of these common whores.”

How I don’t throw up at the sight of him is a miracle in itself. By some small mercy, he turns and walks away before I have to respond.

“You’re an idiot--you know you’re not ready for the tightrope.”

“There’s a net,” I try to keep my voice light, dismissive. She remains tense. “Seria, I had to.”

“No, you could have--”

“It’s not fair that you’re always a shield for me. When the opportunity to shield you for once comes, I’ll take it.” Turning before she can protest, I try to walk forward. The stranger places his cane where I intend to walk, intentionally warning me that he decides when our conversation is over. Unfortunately, I used up all my patience with the Ringmaster. “130 kruge.” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the estimated amount I’ll make tonight, unless I’m late and excluded from the show. Either make up the deficit you’ll be costing me or let me go.”

His eyebrows draw together, shifting his expression from neutrally calloused to something much darker. “Kaz.” This comes from the girl. She takes a step forward. “Look one step ahead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone thinks you’re not supposed to look down, but looking up is just as impractical.” She pauses, expression strangely mesmerized, “Look one step ahead--not at your feet.”

My genuine smile shocks me. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, Sankta y/n.” Her head bows, hands held together as if in prayer.

Oh. She’s one of the religious that believes me an actual Saint. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if I was a Saint I’d be able to help people.” No matter what I do, no matter how much blood I offer, I can never help people. “And as you’ve seen--I can’t.”

The crowd’s roaring is a different world to me. On the platform, feet away from the other wooden structure acting as solid ground, everything is different. I am now in a world where the only thing to believe in is a taut rope. The net is beneath me. I’ve seen it--I’ve checked it.

“And for our grand finale!” The Ringmaster calls, voice billowing over an excited crowd. “Our very own angel defies death!”

An odd way to phrase the tightrope walk. It’s never called ‘defying death’. I had been surprised when I was told that tonight the tightrope walk would be the grand finale--I assumed it was because it featured me. I’m always the finale now. I try to move my foot off the platform but it’s planted firmly. No. I need to see Seria--I need to see who I’m doing this for. I force my gaze to the ground, panic rising in my chest.

Instead of Seria, I see Via--her smirk apparent even from here. Spite’s a decent motivator. My foot descends off the platform, touching the tightrope cautiously. And then I move my other foot. All of me is now on this damn rope. I hadn’t been unforgivably horrible during practice, but I hadn’t been graceful either.

Don’t look down, don’t look up--only look one step ahead. One step ahead--one step at a time. Balance. I take another step. The room is so silent there’s no doubt in my mind the sound of my bones cracking would be heard from the back row. But there’s the net. There’s always the net. I take a second step. And then a third--eyes focused on only one step ahead.

And then the phantom of flame comes to claim me. Fire. The world around me is burning. Damning the consequences, I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. The net--the Ringmaster had an Inferni light the net on fire. Via--that explains the look.

I can’t fall--the guilt would kill Seria.

Panic twists my stomach as I continue forward. One step ahead. One step ahead--the flames lick upwards, promising pain and grief all over again. One step ahead. One step--that’s all there is to it. The warmth of the fire calls to me. Burning. Burning--and one more step. This isn’t forever. This isn’t permanent--either way this will soon be over.

There’s no miracle for me. No good grace, no wings that would let me save myself. There is only balance.

One step ahead. And then another step. And then I see the other wooden platform. Thank the Saints. I grip the ladder of the platform as quickly as possible. The cheers mean nothing to me as I scurry down the ladder.

I feel a sharp breeze, a Grisha putting out the flames. Anger pools in my chest as I move towards the exit of the tent.

“Y/n.” No. Not him again. That man--Kaz, Dirtyhands, whoever he is--needs to go away. “Y/n.” I turn sharply, anger pulsing through me. My expression must be feral, because he stalls. “They didn’t tell you that they were going to burn the net.”

The fact that he can tell--that he can see my panic and how close I came to death twists my anger into something more fragile. “No.” My posture straightens. “I need to go now, I do--I do readings after shows.”

“Y/n.” He repeats, firmer.

My nails dig into my palms. “I’m going--”

“I know what you are.”

Tensing, my breathing stalls. “What?”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kazz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you #soc imagine #six of crows imagine #my works #series #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #sab netflix #grishaverse imagine

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petersnya · 3 years

Text

SOMETIMES PT.2

---NOT MY PIC--- PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Angst?? Idk lol

Word count:2145

COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THE STORY AND WANT ME TO CONTINUE! SHOULD I START WRITING FROM PETER OR Y/N’S POV?

[A/N]Heyyy! Soooo this is part of this series (I’ll link part one). Hope you guys enjoy it! PLEASE COMMENT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOU WANT YOU CAN SEND ME MESSAGES AND ASK QUESTIONS I'LL ANSWER LOL. Anyway, I had fun writing this chapter so I hope you like it! -J.T.S xxx

PART ONE

During physics class, Peter was working on an upcoming project with Ned, but he spent most of his time sleeping. He was basically sleep deprived from patrolling the town and stopping crimes.

“Late night huh Pete?” Ned asked, nudging Peter's arm that was supporting his head in the palms of his hands as his eyes got heavy, starting to close.

“Yeah, had to stop some petty theft last night,” he began, a yawn interrupting him, “took longer than I thought.”

The bell rang, dismissing the students to their after-school activities, if you had none you would just go home. Peter and Ned gathered their things and headed to the school’s front doors- MJ catching up with them how she usually did.

“Man, you look terrible,” MJ said with a slight chuckle.

“Wow, thanks. You're such a great friend.” Peter retorted sarcastically. Ned wasn’t riding the bus home today, he had to go with his mom for something he refused to share with anyone but Peter; so Peter just decided to ask MJ to walk home with her.

“Sorry Parker, Y/N is picking me up today. You’re welcome to ride with us if you want though.”

Peter didn’t respond for a while, debating if it was worth the anxiety attack of being around her. Y/N was the only thing that was on his mind now. His attraction grew even more when she wore those glasses. He zoned out for a while till MJ snapped her fingers in front of his face. Blinking rapidly, his vision focused on MJ who was now reaching out to grab the handle of a car door. Y/N’s car. His breath hitched in his throat once he saw Y/N wearing those same glasses from last Friday, her hair in the messiest high-ponytail he had ever seen- but it was cute to him.

“Ya coming lover-boy?” Y/N said, looking Peter right in his wide brown eyes. He blushed at the nickname before answering.

“Yeah… I’m coming.”

The three teens got into the car and started on their way. “Hey losers, wanna go shopping?”

“Y/N you only wanna go to the mall to eat,” MJ said to Y/N who was now laughing loudly, throwing her head back in agreement with her. Suddenly, in the middle of her laugh, she let out a loud snort. The car went silent as Y/N covered her mouth with her hand. MJ and Y/N burst into laughter, Peter soon joining. They all joked and sang to the songs that played on the radio all the way to the mall.

///

“Dude!”

“Jeez Y/N, you scared me! What is it?” MJ said to her, clutching her chest from being startled. They all had gone to the food court and were now just walking around the mall and into random stores.

“There's a Build-A-Bear Workshop here!” she exclaimed excitedly, pointing at it like a child. Peter couldn't help but smile at how adorable she looked freaking out over a child’s store.

“Let's go in,” Peter said to the two of them. Y/N looked at him wide-eyed with a goofy smile on her face. Her eyes looked like they twinkled with excitement. She shoved her drink into MJ’s hand, fixed her glasses, then grabbed Peter’s hand while running into the store.

“Oooohh, I should get an H.P-themed bear!” Before Peter could even answer, Y/N dragged him to one of the workers, asking if she could get a custom bear. They went over to the station and started to build.

As Y/N was finishing up the bear, she turned to Peter, “Ok, I have a very serious question. What accessories should I get?” they were standing in the Harry Potter section, looking over all of the things they had to decorate the bear. Peter shrugged, but then, he had a great idea, “I-I think you should get the uh, the glasses. The ones like your dads…” he said in an unsure tone. Y/N looked at him with a soft smile on her face. She couldn’t help herself, she had no idea what came over her as she pulled Peter into a tight embrace. Peter hesitated before putting his arms around her waist- her arms draped over his neck.

At that moment, Y/N inhaled Peters sent heavily. She felt so… safe in his arms. Like nothing bad could touch her. She never wanted to break away- MJ’s voice brought them back to reality.

“You guys done, I need to get new converse,” she said with a smirk plastered across her face. Y/N quickly pulled away from Peter, a million thoughts running through her mind, but only one seemed to overpower the rest.

I would be in his arms forever if I could.

“Ma’am, would you like to add a voice to your bear?” the lady said to Y/N, causing her thoughts to disappear.

“Actually,” Y/N paused looking at Peter and MJ, “yes, I would.” She grabbed the recorder from the worker’s hand and sent her a small smile. She looked at the curly-headed girl and the brown-eyed boy was on either side of her. She explained her plan, “Ok, I want all three of us to say ‘Mischief Managed’, ok?”

“What does that mean?” Peter questioned, looking at the two girls. They both sent him a deadly stare. “Nevermind,” he mumbled.

“Ok, on three, one… two… three…”

“Mischief Managed!” the trio yelled, causing some customers in the store to turn their heads and stare at them. They all mumbled small sorry’s as they laughed.

///

“Ok, Peter what's one thing you hate?” MJ asked, turning to face him. They were all sitting in the car at a drive-in movie. Peter was now in the front seat while MJ was in the back. They all decided to just talk because the movie was pretty boring to them.

“Uhh, I can't stand sleeping with socks on.”

“I don't think anyone can Parker,” Y/N said, laughing slightly.

“Well what about you then?” he asked her, turning his full attention as he anticipated her answer.

“Easy, liars. Ugh, I hate liars! What’s the point? It’s not like I’m gonna judge you,” Y/N answered confidently. “See, that’s what I like about you, Parker. You are very honest,” she said with a genuine smile. Peter just loved her smile, the way it lit up her whole face.

“Welp imma go get some pizza from the stand back there,” MJ said as she got out of the car. Y/N and Peter sat there in silence for a moment- comfortable silence.

Y/N was the first to break the silence, as usual, “Hey, Pete. I just wanna thank you for the whole glasses thing last Friday. It really helped me realize that I should’ve worn the glasses the moment he gave them to me. It’s like I have a part of him with me now... And I love Harry Potter, obviously. Ya know, I took a quiz and found out what house I’m in! Can you believe that I’m in-“

“You’re welcome, Y/N” Peter interrupted her rambling, sending her a small smile. They stared into each other's eyes for a while, admiring one another. Peter got this warm feeling inside and had that same surge of energy he had when he first met her. Before even processing what he was about to do, he grabbed her hand without breaking eye contact. He fiddled with the ring she had on her thumb.

Y/N breath became shallow as her heart pounded at her chest.

“I’m in Slytherin,” she said randomly, looking down at how Peter’s hands played with hers. He let out a breathy chuckle. Their eyes met once again.

Y/N gathered all of her courage and quickly reached out her hand to grab Peter’s cheek, pulling him into her. Their lips were centimeters apart. She ran her thumb along Peter’s bottom lip, slightly parting it as she leaned in closer, catching his lips with hers. Their lips interlocked and it felt like heaven to the both of them.

They pulled apart from the soft kiss and slowly opened their eyes, starting again into each other's eyes searching for the words that weren’t said. Peter couldn’t contain himself anymore. His large hand grabbed the back of Y/N’s neck, pushing his lips into hers in a lust-filled kiss. Just like the one he had imagined.

This was the moment he had dreamt of and it was finally happening.

He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, begging for an entrance. She gave it to him without hesitation. His tongue slowly slipped into her mouth while her tongue ran into his.

Peter snaked his hands to her waist, lifting her from her seated position in the driver's seat. She complied and started to adjust to where she was sitting in his lap. His hands ran from her waist to her butt and gave it a tight squeeze.

Y/N let out a soft moan into Peter’s mouth. She slowly started to trail kisses down his neck as he massaged her thighs and ass.

Y/N hands got tangled in Peter’s brown curls. She began to suck on Peter’s neck, wanting to leave a mark. Peter let out a low groan at the sensation of her soft lips and wet tongue on his skin.

He lifted her head and connected their lips together once again. His veiny hand slipped between their body making its way down to her core.

Peter never did stuff like this, and neither did Y/N. all of this was new to them but their connection was so strong that they were willing to push the limits.

As Peter’s hand reached Y/N core, he placed two fingers right on top of where her clothed clit was. He began to draw circles against it. Y/N started to rock her hips over his fingers, yearning for more friction. She started to let out moans uncontrollably, whimpering at the euphoric feeling of his fingers pressed against her dripping core.

“Peter,” Y/N breathed out trying to catch her breath. Peter hummed in response while moving his lips down to kiss her neck.

Suddenly, Peter snapped out of the trance that he seemed to be in. This moment was the best moment of his life, but his damned mind couldn’t help re-play Y/N’s words on a lope: I hate liars. Why? Before they went to the movies and were still at the mall, Y/N had asked Peter about his Stark’s internship. And, of course, he couldn’t tell her the truth. So he just lied. Y/N looked so intrigued in the conversation but Peter couldn’t bear lying to her over and over again. He felt so guilty...

“Y/N,” Peter let out. “Y/N, we can’t do this.”

Y/N head snapped up, her glasses left crooked on her face. She looked stunned by his words. Her shoulders slumped as she started asking questions.

“What? Why? Am I not a good kisser? I’ve only kissed one person before but I don’t even really wanna count that. Does my breath smell bad? Ugh, I knew this was a bad idea- wait no! I didn’t mean it like that, I just knew you didn’t like me how I liked you… I’m so stupid.”

After Y/N was finished rambling, she put her face in her hands, trying to avoid eye contact with the chocolate-eyed boy.

Peter was speechless. He didn’t know what to say, because what he wanted to say was: no Y/N that’s not it at all. You are the most amazing girl I’ve ever met, I- I lied to you…

No. he couldn’t say that it would absolutely crush her and he couldn’t bear to hurt her. Peter put his hands on her waist, making Y/N jerk her body in shock. She let a small smile spread across her face, thinking Peter was going to hug her or make a cute gesture or even continue what they had started. He lifted Y/N and slid her back to the driver’s side.

Her smile dropped from her face and she pushed herself the rest of the way to the driver’s side. Peter sat there awkwardly, praying she wouldn’t say anything. It killed him to see the gloomy look on her face as she fixed her glasses.

“I’m back with pizza!” MJ announced as she made her way into the backseat. “Woah, hey, cuz what’s wrong?”

“We’re going home,” Y/N replied with a cold tone of voice. This shocked Peter and MJ. Y/N was usually so smiley, even after her dad passed. She always tried to find the light in every situation. But something was different with this. One thing Peter knew for sure,

I fucked up…

[A/N] HEY GUYSSSS SO I HOPE YOU LIKED PART TWO. SORRY, IT WAS UP A BIT LATE, IVE BEEN HAVING INTERNET PROBLEMS. ANYWAY, SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES (IM GONNA GO BACK AND FIX THOSE)

-J.T.S XXX

@love-granger

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 71 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Fun fact: this rewrite is now the second-longest fic in the Drace Race RPF section of AO3. (Second only to the original story, lol.) So if you’re looking for a lot of content…we’ve got you. ;) Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Violet revealed her estranged relationship with her family to Sutan, and Courtney struggled to live up to Miss Fame’s demands.

This Chapter: Some uncharacteristic vulnerability from Violet, Met Gala meetings and morning television.

***

“Do you want more marshmallows?”

“I always want more marshmallows.”

Katya grinned as she got up from the kitchen table, grabbing Trixie’s mug to top them both up. They were decorating gingerbread men, Katya pulling them from the oven last night. Trixie was doing clothes, drawing in the lines and putting details on them, one of his favorite jobs.

It was a tradition of theirs, spending the Sunday before Christmas in their pajamas, preparing cookies and watching Home Alone, the leftover icing always ending up in the bedroom for some sticky afternoon fun.

***

“Aaaand release...”

“Oh god,” Sutan groaned, rolling onto his back and spreading out like a starfish. “I’m dead.”

When he had jokingly asked if he could join Violet for her yoga session, he hadn’t figured she’d say yes, and he definitely hadn’t expected that it’d be this hard, those last few breaths of extended child’s pose essentially torture where he could feel his bones bend and creak.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Violet grinned, his girlfriend sitting back on her knee, the leg with her cast spread out to the side. “We only did 40 minutes.”

“You’re not even sweating.” Sutan looked at her, Violet’s hair in a high ponytail, the Sunday look of one of his shirts and a sports bra quickly becoming a fave.

“Some of us remember to do more than weights and cardio, Mr. Amrull.”

“I’m texting my trainer right now,” Sutan reached over his head, grabbing his phone that he had left on the floor next to their mats, Violet giggling as she laid down next to him, putting her head on his shoulder.

“There,” Sutan pressed send, his trainer probably falling off of his chair when he read the message, Sutan always attempting to get away with the bare minimum when it came to exercise, but he refused to be humiliated by being unable to reach his toes.

He was just about to put his phone down, when Violet reached up and tapped the screen, his front camera opening up, both of them in frame as they were lying on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture?” Violet smiled, her sarcastic tone never wavering. “To document the moment.”

Sutan looked at the screen. It was so incredibly tempting to say yes, to keep this moment in the private password protected collection that had steadily grown since Thanksgiving, Violet really and truly trying to let him take pictures, but he couldn’t say yes, not when he knew why she was so confident.

“And can I post it?”

“Post it?” Violet raised an eyebrow, sitting up on her elbows. “Why? Isn’t your hair...?”

“A mess?” Sutan didn’t want to smile, but it was impossible not to, Violet knowing him way too well if she had already figured out that he was sometimes embarrassingly vain about his hairstyle, the mess on his head looking like he had been fucking for an hour. “Yes, but I still want to post it.”

“I-” Violet had pulled away completely now, not a single trace of the sweetness left. “No.”

“Violet,” Sutan sat up as well, putting his phone down, “I know you hate social media, but you’re my girlfriend, and I don’t think what I ask for is unreasonable-”

“Sutan. Please” Violet grabbed her mat and rolled it together in an attempt to avoid him. “I said no.”

“And I’m pushing because I don’t understand.” Sutan could feel the annoyance build, the hurt and the rejection. It stung every single time Violet denied him, hurt every time she neglected what they had.

“I’m not saying we have to announce it with a workout selfie,” Sutan hated that they were fighting, but he couldn’t help himself, “but I want to tell the world that we’re together.”

“And I don’t-” Violet looked at him, her brown eyes filled with hurt. “If the world knows, they know, and I don’t want them to know where I am or what I’m doing.”

There it was. The they, the them, the family from Atlanta that was haunting his girlfriend's life like a shadow that had slowly started to creep into his too.

“Violet, I hate to be the one to tell you,” Sutan didn’t touch her, simply putting his hand down on the floor next to hers, telling her that he was there. “But the internet exists. If they have your name, they can find you, no matter what you do to hide.”

“Have you taken a moment to consider that they might not have that?”

Sutan paused, Violet’s words like a bomb.

“... What?”

Did her family not have her name? It was true that Violet Chachki barely got any hits on google, that it was Parson’s assignments and internships that popped up, the Galactica employee directory right at the top, but Sutan had never considered that possibility, had never even toyed with it.

“This wasn’t how I planned on telling you. Actually, I probably wasn’t counting on telling you at all, but I’m not…” Violet was fiddling with the tiniest hole in her yoga mat, her fingers tugging on the foam. “I wasn’t born Violet. Wasn’t even born a Chachki. Hasn’t it ever seemed weird to you that my last name literally means trinket?”

“It does?”

“Mmh,” Violet smiled, the same heavy sadness he had seen in the hospital in her eyes. “I needed to not be… Blair anymore.”

“Blair?”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “Blair Dardo. It was my birth name. I never liked it, and I changed it the moment I turned 18, left it behind the second I could. That’s why I can’t,” Violet gestured vaguely to Sutan’s phone. “Changing it meant that they can’t, that they can’t find me, and I-”

Sutan didn’t know what to say, but it felt like he had just been given another puzzle piece in the mystery that was his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry.”

Violet’s head snapped to attention, her eyes widening in confusion. “...What?”

“I’m sorry.” Sutan said it again, making sure he put his genuine emotion behind the words. “I should have realized that you weren’t saying no to be difficult, and yet I kept pushing.”

“Sutan-” Violet still looked confused and a little suspicious, like she didn’t really understand what he was doing. “You don’t have to-”

“No but I do.” Sutan smiled. “I get it now, and I’m sorry, but next time you have a deep dark secret, maybe you could just tell me instead of this charade-”

Sutan was cut off as Violet threw herself in his arms, knocking him down on the floor and kissing him like her life depended on it, gratitude rolling off of her in waves.

***

“Raja?”

Alyssa held out the plate of croissants, Raja waving it away since she didn’t want one. The entire senior management team was gathered in the conference room, Fame for some ungodly reason always insisting on a full breakfast spread for their Monday meetings, even though only a fraction of them ever actually ate any of it.

“So,” Fame looked around, a gold fountain pen in her hand, a black moleskin notebook open in front of her. “Any updates?”

The theme of today's meeting was the 2015 Met Gala, Raja barely hiding a groan when Courtney had sent out the meeting agenda.

It wasn’t that she disliked the Met Gala, the first Monday in May a spectacular party, but it was such a hassle getting there, the gala the fashion world's version of the Oscars.

“Yes,” Pearl smiled, turning around in her chair. She was weirdly chipper, her blonde hair collected in a clip, her signature leather jacket exchanged with a cropped black fur. “We have the final confirmation from Jessica Chastain’s team. She’s in.”

“Good,” Fame nodded, making a note in her moleskin, the fact that Fame was actually writing herself more than enough to cement the severity of the situation. Courtney was standing against the wall, Ivy sitting at the table with her computer open, typing away, but when it came to the Met, Fame left nothing up to chance.

“She’s looking forward to working with us, and she says she’s honored-”

“Yada yada yada,” Fame made a hand puppet, and Raja had to hide a smile, Pearl leaning back in her chair with a roll of her eyes, mouthing at everyone else that she’d send a follow up email.

It was Fame who had requested Jessica, in her own roundabout way, her friend casually mentioning to Raja that she had a good smile, which was more than enough for Raja to make Pearl offer her up as Galactica’s celebrity face.

It wasn’t every house who did it, but the big ones always had a celebrity at the gala, wearing their clothes and repping the brand.

“Does anyone know if they’ve moved away from the terrible theme yet?”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Alaska offered up, the promotional material the Met had sent out at the start of the fall in the middle of the table thanks to Ivy’s forthsight. “It’s December, and since we haven’t heard anything, they’re sticking with China's influence on western fashion.”

“Good god, I was really hoping they had come to their senses.” Fame breathed out through her nose, and Raja had to agree with her. Sure, ‘China: Through the Looking Glass’ made sense as an art exhibition, but there was really no way to convert it to fashion without being culturally insensitive at best and offensively appropriative at worst.

Besides, Galactica had never been a brand that sought inspiration from the east in their designs and aesthetics, which made the entire situation quite the predicament.

“I’m sure we can work with it,” Trixie gave a small smile, the stack of papers by his elbow indicating that he had probably already put his senior designers to work coming up with concepts.

“And how,” Fame turned, looking directly at Trixie. “Are we supposed to work with it? Raja’s the only one who could possibly get away with being theme appropriate.”

Usually, Fame and Raja were the ones who walked the carpet together with their celebrity, Fame a nervous wreck for weeks before the gala because of all the strangers, while Raja enjoyed it because of her modeling days, seeing old acquaintances without the stresses of fashion week, a delightful yearly treat.

“I’m Indonesian.” Raja knew Fame didn’t mean anything by it, and she wasn’t that concerned about being politically correct herself, but everyone knew what it could mean for a fashion house to misstep, Dolce and Gabbana somehow walking directly from one scandal and into another one. “Not Chinese.”

“See?” Fame sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s a controversial time bomb. Either, we stay on theme, which I refuse since I look terrible in Chinese red, ”

“So we’re going off theme?” Trixie had picked up his papers, sorting through them, and Raja felt a moment of gratitude for their head of design, Trixie of course coming prepared with off-theme suggestions as well.

“Unless they get a grip and change it? Yes. Yes we are.”

“There!” Everyone held their breath as Maxwell pointed at Violet’s screen, an email from Ivy just ticking in, the Met Gala meeting still in full swing.

“Open it, Chachki!” Blu was practically biting her nails, hopping from one foot to the other, her red hair in a braid over her shoulder.

“Alright, alright-“ Violet clicked on the email, Bob standing right behind her, his eyes flying over the screen before he called out.

“It’s Jessica!”

A collective sigh of relief went through the floor, a loud ‘yes’ coming from Kiara who was clapping her hands together, the group breaking up, chatter filling the air.

“Thank god,” Maxwell groaned, putting a hand on Violet’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I knew having you here would be worth it Chachki.”

“Right.” Violet raised an eyebrow, looking up at him, clearly not understanding why no one had thought to simply ask Ivy for updates before, the suggestion just casually slipping from her during morning coffee, the entire department running with it instantly. “But I still don’t-“

“Get it?” They turned to look over at Jovan who was sitting at his own desk, the man one of the few who hadn’t gathered around Violet’s computer.

“Yes.” Violet nodded. “If you needed information all this time, you could have just asked-”

“Like we could have just asked you?” Bob said, cutting her off and Violet opened her mouth, only to close it again. “Exactly.” Bob grinned. “You would have told us to fuck off.”

“I see your point.” Violet tapped her fingers on her desk, a small smile on her lips since everyone knew she would have said those exact words directly to their faces when she had been in Fame’s front office. “But, why is it such a big deal if a celeb is confirmed or not? The gala isn’t until May, that’s 4 months away and it’s three outfits. A whole collection is usually done in that time.”

“A collection doesn’t have to be approved by the celebrity,” Maxwell counted on his fingers, “the celebrity’s stylist, Vogue and Anna Wintour personally on top of Trixie, Raja and Fame. Alexis usually starts producing concepts in October.”

“As soon as they reveal the theme girl!” Alexis yelled over her shoulder, already pulling her sketches from their shelf, the confirmation meaning that she’d be in a meeting with Trixie for the rest of the day, working out the details of the first round of negotiations with the celebrity.

“Huh…” Violet looked around, the puzzled expression still on her face. “And what about-“

“Fame and Raja?”

Violet nodded.

“You’d think Fame would be the difficult one-“ Maxwell smiled.

“But make something gorgeous and custom in ivory and she’s on board,” Jovan grinned, putting the pen he was using behind his ear as he turned around in his chair. “Every year, she pretends like she’ll follow the theme, and then never does.”

“Exactly.” Maxwell nodded. “Fame is demanding, but consistent. Trixie has an entire drawer of Fame-appropriate outfits that we all contribute to whenever we have an idea.”

“That makes a disturbing amount of sense,” Violet looked mildly impressed, and if any of the rumors Maxwell had heard about how she had managed Fame’s front office, that approach wasn’t too far off from how Violet herself had attempted to tame the beast.

“Rule one of surviving at Galactica: Never disappoint Miss Fame. For once, however, Fame isn’t the problem.” Maxwell sighed, taking a seat on the edge of Violet’s desk. “Raja is.”

“Raja?” Violet looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yes really.” Maxwell crossed his arms. “Every year, she tells us that she’s chill, that she’ll wear whatever goes with the spring collection or the theme-“

“And every single year, she changes her mind at least four times.” Bob chimed in, the drama loving smirks on his lip. “More if you’re lucky.”

“Which is why,” Maxwell nudged Bob’s side with his elbow. “We’ve unanimously decided that you have the honor of dressing Raja for this year's Met Gala.”

“Me?” Violet’s eyes widened. “What? Why?” Violet looked at them, confusion painted on her face. “I’m the most junior member of staff.”

“True, but you’re also sucking her brother's dick,” Maxwell grinned, “so we figured she can’t kill you during the process, unlike the rest of us mere mortals.”

***

It should have been one of the most exciting mornings since Courtney started at Galactica--Miss Fame and Raja were being interviewed on a talk show, and so she got to go to the famous 30 Rockefeller Plaza building, and be on the set of a real television show. Unfortunately, it was such a whirlwind of activity and Miss Fame was in such a demanding mood that she didn’t have a second to enjoy it.

She felt like a chicken with its head cut off, running around in a hectic scramble to meet every request. Today was the last day before their holiday break, and even though Courtney knew that spending her break with Bianca would be incredible, she also knew that she had about a billion things to do before that could even start. Today was supposed to be a half day, but with how packed the schedule was, she’d be lucky to leave by 5.

She entered Miss Fame’s green room, silently handing her the coffee she’d asked for and then leaning on the wall to catch her breath. Miss Fame took a sip and then immediately spit the coffee back out.

“What is this?” she asked, holding the cup out like it was a bag of dog shit.

“It’s your usual-”

“This is not my usual. This is weak, and not hot enough, and-did you just roll your eyes?”

“No, Miss!” Courtney insisted, praying that she was telling the truth. She was tired, having arrived at the office at 6 am to drop off her stuff for Bianca’s, and there was a teeny tiny chance that she may have (accidentally) rolled her eyes. “Would you like a new-”

“Let me tell you something, Courtney. This may be the last day before a vacation, but I expect you to be fully present and accounted for. We have too many important things going on and I will not accept anything less than your absolute very best. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Now. Please go find me some decent coffee before I get a migraine.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“And after you come back, I need you to go to the dry cleaners. I’ve decided to wear my ivory Valentino suit to meet the investors later.”

“Yes, Miss, will do.”

“That’s all,” Miss Fame said, waving her hand, and Courtney took off back down the labyrinthine hallways of 30 Rock to hunt down a coffee that would meet her standards.

***

“Good morning! Welcome back to Coast to Coast. I’m Nina West, and today we are positively blessed to have with us the icons of fashion, Miss Fame and Raja Gemini of Galactica, here to talk to us about dressing to impress in the new year, and their exciting new business ventures. Thank you so much for being here, ladies!”

“Thank you, we’re thrilled to be here,” Fame smiled, the lie easily falling out of her red painted lips.

Raja could see the way her hands were clenched in her lap, her wedding ring turned inward and digging into her palm, and knew that she was at her tensest.

Raja had long ago gotten used to giving live interviews. She had a laid-back attitude and while she always wanted to represent the company in the most flattering light, she tended to relax and let the conversation flow naturally.

Fame, however, had never quite gotten the hang of it in the same way. She was just so brand-conscious, almost to a debilitating degree, written interviews so much more her speed.

She always looked impeccable, very much the ice goddess she was so often called, but Fame had never gotten the same confidence in her speaking skills as Raja, who had been dragged through developing them in her modeling career.

Even though Fame hated being on live TV, they occasionally got an offer they couldn’t turn down, and between the makeup line being released in January and the overhaul of their website and online store, they had a lot to plug.

The whole thing was so stressful Fame had asked Raja four times to check her pits for sweat stains, her papers with facts from the makeup department and pointers from Pearl not leaving her hand until they literally had to go on.

Raja leaned forward, giving Fame’s shoulder a reassuring pat, and added, “This is our favorite show, we never miss it!”

“Aww, thank you!” said Nina, grinning. “Now, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you have an exciting announcement.”

“Yes, and we’re so happy to be able to share the news with your viewers first-”

“An exclusive!” Nina exclaimed, eyes comically wide and mouth open as if this was news to her.

“Yes, exactly. Early this year, we released a limited makeup line, and it’s been doing just wonderfully. So in 2015, we’re going to be rolling out a full line of makeup and skincare, with special edition palettes and colors all throughout the spring.”

“All natural, vegan, cruelty free...I always want the very best for my own skin and I wouldn’t offer our customers anything less,” Fame cut in, and Raja felt a surge of pride at how natural she sounded. All their rehearsing had clearly paid off.

“If you use it, I’ll use it!” Nina said with a chuckle. “You both have the most gorgeous skin I’ve ever seen.”

“We expect the first batch to sell out quickly,” Raja said, “So go straight to our website, Galactica dot com, and sign up to be part of the mailing list to receive alerts on all new product launches and where they’ll show up in stores.”

“I’m doing that, the second we go to commercials,” Nina said. “But first, I heard that there’s more news about your spring line...”

***

Patrick reached for the remote, turning off the TV as Nina West rounded out the segment with Fame and Raja.

He was sitting in his office, wrapping up the last details before the firm could close down for the holiday break.

Fame had done a great job, the nerves he knew she had felt not showing on her beautiful face. Patrick picked up his phone, a smile on his lips as he started to type out a text.

Fame would probably not read it until she left work for the day, but he was proud of her, and he hoped that she was proud of herself too.

***

Fame collapsed onto her dressing room sofa, completely emotionally drained, the crystals she had stuffed in her bra digging against her skin.

Being on camera for live television always took up every drop of energy, and left her with nothing to spare. Unfortunately, she knew that she didn’t have much time to rest, since she was due at the Russian Tea Room to meet her potential investors in less than an hour. The makeup artist they’d hired was standing by for touch-ups, and her ivory Valentino suit hung in its dry cleaning bag on the clothing rack. But first, she knew that her blood sugar was dangerously low, so she needed…

She looked around. Where on earth was Courtney? Fame had never met someone with such a tendency to be underfoot at the worst times and completely MIA when her presence was required. She walked to the doorway, spotting Courtney having a casual chat with a girl in a headset, carefree as anything.

“Courtney!” she snapped, and Courtney looked up, surprised, even though she was literally here for the sole purpose of taking care of Fame’s needs. “Come!”

Fame turned and walked back into her dressing room, irritated, the rapid click of Courtney’s heels as she ran over grating on her nerves.

“Yes, Miss?”

“I need to eat.”

“Oh…” Courtney’s gaze shifted to the table, where a fruit basket sat amongst assorted pastries and other snack food.

“Not that sugary garbage,” Fame explained. “Violet always had- Don’t you have any protein bars?”

“Oh, of course!” Courtney exclaimed, rummaging through her purse.

Fame rolled her eyes, sighing. That girl truly was useless. What Bianca saw in her, Fame would never understand. She took one of the protein bars that Courtney had carefully lined up on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“I think you’d better head back to the office and prepare the conference room for the investor presentation.”

“Oh, but did you need anything el-”

“No, I’m much more concerned with the meeting,” Fame said. “Everything needs to be perfect. These people will be paying attention to every little detail.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Oh, and take this back with you…” Fame handed over a large manila envelope. “It’s some sketches I’ve been working on.”

“Sure.” Courtney began to put the envelope into her bag, and Fame’s eyes widened with alarm.

“Don’t bend them! For god’s sake…”

“Sorry Miss,” Courtney said, biting her lip, holding the envelope at her side. “Is there anything else you need before I-”

“No. That’s all.”

***

Courtney sat in the back of a cab, eyes squeezed tightly shut, using the time in traffic to center herself and go over her massive to do list. She had to make sure that all the presentations for the meeting were set up, work with IT to test it, messenger out the holiday gifts that Miss Fame added at the last minute, make sure the schedule for January was in order, set up her out of office reply…

Plus, the meeting with the investors wouldn’t begin until they were back from the restaurant, so the “half day” was looking more and more like a full day. At this point, settling in at Bianca’s felt like it was a million years away--and traffic crawling at a standstill didn’t help anything.

She pulled out her phone. Maybe she could set up some of the gift deliveries now, while she was stuck in the cab.

When they were finally in sight of the Galactica building, her phone started buzzing. She looked at the screen. Miss Fame. That couldn’t be anything good.

Courtney took a deep breath and answered, stomach tightening.

“Hello?”

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

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59writes · 3 years

Text

THE DRAW (PART ONE)

(PART TWO)

if you’re reading this as like an actual fic: first of all I’m sorry. how did you end up here. it’s most definitely 2 am go to bed. this fic was literally made because of a fucking uquiz about “ what kpop boy are you enemies to lovers with”

second of all, ignore any chess mistakes. idk I know legit fuckall about chess, my brother just always bitches about it whenever I want to stop playing because I just have my king left or smth like that because I know I’ve lost. mf reads chess books.

like look: I UNDERSTAND the game and how it works, and the idea that you have to think ahead and plan. but I’m adhd as shit and there’s no such thing as time or planning. ergo, I suck. like I SUCK. I feel like if I applied myself I’d be great but fuck that. I’m a bad chess player and y’all gotta deal.

third: I mention League Of Legends at one point. I’m so cringe yes shut up ok but I’ve been special interest-ing League for several months now and I need to let you know that Josh, y/n, and Jeonghan play a mean jungler/adc/support combo (respectively). I have so many more headcanons typed in my draft or whatever but I know nobody wants to see it so

anyways pls enjoy this train wreck of a fic lol

If you had known playing chess would have led to this bullshit, you never would have started playing in the first place.

You wouldn’t have worked your ass off, wouldn’t have pored through strategy books and watched live-streamed games, wouldn’t have competed for months to become an official grandmaster. Absolutely not. None of that hard work and pride deserved to be wasted on Yoon Jeonghan.

Thanks to your exceptional academics and study habits, as well as your headlining pursuits in chess, private schools crawled to your front door and begged for you to give them money just so they could brag about having you as arm candy. You didn’t care. It was free scholarships, a chance to leave your tiny town, a chance to start anew with people just like you. If you were lucky, they wouldn’t know your fame status, or would be used to the junk by now. Some would probably be even more popular than you.

So you grabbed a paper, scribbled a signature on, and packed your bags.

You had picked an academy for the arts, as logic games apparently counted as one. They figured they could do something with your whimsical essay writing as well, submit you in scholastic contests. It didn’t matter. You were free, and there to play some goddamn chess.

They had a hardcore club there, meeting daily on weekdays and occasionally for casual play on the weekends. Everyone there was excellent, all clever players with quick logic and a competitive edge that you hadn’t seen in a while. It was refreshing, but still not enough of a challenge.

You swept the floor with your classmates, and rose to the top of the club’s rankings within a week.

Of course you lost games here and there, as everyone did, but for the most part any game you began was imbalanced from the beginning. Your opponent could at best only defend themselves, only able to pick off pawns or bait bishops that inevitably ended in a brutal checkmate.

You were top of the class, and for once it took some effort. You felt like you’d earned something, and you were actually interacting with serious chess players who wanted to learn, not fawn over your work. They played fair and every game was fun.

That was until the blond bitch came in.

He sauntered into the class about a month after you’d hit the top of the leaderboard, long blond hair tied back in a neat and slick ponytail. You barely noticed, immersed in a game with another boy, Joshua. You studied the board as your opponent looked up, grinning wildly.

“Jeonghan!” He called out, waving at the other boy.

Jeonghan’s ponytail whipped across his shoulder as he turned, matching Josh’s smile with a killer beam of his own and jogging over.

“‘Shua!” He chirped, playfully wrapping an arm around Joshua’s neck, strangling him while his other hand smooshed Josh’s hair around.

You watched them wrestle for a second before clearing your throat. “Josh, your move.”

“Aw shit.” Josh says, wrestling Jeonghan’s arm away from his shoulder. “Back to the ass kicking.”

You grin. “If you hadn’t made that dumb move literally third turn in-“

“Hey! We are NOT talking about that!”

You snort and glance at Jeonghan, who’s gone quiet, studying the board. He crouches down and whispers in Josh’s ear, both of them scanning the board. Josh finally nods, pushing one of his pawns forward.

“What was that about, Hong?” You ask, capturing said pawn with a neat L from your knight.

“Nothing.” He replies sweetly, while Jeonghan smirks.

“Sure it wasn’t.”

Josh doesn’t reply. The rest of the game is tensely quiet, interrupted only by Jeonghan murmuring into Joshua’s ear every few minutes, a devil on his shoulder.

But it was fine, you were ahead by a few pieces, your bishops slowly inching towards a checkmate. The next move was it, the game in the bag.

And then your queen is gone.

Jeonghan takes the liberty of removing it from the board with a proud smile while Joshua cackles.

The game doesn’t last much longer, soon the both of you down to just pawns and your king, and then just the kings. A draw.

And let’s be honest here: Joshua kinda sucks at chess.

Josh counted it as a victory, though, hitting Jeonghan with a high five that echoed around the classroom like a firecracker. The boys talked briefly while you set up the board again for the next duo and packed your bag, ready to head to your dorm for a much-needed nap.

You wave to Joshua and turn to go, only making it a few steps before someone grabs your wrist. You whip around, ready to tell them off, only to be met with Jeonghan interrupting whatever swear you were about to say with a sharp smile.

“I’m playing you on Monday.”

He lets go of your wrist and turns around, resuming his talk with Josh as if nothing happened.

Rubbing your wrists ruefully, you headed home.

•••

Of course, his bullshit didn’t stop there.

You did, in fact, play him on Monday. He had you cornered within five minutes.

The next time, in four.

He gathered a crowd a few games in. Every time you’d meet his gaze he’d smirk, eyes brimming with some sort of superiority that made you furious, always endlessly cool and calm. He’d flick his hair over his shoulder every so often, even stopping to talk to spectators while you puzzled over the board, trying to hide your stress.

You were second place by Wednesday.

•••

“You cheated.”

Jeonghan just raises a brow.

“Put the rook back.” You growl, firm.

“Sorry?” He ignores your request, instead poking at one of your previously captured pawns he has resting on the table next to him. “Can you move? I’ve almost got checkmate.”

“My rook, Yoon.” You hold out your hand. “Give it back, or put it back yourself. H6.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you resign? If we were using a timer you’d have been disqualified sometime last week.”

It’s taking every ounce of self control to not slap the living shit out of the smug bastard. “Jeonghan, if you don’t-“

“How’s the game going here?” The chess club leader had made her way to your table, grinning widely upon seeing her favorite students.

Jeonghan smiles kindly at her while you curl in on yourself, trying not to explode. “It’s fine, Ms. Lee. Almost done with this one.”

“Are you missing a piece? Looks like the black rook-“

“Must have fallen off the table.” Jeonghan chirps, ducking under the table and returning with the piece in hand. He sets it with the rest of his captured black army, sending a thumbs up at Ms. Lee. “Thanks for noticing, we don’t need to lose any more pieces.” It’s an innocent sentence, but it makes you turn a boiling red. Lose a piece, my ass.

“Well played, both of you.” She replies, patting Jeonghan on the head fondly before walking off. The blond rolls his eyes, ducking his head so Ms. Lee can’t see.

“Jeonghan, you asshole.” You hiss as soon as Ms. Lee is out of earshot. “I saw you take it out of your pocket, you lying-“

“If you’re not moving, I’m going to.” Jeonghan replies, moving his bishop forward to capture your queen. “Checkmate. Good game.”

You can only gape as he grabs your hand to shake it and walks off, approaching Joshua.

That was when you really knew you hated him.

•••

You studied his games from then on, partially to learn, partially to gather evidence. If he was cheating this consistently with other players, you could definitely get him kicked out of the club and subsequently your life once competition season started, as well as learn and potentially steal his strategies.

Infuriatingly, though, every single game he played besides the hellish ones with you were completely fair. No pieces being slipped into his thin hands when nobody was looking, no clock taps that discreetly took a few seconds from his opponent’s timer. Even with Josh, who he was best buddies with: not even a joking steal or a prank of any kind.

It was just with you.

Every single game you played together, he managed to do something to piss you off, if not blatantly cheat. If it was one of the days you had spectators, his harassment would come in the form of heavy looks and obnoxious “I’m waiting”-esque moves: tapping his nails on the desk, raising a brow, checking his watch.

And if you were alone, you basically had to glue your pieces down to the board to stop them from slipping their way into his pockets. It was obvious when he did it, too, always sending you a smile, too innocent.

It was infuriatingly adorable how proud he was of his nasty behavior. And he was focused too: none of his other opponents got the thought and effort he put into outwitting you and attempting to steal things without you noticing. As much as you hated him, you had to admire it.

Which is why it was so hard to finally draw a line and refuse to play with him anymore.

Though he shrugged when you put your foot down, his dark eyes watched you the rest of that club session. Every time you caught him, he held your gaze for a moment before looking away and resuming cheerfully animated conversation with his opponent.

God, how was he so easily likeable?

He respected your decision, though, and didn’t even attempt to talk to you. It was genuinely polar and strange, and it made you lost in thought as the months passed.

You almost missed the absence of anger, as stupid as it was. School had always been boring and simple, and chess with Jeonghan was the only thing to have made you frustrated in a long time, to have truly challenged you in a long time.

Even when you buckled down on trying to get him out of your head, he seemed to follow- being friends with Joshua (and honestly most of the other club members) almost always devolved into chats about the club and “why aren’t you playing Jeonghan anymore?”. Josh often suggested playing video games with the two of them, and you had to refuse (although playing League with Josh was so fun).

It was lonely.

Stupid Jeonghan.

•••

Finally, tournament season started.

Following (what was apparently) club tradition, the entire team dyed their hair between practices. You settled with a simple streak of blue that was stolen from Josh (he went completely teal, the madman).

The next day, Jeonghan came to practice with his blond ponytail gone, replaced by a dark brown undercut, hair bluntly chopped to end around his jaw.

Unfortunately, it suited him.

He saved a blond spot for a bit of Josh’s blue, however, and Josh dyed it for him in the middle of the clubroom, laughing the whole time. They’d planned it, clearly, as you were pretty sure Josh didn’t just carry around dye in his backpack.

Which means he knew you two would match when he did your hair.

It was confirmed by an apologetic shrug when you cornered him while he threw away the dye-stained gloves.

“Give him a chance, please y/n?”

“Hong Jisoo. You know how I feel about that dumbass-“

“y/n-“

“Why are you so insistent on having us talk again? He’s a two-faced-“

“y/n, you’d like him. He’s funny, and genuinely nice. I don’t know why he was acting like that with you, but that was almost three months ago. Give him a chance.”

“You should be glad I like you, you stupid fucking rat.”

Josh laughs as you walk away, fuming.

Unfortunately, you did like that stupid fucking rat, and so when he offered dinner after an out-of-state tournament (he pinky swore he’d pay) you finally gave in.

Jeonghan coming?

lol yea

that ok?

not rlly

I’ll give him a chance tho

:D thank u

you owe me

I’m buying ur food :(

josh we r literally getting fast food

you owe me

lol k >:)

#x reader #kpop x reader #svt #svt x reader #yoon jeonghan #Jeonghan #Hong Jisoo #joshua #chess!au #not even joking lol

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emerald-echeveria-plant · 3 years

Text

The Bonnet Crew Looks & a few more facts about them

(I wanted to make this because I felt like it and wanted to give y'all a better visual how the crew looks like since I can't draw :3)

Stede Bonnet

Bonnet would look like something horrific. So I went with a Wendigo! I thought about making him look like Flint's species but not anymore because I wanted him to be more scary looking.

The reason being because I like tropes where the character looks horrific but has a heart of gold. ((If this man wasn't good I could guarantee that he'd be the most feared pirate in the eitherium.))

- Bonnet was once apart of the military as a soldier. He served for three years and retired after nearly dying from a bomb exploding next to him.

- He had an ex-wife by the name of Mary Allenby. Their marriage was arranged to them by their parents. Bonnet would never admit it but he LOATHED her. Mary was a spoiled woman who would constantly complain and belittle Bonnet about everything. He just bought them a lovely mansion? It should've been a castle, Mary would say. He'd get her lovely gowns and clothing? She'd say she liked none of them but would wear them to tolerate his incompetence. No matter what, Mary was never satisfied. Bonnet would hide his hatred of her in order to save face. He's very happy now that he's no longer with her.

- A bit of NSFW but Bonnet never slept with his ex-wife. He found her so unlikeable that he couldn't even bang her.

- His ship is called the "Revenge"

- Bonnet was always confused about his sexuality. He had an attraction for men ever since he was a teenager but ignored his feelings because his parents had pretty negative views towards anyone that wasn't straight. Now that he's out of their grip, he's thought about exploring himself but doesn't know how to.

Ironbeard

Of course we're sticking with the original design because the original is ✨flawless ✨

Islay Lee

Islay is a heloderma which in other words is a gila monster.

They're adorable and fiesty little creatures:33 like Islay herself.

Leonid Gorbachev

Leonid is an ursid who's more buff than he is thicc in comparison to the rest of his species. He has a burn mark on his face from an unknown incident. His left hand is replaced with a mechanical one also from an unknown incident that he refuses to share.

Unfortunately I can't find an image so here's Ricardo.

Jayda & Jayden Solace

The first thing that came to my mind when picturing these two was those twins from the shinning xD which is actually one of the inspirations for them!

The solace twins look very similar. So similar in fact, its like someone was looking at their own reflection in a mirror. Sometimes it's hard to tell them apart until you realize one of them is a boy. They have hazel brown hair briaded into a fishtail, teal blue colored eyes, and often wear the same clothing.

- whenever the twins make a prediction, they're very metaphorical and symbolic when it comes to telling the future. They never just say "oh theres gonna be trouble ahead for us." And more like "The crows are flying around us like vultures on an animal carcass. Their getting closer and we must prepare for the pecking." Crows can represent bad luck.

- not a fact but I like to think that the twins see the future because of Davy Jones meddling with them. He's like "lol tell one of that they're gonna slip on a banana peel but be subtle about it"

- their favorite thing to do is stare at each other for long periods of times.

Fleance Bal

Honestly idk how he'd look. All I know is, Fleance would have puffy pink hair tied into a ponytail. His robotic body looks like a combination of feminine and masculine parts. Like broad hips and broad shoulders. Maybe his whole body is also pink?

Cletus Callaway

You know the typical ginger haired, green eyed southern man that will stab you if you insult his sweet tea. He's also heavily built since he's worked on a farm for almost his whole life.

Octavia Oshima

Octavia is a blue ringed octopus and if you known anything about them is that they're highly poisonous.

- Octavia is often discriminated against because of her poisonous genes.

- She'd often wear gloves to make sure she didn't leave anything she touched infected.

- she likes to conduct experiments in order to find more cures for diseases and sicknesses. She even uses a few of the other crewmates to be apart of her experiments.

- Octavia wrote in journals about her adventures and the crewmates on board. She filled up at least eleven journals with her writings.

Noëmie Von Marrietta

Noëmie is a canid and from the treasure planet lore, female canids look like cats. Noëmie is a dark grey fluffy canid. She's much smaller in comparison to the rest of the crewmates. She's the exact same height as Baozhai which should tell you that they're short.

- Noëmie enjoys singing when no one's around. Unfortunately because of her talent at singing beautifully, the others would sneakily listen to her.

Archie Mulligan

A cute and cuddly little red panda for the mischievous Archie Mulligan❤️❤️

I originally wanted to go with a raccoon but went with a red panda instead.

Archie uses his cuteness to steal from people.

((Sometimes I like to call red pandas - fancy raccoons xD))

#oc insert #looks #description

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thecasperanfamily · 3 years

Note

Hi! I know I’m like ridiculously late and you’ve probably already done something like this, but could you write a piece about how Lin and Julia first met? If you’ve already done so (I haven’t read everything yet) can you direct me to it?

Hey, Non, glad you stopped by for a visit. I don’t think you can really be “late” for something like a still-ongoing AU, so it’s all good lol. And actually I hadn’t written this piece yet! It was a fun mini-project for me, so thank you for requesting it. I hope you like it! 🎧🎨

~~~~~

A/N: (Lin and Julia are 14 here)

Arcadia Oaks High wasn’t exactly a large school. The odds of something even moderately interesting happening there and not having every student in the system know about it by the next day were incredibly slim. Contrary to what one might expect, Lin Casperan rather liked the lack of discretion. It made going there feel a bit like a performance, like he was getting up on a stage of some kind, where everything he said or did would be noticed, and not simply because people knew who his father was, but because everyone got noticed at some point or another in this school.

So of course, if Arcadia Oaks High happened to acquire a new transfer student mid-semester, everyone noticed. If said student made a point of slipping in and out of school without ever breathing a word, either to her fellow students or to her teachers, everyone noticed. If said student was almost never seen without a sketchbook and pencil in hand, everyone noticed. And if said student got in-school suspension for kicking a jock in the kneecap when he tried to take her sketchbook without her permission, everyone noticed.

Especially the boy who had to spend his detention period with her.

Lin had been in and out of detention enough times at this point that nobody really paid much attention to it anymore. But if he had to guess, he’d say that every student in this building had at least thought about the girl currently sitting two rows away from him. He didn’t really mind sacrificing the spotlight in this instance--hell, he was half-inclined to ask for her autograph. It took a lot of nerve to tell someone like Casey Bensington what he could or could not touch--and even more nerve to kick him in the kneecap when he didn’t listen. But judging from the way she was staring glumly at the top of her desk, idly rocking a pencil back and forth between her fingers, she wasn’t nearly as proud of herself as Lin would have been in her situation. Then again, also judging from the neatly stacked pile of books and finished homework next to her, she had probably been in here all day. Lin was usually ready to crawl out of his skin after just forty-five minutes in this room, and she couldn’t be feeling much better than that, if she’d been in there since that morning.

He had seen her before of course. She had transferred to Arcadia Oaks High two weeks ago, and they were in most of the same classes, but they’d never actually spoken to each other. He was sure he’d heard her name before at some point, but since forgotten it. She was easy enough for him to pick out of a crowd, however. Contrary to what most people believed about him, Lin did find certain girls to be particularly nice to look at, and he would say this one was one of them. She was rather willowy in stature, with a large, flouncy ponytail of dark brown hair, olive skin, and chocolate-colored eyes. From where he was sitting, if Lin tilted his head just right, he could catch a glimpse of a rumpled sheet of note paper lying on the desk in front of her, and what was on it was far more interesting to him than the homework he was supposed to be working on.

The page was covered in sketches of twisting, thorny vines, exotic blossoms, and hummingbirds. Though it was clear that she had been drawing out of boredom more than inspiration, the various little doodles all seemed to weave in and out of each other seamlessly, forming a cohesive whole. It didn’t look like the chaotic mess Lin made when he was boredom-sketching, but neither did it look completely ordered or tidy. There was both a wildness and a gentleness to her art. It was something Lin had never seen before, and he was finding himself utterly transfixed by it.

At least until she suddenly noticed he was staring.

He jerked his gaze back down to his math homework, hoping that the nonchalant way he was attempting to clear his throat would make it look like he’d just been staring idly into space, instead of ogling the girl’s personal sketches. He was no Casey Bensington, and he definitely didn’t fancy getting kicked in the kneecap either way.

Still, he couldn’t get the image of that sheet of doodles out of his head, no matter how hard he stared at the equations he was supposed to be solving, and when the bell finally rang and the detention supervisor dismissed them, Lin found himself scrambling to shove his books into his backpack and running to catch up with the girl in the hall outside (blatantly ignoring the No Running in the Halls signs that had been posted every six feet for him specifically).

“Hey! Uh, excuse me--” Fuzzbuckets, this would be so much easier if he could remember her name. She didn’t seem to realize he was trying to get her attention until he caught up with her and tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around on him so fast that her ponytail almost whipped him across the face, obviously startled, and Lin was quick to raise his hands in a placating gesture. “Uh, sorry. I just...I saw some of your sketches back there. I mean, I wasn’t trying to snoop, just they were sitting right there where I could see them, and I wanted to tell you they’re really cool. A-and Casey deserved that kick in the kneecap, no matter what the teachers say. He’s a jerk.”

The girl gave him a blank look, tilting her head a bit in confusion. Lin got the uncomfortable impression that she hadn’t heard a word he just said. Was she deaf? Oh, fuzzbuckets, he hadn’t considered that, but that would explain why she never said anything in class and now here he was practically yelling at her in the hallway like an insensitive idiot without even giving her the chance to--

“...C-could you say that again? Slower?” she stammered, words slow and somewhat choppy-sounding, as though she was having difficulty finding them. “I...English is not my first language.” She looked down at the floor, fiddling with her bag strap nervously.

“...I saw your drawings,” Lin repeated carefully. “I really like them.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure, but Lin thought he saw her eyes light up as she met his gaze again. “Gra--um...I mean, thank you.” There was an awkward pause.

“...I’m Lin. Lin Casperan.” He held out a hand, and she tentatively shook it.

“Julia Romero.” A pretty name, he thought idly. It suited her. He particularly liked the way she gently rolled the R’s. His Aunt Claire did that sometimes, especially when she was speaking--

“Do you speak Spanish?” Lin blurted. “I-I mean, is that your first language?”

“Sí,” Julia answered, looking hopeful. “...Do you speak it?”

“Not yet,” he said. “...But I bet I could learn.”

#the casperan family #lin casperan #tcf julia #niki answers #ficlet

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wikiangela-fanfics · 4 years

Text

"I could really eat somethin'"

This is a fic from Fictober 2019 (I wrote only two, lol) and it’s kind of based on “That 70′s show” and their Circle - so all the stuff of how they act is based on the show, I have no idea if it’s accurate even a little bit

And again, I liked the idea, but I feel like I fucked up the second half of this fic hah

Ao3

Summary: Dean and his friends go out to eat something while being high, in the middle of the night. As chance would have it, they meet Dean's crush.

Words: 4514

***

It was Friday night. Actually, it was already Saturday. Four teenagers were sitting in a circle at the round table. They were all in great moods. It was probably mostly due to the joint they were sharing. They were finishing another one and they were quite high at this point. But let’s introduce them first.

First, sitting in an armchair, a little bent towards the table, with huge grin on his face, was Dean Winchester. He was laughing at something someone said, tho he wasn’t really sure what it was. Even in his washed out jeans and a t-shirt with a band name, and high, he looked gorgeous. Back in high school he was one of the hottest, most popular guys. Not that he cared about all that. He was a twenty-one year-old college student now, and they were sitting in his small apartment at the moment.

To Dean’s left was his best friend, Charlie Bradburry, sitting in the middle of the couch, talking passionately about something. They’ve been friends forever and now they were going to the same university. Her beautiful red hair was up in a ponytail, with few strands of hair and her fringe loose all around her face. She was wearing Dean’s t-shirt, because she spilled coke all over hers, being her clumsy self.

Opposite to Charlie, and to Dean’s right there was his other best friend, Benny Lafitte, on an ottoman, holding the joint at the moment and taking a drag on it. He was also Dean and Charlie’s friend. They all met at the same time in elementary school and were inseparable since. Benny too went to college with Dean and even used to live with him for a while, before they decided that living together was not good for their friendship. They drove each other crazy.

And finally, opposite to Dean, in another armchair, was Sam Winchester. He was Dean’s younger brother. He was seventeen, in high school, and visiting his brother during winter break. But he was… not like his brother. In Dean’s words, he was a geek. With great grades and already knowing exactly what he wants to do in the future. Dean was in college, but even he had no idea what he wants to do. Sam wasn’t smoking with them. He took few puffs just so they wouldn’t tease him about how lame and uptight he is. And he knew them all for years, he knew they would do that. Then they stopped paying attention and he was just observing them with amusement.

“I could really eat somethin’.” Dean said, interrupting Charlie’s rant about something he wasn’t listening to.

“You always do.” Charlie laughed, rolling her eyes. “Anyway... what was I talking about?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows and trying to remember.

“I honestly have no fuckin’ idea.” Benny said, giggling , and passing the joint along to Dean.

“You’re pretty.” Charlie said to Dean and chuckled.

“You’re prettier.” he answered with a wink, then taking a drag of the joint.

“Well, duh.” she said, laughing again. “Gimme” she took the spliff from his hand, smoking it instantly.

“I think you’ve had enough, babycakes.” Benny reached across the table to take it from her, but she dodged from his hand.

“Look who’s talking.” she said, taking another drag. Then she gave it to Sam, who immediately gave it to Benny, who after a while gave it back to Dean, who just remembered that he’s hungry.

“Guys, I’m starving.” Dean said again, in a kind of whiny tone. “Let’s go out.”

“Yeah, I could eat too.” Benny shrugged.

“Yay, food!” Charlie exclaimed. She was probably the highest of them all. She was already up, going to the front door and putting her shoes on.

“You good, Sammy?” Dean asked his younger brother, of course thinking it was his first time smoking. It wasn’t. And he wasn’t really smoking right now anyway. Dean stood up and put out the joint.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, also standing up. “So we’re going out?”

Benny and Charlie were already out the door, with shoes and jackets on. They were laughing about something on the staircase.

“Yeah, we gonna eat.” Dean grinned. He couldn’t help it.

“Where?” Sam asked, putting his jacket and shoes on.

“Well…” Dean started, but got interrupted.

“How about this diner around the corner?” Benny said. “You know, the one where the guy you’re in love with works.” he said and Dean was surprised that his tone wasn’t even teasing like always. He just said that so casually, like it was the most common fact.

“I’m not.” Dean said. “But whatever. We can go there.” not like the guy’s gonna be there anyway. It was middle of the night and Dean saw him there only during days. And he knew for a fact that it’s open 24/7. He’s there quite a lot, especially on weekends, when the guy works.

“In love, huh?” Sam asked teasingly. That he was not aware of, and he was undoubtedly the person that knew literally everything about Dean.

“Shut you cakehole, bitch.” older brother said, but he couldn’t contain a smile. Mostly because he was that high.

"Jerk." Sam muttered back.

They all went out of the building and started walking down the street. They were all talking and laughing. Charlie and Dean were walking hand in hand. Benny and Sam were right next to them. It was around 2am. There weren’t many people out.

Few minutes later they went into the diner. And Dean stopped suddenly, unknowingly pulling Charlie back towards him, and causing Benny and Sam behind them to almost bump into him.

“Dude, what the fuck-” Benny started, but then he just snorted and tried to suppress a laugh. “So he is here.” he added. “Sammy, meet your brother’s great, unrequited love.”

“Maybe a little louder, would ya?” Dean said, trying to appear annoyed. But he wasn’t really capable of being annoyed right now, thanks to the weed. He was too relaxed. He pulled Charlie towards the nearest free table. It wasn’t hard, just two others were occupied. “And to you he’s Sam.” he added, knowing that the kid’s gonna say it anyway.

“C’mon.” Benny rolled his eyes, sitting down opposite to him and Charlie.

“Dean’s right.” Sam said, sitting next to him. “Only Dean calls me ‘Sammy’, which I still hate by the way.” he said with his famous annoyed expression and Dean laughed.

“Even our parents are not allowed to call him that.”

“We know.” Charlie spoke up. “We’ve known you for quite some time.”

They all started bickering, when someone approached the table.

“Hello, what can I get you?” they all looked at the waiter. Dean swallowed loudly. It was him. No amount of weed would make him relaxed enough to not be a little bit nervous around his crush.

“Hey Cas.” Dean cleared his throat, looking away from him. “I’ll have the usual.”

They all placed their orders and Cas went away, with Dean observing him. Cas was in a really well-fitting pair of black jeans, and a white polo shirt that they were supposed to wear in the diner, and a red apron. And he looked good. Like always. His dark hair all messy. But the thing about him Dean liked the most, in appearance, were his eyes. So blue and bright and… deep and nice and Dean was so in love with those eyes. He also loved Castiel’s sense of humor and the way he got confused when he didn’t understand a joke or a reference. Or how smart he was and he seemed to know every fact there is about everything. And he was so nice and helpful to people. They talked quite a lot. But not long, because Cas was always working. And Dean never had the guts to ask him out, even as friends. And when they weren’t talking and Dean was in the diner, he liked to observe him. He knew all his cutest smiles and expressions. And he was a little creeped out by himself, but he didn’t care.

“You’re staring.” Charlie said in a singsong tone.

“So what?” Dean found himself not really caring if Cas notices. But that lasted a moment, after which he came back to reality. “I’m hungry.” he said again.

“Dude, we just ordered. Be patient.” Benny rolled his eyes, smiling.

Dean and Benny started talking, Sam pitched in from time to time, mainly just listening, while Charlie was ignoring them completely, drawing on napkins with pen she asked another waiter for.

“Wow, that’s nice.” Sam said to her, while other guys were still talking.

“Thanks, Sammy.” she grinned and stuck out her tongue when he rolled his eyes. “You know you’re stuck with ‘Sammy’, right?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” he sighed, but he had a little smile. They were like family. “But it’s okay, as long as it’s just you three.” he knew he would not win with them. With Dean. To Dean he will always be his little brother Sammy and he had to come to terms with it.

Just then Cas came over with a tray full of their food. He put everything on the table.

“Thanks, Cas.” Charlie grinned at him.

“That’s pretty.” he pointed to Charlie’s drawing.

“It’s nothing.” she chuckled. “You’re cute.” she added, looking up at him, and before she said anything else that might be stupid or about Dean, Dean nudged her with his elbow, maybe a little too hard. “Oh wow, I’m hungry.” and she dug in her food, already forgetting what she said.. They were still high.

“Enjoy your meal.” Cas smiled, a little abashed, and then was gone.

Just then Charlie said seriously “If you’re not gonna ask him out, I will.”

“What?” Dean turned towards her, shocked. “You’re a lesbian.”

“And still, he’s so dreamy even I am attracted to him.” she said, a little bit jokingly, but the rest of them couldn’t be sure. “I was never even attracted to you, and according to every girl in high school, that was impossible.” she pointed out.

“That’s not true, shut up.” Dean took a bite of his food. “If you go out with him, we’re not friends anymore.”

“You gonna break up with me?” she asked in a mockingly shocked tone. “Over a guy ? How can you even say that?” she theatrically put her hand on her chest. “Wait, you’re not gonna, are you?” she seemed genuinely concerned now.

“He’s not just any guy.” Benny said. Dean just kept eating, because he was really hungry. Normally they wouldn’t stop with the jokes and teasing, but they were stoned now, so one of them will change the subject soon. The only thing he would worry about, if he was sober, was that they were talking incredibly loud. “He’s the one . The one that wrapped Dean around his finger not even trying.”

“Seriously?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Charlie nodded and then started laughing. Then she got all serious. “Guys!” she exclaimed. “What if we all got magic powers, like, like wizards- Like, what if we were supposed to go to Hogwarts but we never got out letters?!” she seemed really concerned about this, which was really funny to the rest of the group.

“Wait.” Benny thought about something intensively. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard it already tonight.”

“Really?” she was confused.

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about it before Dean suggested food.” Sam said. He was still the sober one.

“Oh.” she said, and it seemed like she was suddenly deep in thought. “I would eat some ice-cream.”

“Later.” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Oh fuck, it’s good.” he added, pointing to his food. “But we gotta get ice-cream after this.”

“Yes!” Charlie clapped.

“This coke is the best!” said Benny, sipping the drink he ordered.

Sam was amazed at how quickly their moods and topics were changing, basically this whole night. He knew how weed worked, but still, he never saw his big brother like that, so it was weird.

When they were finished with the food, they spent a bit more time there, just sitting and talking. Then they paid and left. They started walking back towards Dean’s apartment, Benny and Charlie deep in conversation about some sci-fi movie they both watched and now they were discussing and freaking out over the end of the world. Sam was to them listening with amusement, and Dean was deep in thought. Then suddenly he stopped.

“I’m gonna be right back.” he pulled the keys out and gave them to Sam. And then he just turned around and walked away.

“What?” they were all confused.

“We were supposed to get ice-cream!” Charlie remembered.

“Let’s go then.” Benny decided. “Dean’s loss.”

“Are there any places with ice-cream even open right now?” Sam, of course, was the voice of reason.

“Shoot, I didn’t think of that.” Charlie said, looking like she’s about to cry.

“Then we’ll find some 24/7 supermarket or something and we’ll eat ice-cream at home.” Benny said. “Sound okay?”

***

Meanwhile, Dean felt bold and stoned and he was not thinking clearly. So he decided to do something stupid.

He went back to the diner and saw Cas wiping tables.

“Hey.” he said, walking over to him.

“Oh, hi.” Castiel looked at him. “Did you forget something?”

And Dean got lost in those blue eyes. And all he wanted to do was kiss Cas’ lips. But... Keep in mind that he was intoxicated, when he mindlessly said, or maybe even muttered “I could really eat somethin’.”

“What?” Castiel squinted his eyes adorably as he did, when he was really confused. “You just ate, Dean.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Dean chuckled uncomfortably. “Sorry, I’m a little high. Um, what I wanted to say was-” he took a deep breath. “You wanna go out with me sometime?” he said quickly and nervously. The only reason he got it together was weed and even that wasn’t enough to not stress about Cas’ answer. Or maybe it was starting to wear off? He wasn’t sure.

“Of course.” Castiel smiled widely.

“I mean, on a date.” Dean added, not sure if the beautiful angel in front of him understood. He bit his lip nervously, while Cas just chuckled.

“I got that. I would love to go on a date with you.” Cas said slowly so it would really get to Dean. “Just don’t be high then.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Dean laughed. “I’ll give you a call.”

“You don’t have my number.” Cas said, pulling his pad and a pen, writing a number and then tearing the page out of there and giving it to Dean. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Dean smiled. “But I really could eat somethin’. It’s the weed.” he explained. “I think we were gonna get ice-cream.”

“We have ice-cream.” Cas said. “We can share.” he smirked.

“Sure.” Dean said, already forgetting about his friends. “But this will not count as the first date.” he added.

***

Later that night, maybe around 3:30am, he was back in the apartment, where the rest of them were eating ice-cream from a box.

“Suckers.” he laughed. “I just had ice-cream with Cas. And I got a date. Sorry, Charlie, he’s mine.” Dean grinned and his friends were in shock.

“I knew you had the guts to ask him out.” Benny finally said. “Well, really I didn’t, but good for you.”

“Congrats. And don’t fuck it up.” Sam spoke.

“I guess I prefer ladies anyway.” Charlie shrugged.

Dean sat down with them and after the box of ice-cream was empty, they all went to sleep.

***

The next day, when the weed wore off and Dean was sober, he woke up and started panicking.

"I asked Cas out." he said to himself. He pulled the number out of his pocket, as he didn't change before sleep, and just stared at it for some time. "And he said yes. Fuck me.” he covered his face with his hand, still not believing that it actually happened. But he knew it did. He didn’t remember much of last night, but he definitely remembered his talk with Cas.

“I’m sure he will, but shut up.” Charlie groaned next to him, turning her back to him and taking more of the covers with her. She wasn’t a morning person. Well, neither was Dean, but he was too nervous about his date. They were sleeping in his bed, Sam was on the couch in the living room, and Benny on the floor in living room.

Dean rolled his eyes and got out of bed. He quickly put Cas’ number into his phone. He knew that Castiel is probably asleep after night shift, and also he didn’t want to be the guy that calls right away. That would seem lame. Although he did not want to wait too long...

So he called him later that day, when his friends went back to their houses and it was just him and his brother.

“Hello?” Cas answered and Dean felt this familiar warm feeling he got every time he heard Cas’ voice.

“Hey Cas. It’s Dean.” he said and went to his room, to be alone and so Sam, who was sitting in the living room watching tv, would not hear his conversation.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel said. “I’m glad you called.”

“I’m calling about that date… because I did ask you out on a date, right?” he added, suddenly doubting himself.

“Yes, you did.” Cas laughed. “You really were that high, huh?”

“I guess.” Dean bit his lip. “So, are you free anytime next week? Around 6pm maybe?”

“I’m free tomorrow night.” Cas said, but then added quickly “But we can find time next week too, I just thought- Nevermind, sorry.”

“No, that’s cool. I mean, that’s even better.” Dean assured. “Honestly I wanted to ask you even about tonight, but I didn’t wanna be too, um, pushy, I guess. But I’ve been wanting to ask you out for so long that the sooner the better.”

“Okay, great.” Dean could swear he heard Cas smiling. “Tomorrow night, then.”

“Oh, wait.” Winchester suddenly remembered that his brother is staying with him for another few days. He opened the door and called “Yo, Sammy, you gonna be okay if I leave you here alone tomorrow night for a couple hours?”

“I’m gonna be fine, Dean.” Dean could see only his back, but he was sure Sam just rolled his eyes. “Go on your big date and have fun.”

“Thanks, little bro.” he closed the door again. “Sorry ‘bout that.” he said to the phone. “It’s just that my brother’s visiting and, you know.” he shrugged, although Cas obviously couldn’t see him.

“So tomorrow around six?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Should I pick you up?”

"Sure, why not.” Cas chuckled. “I’ll text you the address.”

***

He was really nervous for the rest of the day, and the next day. Normally, when he or his friends were feeling stressed, they would smoke a bit, just enough to relax. But he promised Cas he would be sober. Besides, he wanted to remember everything exactly.

But he didn’t even know where to take him or what to wear.

“Dean, relax.” Sam sighed, when Dean was running all over the apartment, looking for his favourite t-shirt. “You’ll figure out what you wanna do together.”

“Yeah, but still. I have no clue- ah, shit!” he exclaimed after he hit his foot against the couch. “I really want this to work out. It has to.” he added, running back to his room. “What t-shirt did Charlie wear yesterday? You know, the one she took from my closet?”

“I don’t know, didn’t pay much attention to that. Just wear whatever, you always look the same.” Sam was getting annoyed. His brother was insufferable sometimes. “And you never really cared what you wore on dates.”

“Yeah, but this is Cas.” Dean had to go out in twenty minutes if he wanted to be on time. “I really, really like him, Sammy.” he stopped in the door to his room and looked at his brother.

“I know.” Sam sighed. “And he likes you too, don’t worry. I honestly don’t know any person, who isn’t a teacher, who didn’t like you.” he said, because, yeah, Dean wasn’t so popular with the teachers. He was doing good at school, but his attitude wasn’t always the best. He was kind of a smart-ass.

“Funny.” Dean rolled his eyes. “And he’s gonna be a teacher.” he mumbled, going back to looking through his closet. Cas was working at the diner on weekends, and for the rest of the week he was in college too.

“Then you’re screwed.” Sam joked and got a pair of socks thrown at his head. “I’m kidding! Jerk.” he scoffed, getting up to take a beer out of the fridge. He loved being at Dean’s place, because he could do whatever he wanted, like drink beer that his brother would buy him.

“Bitch.” Dean responded. After few minutes he walked out of his room in blue jeans, black t-shirt with unbuttoned, red, plaid shirt over it. “Be honest, how do I look?”

“Like I said, same as always.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“You’re no help.” Dean scoffed and FaceTimed Charlie, asking the same question. She was at some party, getting drunk and high again.

“You look awesome!” she yelled, through the music. “I’m sure you gonna get some tonight!”

Sam laughed at that and Dean just hung up. It was about making good impression, not...ugh. Well, Cas knew him for over a year now and still wanted to go out with him, so maybe he didn’t have to panic as much. And he kinda ruined the ‘first’ impression when he asked him out while high… All that is left is not making a fool out of himself on the date.

***

He parked his car in front of the building Cas lived in. He got out of the car and that’s when he saw the door opening and Cas was walking towards him, wearing a light blue shirt and black jeans, with unzipped jacket over his shoulders.

“Right on time.” Cas grinned.

“Yeah, like to be punctual. For the important things.” Dean chuckled. “Fuck, you’re cute.” he said without thinking, looking at Castiel’s smile. Cas blushed and gave him a sheepish smile.

“You too.” he said and they were silent for a moment. “Is this awkward?” he then added, feeling a bit weird.

“Only if we let it be.” Dean answered, opening the car door for Cas. He was acting way more confident than he felt. “So how about dinner?”

***

They ended up going to the dinner, then to the movies, and then finally ended up in a bar, drinking beer and talking. Turns out, once they got past the awkwardness, they couldn’t stop talking about basically everything.

“So do you smoke often?” Cas asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“What?” Dean was caught off guard, as they were just talking about the fact that they like the same books.

“I mean weed. You know, when you asked me out-”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Dean interrupted him with a little chuckle. “Yeah, I was pretty stoned. But not too much, okay? I know when to stop, unlike one of my best friends.” he added.

“So do you do this often?” Castiel asked again.

“I mean, when I’m very stressed, or when I’m with my friends and we’re bored... “ he bit his lip. “Maybe quite often.” he shrugged. But then he thought that maybe Cas asked because he doesn’t want to be with a person who gets baked all the time. “But not that much, I mean, it’s not like we do it every day. And weed is not that bad-”

“I know, okay.” Cas interrupted him with a smile. “I don’t have a problem with that. I like you.”

“Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I like you too.” Dean grinned.

“Good. I was only asking, because I never did it, so-”

“Wait.” Dean’s eyes widened. “You’re tellin’ me you never smoked weed?”

“Never had the chance.” Cas shrugged.

“Well, do you wanna?” Winchester asked, not really thinking.

“Why, do you have some?” Cas laughed, but he caught himself really considering it. You gotta try everything, right?

“Not on me, but I got a stash at my place. We could go even now. I mean, if you want to. And my brother’s there, but he’s cool.”

“Okay.” Cas said, surprising them both. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” in answer Cas just nodded.

***

So half an hour later, they were sitting on Dean’s couch, and Dean was lighting up a joint. Meanwhile, Sam was in Dean’s room, where Dean told him to go, reading a book.

Cas smoked for the first time and it wasn’t that bad. At first he didn’t feel anything. Then he started to feel kinda funny. And he was laughing and didn’t even know why.

“For a first time, I think that’s enough.” Dean said after a while. He laughed too.

“I want to kiss you.” Cas said out of the blue, looking Dean straight into the eyes. He was thinking it the whole evening, and now it just kinda slipped out of his mouth.

“That’s fine by me.” Dean smiled, leaning in. He was too chilled out to be stressing about it. When their lips met, he felt ten times higher than he was. It was so amazing and new and exciting. And they both couldn’t stop smiling during the kiss. After they broke the kiss, they just looked at each other.

“You know what?” Cas chuckled, his forehead against Dean’s.

“What?” Dean asked, pulling a little bit away and looking into those beautiful eyes.

“I could really eat something.” at that they both burst out laughing. So they decided to ask Sam to make them some sandwiches. He wasn’t happy about it, but he did it anyway. It was Dean’s big date, he didn't want to be the one ruining something, even by not making a fucking sandwich.

And years later, when Dean and Cas moved in together, they still couldn’t believe that it all started from weed. If it wasn’t for that night when Dean got high and wanted to go out to eat, who knows if he would ever had the guts to ask Cas out? Maybe Cas would ask him? Although he was never really sure if Dean was interested and didn’t want to make a fool of himself. Anyway, the sentence “I could really eat somethin’” has become one of the inside jokes for the group of friends, and, more importantly, a really important thing for Cas and Dean. A sentence that started it all. Or maybe it was weed? Well, they were thankful to both.

That night with his friends, smoking in the Circle, forever was the memory Dean would cherish, even if he remembered it really vaguely. He got the love of his life out of all this. The person who he would be with for the rest of his life. Turns out, weed can be really helpful, huh?

#destiel #Destiel fanfic #destiel oneshot #fluff i guess #fluff #destiel fluff #fanfic #old fic #i kinda like it #but i fucked it up #i write only fluff #fanfic writing #posting old stuff #for now #based on a show #that 70s show #inspired by a show #fictober 2019 #fictober prompts

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 5 years

Text

Kitsune | i. demon

Jung Hoseok/Reader [F]

Genre: Demon Hunter AU, Action, Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Japanese Feudal Era

Warning(s): Contains Violence & Blood (Semi to Graphic Depictions)

Words: 8.7k

Summary: Demons: man-eating, murderous monsters who would kill anyone for the blood of humans: be it man, woman or child. They have no need for comrades. Known cannibalize and kill other demons if they so choose. Demon Hunters are tasked with eliminating any and all demons without question, but what would come to pass if they were told that a demon saved a human life? Views, values and relations become altered and absolutely nothing seemed human anymore. Never sharpen a blade too much, lest you become the wounded.

Series Index

a/n: It's finally here!!! Lowkey super hyPED to start this series. Pls pls pls let me know what you think of the first part. If you want to be added to the tag list for future parts hmu. (also lmk what you think of my attempt at action scenes LOL)

tag.list: @kathrynwynterbourne

Snowfall. It was the one absolute that was offered in the dead of the winter months. No matter who lives, who has died, what will be and what has been, snowfall will always occur. That was just a common fact. It was what lay beneath and beyond the snow and the walls of villages of homes that were secret.

What lay up beyond the mountains of wisteria and what was kept inside; held as a prison unless otherwise executed. The pure, beautiful snow the people know was far more dark and grim than the children who rolled in it realized. Not a single one of them knew just how crimson snow can become when soaked with the darkest shade of blood from something that isn’t man, nor animal. The blood of a demon is much darker.

The distant woods of Japan were tranquil in the season of winter. Thin bare trees, coated with the faintest layers of snow that could fall off their small, frail branches. The ground though would catch all that fallen snow and pile up until a sea of white would cover the forest floor. Green of grass dead and brown of dirt hidden under the pure white of the cloudy grey skies.

It was in these forests that echoed the sounds of battle.

Somewhere beyond those bare, endless snowy-white trees was a man. Running, weaving through the snowy abyss. Clothbound waraji on his feet and to his knees along with a black keikogi, a single matching obi around his waist. Covered over on top of his zipping body was a red, floral haori- fluttering behind him like a crimson butterfly. Two swords were strapped on top of one another slung around his hip. A hand of his resting on the tip of their dual hilts, steadying them in his rapid sprinting.

He was in pursuit. His head turned towards his right, following something with his eyes as he tracked them. His eyes flicked up to the tree line, following his target. He slid to a stop, drifting into a halt as his heels dug into the pact snow. The hand resting on his swords moved to grip a single one before quietly and steadily drawing his blade.

He stood completely silent, blade shining off the innocent snow. All was still for just a moment. He whipped around, a feral growl approaching as a creature sprung from the treetops above- descending upon him. It was inhuman.

Veins crawling- bulging- up to its neck and around its face. Barely covered in cloth, most unfitting for the cold of winter with stained claws. Claws that were aimed at the hunter’s throat. This mindless demon was looking for its next human meal before the cloudy-snowing sky revealed the sun.

The hunter remained ever calm- even with a demon after his head. A deep breath, a swift moment and a clean strike was all it took. Slicing his sword towards his attacker, he was soon behind the demon once again sheathing his sword after swiping it clean of blood. The demon’s body fell limply into the snow with a muffled thud. It’s head landing away from its body- cleanly decapitated.

The innocent white snow tainted with demon’s blood as its body twitched with its last moments of life. The hunter stood in front of the headless body as it began to disintegrate. The demon howled and cursed before its body and head vanished. Never even a bone remained of the corpse- everything into dust.

Then the hunter bowed.

Placing a hand to rest back on the hilts of his swords, he looked to the frozen rain of snow falling overhead with no sight of stopping. He took a deep breath, letting it out in the form of chilled fog before it dissipated.

“Winter in Japan is much colder than I remember,” was all he said as he stood alone. Setting his sights down- forward- he moved to proceed on. Making his footprint in the bloody snow that would soon be covered by a fresh new layer of white.

The hunter who tread through the woods soon entered through the gates of a village. It was a small one- well off the path that kept it firmly hidden from others. However, this village held a purpose for his visit. A manor that is kept hidden inside a barrier to keep demons from finding it, only Demon Hunters with specifically crafted talisman could see and enter it.

He stood face to face with a long stone wall that surrounded the village perimeter. Examining it, he pulls a talisman from the inside of his keikogi and a portion of the wall appears to distort in his eyes like a ripple. That distortion was his entrance. Stepping through the wall and into the front entrance of the manor.

A long walkway of stepping stone leading to the double shoji door of the large home. The hunter stepped from stone to stone until he was at the door. Ready to open it and head inside, he was stopped from a call above him. Stepping back, he looked up. On the second balcony hung casually over the edge was the body of a samurai he was more than familiar with.

“You are awfully bold. Not even bothering to knock- just entering a house that certainly is not your own.” The man above tutted with a wave of his hand.

“I was called here for business,” the hunter replied. “What reason do I have to announce myself if you all were already well aware of my arrival. I know Shiro knew the moment I arrived at the village gate.” The second balcony man climbed and hopped up and over the wooden railing before practically floating down on the wind. His bare feet hitting the stone landing of the entrance. Landing easy, gracefully next to the hunter as he tucked his arms together in the sleeves of his kimono.

His kimono was a pattern of white and fair yellow; patterns of lilies among the fabric. The obi bound round his waist a pitch black. His dark hair strung array as his eyes hid behind the fringe of his bangs. Having just enough hair to pull and tie into a ponytail at the back of his head with a hair string of yellow he favored. String whipping its ends in the winter breeze.

“Yes, she did. However, you should know not to be rude in any case. This still is not your home.”

“It does not belong to your either, Taehyung.” The hunter informed the casually dressed samurai. Taehyung just shook his head, opening the translucent door as the wind chime above it jingled. He invited the hunter inside to follow after him.

“You sure have been on edge ever since you came back from the continent. Can you pretend not to be insufferable for a change of pace?” Taehyung told him. The hunter slid off his waraji and followed behind Taehyung’s back- despite already knowing the layout of his manor due to his previous visits. Treading halls and tatami mat floors in his two sleeved socks. Taehyung soon arrived at a room, doors shut and stopped before it.

Both samurai and hunter dropped to their knees behind the sliding door. “My Lord,” Taehyung called, head lowered. “Your guest has arrived.” A small sigh came beyond the door.

“You two may enter.” A smooth voice called from inside. Both men stood and excused themselves before they slid the door open and entered.

Sliding the paper door, the room was large and nearly empty. A meeting or gathering room of sorts. Along the tatami floors were cushions for guests to sit. On one of those cushions in the back center of the room sat an elegantly dressed man- an equally elegant tapestry hung on the far wall behind him in the tokonoma. Appearing no older than his middle ages and keeping his true age to himself, not even his most trusted knew his age- aside from his wife.

Dressed in a kimono flattered in golds and reds with the bluest haori of silk on his shoulders, the lord of the manor sat peacefully. Running and taking care of the manor he occupied as well as the village he cherished and everybody that dwelled in them. Long black hair that reached his back and tied with a fine gold ribbon.

Taehyung and the hunter sat in front of him, legs tucked under themselves. The hunter replaced his swords from their place on his hip and removed them to rest them on the floor at his side.

The lord smiled. “Hoseok. It is a pleasure to be in your presence again.” The hunter- known as Hoseok- bowed his head slightly.

“It has been far too long, Lord Fuuta.” The lord waved off the formality. “May I assume Lady Shiro is well?”

“She is. She came to me the moment you arrived; though I am sure you are well aware of that.” Lady Shiro was the lovely wife of Fuuta; she was also a high standing priestess of spiritual power. She was both revered and discriminated- hence why she chose to hide in this home with her beloved. She was never one for public affairs- so her appearance to even the most frequent of guests was never expected.

Fuuta cleared his throat as he stood. His eyes dead set on Hoseok. The soft gleam of his eyes hardening a fraction as Hoseok’s body grew the smallest bit of tension.

“I will move along then. We have someone who was brought to us by Taehyung- a story of his is why we have called you here. I would like you to come and listen and from there I shall decide what I would like the two of you to do.” Fuuta was a man who had more power than just another standing noblemen. He was the center of a small unofficial organization of hunters that specialize in hunting down and killing demons. Consisting of swordsman and the rare swordswoman. From samurai, like Taehyung, and even skilled ninjas- Hoseok had only met one ninja however, as they were not people who enjoy much human confrontation.

Taehyung and Hoseok looked at each other. It was not often Fuuta would pair either of the two up with a partner, but to pen them both together as a single unit was something exceedingly rare. The last time Hoseok fought beside Taehyung was years ago when the two were just finishing up their training under Fuuta’s head branch of fighters. Many since then have resigned their position due to injury or age, while others have unfortunately died fulfilling their duties in cutting down demons. Out of the twelve leaders, only 3 spots of the original remain. The others have been replaced time and time again with new leaders.

Currently, Taehyung sat in one of those chairs himself. A leader of his kind; walking proudly as the top Samurai under Kurou and able to harness his body to any extent he sees fit. Speed and precision were the exceeding traits he possessed that were leagues above his fellow samurai and earned him respect beyond belief.

Hoseok hoped to be seated next to his friend one day; although he is powerful- his training to be able to sit proudly there at Taehyung’s side still has a long way to go.

The two both stood as Fuuta began to make his way to the door, heading out into his halls and onward still. Hoseok and Taehyung following behind as Hoseok had replaced his swords back around his waist- slipping them into the obi he wore.

Fuuta moved gracefully even in his steps. Making turns as he soon stood in front of a room, doors closed as he announced himself. Inside were two bodies, male and female opposing. The woman was none other than Shiro. Dressed in her priestess garb: red Hakan and white kosode. Her hair bound behind her in a long, red braided ribbon. A folded paper fan tucked into her breast.

The man looked feeble and malnourished to a threatening degree- despite his stay in the manor. Sat in tattered brown trousers and without a shirt so Shiro could examine his still healing wounds on his chest. She stopped when the door behind her opened revealing her husband and two hunters at his sides. Familiar faces to her.

Taehyung and Hoseok lowered their heads as Shiro remained silent. She stood from the man’s side and went to her husband’s.

“Has he progress at all?” Fuuta questioned. Shiro shook her head.

“He eats scarcely. He is insistent we find the woman he keeps requesting.” Shiro’s voice was as soft as a bell. Fuuta sighed as he dismissed his wife. Leaving the four men in the room, Fuuta moved to kneel at the dazed man’s side. Sat inside a futon he remained still and didn’t even meet Fuuta’s gaze.

“Once more,” Fuuta stated. “Could you tell us about the demons’ that attacked you once more?” The still man suddenly flew into a frenzy.

“It wasn’t ‘demons’!” He sprung to his knees, grabbing Fuuta’s collar. Taehyung moved quickly to detach him from Fuuta. He kicked and pulled as Taehyung restrained his arms. “I told you- a demon saved me!” Hoseok stilled at the impossible thought. “I-I was hunting around an old shrine when a giant spider trapped me in its web. I was going to die but another demon showed up. A woman. She freed me and sent me down the mountain. She sent me to the samurai in the area!” The man broke into weak sobs, his body slackening again- losing all its tension.

Taehyung released him, knowing his fit was concluded. Fuuta straightened out his kimono as Hoseok and Taehyung moved to sit closer to their Lord. The weak man left in his futon trembling with tears.

“There you have it,” Fuuta started. “It has been the same story day after day. There have been no difference or flaws as his story has been rehearsed exactly the same each time he’s asked to tell it.” He looked back at the man. “Do you still wish for this woman to be acquired? Taehyung was the samurai who was presented to you, so he would know around the location you were when this all transpired.” The man only nodded as Fuuta looked back to his men- specifically Hoseok and his hardened eyes. “He deeply wishes to offer his thanks. Taehyung can take you to the location and lead out this mission; however, the choice to kill or capture the demon is purely up to you. I will not demand she stay alive.”

Fuuta knew sending Taehyung alone would almost guarantee her capture and return as a warm body and not a corpse. However, Hoseok was not so compassionate towards demons even under Fuuta orders. There was a possibility of Hoseok completely rejecting the job completely; not wishing to be in a position to show any sort of mercy to a demon.

Hoseok had a hard time believing this sick old man’s story. Claiming to be saved by a demon? Demon’s don’t care about who they kill. So, why would one even think about rescuing the life of a human in the first place? Hoseok just didn’t- couldn’t- believe such a farfetch'd tale. Hoseok bowed to his leader before silently dismissing himself.

Moving himself outside, he sat among the garden, his swords off his hip as they rested against his shoulder. He sat in the snow, his haori resting behind him as the evergreen shrubs surrounded around him. The snow had begun to descend again as his breath left in white puffs. It wasn’t long before Taehyung had moved to his side, standing with his hands once again tucked into his sleeves in front of his chest.

“You know,” Taehyung started, “Lord Fuuta chose you specifically for this job. If it weren’t for my knowing the relative location, I doubt I would have been involved at all.” Hoseok looked at the snow sprinkled ground.

“You understand how I feel about demons,” Hoseok replied simply in a tone as cold as the snow he sat around. Taehyung just sighed, expecting no less.

“The lord isn’t asking you to change your views or beliefs. He’s trying to offer a new road for yourself. Seeing you fight and kill without hesitation constantly both bothers and worries him.”

Hoseok knew that, but having the job to not exterminate a demon and instead bring them back so they can be thanked? It was a lot to ask for. Taehyung left his friend’s side not long after their small talk- leaving him to his thoughts. After all, no one can decide Hoseok’s choices but himself. Taehyung knew the boundary between friend and subordinate and knew never to go beyond it.

When night fell the house gathered in the dining hall for dinner. Eating as they sat in a rectangular formation in zaitsu chairs- Fuuta at the head of the formation with Shiro to his right. Personal raised lacquer tables decorated with bowls of rice, dishes of grilled fish from the river and pickled vegetables. Chopsticks sat on lifted bamboo pieces.

They ate in silence as the dishes were cleared, thanks were given and soon one by one everyone was dismissed off. Hoseok sat in his room and board for any time he visits this manor. Perched on the wall-built desk of his tatami room. Changed out of his keikogi and haori hung on a nail of his wall. Replaced with a men-fitted kimono of white clouds. A thin sash around his waist with the chest pulled open. The open window brought the welcome cold inside.

He was disturbed only once more when a servant of the house intruded on his privacy to deliver a sharpening stone per his request. His sword had dulled in his battles leading up to his arrival. So, he sat in his lantern-lit room, sharpening the one sword he ever dared to draw, the other laying dormant and sheathed.

Just as always.

The next morning, Hoseok was woken up by Taehyung kicking him as he slept in his futon. He groaned now awake. Taehyung stood above him, arms tucking into his kimono in proper Taehyung fashion. Hoseok just nodded, a silent confirmation that he was awake as Taehyung left his room, sliding his shoji door shut.

Hoseok sat up, his hair a reckless mess as he looked out his still open window as gooseflesh rose throughout his skin. It was sunny today. No doubt the snow sparkled in the sunlight on the ground this morning. A new layer ready to be marked with fresh footprints.

Getting out of his futon, he left his swords by his small closet space and slipped on a pair of tabi over his feet before leaving his room. Fixing and tucking his kimono as he walked, he soon ran into a slew of morning servants. Offering bows and holding trays of seed for the garden birds who had not fled for winter and still bathed their wings in the stone baths made for them.

He soon sat on the outside landing of the gardens again, breathing in the winter morning air. It wasn’t long before his solitude was broken by someone joining him. Sitting to his left.

“Have you come to a decision on what our Lord asked of us?” Taehyung spoke without eye contact. Staring ahead at the morning scenery, same as his friend. Hoseok sighed.

“What about you? Will you go allow with what he’s asked?”

“I have no reason to oppose it. Unlike you, I have a fairly neutral opinion about demons as a whole species.” Hoseok remained silent. “As far as I believe, demons can choose just like people. What side do they fall on and who do they fight for. Though, it is, of course, an opinion.” Taehyung stood, tighten up his loose obi sash. He knew Hoseok felt nothing but hostility, so he wouldn’t tread on the topic any further.

Without a word, Taheyung left the hunter in his solitude once more. Hoseok sighed, moving to lay on his back. “What do you think I should do?” He asked up to the sun. Only semi-hoping it would answer back.

It was just brushing midday when Taehyung stood ready to depart the manor. Dressed in his appropriate samurai garbs and armor with his freshly sharpened sword on his hip. Sat up on horseback, he spoke with his lord before departure.

“Is Hoseok not joining you then, Taehyung?” Fuuta asked as Taehyung shook his head.

“It is a tough choice for him. Do not hold it against him, My Lord.” Kurou just smiled at Taehyung’s sincerity and defense of his underling and friend.

“Hold what against me?” Hoseok spoke from behind Fuuta. Both men now focused on him. He was dressed in his keikogi once more. Waraji strapped to his feet and straw wound up to his knees, binding cloth around his shins. His two blades once more at his side. Fuuta smiled as he faced the hunter fully. It was plain to see Hoseok had made his decision.

Taehyung steadied his impatient steed. “If you plan to run all the up the mountain, be my guest. However, might I advise a horse instead. We have plenty of them in the stables ready for departure behind the manor. I will not have you slowing down this operation without proper transport.” Taehyung spoke with a minor edge in his voice. With his rank it was obvious he was to lead out his mission; even though Hoseok leaped above him in age.

It was hardly no-time at all when Hoseok returned with a horse of his own. A brown coated mare he had taken quite a liking to. Although a female, she was a strong horse who rivals that of her male counterparts. He joined Taehyung at the village gates- already moving ahead and leaving the manor ahead of his underling. Fuuta thanked both men separately at their acceptance of this job.

He prayed for their safe, successful return.

It would be a day’s long journey on horseback to ascend the mountain. When night fell, the two would camp. Camping inside a nearby cave up the path, the horses and men rested. Taehyung only freeing himself of a few pieces of armor. Sitting around the fire of sticks and stones, Hoseok basked in the pulsing crackling warmth. Hoping his haori would take in said warmth through the night- wanting to weave it into the very fabric of the piece hanging on his shoulders.

Waking at dawn they head further up the mountain. The closer they got towards the peak, the wider the terrain became. Hoseok noticed stone statues and white talisman and ribbon taped and tied around and onto tree trunks and limbs. Enclosing further up sacred ground.

Ideally, demons shouldn’t be allowed passaged on sacred ground- the purity intoxicating to a lethal degree. With grounds endowed with protective mantras and barriers to keep the wicked out. Though, if not strong enough or long abandoned by their priest, priestess, monk, God, what have you- the spiritual power would weaken considerably.

Before long, the two breached the crowded forest and stood before the first torii gate leading to the long approach of a shrine.

“According to himself, the man was injured and attacked further in,” Taehyung announced before he jostled his stallion onward through the torii. Hoseok rarely visited shrines, rejecting most Gods’ people pondered on or prayed too. He stood without religion, so he wasn’t familiar with shrine setups if he were being honest.

Passing under the second torii he could catch a glance at the main shrine. Throughout the approach and beyond it, the lack of up-keep began to show more and more.

The sacred fence was frozen with ice and snow, the long approach road of gravel and stone coated with winter. The front worship hall was beaten and aged with poor conditions. Hoseok could only imagine the state of the main sanctuary past the inner fence that use to supposedly house a God. Even the so-called sacred forest littered with previous evergreens was baren with winter stripped limbs.

What God dwelled here before has long since left his shrine to decay into the mountainside.

“Go look around the sanctuary. I’ll scope around the approach further and check the shrine office. Tie your horse and continue on foot,” Taehyung instructed, lifting himself off his stallion as Hoseok left the back of his mare. Tying the steeds down to any firm part of the fence they could, the two broke off to search.

Hoseok grimaced at the overwhelming feeling of demonic tension that hung in the air like a bad fragrance. It made him on edge as each snow crunched step he took was guarded. A constant, ready hand on the hilt of his single in-use blade. The kitsune statues that looked over and acted as messengers were broken and eroded: a bad omen if Hoseok ever believed in one. It was as if a demon could appear from anywhere at any time.

Hoseok walked and inspected as instructed. Scoping out anywhere for any sign of a righteous demon woman. He couldn’t even find footprints in the snow to indicate anyone had been here recently besides himself. Perhaps she’s moved locations by now.

Eventually, Hoseok met back up with Taehyung of whom also turned up empty-handed when it came to any possible clues to locate the demon in question. Both men decided to stay inside the abandoned shrine for the night, tying the horses down at the main hall to keep them close and under shelter, in case more snow should fall throughout the night.

If nothing that could be of use to their objective could be found soon, they’d leave the mountain. There would be no use in staying if there is nothing to keep them there. If they were to go back empty-handed, Taheyung- as the acting superior warrior- would settle any following action that may be hurled at them in a negative manner.

Through the evening, the tense, thick air never lessened and the silent, uneventful atmosphere remained just that: silent and uneventful. Taking to the inside of the sanctuary as night began to fall, both experienced fighters reeled in their tense shoulders for a sliver of sleep.

Dead of night, Hoseok was forced out of restless sleep. The demonic intensity plaguing his unconsciousness with nightmare after nightmare. The sweat beading along his brow and the heat flashing between hot and cold along his skin made any further sleep a high impossibly and hopeless wish. Deciding to forego a time of sitting in an uneasy relaxation, Hoseok moved to leave the sanctuary to walk the perimeter once again just to make time tick by faster- albeit just barely- and hopefully clear his head.

Stepping outside, the snow had deepened to the point when he took a step, it hit nearly half the length of his shin. Hiking up his legs to take solid steps and drag his feet through the snow, he moved aimlessly. The shrine looked far more sinister in the nighttime than it did dilapidated in the daylight. The air was stagnant in its chill as the moon overhead became partially covered when clouds of swiped shape spotted over.

Maybe it was just the instinct in the back of his mind due to his everyday task of taking down demons, but he began to believe he should’ve brought his sword out with him. Instead, they both sat inside beside where he once lay in the room with Taehyung.

Stopping his trekking around in the snow, he turned to go back and stay inside the shrine until the chill running in circles on his spine simmered. He was three steps retreated when something slammed into his back. It wasn’t just an object that an animal may have tossed from the tree top; no. What hit into his back was alive and when he fell chest first into the deep snow, he felt it remain on top of him.

He felt it sit on his back, it’s feet pushing into the back of his thighs and it’s hand pushing on the center of his back and neck. He heard growling and hissing from behind him as he pushed his head back to lift his face out of the snow. Looping his arms behind his back, he grabbed the wrists of whatever was on him and lifted their hands off him just enough for him to gain ground.

Having mobility of his head- his neck now free- he pushed his forehead into the packed snow and forcefully twisted his hips to toss the thing off his back just enough to knock it off-balance. Hearing it hit against the snow in a series of snowy crunches, Hoseok quickly lifted himself up out of the snow, now on his knees as he shoved the wrists away from him completely.

Leaning back to gain more ground, Hoseok hissed at the sight of the demon leering at him. Shaking his head at the lack of a weapon, he had come to see the small hatchet lodged into the ribcage of the demon. Hanging there and moving with each jerked breath, along with a fresh leakage of ooze that seemed far too dissimilar to blood. The color was green and dim- thicker than the average human blood.

The demon itself was far beyond all comprehension. It was hardly human-like, thin and sickly to the eyes like a walking skeleton. Arms long and when hanging hitting their knees, it’s fingertips hidden in snow as the demon remain kneeled. Legs like a spider, thin and spindly, it was shocking it held the bones above it. The face was demented and pulled back, eyes sunken in and mouth wide and more of that like a snake.

By the looks of the monster, it was already close to death. All Hoseok had to do was find a way to yank the hatchet from its ribs and lop off its head and it would be all over for it. He had no doubt it would eventually wither away and die afterward. It was the only chance he had if he wanted to get back inside without leading the demon back to Taehyung’s sleeping body.

Standing off with the demon as it twitched and growled, it’s pulled back skin and lips showing the rotten, carnivorous teeth that were no doubt ready to tear into Hoseok’s neck. There was silence before a pile of snow slipped from a tree limb and landed in a mound on the ground before the demon lept without consciousness leading its way.

Lunging forward, Hoseok rolled and stepped around in the high snow the best he could manage. Tucking his knees up in a roll, he spun around the body of the front buried demon who missed in its leaping attack.

Spinning around its skeletal back, Hoseok lay in the snowbank, his back sinking in it as he pulled his knees to his chest. Feet flexed and flat, he stomped his heels into the demon’s back; feeling its ribs vibrate and move under the sheer force of his stomping.

Rolling back up, he took advantage of the momentary distraction of the demon due to Hoseok’s back stomping, he reached from around the long eerie arms of the demon to grasp the handle of the hatchet. Taking a breath through his teeth, he yanked the hatchet backward and ripped it harshly out of the ribcage of the demon.

The piercing shriek of the demon’s sudden gash in its chest vibrated the air. Screaming like a woman turning ghost, Hoseok could only focus on the green blood coated on the cold hatchet blade. The scream blurring his vision and throwing his balance. The wooden handle of the hatchet was lightly frosted as his warm skin melted the frost; damping the wood.

The demon whirled, swinging its arms without hazard, angered and disturbed at Hoseok’s infliction upon it. In those unaimed, meddling whirls of arm swings, Hoseok successfully avoided and even lopped off one of the demon’s arms. Cutting it off with a swing of his newfound hatched at the elbow, the arm fell into the snow with a dull crunch as it continued twitching despite its removal from its body.

The demon howled once again. It’s anger and desperation to kill Hoseok spiking.

It was instant when the demon pinned Hoseok’s shoulder into the snow as he somehow found himself on his back again, sinking into the white of winter. Demon face to face with the hunter as it screamed into his face, making him wince- the cold on his skin the only thing keeping him from losing his consciousness.

The severed arm leaked large, disgusting blobs of green, sick blood as it bled into the snow beneath Hoseok, tainting it. It shrieked once more, Hoseok feeling it in his bones before all was silent once again. The demon vanished.

Gaining his senses and realizing the demon was no longer on top of him, he felt the hatch being ripped from his grasp. He gasped as he sat up, watching the back of someone else run off ahead. Rushing towards the body of the demon who was suddenly lying in the snow several feet away.

Thrashing around like a headless dog, it found its way to its feet as it became ever more feral. Thrashing and screaming like a mindless husk, the new body nimbly avoiding any and all spastic movements aimed their way.

Hoseok watched the back of the- what he can only assume was a defender- as they moved cleanly around and through everything. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but with every single correct movement, restriction of the only attached arm left, and a swing of the hatchet, the demon’s head rolled down it’s back and into the snow. Facedown in a mouth open scream that would never sound again.

The body collapsed to its knees, green blood spurting from the stump of it’s elongated neck, mimicking that of a disgusting fountain. Standing on its knees a moment longer, it crumbled into a pile of bone as the skin disintegrated away like ash into the moonlit wind.

Hoseok had come to trust his instincts, and what his instincts were screaming at him was the pure, unadulterated fact that whatever just killed that demon, wasn’t human either. It moved to nimbly, to quickly and far too supernaturally to be any kind of human. No humans possessed all those qualities without having to sell some part of their humanity away.

He moved to his feet, knees bent and ready to evade or attack with any given reason to. Hoseok silenced his heavy breathing when the defending party turned to face him. He was correct, it was not human indeed.

Dressed loosely in a stained yukata, ripping at the knees exposing their legs, this demon looked more human than others did. Barefoot, and covered in snow and caked on dirt stains with hair tangled around their neck and back. The open kimono chest revealed far too much breast clearly revealing the gender of the being to be female.

Its eyes remained narrow and they held tightly onto the hatchet that had just lopped off the head of another demon. Their eyes glowing similar to the reflective green of a fox's. Hoseok's eyes narrowed right back at them.

A demon who killed another demon to- supposedly- save the life of Hoseok, a human. This she-demon had to be the one demon Hoseok and Taehyung were dragged up the mountain looking for. Hoseok decided to try and at least attempt to swallow his pride.

“Put the hatchet down,” he spoke over the quiet snowy ground. The demon- you- only gripped the handle of it tighter. Hoseok bit at his tongue, trying not to insult you and accidentally set you off when he wasn’t supposed to really start a fight. He began to second guess his choice on coming up here with Taehyung.

He couldn’t do this.

Talking and trying to disarm a demon? Not to mention doing so without using violence and using the strategy of persuasion? He wasn’t cut out for this- not with demons. Not with monsters.

“Why are you here?” You hissed. Grip relentless on the weapon in your palm, strong enough you were sure you could snap the handle in two. “Sleeping defenseless in an abandoned shrine. You ask for death!” You yell. Hoseok bit at his tongue once again.

Scowling, he took a step forward trying not to deter himself from the confirmation he sought. “Are you the demon who saved the life of a man before?” You remained silent as Hoseok rolled his eyes. “He was wondering the mountain, attacked by a spider demon. That was you, wasn't it?”

“Humans have no reason to interrogate us,” you spoke back with venom. Hoseok would agree on that. He had no business asking questions. If he had his way, he’d be rushing inside, getting his weapon and sending you to an early grave. However, that was not his task- as he drilled over and over inside his head.

“If you do not answer me, I’ll be forced to take your words as confirmation.” Hoseok watched your eyes scan the area and he moved to get up fully as he could tell that you were ready to run. Willing and ready to abscond from the situation at hand. In your distraction for a quick escape, you were suddenly disarmed.

Your arms were seized, pulled behind your back before your wrists were pinned upwards, arms folded up behind you. Knees kicked out, you were soon front first in the snow, an elbow between your shoulder blades that somehow cut off your breath and halted every sense of movement. You looked behind you, seeing a long-haired man in only half his armor as he kneeled, pinning you down.

When had he gotten behind you? You hadn’t heard him approach you at all. Hoseok was as shocked as you looked. He hadn’t even seen Taehyung exit the shrine, let alone see him get close enough to you to restrain you at all. His speed really was nothing to underestimate.

You began to squirm as all you did was jostle Taehyung’s body as he forcefully held you down with what looked like ease. He looked to Hoseok.

“We descend the mountain tonight,” were the only words out of Taheyung’s mouth. Picking up the hatchet at your side, lying in the snow, Taehyung picked it up with his free hand and flung it far off out of the way of reach. Now no one had access to it. Bringing the back of his hand harshly onto the back of your neck, you fell limp into the snow- the samurai stealing away your consciousness. He got off you as you remain where you were. “Gather your things and we leave.”

Hoseok was given his orders as he went in and did as he was told. Attaching his swords back to his side- sighing at the comfort of having them back on his person- and dressing fully again.

Taehyung had tied your arms behind your back as well as looped rope around your ankles, pinning them together. He also placed a shoot of bamboo between your lips, pacifying your mouth as it was tied around your neck. In case you woke and put up a fight, you’d do little to no harm restrained.

Dressed in his full armor once again, you were lifted over his stallion on your stomach as he sat in his saddle behind your limp body. Taehyung figured it’d be best for all of you if you were placed under his supervision on the trip back instead of with Hoseok on his mare. Hoseok would be far more violent on instinct if you woke.

Resting a hand on your back to keep your overthrown body in place on his horse, he was met with Hoseok on his mare. Then, that night just as Taehyung instructed, the two men descended the mountain- leaving the shrine behind and taking a demon with them.

Hoseok wasn’t entirely sure how Taheyung did it, but he somehow managed to keep you unconscious the entire journey back to their Lord. Anytime you even began to twitch, Taehyung would simply press the length of his hand on the back of your neck, squeezing. You’d always instinctively flinch away, but afterward fall limp once again. Even when the two stopped to rest the horses, or rest themselves, you remained just a still body.

When they both re-entered the village, Taehyung draped a cloth over your back. Hiding your body and shabby appearance that was hardly covered decently. With that, he would pass you off as simply an injured woman he found on the way inside the village to spare any inquisitive villagers the fright of knowledge about the demon breaching their village perimeter.

Taehyung was popular among most any village he entered. Liked nearly instantly, he charmed anyone in his path. Elders, children, men and especially single, unmarried women. Hoseok was sought after as well for his professional attitude and dedication to his specific trade, but the samurai was in an entirely different league when it came right down to it. It was practically at every turn someone was calling up to him on the back of his stallion. One hand on the reigns, the other flat on your back to keep the cloth over your back in place- preventing any chance of it slipping from the trotting of his steed.

Accompanying Taehyung back to the manor took twice the amount of time it would if Hoseok just came alone. Only leading to Taehyung making an unnecessary jab at Hoseok to be more social. A tease he could- and did- ignore.

Once more stepping through the hidden wall entrance, your body jolted passing through. Taehyung pressed his hand firmer on your back. The barrier around the manor was to keep anything evil or demonic out, so a demon passing through would be just as negative as one would think- even with a talisman of passage with them.

You began to stir, the spiritual barrier igniting small sparks of sheer rejection around your covered and restricted body. Stopping at the front, Taehyung climbed down, leaving you weakly wiggling on horseback. Consciousness finally coming back to you. Hoseok followed Taehyung in dismounting his mare as Taehyung was soon grabbing under your shoulders and pulling you off his horse.

Two servants stood, waiting to take both horses back to the stable to care for them and give them their needed rest- but remained back. Refusing to get close to the demon they knew Taehyung just slung over his shoulder like a sack. The demon who just happened to be you and to gain full consciousness.

You began mumbling and presumably cursing beneath your bamboo gag. Kicking your legs up like a fish due to your tied ankles and persistently pushing or hitting his back or shoulder with restrained wrists. You wiggled and grew louder in sound before Taehyung had enough and dropped you purposely. You rolled off his shoulder, hitting stone back first on the ground, knocking the wind from you.

Next thing you knew, there was a knee pushing painfully into your breast and a knife at your neck. Taehyung glaring down at you.

“Consider yourself lucky you are not dead,” he started, tone direct and cold. “We have business with you, human-saving demon. Don’t make me kill you,” he threatened.

You breathed out your nose, muffled noises much quieter than your refusals passing under bamboo earlier. Scowling at the samurai above you, his knife was lifted, sheathed and he stood, removing his knee from your breast.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung called. He yanked you up by your bicep as you were moved to stand on your own two feet- still barefoot and bound, however. “Take the left,” he instructed. Hoseok, Taehyung and you entered the manor as you stumbled inside with one man on each of your arms. Forcing you towards whoever it was who demanded your capture.

Hoseok watched as you kept your head down, no doubt the spiritual energy around the manor making you weaker. Your skin was cold as he made a mental note to wash off the demon staining the skin of his hand later. Pulling you along, you hissed at him when he shoved you forward. Only to hiss at Taehyung who yanked you back out of Hoseok’s space.

The three of you stood in front of the same shoji door that the hunter and samurai know so well. Your constant hissing and stomping kept either man from announcing themselves, the lord inside inviting them in at your loudness.

When the door was opened by Taehyung, he released you as Hoseok shoved you inside. Stumbling with small, rapid-tied steps, it wasn’t long before Hoseok was kicking out your knees and forcing you down. Pushing his forearm over the span of your back, you glared over your shoulder. You feared this man far less than the samurai who followed- shutting the door at his back.

“Did you truly need to restrain her so heavily?” The voice of a face you hadn’t seen yet spoke in a light voice. Tearing your eyes from Hoseok, you quickly caught Fuuta in your sights. Your eyes widened as your glare faded. You didn’t know why or what it was- but the man’s calm demeanor and overall unfazed aura terrified you.

You couldn’t relate more to ensnared animals caught in traps until this very instant.

Hoseok felt your body lock up. He wasn’t shocked- be it human or otherwise- Fuuta had an undertone of such superiority anyone shakes at their core upon first meeting him.

“You both did well in bringing her back to the manor. I thank you for your efforts. You both are unharmed I hope?” He half-jokingly asks, knowing well and good the two were perfectly fine.

“A little skirmish is good for the body,” Taehyung replied. Hoseok bit back a comment of ‘speak for yourself’ as his shoulder was still sore from the demon attack he suffered in the snow not even over a day ago. He just sighed as Fuuta stood.

“Shiro and I shall take it from here. You both may retire and rest for the evening.”

“But, my Lord,” Hoseok started. Unsure if he should really release you and leave or not. Even bound, you could still try and start something.

“Do not worry, Hoseok. After some time, this demon will be no threat to any one of us.” Taehyung was soon doing as instructed. Leaving the room and calling Hoseok after him. Slowly and unsurely he released you. You remained on the tatami- unmoving. Even as the two men cut off sight of the room and you and their Lord by closing the door they stepped out of, you didn’t once move even a single muscle.

Fuuta, now alone with you began speaking.

“The man you managed to rescue from the web of a spider demon is here in my manor. although he does not know it, he may have been saved- he will not be spared. A poison runs through him and will kill him in a matter of days now.” You sat staring up at him. His kind face fallen to that of no emotion at all. Shaking you. “You may already know, but I- along with my loyal fighters- detest demons. Hating them from our very core. That is the sole reason I dedicated time to put my expansive movement of demon hunters together. You must realize how lucky you are that my men showed restraint. I told them if they couldn’t resist killing you- there would be no repercussions.”

You remained silent. Partially due to the bamboo between your lips. Your fangs bit and gnawed against your gag. Both out of anxiety to leave and the yearning to somehow remove it. You slowly twisted your wrists and ankles, so slowly to not alarm Fuuta of your movements. Wanting to just be freed again.

You jumped when the shoji door slid open again and glared- growled even- at the sight of the priestess Shiro in front of you. Shutting the door behind her, she had with her staff. Solid, strong wood with metal ends. The top was circular as small rings encircled the top of the staff’s head. Three on both left and right- six in total.

As you were focused on her, Fuuta moved somehow without detection to be directly behind you. He had taken the back of your head and shoved. Pushing you down, folding you in half at your waist as you instinctively thrashed and kicked. You were exceedingly tired of being pinned down as much as you have been the past twenty-four hours. Not to mention restrained constantly.

You gasped and screeched when the thin, already torn, yukata on your back was ripped open. You heard the fabric flutter to the tatami floor as the chilled air of the room wafted over your skin.

You picked up on the footsteps of the priestess as you continued your struggle. What were these people going to do? Vanquish you after the hassle of bringing you here? Kill you just like this- bound and gagged? Was that the way of human warriors? Stripping the enemy of even their boasting pride and mercilessly slaughtering demons?

You cursed beneath the bamboo but stilled and silenced when someone touched your back. Running her nails over your skin, Shiro quietly prayed. You hissed at the sensation. Her hand removed for only a second before you gasped when she slapped something onto your back. You could feel it stick to your flesh.

It felt like paper.

You began to squirm more, louder curses escaping in mumbles of rage. You knew Shiro just stuck a talisman onto your back. What was going to happen to you?! Were you truly going to killed right here?

You heard the priestess tap the metal bottom of her staff. “Reckless spirit of the demon,” she began to chant. “Turn of your wickedness. As of now, hear the sound of my staff.” She was tapping the end of her staff with each end of her sentences. “Feel the sting of my talisman. Offer us no further harm.” As she finished, adding another pound of her staff- the metal rings clinking against each other as the sound vibrated in your head. “Recognize your true power and revert back.”

You then began to scream. Shrieking out from under your bamboo pacify- you screamed. Screamed and kicked as tears stung your angry, narrow fox-like lime eyes.

The talisman began to burn into your skin. Sinking the ink into your very being like a virus- you could feel your very core shift. Threads of holy wrapping and strangling your soul like a doll. Paper burning away as the ink was transferred to your flesh fully as a talisman coded scar. A scar of spiritual restriction. You fell limp as Fuuta finally released you. Falling to your side, shoulder hitting the floor, back bare and burned as you sucked in uneven, labored breaths through your gag.

Shiro pounded her staff once more- her husband now at her side. Both then prayed over your body. Your body began to emit a cloud of smoke before you changed. Your human-like body was replaced with that of a small two-tailed fox. A pure white coat of fur with scarlet spirals on your forehead and the ends of your two tails. The talisman mark sat on your back even now.

The first demon to be blessed by a priestess and actually survive. As your small animal body twitched, the rope and bamboo that bound you to lay untied and vacant as your body in this form no longer had what it took to be bound like a human would. Your clothes lay under you as the two humans who reverted you back to this state stared down at you.

You will either die by humans or fight alongside them to kill demons- you no longer had the freedom to choose; that's what the voice in your head decreed. The mark placed on your back was no blessing- but a target someone will always be aiming at. Ready to strike you down even before you could even think about rebelling.

“Fox demon,” Fuuta started, “we shall see to it that you become a true Kitsune.”

-TBC-

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ilovelukey · 5 years

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Head Over Heels

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s my second writing. I’ll get started on a masterlist (for my literal 2 pieces of work lol) soon! Until then enjoy :)

Warnings: drunkeness, vomit, cheating (kind of), me getting lazy at the end

Word count: 2.2k

Luke had invited you to come out with him, the boys, and their girlfriends. You had a bad day, to say the least. Your coworkers were absolutely no help and your boss had been a total asshole all day, not to mention you were just put on a big new project that- if you did well on- would probably get you a promotion. You just really needed to unwind. At the top of the night, Luke had told you to relax and have fun, that he would take care of you tonight. You had taken him up on that offer, and in the process, probably had too much to drink.

You and Crystal threw back another shot and squealed as the tequila burned your throat. You grabbed Crystal’s hand and dragged her into the dance floor. You wiggled your way through the sweaty bodies and stray limbs. Finally you made it to the center of the floor. You swayed your hips and threw your arms up, letting the heavy bass guide your movements. The bright lights held a heavy contrast to the darkness of the club.

Michael came and wrapped his arms around Crystal’s waist, leaving you without a dance partner. You decided to search the crowd for Luke. You looked across the club, everything a little blurry and off balance. You spotted his pretty blonde curls and melted a little bit at the sight. You started walking towards him, but you noticed something was off. Luke had his arms wrapped around a girls waist. He danced with the black haired girl and they were getting much too close for your taste. Your face started to burn and you felt your fists clench together. Luke let go of the girl and you could see they were talking.

You stomped over, burning a hole in their backs with your eyes. You snaked your arms up Luke’s back, feeling his leather jacket under your palms. Your hands ran over his shoulders and rested there, you pressed your chest against his back. It must be because you’re wearing heels, but Luke seemed shorter than usual. You were marking your territory in front of the girl.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go home.” You said in his ear, your voice dripping with anger. Right as Luke started to turn to face you, you heard a voice behind you.

“Y/n?” You turned around to see… Luke. Standing there right in front of you, a drink in each hand. You turned back to see Ashton was who you had your arms around, standing with the black haired girl… Kay Kay. Your eyes were the size of saucers as you pulled yourself away from Ashton, realizing what had happened.

“I… I’m so sorry Ash, I thought…” you started, but Ash and Kay Kay were just giggling at your flustered state. You turned back to see Luke, trying very hard- and failing- to suppress his laughter.

“I thought…” you stepped closer to Luke, but he just shook his head. He pulled you into a one armed hug and kissed the top of your head. He could tell how out of it you were, and it honestly made him happy to see that you had taken his advice and trusted him to take care of you.

“It’s okay, baby. I know what happened. Went to get you a drink, but I don’t think you need it.” He downed the drink in his right hand, still holding another in his left, with you in his arm as well.

“What do ya say we head home?” He let you go and set his empty glass at a nearby table and took a sip of the other one.

“Wanna dance!” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking straight up at him, making the best puppy dog eyes you could manage. He smiled at you and finished his drink.

“Alright, one song.” He said, placing the glass down. He grabbed your hand in his and guided you out to the dance floor. You wrapped your arms around his waist once again, resting your face on his chest. You slowly stepped back and forth, swaying from foot to foot.

“I don’t really think this is a slow dancing type of song.” Luke laughed but followed along with your movements. You listened to the music playing, an uptempo dance remix of a song you were sure you had heard on the radio but didn’t quite recognize. The heavy bass making your heart pound in time with it. You reached a hand up to his face and placed a finger over his lips.

“Shhhh,” you whispered “just wanted to hold you.” You turned around and rubbed your ass into his hips (well really it was more his thighs because of his height). He held onto your hips as you raised your arms above your head, really getting into the music thanks to your intoxicated state. You stumbled a little bit, but Luke caught you and his arms around you were really the only thing keeping you on your feet. Finally, to the relief of Luke’s arms, the song ended and he didn’t have to hold you up anymore.

“Come on, love. Let’s head out.” He smiled down at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You pouted but complied, letting him lead you through the sweaty bodies and gyrating hips. You passed by Cal, talking to a pretty blonde girl that you didn’t realize and Luke let him know you were heading out. Cal wished you a good night and went back to the girl at his side.

You walked out into the cold London air and shivered, pulling yourself into Luke.

“Cold?” Luke snickered at you, rubbing his hand up and down your arm for warmth. You just pulled him closer and kept walking. Your apartment wasn’t far away, just a few minutes walk. When Luke and the boys left London,it still had such a special place in their hearts that they all ended up getting small apartments there, all basically next door to each other . The club you had just been at had always been one of their favorites.

Luke took his jacket off and put it over your shoulders before pulling you back in under his arm. You just hummed in happiness at the warmth of his body and his leather jacket wrapped around you.

It felt like you had been walking forever, all of the street lamps and passing cars blurring together in your mind. You realized that your feet were aching, begging to be taken out of the heels they were confined in. You stopped walking and Luke turned to look at you, curious.

“‘M taking them off.” You mumbled as you tugged at shoe on your right foot, but you kept losing your balance and having to step back down on it, unable to get the shoe off.

“Babe, the ground is so dirty you can’t take them off. C’mon we’re almost back.” He went to grab your hand but you turned away, still pulling at the shoe. Finally, you sat down right on the ground and managed to slip them off. Luke nodded at some passersby who stared as they walked by you. You stood triumphantly, shoes in one hand, his jacket in the other. You held the shoes over your head to show Luke, like a trophy, but you immediately lost your balance and fell straight forward. Luckily, Luke swooped right in and grabbed you before you hit the ground. He helped put the jacket all the way on you.

“Alright, get on my back.” He mumbled. You squealed and jumped up, your arms wrapped around his thick shoulders and meeting in front of his neck. You had managed to drop the shoes again but he gracefully dropped down to grab them after wrapping his arms under your legs.

“So this is what it’s like to be tall.” You muttered in his ear. You felt like you were flying, you were up so high and his strides were so long that the two of you were gliding through space. You tucked your nose into his neck, peppering his skin with kisses. The stubble on his chin tickled your lips when you nuzzled at him there. You kissed his ear and the chain necklace he was wearing, which was so cold compared to his warm skin.

“Love you, Lu. Love you s’much.” All of your words were slurring, but it made him chuckle. “Never wanna leave your side. Wannabewithyouforever.”

“I love you, y/n. We’re almost back, we can draw you a bath and get you to sleep. Sound good?” You just hummed against his neck in agreement. You were in that weird drunk half asleep/ half awake state when you got back to your apartment. You weren’t sure how long you had been walking (how long Luke had been walking) but it felt like no time at all with his long legs spanning a mile with each step.

Luke nodded at the doorman on the way in, giving him a smile, and pressed the button to your floor. He unlocked your door, still trying to hold you in his arms and almost dropping you in the process. Walking in, he placed you on the bed and left to the bathroom to run the bath, then to the kitchen, bringing you a glass of water. You layed there, watching him. When he moved, it looked like a long exposure shot, with multiples of him trailing behind. He came back and took his jacket off of you, along with the tight little dress you had worn in hopes of you both coming back and ripping it off for different reasons. He brought the water to your mouth and you suddenly realized how thirsty you were. The water helped stop the spinning of your head, but your stomach was now churning.

You leapt up, spilling water on Luke in the process. You ran to the toilet, trying to hold your hair back. There were tears running down your face as you heaved into the toilet. Everything you had to eat or drink that day was now gone, spit up in front of you. When you finally stopped retching, you felt Luke’s hand rubbing your back, and he pulled your hair up into a ponytail.

“It’s okay, baby.” He whispered quietly. He flushed the toilet, letting the vomit leave and take with it’s sickly sour-sweet smell. Your head was rested on the toilet seat and you were crying. A drunken mess, makeup smeared down your face, sitting nearly naked on the bathroom floor while Luke rubbed your back.

“I-I’m so sorry, Lu.” You blubbered “I ruined your night I’m so sorry. Please don’t look at me I look disgusting.” You started to stand, and he grabbed your arm to help you up before pulling you into his chest.

“Hush, Love. You have no reason to be sorry. You know I told you to let loose and have fun tonight and you did. It’s ok, I’ll take care of you.” You grabbed onto his shirt, your body wracked with sobs from the pain of vomiting, and the sweet boy just held you, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back. Whispering into your ear that everything was fine.

“Let’s get you a bath now, okay?” You just nodded and let him remove your bra and panties and help you into the tub.

“Be right back.” He mumbled and left, leaving you shivering in the warm water, holding your knees to your chest, crying now about how wonderful your boyfriend was. You really didn’t cry much, but when you’d had a few too many drinks all of your emotions were so heightened that it was pretty normal for you to sob over the slightest thing.

Luke re-emerged with his shirt off, his hair tied up,a pair of workout shorts, and a glass of water in his hand. He held it up to your mouth again, and you gulped it down, letting the water ease your sore, raw throat. Luke used the empty cup to scoop water over your head, carefully avoiding your eyes. You let yourself melt into the feeling of the warm water mixed with his big fingers massaging shampoo into your scalp. You sat there, once again in a drunken half asleep/ half awake state while he washed your hair and took the makeup off your face. He massaged some sweet smelling soap onto your shoulders. The whole time he was singing under his breath, sending you even further into your haze.

Luke pulled you out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel, bringing his arms around you, holding you. He walked you to the bed and put one of his old shirts on you, tucked you in, and layed down next to you, cuddling you close to him.

You woke up the next morning with the worst hangover ever. Luke brought you breakfast in bed. Your head was pounding, but your heart was so full with love for that boy that you didn’t even care. You were with him, and so you were happy.

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96enox-blog · 5 years

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pool date (woozi)

to a boy i love right now; October 16

A/N: Yeah. I fell in love with Lee Jihoon over the last couple months. Every story in this series will probably show that. Man, I adore him. The dates are important lol. I like chronology. Here we go. Happy 2019! Here’s to a start to my own personal project.

PS: Promise the stories shorten after the first few :D

word count: 1.8k | fluff fluff fluff | also clearly I like pool | and I never name her. | Part 2: October 24

“How is this fun?” she demands as Hansol nudges her into the pub. “This seems like the least fun place you could take me to.”

Hansol snorts as Seungkwan follows them inside. “Oh come on. You’ve been studying non-stop, noona. It’s a good idea to relax a little.”

Her eyes swing around the room. There are four pool tables in the center with booths all along the perimeter. A few people are lined up waiting for drinks at the bar. It smells musky and the lighting is dim except for over the pool tables. It feels like a Western-cowboy movie.

“They’re here already,” Seungkwan says over her shoulder.

“Where?” she asks. Her heart rate picks up at the prospect of meeting new people.

Hansol urges her forward.

Seungkwan had called him to their apartment when she’d walked out of her bedroom and screamed into a pillow on their couch. When she’d calmed down enough to talk, Hansol had gotten out of her that she was stressed about midterm season. So Hansol had instructed that they get dressed (that included Seungkwan) and he would take them somewhere fun.

As she had left the room, she’d overheard the two boys whispering. And at first, she was compliant, going and actually getting dressed even though a little voice nagged her about all the study time she’d be missing. By the time she went out to find Hansol on the couch, she’d changed her mind.

He smiled up at her, but frowned when he saw her expression. “Ah, ah, ah, noona. You aren’t backing out. I’ve already made plans for us. There are people waiting for us.”

“There are who doing what?” she demanded. “I don’t want to see anyone, Hansol.”

“Your outfit says otherwise.”

As they now walk up to a pool table of Hansol’s music major friends, her outfit still feels out of place. Her large hoodie and skinny jeans don’t exactly feel dressed up when the boys look wonderfully casual.

“I’m so not going to enjoy this,” she mutters to Hansol. Despite herself, a smile grows on her face. The tallest one returns it when he sees her. An arm drapes around her shoulders.

“Noona, didn’t think Hansol would be able to get you out here.”

“Nice to see you too, Mingyu,” she grumbles. She leans into him. He’s the only one she’s met before. The three other boys are familiar, because they tend to be around when she goes to find Hansol on campus. The one currently angling to take a shot is dressed similarly to Mingyu in a silk shirt, though his black contrasts Mingyu’s pale pink shirt.

The familiar crack of two pool balls connecting echoes in her ears. She watches the 6-stripe roll into the right corner pocket. The man straightens and high-fives the man standing next to him. Both have equally impassive expressions, though the one who’d just played is considerably shorter than the other men around the table.

“Oh, noona, I don’t think you’ve ever met my roommate,” Mingyu says. The man looks up at Mingyu’s voice. “That’s Jihoon hyung. He’s majoring in music production.”

Jihoon bows his head and takes the water bottle from his partner’s hand so he can play. Mingyu takes it upon himself to introduce the players she doesn’t recognize. “That tall cool guy is Wonwoo hyung. He’s good at games and Jihoon hyung is really competitive, so it’s not really fair that—”

“Shut up, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s deep voice murmurs. Over the music and all the other people playing pool, she’s surprised that his voice rings clear. She hadn’t even noticed his mouth moving. Carefully, he rounds the table, eyeing all the possibilities.

Meanwhile, Mingyu draws her attention away from Wonwoo to a man with brightly coloured hair and a bright smile on his face ready to greet her. His two front teeth remind her of a bunny and she can’t help but reciprocate the smile. “This is Soonyoung hyung. He’s not very good.” He waves towards the pool table. “That’s why we’re losing and the hyungs are going to beat us.”

“You just suck at the game, Gyu,” Jihoon chuckles.

“Noona’s actually really good,” Hansol quips.

“You take my place,” Mingyu encourages. “I’ll play with Hansol and Seungkwanie.”

She bites her bottom lip as Mingyu hands off his pool cue. Jihoon, across the table, notes that the cue is too long for her. Since Wonwoo is still trying to decide at what angle he wants to hit the cue, Jihoon passes his pool cue across the table. She hands Mingyu’s back towards him and Jihoon heads towards the far wall where there are others. She tosses the pool cue between her hands and finds it’s a little too heavy for her liking. She glances at Wonwoo who still hasn’t taken his shot yet.

Soonyoung is apparently on her train of thought. “Wonwoo, stop taking eons. Let’s go.”

She joins Jihoon at the cue rack. He glances over at her as she walks up. “Still too long?”

“I tend to use a lighter one,” she admits. She hands it back to him. Jihoon studies it and watches her try two others before picking the latter. She inspects the tip and shrugs.

“You play pool often?” Jihoon asks.

She shakes her head as they make their way back to the others. “I honestly haven’t played in a while.”

Hansol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu have bought a beer for everybody. As she’s not into drinking and Jihoon has to be up early for a class the next day, they pass on the alcohol.

“More for us then,” Mingyu sings. They’ve taken to a booth across from their pool table. Wonwoo and Soonyoung with a beer in them are useless players, so she and Jihoon have kicked them out.

To make it more interesting, they’ve started betting. So far, he owes her a pizza and she owes him a coffee. It’s getting late and they’re on their last game.

She bends over to line up the cue ball with the striped 4 at the other end of the table. It’s sitting right next to the far left pocket, courtesy of Jihoon’s last shot. She tucks her hair behind her ear, but it tickles her neck. It also doesn’t help that Jihoon’s eyes are following her every move. He was careful at the beginning, careful not to stare, careful not to brush by her. As they’ve played and she’s won and made a few hard shots (and with Hansol and Seungkwan shouting some drunken facts about her), he’s become increasingly more interested.

Sighing, she pushes her cue stick into Jihoon’s hand, as he’s basically standing right next to her. There’s no elastic on her wrist, so she turns to Hansol. “Do you have one of my elastics?”

Hansol pats his pockets and nods. He stretches across Seungkwan and Soonyoung to give it to her. Since becoming friends, he’s learned to carry a spare on him for when she forgets them for lab or if she has a test. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail and sighs in relief. Rather than lining up herself and the ball again, she trusts her judgement and hits the cue.

The crack is satisfying and she watches, with a smirk, the ball fall right into the pocket. The cue ball bumps into the edge before rolling back to the center of the table. Jihoon has given her a few free shots by knocking the cue ball in after his own solid. She smiles and turns to Jihoon. “I have the 8 ball left, Jihoon. I think you’re gonna have to owe me delivery after all.”

“Hyung, don’t let her smack talk you,” Mingyu calls.

Snorting, she meets the man’s eyes. Mingyu is grinning stupidly, as he has since consuming his second beer.

“If that’s your best smack talk, I think I’ll be fine,” Jihoon snorts.

“I don’t really talk smack. I let my play prove how good I am.”

Jihoon tips his head, unable to argue with her there. She can’t get the 8-ball in one shot, so she rolls it near a pocket out of Jihoon’s way and lets him play. While he’s been checking her out, she’s been doing the same in return. And she has to admit that his butt isn’t bad to look at.

Now, he wiggles it a little, knowing she’s staring.

Maybe it’s that sip of beer from Hansol that has eased her nerves a little. Or she’s already too warm in this room that she can’t feel her embarrassment anymore.

Jihoon knocks three of his solids into various pockets. He sinks his last one and then straightens up, standing across the billiard table from her. “I bet you one date.”

She blinks in surprise at this turn of events. The boys can all hear him and hoot from their spots in the booth. Jihoon ignores them. “If I sink the 8-ball in this next shot, you owe me a date.”

As he was playing, he’d bumped the 8-ball out of alignment. To get it into any pocket from its position right now would be difficult. Jihoon is a mediocre player at best and she knows she’s better than him at the game.

Dating good looking musical types scares her though, so saying yes here would either be bad or worse news for her. Bad if she doesn’t get the date, worse if she does. So she nods. “Okay, deal.”

Jihoon smiles and her heart melts a little. The boys have gotten up, drinks in hand, to stand around the table as Jihoon lines up his shot. Hansol drapes an arm around her shoulders, mostly because he gets clingy when he’s had a bit too much to drink.

They watch as Jihoon stares hard at the table. Throughout the night, she’s watched his eyes switch from focused to unfocused just from a tilt in his head. He almost looks angry when focused.

Finally, Jihoon bends over to take his shot. The ball knocks against one side, rolls to the other before knocking into the 8-ball. The momentum continues through and pushes the ball away from the closer pocket to the one on the other side. It lands perfectly into it. Mingyu and Soonyoung yelp, running to jump onto Jihoon’s back. He grins across the table at her and Hansol squeezes her shoulder.

Outside the pub, their friends separate to give them time to say goodbye.

“I didn’t think you’d manage that last one,” she tells him honestly, burying her hands into the pockets of Hansol’s jacket.

Jihoon scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it either. But you owe me a coffee and a date now.”

“Coffee date on campus tomorrow then?” she asks. “After my midterm.”

Jihoon nods. He holds his phone out to her. She texts herself and feels her phone buzz in her pocket. After passing the phone back, they awkwardly stand there. He shuffles his feet, unsure of how to say goodbye.

Until Mingyu steps in to save them. He loops an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders. “You have class early tomorrow, hyung. We should go.” He steers Jihoon away. Over his shoulder, Mingyu calls, “He’ll see you in his dreams, noona.”

Jihoon’s ducked head indicates embarrassment and she can’t help but laugh.

#weeee i'm so excited for this year #here we go guys #woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen #svt #seventeen woozi #seventeen imagines #woozi scenarios #svt scenarios #jihoon scenarios

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franeridart · 6 years

Note

Hi! Idk if you read fanfic, but would you happen to have any kiribaku fic recs? Or any bnha fic rec?

I’m pretty sure there’s stuff tagged as fic recs on this blog, yes! Nothing particularly new tho, I haven’t had the time to put down a new rec-list in a while ;-;

Anon said:How long does it take you to finish a drawing with and without color?

That honestly depends on a lot of factors - which tools I’m using, how many characters there are in the drawing/if it’s full body or not, how used to drawing the character I am, how big is the canvas, if I already have a clear idea of what I mean to draw or not, how precise I want to be with lines and stuff.

That Yuuto sketch I posted yesterday took me about 40 minutes I think, and over half of it was spent trying to figure out how I was supposed to draw him since it was the first time I drew him - the tools I used are the ones I use when I want to be fast and don’t care about being sloppy. A small random Kirishima bust properly lined and colored could take me five minutes to sketch and line and as many to color on a good day, cause I’ve drawn him so many times by now I don’t even have to think to draw him. Deku, on the other hand, can take me an hour even just to sketch, I can’t seem to grasp how I’m supposed to draw him at all.

Sorry, it really depends on a lot of things, I can’t give a proper answer to this :(

Anon said:Ive been tryin to find ur art of sero carrying baku for like 20 minutes n i cant find it :(

Are you talking about this one? Or this one? There’s also this one I guess...? And maybe this one lol

Anon said:yoooo, hey man, that cat kiribaku thing ya got going on is some 👌👌👌👌👌

HECK THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Has anyone ever considered Hadmie. Hadou x Camie before?? It just seems like it'd be a cute ship to sail with, tbh. That just might be me tho.

I dunno if anyone has before you, but I can’t say I have, sorry! If I gotta ship Nejire with someone after all it’s gonna be Yuyu haha

Anon said:Hey do you do commissions? I really love your art and I'd love to get a commission from you!! (and also I just wanna know if there's yet another thing that I have to save up for XD)

Not right now, sorry! Maybe after I’m done with the zine things!!

Anon said:*runs around like an excited puppy* DAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVE!!!!!!! :D

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

Anon said:AHHH i love your ocs so much also Nico looks so cute and i love learning new things about them

AAAHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH OH MY G O D!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:KIRI + PINEAPPLE PONYTAIL = THE BEST THING EVER

I’M GLAD WE AGREE ON THAT

Anon said:your oc's literally kill me!! i already love nico, and i think i speak for everyone when i say that we definitely want more of him and luca!! i don't know if it's just me, but I love when the angry, swearing types fall for someone.

SOB thank you so so much for the kind words about my kids ;^;

Anon said:OH MY GOD LUCA IS BACK!!!! YESSSSSSSS FUCKING KILL ME THIS IS A BLESSED DAY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. MORE OF YOUR OC'S!!! (only when you want to share of course, I'm just trying to convey my enthusiasm here. not demanding at all ^^)

I think that might happen soon enough, actually!!!! Thank you so much for the interest in them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Are josh and chris still not dating?

Sadly until I’ll sit down to write their story that specific part of it won’t go anywhere :( Chris gotta deal with a bunch of things before he’ll be ready to put a name to what’s between him and Josh 3 one day I’ll let him work through it !!!

Anon said:I'm so paranoid I'm going to repost one of your post by accident but the thing is is I never even repost anything at all but just because I know you don't want them to be I'm so scared that by accident I'm going to have something screenshotted and forget it's yours and like Ugh😂

Well, my name’s written on all my drawing so I doubt you’ll forget it’s my stuff lol to make sure you’re not reposting anything the author doesn’t want reposted you can always just ask before reposting it, tho~

Anon said:I was just scrolling through your OC stuff and I just. Love them so much. Thank you for the babies ❤

GOD THANK YOU ;O;

Anon said:Okay I've never seen your oc's before and Dave is the cutest green boy I love him

AAAAHHHHHH I’M GLAD!!!!!

Anon said:kamijirou getting together? :3 also if there were ever a scenario where jirou would confess first, what do you think she would be thinking?

I actually have half a thing planned for that :0 gimme a while to get around to drawing it!

Anon said:How do you feel imagine kiri’s parents???

Actually since I’m still hoping one day Hori will give us the official versions I try not to think too much about it! I don’t wanna grow attached just to have to give them up once I’ll have the canon versions haha

Anon said:hey quick innocent question ive been following for a long time and saw a lot of your art do you have a thing for feet

Are you asking because I draw a lot of people barefoot? Feet are just easier and faster to draw than shoes, anon

Anon said:I love how you answer asks all at once. It’s nice to see that you’re getting in bulk appreciation

THANKS I honestly just don’t want my blog to be more asks than art, so I let them pile up before answering - it does mean I make people wait a lot for answers tho orz sorry

Anon said:I LOVE YOUR ART

THANK YOU!!!!

Anon said:You've open a sea of possibilities with red pineapple kirishima. You're a legend :prayeremoji:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wouldn’t call myself that but I’m glad you appreciate him too hahaha

Anon said:i cant help but notice nothings been added to your sero tag in 4 months

That might be because I rarely use single characters tags! Try looking under #bakusquad and #seromina :D

Anon said:Hahaaa hi this is probably really really awkward but I just wanted you to let you know that you're super awesome!! And the fact that your art is something that I can look forward to is absolutely amazing (no pressure tho)!!! So yea, thank you for being cool and creating beautiful art~~ :D ✧✧✧

SOB it’s not awkward at all!!!! thank you SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Would you mind adding some more Tokoyami art to your shop? More specifically the pieces where hes hanging out with Kiri, and the Tokoshoji piece :D Im desperate to bury my notebooks in stickers from your shop rn and the bird boy needs more love ❤

AHW I’m sorry anon, but those are definitely too small to be of any use on the shop ;-; if you’re okay with it I could add the last one I posted? I should seriously draw more of him..................

Anon said:That jacket that Kirishima has on...I NEED!

I drew it and that’s still a mood t b h

Anon said:I went so far back in your blog that it kicked me back to the beginning ;-; I was just getting to the D. Greyman stuff too

AW ;-; (..........it’s good tho, the further you go the least worth it my stuff is l m a o)

Anon said:Do you ever draw kiribaku or something else in paper or some kind of sketch book if you do i would love to see them❤(sorry if my english is bad)

I do have some doodles on paper posted on here somewhere? But tbh I rarely draw traditionally anymore unless it’s just random doodles :(

Anon said:Aahhh!!! I really love your kiribaku shit its so cute!!and you draw so goood too literally when i found this ship i instantly found you and you are so perfect in my eyes and your art!!!!! I looooooovvvvvvveeeeee yoooouuuuuu thank you for being here and showing us this stuff!!❤❤❤❤

HECK thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:i adore your art so much and your bakushima comics make me smile a lot! :) you’re one of my favorite artists now dldksjshskdk

tHANK YOU OH MY G OD ;^;

Anon said:Consider this: fantasy Kirishima meeting normal bakugou, thinking that's his Katsuki 😂😂

.........................you literally got no clue how long I’ve been thinkin about drawing this............ he ck

Anon said:Your drawings give me life 😍❤️

sob thank you so so so much ;-;

#fran answers #in other news ive drawn more seros carrying bakugous than i expected #HM #anonymous

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jugandbettsdetectiveagency · 6 years

Note

#12 For the prompty thing, my love. 💙💛

Jandy. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is under the cut, and on ao3 because it’s a bit long. Also, I inserted a slightly revised version of my 31 prompt fill into this fic if you’re wondering why some of it seems familiar, lol

***

12. Who initiates talks about the future?

They’re six, sitting on the Andrews’ front porch, waiting for Archie to finish his chores and come out to play.

“Mom came home from the hospital with my new sister,” Jughead says, scuffing his shoe against the concrete steps. He’s not normally one to always fill the silence but he likes talking to Betty - likes it when Betty talks to him - and he feels like this is something she should know.

Her eyes light up, pigtails bouncing as she turns her head towards him. “Really?” He nods. “What’s it like? I wish my mommy would go to the hospital for a baby sister. Then I could play with her just like my dolls,” Betty says wistfully, already subconsciously cradling something in her arms. Jughead thinks about her other question.

“It’s…” Lots of words pass through his head, but none of them seem quite as fitting as, “Loud.”

Betty thinks about this, perusing her rosebud lips together, crinkling her forehead seriously. “Well, I guess babies do cry a lot,” she says finally.

Jughead doesn’t tell her that Forsythia’s crying wasn’t all he meant.

His mom is always tired, forgetting to give him breakfast or turn off the stove before the water boils over. He’s also down to his last pair of clean socks. She doesn’t tuck him in anymore, and Jughead has learnt not to ask for her to read to him like she sometimes used to on days when she didn’t have a double shift.

His sister’s distressed cries are loud, but his father’s voice is louder. He now knows what it sounds like when glass shatters - a bit like the wind chimes hanging from their neighbours’ window but, again, louder. He knows the sound his dad’s fist makes when it comes down on the kitchen counter, the door when it slams, his mom when she cries.

Everything is loud.

“Do you want to have a baby when you’re older?” Betty’s question snaps him out of his reminiscence, the revision of his new knowledge of sounds which, at aged six, go alongside the bark of a dog, ‘duck’ being pronounced with an ‘f’, and the constant rev of a motorcycle engine.

“No,” Jughead answers immediately, his shortness shocking Betty whose lips part. “Babies are gross,” he covers quickly. Betty clucks her tongue at him in a move that makes her look frighteningly like her mother.

“No, they’re not,” she argues, pigtails swinging again. “Besides, when you get married you’ll have to have one, that’s what you do,” she states matter of factly. Jughead can tell that if they were standing up she’d have her hands on her hips.

“I don’t want to get married,” he mumbles sourly, scuffing his sneaker again before thinking better of it, part of the rubber edging falling onto the ground.

Betty regards him as if he’s just grown a second head, like the thought has never even occurred to her before. And he guesses it hasn’t - her mom and dad live in a proper house with proper furniture, proper jobs, and she has a sister, and a fish, and new clothes when she outgrows the old.

“You will,” she says after a moment, and it comes out with such conviction that Jughead thinks he has no reason but to believe her.

“Archie asked me to marry him.” It’s his turn to turn towards her in surprise.

“But we’re not adults?” He feels a bit panicked. Betty rolls her eyes, but it’s different to when his mom does it. There’s a fondness hiding in their sparkling green depths.

“That’s what I told him, but he’s promised to ask me again when we’re older.” The door behind them opens, a blur of red hair flying past them down the steps, Betty’s giggle following it, but Jughead doesn’t move for another moment.

The concept of ‘older’ has lost its appeal.

They’re fourteen and starting high school, sitting cross-legged - Betty on her floral bedspread, Jughead on her cream carpet.

“Do you think it’ll be alright?” she asks suddenly, looking up from her laptop. He peers out from behind his own, wheezing heavily as the fan works to cool down the old, overheated system, and finds she’s chewing at her lip.

“What?” He doesn’t mean to sound so short. They’ve been given an assignment to write about their summer vacation, a summary of all the places they’ve been, the adventures they’ve had, the things they’ve seen.

Jughead has been to the Twilight Drive-In more times than he can count, weaseling his way inside the projection booth by promising the pimpled seventeen year old that he’d watch the film reels while he took a nap, or went for snacks, or made out with his timid-looking girlfriend in the back of her car.

He’s seen countless places, had more than enough adventures, loved, lost, and loved again, all from one singular spot on a somewhat uncomfortable wooden stool, the light of the screen illuminating his features. He’s spent most of his ‘work’ time over at Betty’s wondering if he could just turn his summer essay into a mass of film reviews.

Betty on the other hand had been on a family trip for a lot of the summer - something that partly contributed to his lack of fun. The Coopers had been travelling along the West Coast, beginning with a visit to Betty’s aunt in LA. He’d received countless pictures of her - at the Space Needle, the Golden Gate Bridge, on the beach with Polly (he reminded himself he’d seen her in a bikini numerous times during their childhood and he definitely wouldn’t admit to anyone that that last one had had his cheeks flaming). She’d returned at the beginning of the week, her skin golden and freckled, her blonde hair sun-bleached, and immediately launched into tales of all the things she’d done while she was away.

“What about you? Have you survived the summer without me?” she teased, pushing at his shoulder jovially.

No, he wanted to say, I’ve never wanted summer to end faster.

Instead he tells her, “Well, Archie was a bit of a handful, but it was alright if I took him out for walks twice a day and made sure to keep him well fed.” She’d laughed at that, a proper, fold-you-in-half laugh, and Jughead had smiled the widest he had in weeks.

“You know,” she begins now, gesturing vaguely to her screen. “High school.” Jughead doesn’t really get what she means.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s just school.” He turns back to his screen but he can sense the worry rolling off her in waves and sets his laptop off to the side. “Want to talk about it?”

Her eyes are wide and unseeing, her fists clenched tightly in her lap. She starts when he talks, like she’d expected the conversation to be over. “Oh, um,” Betty mumbles, stretching her fingers out slowly. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

Jughead doesn’t quite manage to stop the snort that escapes him. “What do you have to be nervous about? You’re Betty Cooper. Your sister’s a cheerleader, and you have one of the highest GPAs in our year, and you’re… blonde,” he finishes, the word beautiful feeling like too much of a window into his soul, one that he’s not ready to draw back the curtains on just yet. Her hand shoots up to her ponytail, as if to check. Jughead sighs. “Everything will be fine, Betts.” He smiles at her, just the smallest upturn of his mouth, but it makes some of the tension in her shoulders visibly disappear.

“Alright,” she says back softly, pulling her laptop closer. “Thank you,” she adds a beat later.

“I missed you, Betty,” he confesses after a few minutes gathering his nerve, skin prickling, heart pounding. The smile she sends his way then makes the nauseous feeling in his stomach entirely worth it, bright and unrestrained.

“Me too.”

There’s the sound of a truck door closing, and they both peer towards the open window, blinds fluttering in the warm, steady breeze making its way through the streets.

“It’s Archie’s mom,” she says sadly, being able to see from her vantage point on the bed.

That’s another reason why Jughead is here and not over at the Andrews’, enjoying the last few days they have to play video games without the pressing knowledge of homework deadlines. “Guess that’s it then,” he sighs, willing the hot sting out of the corner of his eyes by blinking rapidly.

“I can’t believe she’s moving away. I didn’t ever think Mr and Mrs Andrews would get a divorce,” Betty muses forlornly, now perched on the edge of her mattress, looking down at him.

Jughead’s always thought of divorce as inevitable.

“People outgrow each other,” he shrugs. He does wish it hadn’t been Mary Andrews that had outgrown someone, though. She’d filled an ever increasing void in his day to day life without a word. She’d make sure he had at least one good meal most days, nodding her head towards the array of snacks on the table with a conspirative smile whenever she saw him gazing longingly at the displayed food. She’d wash his clothes before he went home whenever he slept over, slip some money into the pocket of his bag for school lunch, and always open the door to him, no matter how strained her marriage became.

Jughead should have known that something was going to happen, because at this point he’d experienced too much of a good thing.

“Still,” Betty was now saying, the telltale lift of her shoulders informing him that she was going to try and be optimistic. “At least Archie will get to see a lot of Chicago. It’ll be like he’s going on a mini vacation all the time,” she smiles. Jughead nods vaguely.

“Where do you want to live when you’re older?” A silence stretches out between them. Jughead realises he doesn’t have an answer.

He’s spent more time than he will ever admit to anyone thinking about what it’d be like to live outside of Riverdale. He’d find somewhere with a solid wood door, and windows that kept the cold out, a house that couldn’t be pulled away on wheels and had more than five minutes hot running water. He’d live somewhere where he wouldn’t have to wait for the sound of furniture being walked into before he slipped out of his room and unlaced his dad’s shoes, pulling the threadbare blanket from the back of the couch over his drunken limbs, finally able to sleep knowing his dad was home and not sprawled at the side of the road.

He’d live in a house that didn’t occasionally spring memories of the people that left him behind on him - a stray earring, a pink-covered book or abandoned toy - reminders of the ones that have already found somewhere else to live.

But he’d never given a thought as to where this mystical, unobtainable place to live would be. Not only because he was convinced he’d never find it, but because ever having the means to get out of Riverdale, leave his dad behind, seemed next to impossible.

“I don’t know,” he tells Betty, meeting her curious gaze. “New York, maybe,” he throws out, finding that the idea doesn’t seem entirely horrid. A big city where he’d be just Jughead, anonymous in a sea of faces.

“That sounds nice, I think I’d like that,” Betty surprises him by saying.

“Yeah?” His lips twitch, fighting a grin.

“Yeah. I could be a journalist for The New York Times,” she announces, laughing at her daydream.

“Maybe we could go together,” he breathes, chest tightening. She softens, still glowing with the rays of sun her skin has soaked up during her time away.

“Maybe we could.”

They’re sixteen and he’s pulling on a leather jacket.

“Jug?” she murmurs, expression puzzled.

He’d been trying to creep out of the trailer before she could wake up, his walk of shame not because of who he’s walking away from. His shoulders slump in defeat as he turns at the sound of her voice. She’s still rumpled with sleep, perfectly dishevelled and wearing his t-shirt.

“Go back to sleep, it’s still early,” he tries to smile, but it must look like the grimace he feels it to be because she looks disappointed.

“You said you wouldn’t do this anymore. You said one last thing and then you’d be out.” Betty’s voice sounds dangerously close to breaking, and he’s still not fully awake, and his own eyes feel a little watery. He remembers making those promises.

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. The Serpents are doing a lot for me, I owe it to them-” Betty cuts him off with a laugh that sounds a bit like a bark. He looks at her in shock.

“You don’t owe them anything! You’re not some kind of replacement for your dad now that he’s gone. You’re not a fill in, carbon copy of their leader just because you’re his son. They offered to look out for you if you needed it.” She’s breathing heavily, fists clenched and he aches to reach out and uncurl them before she hurts herself. “Do you need it?” she asks.

Jughead can tell she’s not asking whether he needs them to pay for new notebooks, or his groceries, or sneakers without holes in.

She’s asking if he likes the feeling of running with a gang, the feeling of being needed by a group of people, no matter who they are or what they’re asking him to do. He doesn’t want to lie to her so he says nothing at all.

Betty nods, pulling her lower lip in between her teeth as the first of her tears fall. He thinks this is going to be it when she says, “How long do you need? How long will it be like this?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that either.

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before setting him with a steely look that stops his breath. “Jughead, I love you. That hasn’t changed and I don’t think it ever could anymore. But I need you to remember who you are and what you want, because I don’t think it’s this. You said once that I was so much more than my family’s mess, their pressures and expectations. You are more than this now. Don’t let go of who you are because you think the future is one straight, preset path for you. You have options even if you don’t see them yet.”

Somewhere during her speech she’s lifted her hands to cup his cheeks, an action that instantly soothes his raw heart, her touch a cooling balm.

“We’re not our parents.” He’d said that to her to get her to stop spiraling. She was coming back at him with his own advice now, his own words of affection. “Promise me you’ll think everything through.” He nods, accepting her kiss. “I’m going to go home.”

She’s placed the ball in his court, the come and find me if you decide you want to lingering beneath her words.

Jughead steps out of the trailer, breathing in the sweet air of spring. He feels dizzy, not realising he’d been spinning until she’s steadied him. He can’t deny he’d been creeping towards the cliff edge of recklessness recently, relishing in the unrestrained freedom being on the right side of the Serpents gave him. If no one cared enough to parent him, then he wouldn’t act like he was worthy of being parented.

So what if he had to do a few runs for them. He’d always been background noise, an aid for intimidation mainly, making up the numbers.

But he knows what Betty had been getting at, what she’d been reminding him. Things like this, doing things at the word of others without stopping to think of the consequences first, could catch up to you in the worst way. Especially when you lived on the side of town considered to be off the radar by most of the people in the sheriff’s department.

The border of the town seems to close in around him as he stands on the front steps of the trailer, and he makes his decision.

They’re seventeen and sitting on the worn out couch in his dad’s trailer - his trailer - looking at college brochures.

“You’re not paying attention,” Betty chides, tapping the side of his head to get his focus back.

“Why would I focus on college brochures when there are far more interesting things to occupy my attention?” he smirks, turning away from the staticy television with a smirk, running his hand up the outside of her thigh until the tips of his fingers slide beneath the hem of her skirt. She slaps at it with a giggle, the laugh turning into a sigh when he squeezes the soft skin.

“Jug,” she breathes on an exhale, tilting her head to give him better access to the spot where he’s mouthing at her neck, peppering kisses and small nips of his teeth, soothing the sting with the flat of his tongue.

During all the times someone has forced him to think about his future, he never thought this current scenario would be part of it. Betty Cooper, reclining beneath him on his couch, eyelashes fluttering as she swallows, tugging at his hair with desperate fingers while he slips his hand beneath her skirt.

There’s a small stab of guilt that pokes at his stomach as his forefinger rubs over the front of her panties, his thumb running higher to circle over that spot that has his favourite sounds leaving her lips.

It’s not the first time she’s tried to broach the topic of colleges with him, and every time he’s found a way to pull the thoughts from her head, leaving her light and floating and entirely unfocused. Jughead feels slightly like he’s tainting one of his favourite activities by using it in this way. Betty moans his name and his own thoughts short out for a moment before she’s smiling dreamily at him and the guilt returns a shade brighter.

“You’re really good at that,” she sighs, boneless and sated. He kisses her for that, and just because he can, tucking her close against his side after she gets back from the bathroom and turning his attention back to the rerun of Jeopardy or whatever it is on the screen.

“You still aren’t paying attention.”

Crap. She’s being more persistent this time.

“Betty, we’re only just about to start senior year. I don’t see why I have to spend the end of my summer thinking about what I’m going to have to be doing in a years time,” he gripes, shuffling uncomfortably on the couch cushions.

“Because a year isn’t that long! We’re going to have to start applying really soon, and I want us both to have at least an idea of where we want to go before we go back in the fall,” she insists, and Jughead can feel his blood begin to simmer. He really doesn’t want to get angry with her when she’s only looking out for him, only trying to help. His head feels too full, and his limbs ache, and he suddenly has an intense desire to go to sleep.

“Well, I don’t have an idea. I’m not even sure if I’m going to college.” That stops her. She stills beside him, pulling out of his embrace to face him more fully.

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Of course you’re going to college,” she states, but Jughead is already shaking his head, pushing off the couch and facing away from her.

“You don’t know that, Betty,” he huffs in exasperation, feeling that everything he’s been trying to avoid is suddenly coming to a head. “I don’t know that.”

“But, you’re so smart, Jug. And… and you want to write, and get out of Riverdale and experience the world,” she lists enthusiastically, leaning forwards on the edge of her seat. “Listen, we’ve got time to think through this. And I’ll help edit your admissions essays, and ask Mrs Mayweather if she’ll write your reference because I know she’s got a soft spot for you, I just don’t think she’d admit it to your face.” She’s gesturing wildly, a sign Jughead recognises as her being particularly passionate and focused on something.

A distant memory that he’d rather suppress of him telling her he’s not ‘a project’ resurfaces along with the taste of bile and he swallows thickly.

“Betty.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, only half turning towards her. “It’s not about where, or what for, or even if I want to,” he replies woefully. “In case you forgot, my dad is in jail. This is his trailer, and I’m living here without him because he got sent down for a dead man’s crimes. I don’t have any money besides what I’m making at Pop’s, let alone enough for the extortionate fees required to continue on in the system of education.”

“There are scholarships for that, and loans. There are ways for you to do this,” Betty insists, standing up and talking the necessary steps to reach him. He fights to shrug her gentle touch from his shoulder, knowing he’s being cruel taking it out on her. She’s just trying to help, he’s the one who turned their evening upside down.

Something is thumping in Jughead’s head, a constant, thrumming heartbeat that has its source in the back of the coat closet, thick leather and bright embroidery.

His eyes must betray him and look towards the spot because Betty bristles. “You’re waiting for them to call you up, aren’t you?” she whispers, almost gasps, like the last piece of the puzzle has finally emerged from under the table where it had fallen, hiding all this time.

“Sweet Pea said something,” he admits.

“Sweet Pea,” she repeats, her tone accusatory.

“They’re close, Betty. They’re so close to bringing down the Ghoulies once and for all. Think about what this could do for the divide in this town, about how good it could be,” he explains, unable to stop the excited tingle that hums beneath his skin.

“You’re still obsessed with this… this rescue mission for a town that will probably never come together again. Why do you think it’s your responsibility to fix this?” she shouts, taking a step away from him, shaking.

“This is where I come from, Betty, I don’t get to choose!” he fights back, wanting nothing more than to stop yelling at her, to stop this trailer from reliving the soundtrack of his youth, but they’re already here and it’s already happening. “It doesn’t matter how many times someone from the Northside tells me I belong, the fact is that the prejudices in this town are everlasting. I’ll never be accepted as anything other than trailer trash who’s dating a girl who’s too good for him.”

“Don’t you dare,” she shoots back, shaking her head. Her hair is down around her shoulders but he can still see the defiant way her ponytail would swing if it were up. “You don’t get to decide who is and isn’t too good for me, not you,” she seethes. The air in the trailer has become too hot, too cloying, flushing both their cheeks and making him want to scream for some kind of release for the scalding pressure in his chest.

“No, not me,” he says bitterly. “Just everyone. The town, the world, the goddamn laws of the universe.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Betty scoffs.

“I’m just telling the truth!”

“You’re using this as an excuse, Jughead!” Their faces are impossibly close. “Everything is about the ‘rules of Riverdale’ having it out for us, and I’m starting to think that you just want to find a way not to be with me anymore.” Some of the fight has left her voice and she sounds weary.

“I don’t…” he begins, not sure how to finish his sentence. In a way, he supposes he’s always been keeping one eye on an out for them. Not because he wants it - god, he wants anything but - but because he thinks it’s coming for them anyway. And maybe if he’s prepared for it, it won’t hurt so much.

He’s wrong. This is still the most painful thing he’s ever experienced.

“You’re not happy, Betty,” he tells her; it’s not a question. “And I’m the reason why.”

“Well you are right now,” she laughs humorlessly, grabbing her bag and heading towards the door. “You’re fighting a one man war and it isn’t for the North and the South.” With that she’s gone.

They’re twenty and staring at each other across a coffee shop.

“What are you doing here?” Betty blurts out as soon as he says hello.

“Ah,” Jughead rubs at the back of his neck, a nervous tick, not as prepared as he thought he’d be upon seeing her again. “I’m starting my freshman year here.”

“Here?” she repeats, dumbfound.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Betty runs her hands down the front of her apron. The customer behind him clears his throat and he garbles something about a black coffee. She nods, fingertips brushing as he he hands over his change, and Jughead tries not to focus on the sparks that shoot down his arm.

He’s looking down at the book in his hands (first one on his required reading list) when her white Keds step into his peripheral vision. “Hi,” she whispers, glancing over her shoulder towards the other employees in the shop, leaning down to wipe his table in what he assumes is some facade of ‘working’.

“Hi,” he says again.

“How have you been?” she asks quietly, focusing on a invisible spot of dirt on the table.

“Reckless,” he admits truthfully, his eyes downturned and set above deep bags. There’s less tension in his face now, though, less weight of other people’s problems.

“I never liked you reckless,” she replies, so low he almost isn’t sure if he wasn’t supposed to hear it. “So, you’re going to college now?” she asks, louder this time. Jughead nods.

“Thought it was about time I got out of Riverdale. I, err, I sold my manuscript to a publisher. There was a pretty decent advance,” he informs her awkwardly. He’s overcome with conflicting sensations. She’d been the first person he wanted to tell when he’d received the email. Once upon a time she’d read the early draft, looping her arms around his neck as she told him how he deserved to be recognised for his talents, that he was going to get the acclaim he deserved. Only, when the opportunity came - too many years and too many changes too late - she was the one person he couldn’t share it with. Telling her now feels a bit like a consolation prize, not quite what it should have been.

“That’s so great, Juggie,” she praises earnestly, her eyes wide and sincere, clutching the refill jug to her chest. The nickname, coming from her lips instead of Archie’s or Jellybean’s, squeezes his gut in an uncomfortable way that he’s instantly addicted to all over again.

“Thanks,” he says bashfully, throwing in a noncommittal shrug for good measure.

“I always knew you’d have a bright future.” She’s speaking to him so softly, like he’s something delicate, like one wrong word and he’ll shatter and disappear right in front of her. He wants to change that.

“I think you were the only one who always did.”

They’re twenty six and Jughead can’t breathe.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words play over and over again, echoing on repeat, bouncing around Jughead’s skull like they’re looking for a way out.

He’s staring at the spot where Betty told him, sat cross-legged in the middle of their bed, chewing at her lower lip in apprehension as she lay her hands purposefully flat on her bent knees. He’d just come out of their bathroom when, “There’s something I need to tell you,” leaves her lips and sets his heart thudding.

Betty takes a deep breath, the pause allowing him to take in the small nuances of her features that he’s come to know so well over the years. Her brows are bent in careful apprehension, the corner of her lip trapped between her teeth in such a way that betrays her nerves but also her excitement. She’s worried - about his reaction, he guesses. Guilt makes his stomach swoop as he remembers all the times he’s given her reason to be so delicate when telling him things, and he makes sure to rearrange his expression into the most open and accepting one he has, soothing her with a look rather than a touch.

He can see, in the faint glimmer of her eyes, that despite her qualms, whatever it is she’s happy. And if Betty is happy about whatever she’s got to tell him, then he probably will be too.

So when she tells him those two words (one word and a contraction, he clarifies in his mind) he’s already cringing before the word, “Right,” leaves his mouth.

She leans back, the tension leaving her shoulders as her posture turns into somewhat of a dissatisfied slump.

“Um,” she starts, her eyes not quite fixing on him - he thinks she might have focused on the corner of their dresser just right of his shoulder. “Is that all?” Betty asks, her voice small and uncertain. The tremor that permeates it now is no longer a combination of nervousness and anticipation; she sounds as if she’s swallowing back tears.

Jughead feels like an ass. Worse than that, he feels like he should leave the room so she doesn’t have to look at his unresponsive, ineloquent, indelicate self.

But he’s completely frozen, both his tongue and his body. So all Jughead can do is stare at her as she doesn’t quite stare at him, desperately searching his brain for a way to invent time travel within the next two minutes.

He’s not sure how long the silence stretches on, but eventually Betty’s shoulders begin to shake and she clenches her fists, slipping quietly off the bed and out the door behind him.

Now he’s left staring at the ghost of her figure, the depression she’s left in the sheets, the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.

Jughead lowers himself to the mattress on wooden limbs, taking in the last ten minutes of his life, the shift that occurred so sudden and unexpectedly.

He knows that it shouldn’t really be a surprise. It may not have been a thought out, well formulated plan, but it still shouldn’t be a surprise. Despite all the odds, all his mistakes, all the denial of his early years, he and Betty are married, in their own home, with steady incomes and stable financials. They’ve been together through an awful lot and come out the other side, no matter how many barriers were placed in their way.

Jughead’s also aware of the logistics, thanks to a very awkward conversation that began with FP fumbling over his words and eventually throwing a dog-eared book from the Southside’s library at him before leaving the room. And he’s been there for all the times he and Betty have had sex. He knows the percentage failures of birth control.

So, logically, Jughead knows the potential has always been there, and that the next step in the precisely constructed, Alice Cooper approved, game of life plan that they’re supposed to be following, that he never saw himself playing a part in, is children.

He’d known that Betty thought about having children. He’d heard casual remarks about cute young families in restaurants, seen her making faces at babies in their strollers, talking about their family. But nothing had ever seemed so real, so solid, as that one small phrase still hanging in the air of their bedroom.

There’s something too familiar about them, though, and the more Jughead thinks about it, the more his chest tightens, oxygen being forced out of his lungs and not quite making its way back in.

Everything, for the first time in a long time, is too loud.

He’s once again in the trailer, sitting on the stained carpet of the living room, playing with a broken yellow truck that had come from the secondhand collection box put together for the kids on the Southside. Those words float over to him from the kitchen, light and trembling by the time they reach his ears.

What follows is scary but not unfamiliar. Shattered glass and falling furniture fills the air. His father’s voice is raging, his mother’s high pitched and wailing as she screams back. Can’t afford it, not going to happen, leaving for good are all phrases that rise above him, collecting over their heads in a rolling cloud of fury and despair that forms just beneath the cracked, grey plaster of the ceiling.

Jughead had crawled over to the storage cabinet beneath the kitchen counter and tucked himself inside, one of his few hiding places inside the trailer for when things like this happened, one he could get to now without having to pass his parents mid-match.

He doesn’t come out again until the door to the trailer slams shut, then the door to his parents’ bedroom, and the air has been still for at least one hundred Mississippi’s. He’d called the Andrews’ number on the main phone and Mary had come to get him, not even asking what had happened before she’s buckling him into her car and taking him home.

The sound of the kettle whistling to announce its boiling point atop the stove breaks through Jughead’s reverie. He blinks rapidly, unfocused eyes scanning the room - painted a light, breezy blue - around him. The ceiling above is a clear, clean white, and when he looks down his gaze lands upon the photo frame on the dresser.

Betty smiles back at him, carefree and happy, in a white, gauzy gown. His expression mirrors hers, somewhat more bashful as confetti falls around their embracing bodies. Next to it is Betty’s hairbrush, her bottle of perfume and her makeup. His eyes trace along to the floor where a pair of her discarded panties and his bunched socks are lying close enough to the laundry basket to be considered ‘in the zone’ of being washed. His reading glasses and book are on one of the bedside tables, her tablet and moisturiser on the other.

Everything around him is familiar and calming, signs of a routine, steady life, devoid of screaming matches and threatened walk-outs. He’s already living the life he’d never thought he’s get; it’s already, definitely, his.

Jughead feels his chin quiver, face crumpling as fast-welling tears make their way down his cheeks, dripping onto his lap. He ducks his head, elbows braced on his knees as he lets the emotions consume him completely, shoulders wracking with barely contained sobs.

“Juggie?” Her whisper has his head snapping up instantly.

Betty is standing behind the door frame, more concealed than normal as if she’s scared the sight of her will send him reeling again. She’s clutching a steaming mug in one hand. “I’m sorry,” Jughead gasps, unable to get the words out quick enough.

Her own face folds as she rushes over to him, setting the mug down on top of their drawers before wrapping her arms around him. “Oh, Jug.”

She runs her fingers through his hair, keeping his face buried in her stomach while his hands clutch at her, wrinkling the soft cotton of her shirt in his desperate hands. “I’m so sorry, Betty,” he chants, like he’s making a promise.

“It’s okay,” she hushes him, her touch soothing and cool. “It was a surprise, and we haven’t even discussed-” Betty stills, angling her lower body away from him like she thinks he won’t want to be close to the cause of his grief.

“No, no, no,” Jughead whispers, drawing her as close as possible, nuzzling against her skin. “I didn’t mean to react like that, I just…” Before, he couldn’t get his mouth to work, now he can’t get it to stop, spilling out his ill-founded fears, his knee-jerk reaction to her confession, before the reality of their situation, as far removed from the one his parents had been in as possible, broke through.

“It’s good, Betty. It’s really good,” he tells her earnestly, because he means it, it’s the only truth there’s ever been. Betty Cooper has supplied him with a future, despite the fact that he’d always shied away from the word. “You’ve already made me realise that while I didn’t want my parents marriage, I still wanted to get married. To you. And now this - I want this.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still a little skittish. Jughead closes his eyes against her skin as he exhales, wishing that he could end this dance with his childhood that’s flowed into his present. He presses his chapped lips to her abdomen, where their child is now growing, feeling her inhale.

When he looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes again - quiet excitement. Gentle hope.

God, she’s beautiful. He knows they’ll need to talk about this for the rest of the night, about what his reaction means. But that look is all he wants to think about right now, the fact that she’s still giving it to him twenty years later. That they’re beginning their new future, together.

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead prompts #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty cooper x jughead jones #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #jetty #writing

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kkaebsongtypo · 7 years

Text

Coffee and a Muffin // Mark Lee

(A/N: Wauww,,,, I want to be active and stuff so I'm back with a Mark soulmate scenario! I am also working on a Haechan Soulmate REQUEST. That one should be up maybe this weekend??? I'm hoping T.T Anyways, I'm going to work on these a/n things because, clearly, I'm not very good at them aha. That's all, enjoy some fluffy Mark time ;33)

pairing: mark x reader

genre: floooooffff

warnings/notes: possible language???

word count: 4388

(Side Note: Coffee and a muffin is kind of a lowkey theme but it's not extravagant. again, I didn't proof read, i may or may not proof read later, but I'm in class right now so yeahh♥♥♥)

Theme/Summary thing:

ink au (like my renjun au, swing set :D)

mark lee is Mark Lee from NCT

you're an nctzen

if you didn't read Swing Set then I'll explain the tattoo thingy rn

if you read it then feel free to skip this :)

if one is drawing or writing on themselves, the other can feel the pen/marker/etc. as it’s writing

same goes for tattoos ;333

random tattoo needle pains haha

pen drawings fade/wash off

if you didn't physically get the tattoo yourself, it fades to a very, very faint tattoo, almost to the point where it's barely noticable

OKAY GOOOOO

cute little back story

as younger children, you two didn't really write on yourselves like ever

so you never new about any of that soulmate writing stuff

until you were like 10 and Mark was 11

you drew this little heart on your wrist at school

so Mark felt like a pen was drawing his skin

so he looked down to where he felt the sensation and he was like

??????????

so when he got home he was like

hey mom

why is there a heart on my arm???

I didn't draw this

and his mom is like

that's your soulmate sweetie

they draw on themselves and it shows up on you too

and little Mark is all like

woahhhhh????

so his mom tells him that if he draws on himself it will show up on his soulmate

so he's like

can I write to them?????

so he starts writing to you

,,,,,,

but that only lasts around 2 years because he moved to korea and became a trainee at sm

so he couldn't write on himself/to you anymore

so he just kind of completely cut contact

and his scedual got so busy that he just couldn't contact you ever

OKAY REAL TIME NOWWW

you moved to korea with your family and now you're 16

and you have a job at this small cafe

and it's summer so you voluntarily take the night shifts

did i mention that you fucking love nct

you actually recently got your first tattoo

which was that cool nct u logo

you do sometimes wonder about Mark

you, also being completely oblivious that tattoos show up on your soulmate too

speaking of Mark

(the day you got the tattoo)

Mark was practicing with the boys for their up coming comeback

and all of a sudden,,,,, he feels this pain in his left shoulder

(if you don’t know what getting a tattoo feels like: it feels like the tip of a sharp knife slightly cutting into your skin,,,,,,it’s not that bad,,,,)

(that's somewhat accurate,,,,,, I can't really explain it,,, I mean I have a tattoo so,,,, it's more accurate than not T.T)

so he walks up to the mirror and pulls the collar of his shirt down and sees the nct u logo being drawn onto his skin

and he's like

'what the hell is she drawing with??? a knife????

so he google whether or not a tattoo your soulmate gets will show up on the other

oh snap,,, they do

wow what a surprise

so he's like

'hm so she's a fan'

he is actually looking forward to meet you because he know you like their music

so you must like him

so a week later

you're working your usual night shift at the cafe

not many people come around at night

the ones that do are usually just in a hurry for work or they're on a trip and need to get going

so you're just wiping down the counter

and then the door opens

and in walks Mark with sunglasses, a mask and his hood up

(A/N: rewriting this makes me realize how shadey that would actually be oml lol)

it was around 1:30 am when practice finished so he decided to go to a nearby cafe and get some coffee and maybe a muffin

so he walks up to the counter and you greet him and ask what he would like

so he orders a coffe and the looks over at the small glass case of baked goods

he hums in contemplation before asking you which muffin you'd recomend

you've never been asked that before so you were slightly unprepared but soon spoke

'well, I guess it really just depends on what mood you're in. I like the blueberry more in the mornings, like for breakfast, but i prefer the chocolate chip for late nights. I made a small batch them fresh about 10 minuets ago, they're prreettttyyy amazing,,,, or that might just be me being over confident in my baking skills.'

smiling up at him as he pulled his mask down and chuckled

he returned your smile and finished his order

'well then, I think I'll have one of those amazing, fresh chocolate chip muffins you made.'

so as he was getting the money out of his wallet,,,, you pulled your hair into a low ponytail

he glanced at you as he handed you the cash

and that was when he saw the nct u logo tattooed on your left shoulder

right where his showed up a week prior

he watched as you turned around to get one of the fresh muffins from the cooling rack and place it on a small white plate

he started speaking when you placed it infront of him

'i like your tattoo'

you looked down at your shoulder to peek at it as you started to make his drink

you laugh lightly because you lowkey forgot it was there and reply with

'oh, thank you,,,,,,,'

you trail off, implying you want his name

and he's like

'you can call me Min'

and so you're like

'thank you, Min'

and so he continues running convorsation as he takes a seat at the little bar area infront of you

'so I'm assuming that you're a fan of nct u'

you nod

'yeah, well, I'm a fan of nct as a whole group'

'so is nct u your favourite unit?'

you shake your head as you finishs his drink, placing it infront of him as you spoke

'no, like I said, I love nct as a whole group. But if I had to pick a specific unit, it would definetly be dream.'

he nods and quietly thanks you for the coffee

after wiping down the counter once more, you pull a stool out from under the counter and sit in front of him as he starts up conversation again

'so, who's your bias in nct?'

(oh shit time to spill the tea)

you think for a moment before saying

'Well I love all of the members so kind of just have one from each unit,,,,'

'alright, so then lets's start with u, and then 127, and then dream.'

you giggle and start

'okay well in u,,,, it's probaby~~~'

'hmm, probably Ten,,,, or Jaehyun,,,,'

so Mark is like lowkey disapointed

but nods anyways as you continue to 127

you smile and sigh before mummbling a quiet um

'in 127, Taeyong,,,,,'

you started with confidence and then you're like

',,,or Winwin.

finally you reach dream

and Mark is ike more than hopeful

third time's a charm right?

W R O N G

'in dream, 100% Renjun.'

'but like,,, Jeno.

'ah yeah, 100% Renjun.'

and now Mark is like hella disapointed and lowkey confused because he wasn't mentioned at all

he's in all three unites so he's like

I should've been mentioned at least once,, right- I'm cool ri-

his thoughts are interupted by you saying more

'Renjun is probably my bias in nct as a whole group now that I think about it,,,,,'

'but then Mark like ruins everything,,,'

'ultimate bias wrecker'

you giggled at the last part

and now he's just beaming so he starts talking again

'so, do you like any other groups?'

and y'all continue conversing about music and other interests

Mark decides to keep his identity from you

he's having a good time just talking to you like Mark and not Mark Lee from nct

and since you two are soulmates, he wants you to know him as himself and not mr. long ass ride

and he wants to know you as you and not a fan of nct

(not that the sunglasses can hide that adorable smile of his)

after a while of talking, you decide to make yourself a drink as well

so he's just observing you as you make your drink

you sit down again and get back into convorsation

you two don't even realize the time until Mark gets a text from Taeyong saying that he should come back to the dorms

because it's 3 am and they have paractice again tomorrow

so he says he has to go

but before leaving he asks if you're working again tomorrow

and you just tell him that you have the night shift for the rest of the summer

he nods and gets up to leave

but as he goes to open the door

he turns around and pushes the door open with his back

and he's like

'you're really pretty by the way'

with that beautiful smile

you blush and let out a soft 'thanks'

the next day

he comes back

this routine continues for about a week and a half

and he's falling for you fast

y'all are soulmates after all

so about a week and a half later

he came in at the usual time and you're like

'hey Min, you want the usual?'

and he nods

putting the cash on the counter as you grabbed his muffin

once you both have your drinks

you sit in front of him like usual

and he starts to speak

'hey so,,,, i have something to tell you'

so you nod and he takes off his sunglasses and hood and is all like

'heyy,, I'm Mark,,, from nct'

and you just smile and say

'hey so,,,, I have something to tell you too'

and he's just hella confused like

?????? I'm Mark????? From Nct????? One of your favourite kpop groups?????? Your ultimate bias wrecker??????

but he just nods slowly

and you're like

'i kind of figured that out when you started talking to me that first night haha'

and he's like

'????? you didn't even say anything though????'

and so you smile and explain your reasoning

'well i just thought that if you wanted me to know you were Mark, you wouldn't have come in here with sunglasses, a mask, and your hood up'

and he's just shook™

he's now just looking at you with so much adoration beacuse of your respectful act

he has fallen so hard for you at this point

so he looks down at the sleeves of his hoodie

and then he looks back up at you and asks for a pen

you hand him one despite your confusion

so he rolls up his sleeve and starts writing

all of a sudden you feel that old writing sensation on your arm and you look down to see something being writen onto your skin

when he puts the pen down you look up at him

he smiles and nods towards your arm which now reads

hey, we're soulmates

and you look at his arm too

which read the same little message

so you look up at him and you're just like

'how did you know that????'

and he whispers a quick 'oh' of realization

and takes off his hoodie

he pulls the collar of his shirt down

revealing the nct u logo on his left shoulder

right where you got your tattoo 2 weeks ago

he just smiles and is like

'I saw it that first night I came in,,,, but I didn't want to scare you by walking in and then immidiately going 'oh hey i know we just met buT WE"RE SOULMATES' y'know..'

and you just like smile and walk out from behind the counter to where he's sitting

once you reach him,,, he turns to face you

and you wrap our arms around his neck for a hug

he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him

between his knees so you could stand in his embrace comfortably

after a few seconds,,,, Mark pulls back to look at you

keeping his hands on your waist,,, and you keeping your hands on his shoulders to look back at him

you two smile at each other

and Mark begins to speak

'I really do like you y/n'

to which you reply with a giggle and

'I really like you too, Mark'

he smiles and leans his forehead on yours

he glances down at your lips for a quick second

he looks back up into your eyes and whispers nervously

'can I kiss you?'

to which you blush and nod with a smile

so he leans in and gently presses his lips against yours in a sweet, innocent kiss

one of his hands moves up to cup your cheek as you both pull away

smiling and resting your foreheads together again

he strokes your cheek with his thumb and you giggle

you peer over to the clock and see that it's almost 5 am

you pull away from Mark and walk back behind the counter and start wiping it down

you glance up to see Mark observing you with an adorable smile

you laugh quietly and speak up

'my shift ends when my coworker gets here if you wanted to do anything'

he looks up at your face and asks

'hm okay, what did you have in mind?'

you shrug and look back down at the counter as you dry it

'maybe we could go on a real date'

he giggle

'a real date, at 5 am'

'yeah'

you laugh as you took off your black apron

'a real date. At 5 am.'

ahhh oml my heart

honestly i love Mark with all of my heart

mr. long ass ride is also yaballa bahiya boy

and i love both sides

i'm working on a haechan request but i might post jeno as a filler

look forward to it

be there or be square

~ Jae☾

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shimmershae · 7 years

Text

Counting Stars, Chapter 1 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl + Sophia, more).

The story continues.

The real story starts with a little girl lost in the woods.

My response to the Nine Lives "Find Your G-Spot" June challenge. Think The Princess Bride meets The Walking Dead. Sort of, lol. AU with appearances by multiple characters. Rating subject to change.

Author's Notes:

The story continues.

Counting Stars

xx1xx

He settles for some coffee, fixes himself a mug and takes it to the front porch, the wide, worn planks warm beneath his bare feet. Eyeing the wilting plants on the top step in their clay pots, he shakes his head. He’d told Mrs. McLeod they weren’t a good idea, not a practical one, at least, with him being gone so much on various jobs, but the arthritic old widow just wouldn’t be swayed, and now he’s stuck, performing life-saving measures on the pitiful petals every few weeks to avoid hurting her feelings. He adds Miracle-Gro to his ever growing, ever-evolving mental list and drains the last dregs of caffeine, scratching idly at his chest as he takes in the still-slumbering neighborhood.

<3<3<3

“I know a Mrs. McLeod!”

“Don’t say.”

<3<3<3

The mailbox catches his attention again, and he leaves his mug on the porch railing, heads down the steps.

Weeds poke up through the stones that make up the walkway, stubborn and proud. A bird, round and cheerful, flits from stone to stone ahead of him before finally deciding to take flight, darting to a low-hanging branch nearby and watching him curiously.

He grunts out a laugh. Something so small shouldn’t act so suspicious, but he supposes it’s no surprise. He’s been gone a long time, almost a month this time. Spring was just a faint scent in the air and the days were just beginning to warm last time he traveled this same pathway. Surely, he’s a stranger to his feathered friend, and that’s not all, it seems.

The house across the street, vacant since the Fords’ last, more permanent split, shows signs of new life. The overgrown flower garden that Rosita never seemed to find time for is a vibrant rainbow of color, not tamed exactly, but obviously cared for and appreciated. The shutters wear a fresh coat of paint, and a child’s bicycle rests on its side in the tidy yard.

He wonders at this new development as he gathers the various flyers and envelopes into his arms from the mailbox, bends to retrieve the rest. The mirroring clay pots resting on the top step, though, tell him he won’t have to wonder long, and so, he takes his mail and goes back inside. He’s got that list to work on, after all.

<3<3<3

“That’s it?”

“Don’t have to sound so unimpressed.”

“Where’s the princess?”

“Y’ain’t payin’ attention.”

“Am, too.”

“Patience, Baby Girl.”

“M’not a baby.”

“You gonna fuss all night or listen to the story?”

“Fine.”

“Where were we?”

“You was skipping to the good part.”

“Not so fast. Still some story to tell ‘fore then. Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“That one. Look like somebody else I know.”

“Who?”

“Never you mind ‘bout that. Think you’ll like this part, princess or not.”

“Fine.”

“That it? I’m a good mind to save my breath. Tell this story to somebody more appreciative-like.”

“M’sorry.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Since you askin’ so nicely.”

<3<3<3

The ride into town isn’t far, and it doesn’t take him long to stock up on groceries and all the other necessities because he’s a man of simple tastes. Before he knows it, he has everything on his list taken care of but for one thing, one very important thing.

The gateway to the Greene farm stands open when he rounds that final bend in the road, Otis’s truck nearby.

He nods at the man himself, drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he lets his vehicle idle and the friendly farm hand approach.

“Good to see you made it back.”

“You thinkin’ I wouldn’t?”

Otis draws his hat down from his head, fumbles his fingers through his graying goatee. His face breaks into an amiable smile as soon as he realizes he’s being teased, in George’s deadpan way, and he replaces his hat, the sun already high and beaming overhead and the Georgia heat making sweat bead on his brow. Noticing the bags in the floor of the truck, he doesn’t waste any more time, directing him onward. “She’s up at the main house with the girls. Doc Greene thought she’d benefit from the company. She’s missed you something awful.”

“Missed her,” he admits.

Otis doesn’t make a big deal out of the confession. He just nods and slaps his palm against the truck’s sun-warmed door. “Best be gettin’ on then. Might take you awhile to convince that young-un to part with her.”

“Thanks.”

<3<3<3

“Does George have a little girl? Is it Princess Sophia?”

“Got a one-track mind, Baby Girl.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do, too.”

“Do not. I didn’t even ask…”

“Didn’t ask what?”

“Nothin’.”

“Ain’t nothin’. Know you. Don’t give me those eyes. Might as well spit it out.”

“Is George’s Doc Greene our Doc Greene?”

“Didn’t know he was ours, but maybe. Just gonna have to listen and find out for yourself.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I’m waitin’.”

<3<3<3

The little one cries when he drives up, fat tears welling in those too-big eyes of hers and her shiny blond ponytail shaking as she hurries inside. Ms. Annette just shakes her head at him and smiles because it doesn’t take two seconds after he’s opened that creaky-old door before he’s got his arms and his lap full.

“That dog knows the sound of your truck.”

“Everybody in King County knows the sound of his truck, Annette.”

He ducks his head, dodges the most exuberant of the canine’s slobbering kisses, but he can’t miss them all and he soon gives up trying. “Thanks for lookin’ after her.”

“You know our Bethie’s always been partial to her, has been since the beginning. It wasn’t no imposition, Son. You know that. Fact of the matter is, there’s been a time or two while you’ve been gone that I’ve experienced some regrets.”

He doesn’t press the man for more because he doesn’t have to. He knows exactly what he’s referring to. He rears his head back to look into a pair of intelligent brown eyes, and he’s sent back to that very first moment, when she was nothing more than a tiny, shivering wet ball of black and white fur abandoned in a road-side ditch. One small whimper toward him and pink swipe of her timid tongue, and he hadn’t the heart to leave her behind as others already had. He’d wrapped her up in his flannel over-shirt and turned the heat on high blast, making the old truck sputter and groan all the way to the veterinarian’s country-side practice. The little one had been there that day, and she’d fallen in love, straight away. Fate and Doc Greene, though, had had other plans, and it wasn’t even a week later that he was puppy-proofing his whole house. That little bit of fluff had made coming home worth it ever since. Still, sometimes he wonders if he’s doing right by her, leaving her so often and for so long. Ms. Annette kindly intervenes before he can voice those thoughts.

“Seems to me Tsu made her own choice a long time ago.”

Her husband echoes his agreement with a grin. “Reckon you’re right. She’s been missing you.”

“I heard.” If he sounds a little happy about that fact, well. He missed her, too. Giving the dog’s ears a playful tug, he smirks when she barks at him. He looks down when he feels a soft touch on his arm. It’s the older girl, tomboyish and independent where the little one is soft, and she looks up at him with eyes as green as gems.

“Stay for a little bit. Please. Just long enough for Bethie to see that Tsu’s happy.”

“I’d like to, but I got groceries needin’ to be put in the fridge.”

Ms. Annette comes to her stepdaughter’s aid, closing her hands over the girl’s sturdy shoulders and giving them a fond squeeze. “I can put those in our fridge for you, just for a little bit, and you can join us for a bite of lunch.”

“When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal, Son?”

His stomach growls before he can formulate a response. It really has been a while. Gruffly, he agrees, “Alright. Sure you don’t mind?”

“Mind? You know you two are always welcome.”

<3<3<3

“It is our Doc Greene!”

“What makes you so sure ‘bout that?”

“Because he’s nice.”

“That all you’re basin’ your assumption on?”

“What’s ‘ssumption mean?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. How else you know it’s the same Doc Greene?”

“He has a Bethie, too. But she’s not little.”

“Maybe she’s not little anymore.”

“Maybe he’s not our Doc Greene.”

“Confusin’ you?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“You sleepy yet?”

“No.”

“Could swallow whole watermelons with that yawn.”

“M’not yawnin’.”

“Sure ‘bout that, Baby Girl?”

“Don’t stop the story. George still hasn’t seen his presents or met the princess yet.”

“You callin’ my story borin’? Done told you…”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“And chocolate sauce?”

“Lots.”

“Alright. Don’t want you bein’ disappointed though. Presents ain’t always what you think they are.”

“Huh?”

“Just listen and let me tell my story.”

“’kay.”

“Sure you ain’t sleepy?”

“Real sure.”

“Real real sure?”

“Real real real.”

“Alright.”

“Finally.”

<3<3<3

He forgets about the mail until he’s back home, groceries packed away and Tsu lazing around on the couch like she never left it, tuckered out from a sun-drenched afternoon filled with games of tag on the Greene farm. He sits at the table and sorts it into piles, and sure enough, most of it’s junk. Some of it’s not, though, and he takes care of the bills first. He hesitates over the envelope from West Georgia Correctional Facility, but in the end, he chooses to let it wait. It’s been a long first day back already, and he’s not sure he’s physically or emotionally ready to deal with picking out the truth between the lines of his brother’s words. Soon, he comes to the bottom of the pile and he frowns. It seems Stookey has struck again, the proof right there in front of him and addressed to one Mrs. Carol Peletier, apparently the proud new owner of Sergeant Ford’s old place.

<3<3<3

“What’s a ‘rectional cility?”

“It’s a place where…know what? It ain’t important.”

“But what is it? What do people do there?”

“They learn to be good again.”

“Were they bad before?”

“Some of ‘em. Some of ‘em just got lost.”

“Like that time Gabby got lost and we found her up in a tree?”

“Not exactly.”

“How then?”

“That’s a conversation for another time, Baby Girl.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Not a big girl either. Not yet.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No. You’re in between. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. You’ll grow up soon ‘nough.”

“How soon?”

“Too soon.”

“How soon is too soon?”

“Blink of an eye. ‘Fore you know it, you won’t want me tellin’ you stories no more.”

“That ain’t true.”

“Why?”

“Just ain’t.”

“Tuck your toes in, Baby Girl.”

“M’snug as a bug in a rug.”

“That so?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good. Just a little bit more and that’s it for tonight. We’ll save the rest of the story for later.”

“M’kay.”

“Sleepy, ain’t you?”

“Don’t wanna be.”

“Know. You’ll have sweet dreams. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

<3<3<3

The sun is setting before he finally works up the nerve to walk over there. The crickets are out in full force, and that quiet little girl from three doors down is chasing after lightning bugs with her dad, mason jars in hand. He can’t remember her name. It’s short and foreign-sounding, and he wonders if the family are travelers, must be with a name like that, but it’s a fleeting thought because it doesn’t take long at all to walk up those three wide steps. He clenches the envelope between his sweaty palms and swallows. He doesn’t have a chance to knock on the door before it is pulled open and another little girl and a woman spill through it, nearly plowing into him. There’s a blanket tucked beneath the woman’s arm and a melting popsicle in the child’s hands, and they look just as startled or more so than he feels, and it takes a few moments before any of them rediscover the power of speech. The little girl reaches for the woman’s free hand, and that seems to do the trick.

“I’m sorry. You are?”

“M’your neighbor,” he offers.

“My neighbor? Oh. You think I’m Carol.”

“You’re not?”

A small voice butts in then, soft and shy and apologetic all at once. “Aunt Andrea. You promised.”

The woman stoops to the little girl’s level, hands over the blanket with a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you pick us out a good spot for counting while I talk to the nice man, okay? I’ll be right there.”

They both turn to watch the little girl scamper across the yard and arrange the blanket just so. He smirks a little when he sees her lick a trail up her arm, the popsicle fast dwindling in her hand and painting her skin in cherry stickiness. His amusement fast fades when he catches the woman watching him with hawkish blue-green eyes, her mouth curling at the corners. Feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he glances away for a brief moment, shoves the envelope into her hands. “Postman left Mrs. Peletier’s mail in my box by mistake.”

“Thank you for bringing it by.”

“Ain’t nothin’.”

She laughs a little, the sound not unkind. She crosses her arms across her chest and considers him.

He doesn’t miss those eyes of hers glance downward at his left hand. He can feel the usual heat of embarrassment creep along his skin in response, and he burrows his hands deep in his pockets, nods his head. “Just wanted to make sure she got her mail. I’ll just…over there.” Her voice stops him before he can fully turn around.

“You’re the man with the dog.”

“Lots of people in this neighborhood with dogs,” he answers. He’s not sure why, though. It’s just prolonging this whole uncomfortable encounter and he wants nothing more than to escape to his own little piece of peace, close that door behind him. The woman has other ideas. She just keeps talking.

“But your dog is no ordinary dog.”

Another woman steps outside, and the two link hands. Her eyes are just as deep and warm as the color of her skin, and her smile bright as she regards him. “Definitely not an ordinary dog. Not according to Sophia.”

“She does tricks. I saw her, Aunt ‘Chonne.”

He looks down, surprised to find the little girl at his side and staring up at him in something akin to secondhand wonder. There are freckles on her pale skin, all across her cheeks and her button nose. She’s small and she’s delicate, and he’s sure she’d weigh next to nothing in his arms. It’s a strange thought, one that finally spurs him into action. “Not tricks. She just listens. Make sure your mama gets her mail, ‘kay?”

“Yes, Sir,” the little girl solemnly promises.

It takes less time for him to cross the distance this time, but his escape still isn’t quick enough.

“She’s not married! In case you’re curious about her. Carol.”

“Andrea!”

<3<3<3

“Sleep, Baby Girl. There’ll be more tomorrow.”

End Notes:

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