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alderaani · 2 years

Text

Gathering

summary: fox and the other commanders of the coruscant guard rendezvous for five well deserved minutes of R&R. AO3 | Series

a/n: hi hello am momentarily back from the dead and have miraculously found the post button. risked my duolingo streak to get this one finished so i hope you enjoy loll. this one is actually partly inspired by this very lovely piece of art by @bladelei

Fox clung to the emergency escape ladder on the side of the GAR barracks, 0300 hours closing in around him.

Frankly, the chrono had long ceased meaning something. It could have been two in the afternoon. It could have been 8 in the morning. Fox’s office always looked the same regardless, and so did the lower levels, where nobody seemed to know how to sleep either. At this point he figured he was practically a native.

Except...he never could quite get used to the dark, to the cramped, damp stench of the back alleys and crawlspaces that riddled Coruscant’s underbelly like wood-worm. His chest always felt that little bit too tight down there, on levels so deep that the comm-relay went patchy. Stone’s claustrophobia was worse, though, so he usually volunteered to lead any raids that required going under.

There hadn’t been any for two months, until today. Fucking spice runners. If there was a bottom to this planet’s moral depravity, Fox had given up hoping they’d ever find it.

He hitched his heel over the side of the barracks building and hauled, his joints protesting as he slid ungracefully onto the roof. Alpha-17 would have beaten his hide had he ever seen such poor form. But Alpha-17 was a very long way away. As things were there was only his own pride to worry about, and he’d stopped being overly concerned about that a long time ago. There were too many little brothers around to have an ego, and too many people to fight for scraps over on their behalf.

That was perhaps the only other thing he’d inherited from Coruscant that he liked: no shame.

Fox prised himself to his feet, rain drumming off the plates of his armour and sitting in murky pools on top of the rusting durasteel. No doubt Thire would be bitching about it when he arrived. The thought made him smile.

Coruscant was different when it rained. It made it possible to almost like it. Not like during the artificial summers, when dust storms formed in the hot, dry air tunnels in the lower levels and the stench of the alleys was so thick you could taste it. The city looked too exposed in sunlight, too much like the patched, lumbering beast that it was. A cloner’s nightmare, he’d always thought - stray blocks mashed together and on top of each other into some shambling sort of order. There was no finesse, none of the streamlined, wasteless perfection that Kamino had bartered away its soul for.

Not that he thought Coruscant necessarily had a soul. But it couldn’t be denied that it had something.

The holocasters called it a monument to a long legacy of intergalactic diversity. Fox called it a testament to hypocrisy, a hollow veneer of glittering expense on top of dereliction.

Nobody truly knew what went on in the depths of the planet’s underbelly. Nobody really cared - and that, in essence, was the whole problem.

It was impossible to understand how anyone could look at the millions of people crammed, poor and scavenging into the limitless dark, and think the Senate was anything but rotten at the heart. The rain blurred the city’s raw edges, let the buildings bleed into each other, and made the neon lights glow a little warmer. It allowed you to see it the way the dreamers did, if only for a moment; where skyscrapers were credit chips and sidewalks were red ribbons of destiny, leading you to something bigger. Fox paused on the roof edge for a moment and released his bucket seals, looking out across the skyline before tilting his head towards atmo and shivering as the first drops made contact with his skin.

Viewed like this, he could almost believe that Coruscant had a heart.

That was how it got you.

“Caf’s getting cold.”

Fox turned his head and gave a lazy salute in the direction the voice had come from. He spared a last, lingering glance for the GAR plaza and the distant hulking shape of the Geonosis monument, before turning his back and vaulting over a protruding stretch of vent piping, pushing away the heavy dread in his gut. Thire was always first there, somehow - had beaten them even that time he’d been on the Chancellor’s protection detail and the Banking Clan representative had filibustered on the senate floor for 12 hours. They’d long since given up trying to work out how he managed it.

He always made the best caf, and as usual, had a pot of it waiting on the field stove they’d gerryrigged to feed off the building's mains.

“You know I’m not picky how I drink it,” Fox said, making his way to the squat, crumbling overhang Thire was wedged under, his legs crossed and head in one hand, caf mug in the other.

They never had figured out what this thing had been, originally. The GAR buildings themselves were old converted warehouses, completed in a hurry and obvious about it. Thorn had asked why the Republic had been so unprepared for them, when they’d ordered them and known they were coming, but Fox found it hard to be surprised that nobody had wanted to make room for the clone army until they had no other choice.

Still, there were perks. Like this strange, dilapidated little lean to, shaped like one of the public shuttle stop shelters. Whatever it had once been, Fox was grateful. If anyone looked on their trackers all the commanders would be exactly where they were supposed to be, tucked up in the barracks. But if a trooper thought they might follow up on that, they wouldn’t actually be able to find them.

It was the only place his head felt truly quiet, empty of everything but the indifferent hum of the distant skylanes.

“At least take your fucking boots off,” Thire griped, not even looking up through his fingers as Fox stepped under the welcome shelter of the corrugated roof.

“Too sodding wet,” Fox said, setting down his helmet instead. As it made contact with the duraplast he heard a muffled ping, and instinctively he paused, reaching his hands back out towards it.

“Don’t even think about it,” Thire said, peeking up to glare through the gaps in his fingers.

Fox smiled weakly and reached for his wrist comm instead.

“Usually, I would listen to you,” he said, ignoring his brother’s dismissive snort. “But I haven’t heard from Cody.”

Cody, who was pinned down at Point Rain in the last chatter from the brass he’d heard. Cody, stuck on Geonosis, the place where clones went to die. Fox had been dreaming in visions of red dust for days, could feel the memory of blistering heat in his lungs. It was times like this that made him feel useless, that made the armour against his skin feel like a lie. What good was he here, the Chancellor's puppet, when out on the war front his little brothers bled and died for the little comforts this place didn't think it could live without?

The silence on the roof immediately changed quality, gaining a tight, alert edge. Thire’s gaze sharpened, his dark eyes glinting through the slit in his fingers.

“You want me to take it?” he asked, quiet, and then when Fox shook his head, nodded and turned to the stove, the clinks and gentle roar of the flame settling against the night.

Fox swallowed the lump in his throat at the gentle provision of privacy and opened the message, reading it several times before the words sunk in. He read it again for good measure, and then couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of him, or the salt that burned his eyelids.

Thire turned back, a steaming mug of fresh caf in his hands, and passed it over with a grin, that terrible tightness dissipating from his demeanour.

“He’s alright then?”

“Yeah,” Fox said, sliding down the wall with both hands wrapped around the mug, then thunking his head back against the brickwork. He laughed again, his breath streaming up around his face. “Lucky bastard.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Thire said, clinking their mugs together and resting one closed fist against the side of Fox’s thigh plate. It was a comfortable weight, one that kept him grounded as a layer of crushing worry stripped away, leaving only exhaustion behind.

When his mug was empty and his belly was warm, Fox shuffled a packet of cigs out of his utility belt and flipped open the top, running his nails across the top of the tightly rolled tubes. A present from Bly on his last shore leave, some wanky brand of tobacco that tasted cleaner, sharper than the cheap shit that was available on a trooper’s meagre ration packet.

Thire made a funny sighing sound, and Fox rolled his head towards him, a smirk colouring his lips.

“Come on, I deserve it.”

“You always say that,” Thire grumbled, but still lit the cig on the lit stove and passed it back.

Fox took a long, savouring drag, held it, then blew out the smoke, relaxing further at the way the sharp smoke contrasted with the smell of the damp air.

“That’s because it’s always true,” he said, then dodged the elbow Thire threw towards him. “Long shift?”

“The fucking worst.”

Fox watched as Thire refilled his caf cup, taking in the slant of his mouth, the limp curl to his hair. He’d been on prison duty the last tenday, in one of the rowdiest cell blocks. Fox found it difficult not to worry about how hard Thire took the bad days, how personally the punches landed. He’d still not settled into ranking at Commander, still mentally stuck in the rat-race of the lower echelons and the need to distinguish oneself, whether that be through marks, appearance or notoriety. He reminded Fox of himself so strongly sometimes that it hurts.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, tapping away the ash on his cig end and knowing the offer was useless.

Thire grinned, crooked, flash-fire warmth lighting up his eyes and for one brief moment reinstating the boyhood he’d never properly gotten to enjoy. “Nah. Same shit, different day, right?”

“Ain’t that the truth,” came a call from behind them, followed by sharp footsteps and skittering debris. “Smoking that shit’ll kill you, you know?”

Before Fox could even protest, the cigarette was out of his hands. Thorn examined it, shrugged, and took a drag.

“Where the heck did you get this? Tastes whack,” he said, dumping his helmet off to the side and nudging Fox with his boot toe. “Budge up.”

Fox rolled his eyes, kicked him back, and reached for the packet again.

“Give it back if you don’t want it.”

“Never said that,” Thorn said, landing heavily with a groan. He pulled in another drag and tilted his head. “Yep, I’m used to it.”

“Stone on his way?” Fox asked, lighting his new cigarette and leaning out of the way as Thorn discarded armour in his usual theatrical, busy pantomime.

“Yeah,” he said, cig hanging between his teeth as he wrestled first with one vambrace and then the other. “Told me to pass on that you can go fuck yourself for leaving him with that report on seized slug slime aphrodisiac shipments.”

Fox smirked again and crossed his arms, settling in to wait in anticipation for the tongue lashing he’d get when Stone finally showed his face. Cody was fine, the rain was falling, and his Commanders were gathered around him.

For this moment, at least, everything was as it should be.

#commander fox #cc-1010 #commander thire #commander thorn #coruscant guard #the clone wars #star wars #star wars fanfiction #alderwrites #if you see typos in this no you don't

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

carolina

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

summary - you meet emily in a bar, she doesn’t realize who you are until she hears a song about her on the radio

warnings - nsfw mentions (nothing graphic), cursing

series masterlist

the second emily layed eyes on you, she was instantly captivated.

you sat at the bar, your back pressed against the counter. a drink was in your hand, your cherry red lips occasionally taking a sip. you were observing the crowd, a slightly smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

and then came your outfit. tight black jeans and heels, a silver sparkly cropped tank as your top. a gold necklace was around your neck and hair in your natural style, or what she assumed was.

while emily could have stayed in her spot sneaking glances ever so often, a gentle shove to her back made her tear away her gaze. “emily come on, i need a drink,” j.j. teased.

the three girls pushed further into the venue, already buzzing about their night out.

penelope had been raving about a bar she had discovered. it wasn’t downtown, further away from everything in location. it was a more formal bar in details such as a taxi service and places to drop of coats and accessories if needed.

with no case being presented, they had all agreed to go out. after heading home and getting changed, they all met up to inevitably get drunk.

while j.j. and penelope quickly got drinks and headed out to socialize on the floor, emily decided to head over to the counter.

you shot a smile at the woman who slid into the seat beside you. she cooly ordered a drink, spinning around to face the same direction as you.

“going with a daiquiri? i can’t blame you, they’re my favorite,” you smiled, figuring you might as well introduce yourself to the woman beside you.

“i’m y/n,” you greeted.

“emily,” she replied.

you never really fell hard for someone, let alone a stranger. but something about emily was different. maybe it was her looks, her raven hair and dark brown eyes were nothing short of beautiful. or the way she spoke, her name flowing easily as she introduced herself.

maybe it was a combination of the two and her personality already begining to make an appearance. all the times you rolled your eyes at people mentioning love at first sight were really contradicting themselves. maybe not love yet but you knew emily was special.

“who are you watching?” emily asked, being the first one to initiate small talk.

you raised your drink in the general sea of people dancing. “alice and mel,” as you spoke, you pointed towards the two girls, each occupied with others. “you?”

“penelope and j.j. can’t believe we’re both the designated sober friends.”

“oh i’m not, i would just much rather be here talking to you,” the flirty remark rolled off your tongue easily. a blush passed across her cheeks, a smile tugging at her lips.

you ordered a second drink, offering to get emily something if she wanted a second. after shaking her head ‘no,’ you shrugged and leaned back against the counter.

“so what brings you to this bar?” emily questioned.

“night off from the public eye. figured i would spend one of last days in the city out with my friends.”

the alcohol clouded emily’s thinking process a bit, not allowing her to process the first part of the question. “last day?”

you nodded, “i live in d.c. most of the time but i have some work which involves traveling. i’ll be back soon, you can definitely find me here at least once.”

another drink was ordered for the both of you, your attention focusing on emily.

“so what do you do for a living?” conversation flowed easily.

“not sure if i want to reveal it so easily. any guesses?” emily replied.

you leaned close to her face. “well,” you started, eyes flickering down to her waist. “i’m going to go with something in law enforcement.”

a brief shocked look passed over emily’s face letting you know you were right.

emily chuckled. “i’m a profiler for the fbi. though with your guess i’m not so sure you aren’t. how’d you know?”

“well you have an imprint of some clip on your side. adding on your pant pocket is stretched out, probably from some badge. i just put the two and two together and guessed,” you answered, taking another sip of your drink.

“alright, how about you? i’ll be honest, i have absolutely no idea what you do and have no clues.”

your heart fluttered at that. “it’s not important. it’s not anything bad, i promise. just would like to enjoy this night without having to think about work,” you answered truthfully.

talk went on, mostly about your mutual interests and introductory questions.

you were only interrupted when some guy took the now empty seat on your right. he opened his mouth to talk, probably some dumb pickup like, but you caught him off. “don’t even try, i don’t play for your team.” both for you were thankfully he left you alone.

emily grinned into her drink. “sorry about that. i really hate men sometimes,” you apologized. “no it’s okay i promise. i’ve had to deal with people like that for so long with my work. you think they would just realize that we just aren’t into them.”

maybe you did internally smile when you realized you may actually have a chance with her.

flirty remarks were tossed around after that, both of you completely forgetting about your friends who came with you.

“come with me to grab my coat?”

emily nodded, leaving her drink at the counter and following you back.

the two of you couldn’t have been away from the center room of the building for more than a few moments before your lips were on hers.

“already undressing me here? thought you’d be more classy than that y/n,” emily groaned as you pushed her jacket back. you hummed against her neck, moving to the pulse point along her jawline.

“come back to mine?” you mumbled in between kisses. emily nodded, “call a cab.”

the entire ride back, the tension was almost unbearable.

you tired to be quiet for the sake of the driver but emily’s occasionally kisses to your neck made it quite difficult. to add on to that, she kept her hand on your thigh, it trailing higher and higher up as you neared your location.

after paying your ride fee (with a pretty hefty tip), you pulled emily out of the cab and towards your apartment bulding. you could tell she was in slight awe just from the outside. but with one quick tug of her hand, she was following you once more.

you fumbled with your key trying to open your door after waving to those at the front and heading up the elevator.

when the door was pushed open, you waisted no time pushing emily in. the two of you moved as quick as possible, kicking off your shoes and slowly moving towards your bedroom.

“you sure you want to do this?”

the question made you grin, “absolutely.”

____

you woke up to the weight on your chest being lifted, the sound of sheets shifting as well. your eyes struggled to open, fighting with tiredness, especially from the night before.

it was easily one of the best experiences ever.

your eyes slid open, head lolling to the side to find the creator of the noise.

emily was sitting up, sheets pooled around her waist. her raven hair fell down her back, covering up the top half of her body.

“what’s up?” you asked, pulling the covers up over your bare chest.

“i need to get going if i want to shower and be at work on time,” emily rushed out, standing up to grab her clothing strewn across the room. “shit,” she mumbled upon seeing her very revealing shirt she wore last night. there was no way to could go home in that.

“just borrow one of mine,” you offered, keeping a pillow over your eyes to block out all of the light.

she mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and was out the door without another word.

you later smiled to yourself at the shirt she chose.

____

neither of you could stop thinking about the night at the bar, well more the night after.

the bruises littering your neck served as a lasting reminder. the amount of concealer used in the days following was definitely a new record.

but, as always, life had to go on.

just like you had told emily, you had flown to los angeles the next day for work. well in your case, it meant photoshoots, writing music, and recording new songs.

with your hookup still in your mind, you channeled all your feelings about it into the best way you could.

emily went to work as normal, pounding through paperwork as no new case had been presented to the group.

j.j. and penelope has cornered her in the break room, already gushing out their girls night before bombarding her with questions. “where did you go that night? we looked around and one of the bartenders said you had already left.

“i know,” emily confirmed. “i saw your text.”

she grabbed her freshly made mug of coffee, already turning around to leave. j.j. followed, not quite done with figuring out where her friend went. “you met someone,” she concluded. “maybe i did j.j., i guess it’s a mystery.”

the conversation was done after that.

after work, everyone went their separate ways. the team all bid their goodbyes, each happy that they would be home on time.

emily grabbed her bag before heading out to her car, sitting in the drivers side for a few minutes before she could head out.

a text from penelope made her phone buzz. emily picked the device up before looking down at the screen and focusing on the message.

‘have you heard y/n y/l/n’s new song? oh my god it’s so good. i know you don’t really follow her but it sounds like your vibe. here’s a link with the cover art if you want to listen. i’m sure it’s playing on the radio too :)’ -p.g.

emily sucked in her breath as she read your name, mind already wandering back to the night at the bar. your words slowly pieced together in her mind, “night off, public eye, last day.” all were related to your status as a celebrity.

the first half of the song went by in a blur, emily only partially listening.

“she feels so good. i met her once and wrote a song about her, i wanna scream yeah i wanna shout it out, and i hope she hears me now,” your voice played out of the speakers.

there was absolutely no way those lyrics were about anyone else.

she examined the cover after listening to the entire song. it was fairly simple, having a more vintage vibe. you were seated on the end of a couch, arms resting on your knees and looking directly at the counter.

what initially caught her eye was your shirt. plastered across the white fabric was a band logo, the exact same one sitting in her drawer. even the small tear along the left shoulder stitching. it was the exact same one she had worn out of your apartment.

there were way to many factors for it to be a coincidence.

the lyrics. the shirt. your one night stand. it all just connected.

she was carolina.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @sapphicspence @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @zoseph @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @matthewgublerswife @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @babyangellee @agentshortstacc

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis

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number-one-micoverse-fan · 4 years

Text

A Little More Shattered

Trade with Em. Angst for angst babbbbyyyyy. I accidentally made it way longer than I meant to. ———

Jake doesn’t know what happened.

One second he’d been hurrying to catch up with Milo as the teen had run ahead. The next thing he knew was gloom, dust, and immeasurable pain.

He’s laying on his side, his vision blurred and his entire body aching. There are muffled voices, shouts and screams, the rumble of something heavy settling into place. Jake sucks in a breath and coughs, choking on the thick haze of dust filling the air. It turns everything into indistinct shapes and outlines, blocky and disjointed.

Jake can’t put the pieces together. Nothing makes sense.

There had been orange streaks of the setting sun through glass.

There had been people and laughter and voices bouncing together in an enclosed space.

There had been Milo, letting go of Jake’s hand to run ahead, shark tail bouncing from his waist.

There had been a roar, a steadily building wall of sound that had rattled the arching windows overhead.

There had been screaming.

There had been a noise like the world was tearing apart.

There had been something snapping.

There had been the sensation of falling.

Jake remembers, dazedly, like it had happened to someone else, the ground buckling beneath his feet. He remembers a scream being ripped from his lungs as he drops, chunks of the sky walk tumbling past him, and—

The sky walk!

He and Milo had been on the sky walk between the art gallery and the hotel! It passed directly over a high traffic street, connecting the two buildings in bridge capped in an arch of thick glass so patrons never had to set foot outside. They’d been coming back from the art gallery, heading to the hotel because it was getting late and Jake had valet parked in the hotel lot. Milo had let go of his hand and had skipped ahead and Jake had called for him to come back and then someone had pointed and asked “is that a plane?”.

And Jake remembers looking out the windows to see a tiny, one person plane spinning towards the sky walk.

And he remembers yelling Milo’s name.

And then he was falling.

Panic seizes in Jake’s chest, making him gasp and choke on more dust. His hands scrabble on the gritty floor beneath him, nails scraping concrete until he can get them underneath his body and push himself up. The back of his head smacks into the rubble above him and he drops again, fingers clutching at his hair as stars burst in his vision. His mouth is dry and tastes like dirt, his head is spinning, and every inch of him hurts but he has to find Milo. He has to find that little boy.

He pushes himself up more carefully, his arms shaking, until he feels his head brush the stone above him. He squints through the haze around him, taking shallow, careful breaths. His palms sting, his head is throbbing, something hot is slipping down the side of his face and he tries not to think about how it’s probably blood.

“Milo?” His voice wheezes, thin and muffled and he coughs again, trying to be louder, “Milo? Milo!? Milo, where are you!? MILO!? MILO CAN YOU HEAR ME!?”

Jake moves, starts to crawl forward, only to be stopped by a tug on his leg. His throat clicks as he swallows dryly and slowly turns to look over his shoulder.

There’s a column of stone pinning his left leg to the ground, almost up to his knee. His jeans are torn and now that he’s looking at it, he can feel the weight of the stone grinding down, down, down onto him. Jake goes numb for a moment. Maybe it’s shock. He can’t process the idea of being trapped somewhere, buried under who knows how much rubble, with no idea if or when he’ll get out, with no idea if Milo is okay or even alive.

He has to be alive.

Because the alternative—

Jake won’t accept the alternative.

“MILO! MILO WHERE ARE YOU!?” Jake twists, claws his way forward, feels his trapped leg pulling at him, “MILO! SOMEONE!? ANYONE!? PLEASE! I CAN’T—WHERE ARE YOU!? MILO!” He pulls harder, wriggles his leg, maybe he can squirm his way out, he has to get out, he has to find Milo, he has to find him, he has to get out, he has to find a way out and get to Milo and get him to safety.

Jake heaves forward, grabs the edge of a concrete block in front of him, and pulls. He pulls and pulls, his shoulders straining, his aching body protesting every second he’s struggling, his heart beating so hard it hurts, feels like it will burst in his chest. But he has to get out. He has to free himself and find Milo. He’s ready to let go and try and chewing his leg off instead when he feels something shift. And then—

—something snaps.

Jake whites out for a second that goes on for an eternity.

He blinks the world back into place, shedding tears from his lashes, trying to remember how to breathe. His throat is raw—had he been screaming? He shifts and pain lances through him, an electric shock of incomprehensible agony that makes his back arch and his mouth fall open in a scream that won’t come out because his voice trapped under the pulsing pain of his heart. He collapses to the ground, his eyes wide, shivering at the aftershocks sliding needles into his nerve endings. His breath is a gasping wheeze, fingers twitching as he finally settles into his body again.

Shit.

Shit, he’s broken something.

He’s made things worse and he can’t get out and he still doesn’t know where Milo is and—and—and—

Jake hiccups, sobs catching on the lump in his throat. Tears and blood are hot on his face as he lays sprawled belly down on the ground. He is useless, as useless as he’s ever been, and if he’d just held Milo’s hand then things might have been different.

“Somebody…” His voice is weak, a whimper, shaking in the dark around him, “Somebody, please…”

He doesn’t know how long he lays there.

It might be hours, it might be days, it might be seconds. He cries until his tears run out. He thinks he might have dozed off or passed out again.

The voices coming closer wake him.

He stirs, freezes when he remembers the pain moving had brought before. His shaking hands clench into fists and he sucks in as deep a breath as he can,

“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!”

A flurry of activity, shifting stone and metal, and suddenly there are people around him. People in uniforms with tools and masks and hands. Someone’s asking him something but Jake only has the focus for one thing and blurts out,

“M-my son! Please! I—I need to find my son! He was with me and I don’t—I can’t f-find him! Please! Please, I need to find him!”

“Sir, I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.”

“Milo! I have to find Milo!”

“His leg’s stuck. It doesn’t look load bearing so we should be able to get him out.”

“Please! Milo! Milo! I have to find Milo!”

“Sir, please, you need to hold still and calm down.”

Someone touches his leg and Jake screams.

Agony blinds him. There’s a lot of shouting. Something pinches into his arm. His body goes numb. His mind goes dark.

Milo’s name is a whisper on his breath as he passes into unconsciousness.

********

Time blurs.

Jake cracks his eyes open, feels something on his face, and groggily lifts a hand to push it away.

Someone snatches his wrist. Words swim into his ears like they’re coming through muddy water.

He whines and tries to tug himself free.

Reality is smeared across his brain, disconnected, numb and impossible.

Cold burns in his veins.

It goes dark again.

*********

Jake knows he’s in a hospital the second his consciousness returns.

He doesn’t even need to open his eyes, he just knows by that chemical smell and the feel of the bed and that pinch at the end of his finger that he’s in a hospital. He’s been in enough of them at this point that he just knows.

But he still opens his eyes and looks around. The room is empty, except for the machines monitoring his vitals. His left leg is propped above the covers, wrapped in a heavy cast all the way up well past his knee. There’s a distant, dull, throb that comes from it.

It takes a bit of struggling but Jake manages to get his leg down and swing it over the edge of the bed. He tugs the clip off his finger and is going about removing the rest of the tubes and wires when a team of doctors and nurses rush into the room with that particular flavor of hospital urgency. Jake stares at them for a moment and then grabs the IV stand, intent on using it to pull himself to his feet.

He’s instantly swarmed by nurses. They push him back down on the bed, overpower his weak and tired body and start hooking him back up to the monitoring equipment.

“Stop!” Jake tries to push them away, struggles against their hold, “Let me up! I need to find—stop! Just stop it!” He swipes angrily at a nurse trying to clip the heart monitor back to his finger, “Leave me alone! I need to—“

“Mr. Pierly, you need to remain calm,” The doctor is saying through the cluster of nurses, “You’ve suffered a massive trauma and have some nasty injuries. You need to—“

“I need to get out of here!” Jake barks and kicks out with his good leg, almost catching a nurse in the face, “I need to find my son!”

“Mr. Pierly—“

“Where is Milo!? Where is he!? Tell me where he is!”

“Please calm down so we can discuss this like adults!”

“LET ME SEE MY SON!”

There’s a tug on his IV line and his gaze snaps to the nurse sliding a needle into the tubing and pushing the plunger. Jake howls wordlessly and bucks under the grip of the other nurses pinning him to the bed. He’s panicking, knows somewhere deep inside him that he’s being irrational, but all he can think about is Milo, alone and scared, hurt or worse and it’s his fault. He let go of Milo’s hand and it’s his fault if that little boy gets hurt and he’s so angry and frightened and worried that it’s choking him, burning him up inside and spilling out in hot tears that streak down his face as he screams.

Ice crystals start forming in his veins, seeping exhaustion and darkness into his mind as his body starts to go numb again.

“Milo…!” He gasps, his head lolling on his pillow, his breathing ragged and shaking with sobs that are quickly dying off, “M…Milo…pleas…pl…Mi…lo…”

*********

His next waking is slow and lethargic.

He feels heavy and exhausted and his eyes are crusted by sleep and the salty remains of his tears. He goes to rub his eyes but his wrist is halted and something clatters at his side. Bleary eyed, Jake looks down and—ah. They’ve restrained him to the bed. Seems a bit excessive.

“Apparently you tried to punch a nurse in the throat.”

Shit, he’s said that out loud.

“Yeah, you did.”

Or maybe you are just reading my mind, mysterious voice.

“I forgot how weird you get when you’re on morphine.”

Jake sighs and turns his head, blinking slowly until the blurry, brownish shape at his bedside comes into focus.

Dan is slumped in a chair, heavy bags under his red and puffy eyes, a weary smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he meets Jake’s gaze,

“Hey buddy. How’re you feeling?”

Dread sinks like a stone in Jake’s stomach. If Dan’s in his room then…

“Milo?” He croaks, his throat rough and his mouth dry. The heart monitor picks up a few paces.

A humorless chuckle leaves Dan as he ducks his head, shakes it, runs a trembling hand through his already messy hair. The beeping from the heart monitor goes a little faster. Jake wants to be sick. It should have been him. It should have been him, not Milo, not that little boy, not that child. It should have been Jake. His eyes are burning.

“You really have a one track mind,” Dan mutters, looking up at him, “Milo’s fine. He’s a little banged up, plenty spooked, sprained his wrist something fierce. But compared to you, he’s basically spotless.”

Jake lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding, collapsing back onto the hospital bed with a groan,

“God, I thought—no one would let me see him, I thought he was—I thought—“ Jake chokes up, heaving in a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut. It doesn’t stop the tears that spill down his cheeks, “Dan, I thought I’d—I let go of his hand and he—and I couldn’t f-find him! I tried! But I couldn’t m-move and—“

“Hey, hey, shh, Jake, shhh, buddy, no,” Dan leans over him, smooths his hair back, clasps Jake’s hand in his, “Jake, Jake, look at me, okay, look at me. There you are.” Dan smiles at him and Jake’s lip wobbles, his head spinning in a combination of painkillers and relief and emotional overload, “You know what the doctor’s told me, Jake? They told me you basically dislocated your knee trying to pull yourself out from under some concrete. Yeah. And the whole time they were trying to take care of you? All you’d do is ask for Milo, tell them that you wanted to see Milo, kept asking where your kid was.” Dan’s eyes are watery and soft and his smile is so big and warm and proud and it makes something inside Jake ache in a good way,

“Jake, you were doing everything you could to take care of Milo. You did so good, buddy. And Milo’s safe and he’s okay and he can’t wait to see you. So you gotta rest up and get better, okay?”

Jake nods because he’s too gummed up with emotion to say anything.

Dan keeps talking to him in a low voice, murmuring and consoling, repeating how everything is okay. Jake lets his friend’s voice wash over him, lets it settle in his chest and ease the knot of terror and anxiety trying to chew him up from the inside out. His breathing calms, his heart rate steadies, his eyes close, and, eventually, he falls asleep.

He has a lot of healing to do.

********

The first thing Jake does when he sees Milo again is grab him into a tight hug.

He pushes his face into Milo’s vibrant red hair, clutching at that familiar shark hoodie gone soft from multiple trips through the wash. He tries to say something, tries to tell Milo how he feels, but it gets stuck somewhere in his chest and all that makes it out is a choked and sticky laugh of relief.

Milo seems to understand, though, because he stays at Jake’s bedside all day.

And he doesn’t let go of his hand.

#fan fiction #angst #family

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years

Text

Chapter 8 - Absence

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word Count: 3,128 words

TW: Violence and Gore.

A/N: Hi guys!! Sorry for the super long wait! I've had writers block for the longest time and also life gets in the way, as usual. This one's a short one, sort of a transition into the next chapter- which will definitely be more intense! Thanks for being so patient with me as usual.

Read the previous chapters of Red Who? here: Masterlist

Normal people would probably compare what you felt to some time when they were a kid, where one of their parents surprised them with some sort of wish they always had. A trip to Disneyland or that red bicycle they’ve always wanted.

Or maybe to a time where some crush said they liked them back after a confession, or even being offered a cookie by a new friend.

Whatever it was, those were everyone else’s comparison.

You didn’t have any great childhood memories to refer to the feeling you felt right now. But the closest would be the first time Bruce ever said “Good job” to you.

Your first kiss wasn’t all that you expected it to be. To be fair, you didn’t really expect much from a first kiss. To you, it was all unnecessary distraction from the things that mattered.

But Jason didn’t make you feel that way. He made you feel giddy and excited, he made you feel like you were being pulled upwards by a whole bunch of colorful helium balloons.

But then you walked inside the manor, changed into your Robin uniform, and started to approach Bruce who was at the Bat computer.

“What are you doing?” he scrutinized you.

“I’m ready to go?” you hesitated, before mentally slapping yourself. You suddenly remembered your fall out yesterday, bursting your bubble of joy before. He was still mad at you. Of course he was, you hadn’t done anything to fix it.

Yet you felt like you didn’t need to apologize.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he gave you a cold look that made you feel like shrinking, “You disobeyed a direct order last night. I can’t just ignore it.”

“I went with my instinct, Bruce,” you tried to reason with him, “You always said to-”

“No, you went because you are fixated on him,” Bruce cut you off and glared at you. A look you’ve never been on the receiving end of.

“What? What are you talking about?” you sputtered, taken aback by his remark.

“I don’t know why, but you’re fixated on the Red Hood,” he continued, “You went and disobeyed me because you wanted to see him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bruce,” you retorted, straightening your back into a cold stance, “You’re talking as if I have a crush on him.”

“Do you?” he demanded, “I know for a fact that you hide things from me regarding your encounters with him.”

“How dare you assume that of me, Bruce,” you coldly replied, despite the nervousness of getting caught. You needed to shift the blame to him somehow.

“Then why?” he urged, “You have never before disobeyed me. Why do you always get excited when he’s involved?”

“I get excited because it’s exciting!” you argued, “He’s a new criminal who came out of nowhere, taking over the underground in the span of a couple of weeks! Who wouldn’t be?”

“Do you know who he is?” Bruce suddenly asked.

“No. That’s what I’ve been asking you, remember? How dare you accuse me of hiding things from you when you’re the one who refuses to trust me enough to tell me who he is,” you ranted, finding a way to finally shift the blame on him to reduce your own faults.

“I don’t-”

“Don’t lie to me, Bruce. A guy who randomly appears and fucks shit up, knows everything about the both of us, our identities probably included- don’t tell me you out of all people haven’t figured it out. So why haven’t you told me?”

“Because I don’t want to believe it myself!” he yelled, making you jump slightly at the sudden change in volume.

You stared at him for a few moments, before saying, “Who is he, Bruce?”

He clenched his jaw.

“Do you want to patrol or not?”

“Yes,” you stated.

“Fine,” he sighed, turning away from you, “But you stick by me the whole time. If he happens to appear, you stay in the Bat-mobile.”

“But-”

“Do you want me to put you under house arrest?”

“Fine,” you admitted defeat.

***

You honestly thought the decapitated heads on spikes were the worst you’ve seen, and that the next bad thing would wait at least more than a week before it threw itself at you.

But there you were, mouth slack in shock at the scene before you.

It was a bright night in Robinson Park, coincidentally where you were earlier, the moon was full and there were no clouds blocking its gentle light. The additional lights that the GCPD brought also gave plenty of illumination that fell onto the three bodies hanging on tree branches.

All male, all naked, all hanged by the neck with a rope. Purple faced and tongues lolling out, you were thankful for taking Dick’s advice by expecting the worst. Yet, it still shocked you.

Because if it were just three people hanged by the neck, you wouldn’t have batted an eye. But this time, there were three people hanged by the neck, their bellies slashed open horizontally, intestines spilling out and trailed all over the well kept grass like large alien worms bursting out.

And along with the gruesome scene, of course, came the smell. It wasn’t just the metallic smell of blood this time. It was closer to the smell at the club the first time you met Red Hood. A mix of blood and feces and urine. Thankfully, it was outdoors with plenty of ventilation.

“Batman,” Gordon huffed when he saw the two of you approaching. Batman rushed to arrive to the scene when he heard the traffic on the police radio. The crime scene was already taped off, forensics were everywhere, flashing lights from their cameras as they took pictures of the bodies.

As you got closer, you could see in detail how the bodies looked like. The gashes were clean, you could see the layers of skin, fat, and muscle that made up the cross section of the gash. Hell, you could even see the bits of fascia and peritoneum that were damaged by the trauma.

“Black Mask’s men,” Batman pointed out without hesitation.

“Yeah,” Gordon sighed, “Like I said before, gang war. Red Hood himself must have done this. Looks like we’ve got another sadistic bastard running around. This was done to them while they were alive.”

You grimaced.

“What we think is rope fibres were found underneath the nails, so they were struggling and scratching at it to escape before they got strangled to death,” Gordon continued, “We still gotta wait for forensics, but I bet my money the coroner’s report is going to confirm it. He must have had them stand on the park table here, tied the noose around their necks, gutted them, and then pushed them down. The momentum from the fall must have forced the intestines to spill like this.”

You had to hand it to Red Hood, he was very theatrical. If you weren’t so disgusted by his lack of empathy, you would have perhaps thought that his works were art.

“How do you know it was him?” you voiced out.

“There isn’t anyone else that have the guts to directly attack Black Mask,” Gordon explained, “I don’t think these would be the last bodies we find.”

True enough, the week after that, another two bodies were found in a similar state, but this time, you noticed the nail of one of the men’s pinky fingers were pulled out. A piece of information that you didn’t know you stored at the back of your mind came to resurface.

When it came to torture for information by denailing, if the victim could handle getting one nail pulled out without breaking, they most probably could handle it all. The strongest ones are the ones with all their nails pulled out- which meant that they probably did not reveal anything.

Judging from the body before you, you guessed that Red Hood probably got whatever information he was looking for.

And if he did, why did he have to kill them both in such a way?

Truly, you couldn’t comprehend his love for cruelty.

You stuck with Batman on the days you patrolled, as per his orders. You weren’t allowed to go on your own anymore until you gained his trust again. Not that it mattered, because even though you were investigating a string of Red Hood’s bloody murders- he was on his twenty-third victim by then- you didn’t get to meet the culprit himself.

He was keeping to the shadows, yet making his presence still loud and clear by leaving bodies everywhere.

You didn’t want to admit your disappointment.

Red Hood wasn’t the only one leaving bodies, though. Black Mask also was under investigation for retaliating by attacking and murdering Moehler’s men, though less creatively and dramatic.

Before you realised it, Gotham City was in the midst of a gang war that Gordon had predicted those weeks ago.

After a particularly exhausting patrol on a Saturday night involving yet another one of Red Hood’s victims, you laid on your bed, and stared at the ceiling. You glanced at your phone- no notifications.

It had been approximately 3 weeks since your kiss with Jason, and it was the last time you saw him. He had been texting you less and less, despite it all. The last message you sent him a week ago read was just a GIF of a Shiba Inu’s backside while it walked. You didn’t want to seem desperate.

You probably scared him off. I told you so, Mother said.

You pushed her away like you always did.

You tried to not overthink it. Perhaps he was busy with getting into the police force, perhaps he didn’t feel like talking to anyone, because God knows even you have long periods of time where you wanted to just shut out the world.

You tried to be understanding and patient.

But you still couldn’t help but think about him. His smooth voice, how sexy he sounded when he swore. His grunts and moans of pleasure over the phone. And his lips. How they felt against yours, how they would feel in between your legs. You always noticed his smell too.

His cologne, fabric softener, the smell of leather and… fireworks. You didn’t know why. But his smell reminded you of fireworks.

But you were restless. And Jason wasn’t the only one that was on your mind.

You hadn’t seen Red Hood for about as long, too. It irritated you. For some reason Red Hood felt like an itch on your back that you just couldn’t reach far enough to scratch. As the nights went by without hearing from Jason, you strangely thought of Red Hood more.

Especially at night when you were alone in bed.

You wondered about him. Some reasonable, some completely random. Where was he from? Did he have siblings? Does he play music inside that helmet of his? He looked like the heavy metal type, but you entertained the idea of him humming along to Taylor Swift while he gutted men.

What was wrong with you? You were unintentionally humanising him, giving him more meaning and sentimentality than he deserved.

But most importantly, you had a feeling that he was preparing for something, in addition to the gang war he started. You didn’t have any evidence. It was just your gut. And you trusted your gut, no matter what Bruce said.

Shit.

You started to think that Bruce was right. You felt like you were beginning to be obsessed with him. You groaned into your pillow before trying your best to fall asleep and not think about Red Hood’s flexing biceps.

***

The familiar lurch of the batmobile going from stationary to full speed never failed to excite you to your core.

Both you and Batman were on your usual patrol in Otisburg District, before hearing a large explosion just a few blocks away. He frequented the district a lot, since The Stacked Deck was overtaken by Red Hood, it made sense to patrol in the area.

You wanted to patrol in the area. It meant the chances of meeting him was higher. Not that it mattered, because Batman was still keeping you on a tight leash.

What you didn’t expect, though, was to see the club itself engulfed in flames.

You hacked a cough the moment you exited the batmobile, the soot and smoke enveloping the area in heavy clouds. People were running in the opposite direction, away from the building. If there was anyone inside the club, it was too late to save them now. The alcohol must have contributed to the rapid burning, and somewhere along, a gas pipe must have burst, because the roof and part of the outer walls were in ruins already from the explosion you heard before.

The fire department came. You saw the familiar face from all those weeks ago. Parks, was it? The cute one. You saw him order his men around and climbed onto the lift with a hose. You overheard someone say it was going to take them more than just a couple of hours to extinguish the fire.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already here,” you heard a voice behind you, “Yes, sir. No, sir. With all due respect Mr. Mayor, you don’t just stop a gang war- understood, sir.”

You turned around and saw a very distressed Commissioner walking towards the two of you. He was on the phone, his other hand pressing at his temples.

“Understood sir,” he huffed, ending the call, “Batman.”

“Commissioner,” Batman nodded.

“Of course you got here first,” he sighed, “I’ve already told my people to pull up the traffic cameras and every other CCTV nearby- which you probably already have access to. Whatever it is, I put my money that Black Mask did this.”

“Of course it is,” you rolled your eyes, not that Gordon could see them behind your white lenses.

“Oh, I also have another update,” Gordon suddenly remembered, “Regarding the Gotham University Public Library case. According to the two we caught, there is a third. He managed to get away. Jerome Miller, 8 cases of arson, 11 attempted arson, 2 theft- but I guess it’s below your paygrade, Batman. Hey, do you even get paid?”

“Where is he now?” you interrupted, feeling your blood boil at the mention of one of the people who burned down your safe haven.

“We put an APB on him. He’ll turn up eventually. But we have bigger things to deal with now,” Gordon explained, “Red Hood will retaliate. And soon. God have mercy on whoever he gets his hands on next.”

*** It was hard to wish for God to have mercy on whoever Red Hood gets his hand on next, especially since the victim this time was none other than Black Mask himself, who has killed and tortured hundreds.

But when you saw the state of Black Mask’s body, you found yourself taking back that thought.

His mask was a feet away from his body, which was still positioned in a sitting position on his leather armchair, facing the massive window of his office building which showed the city skyline. His face?

On his desk behind him.

Literally. His face was skinned messily, clumsily, and then placed on the glass desk behind him in a mound of bloody flesh. Red Hood did not take his time to skin Roman Sionis’ face off, that’s for sure.

Sionis had his neck slashed ear to ear, his carotids and jugular sliced through.

“Did he-” you started, “Did Red Hood do this to him alive?”

“We would need blood test results for that,” Batman said next to you, taking out a syringe to extract blood from the body. Where he kept it? You didn’t ask. You didn’t know he carried around a syringe and a vial to take blood.

“If the forensics saw you,” you giggled.

“Good thing they’re too slow,” Batman smirked.

He actually smirked.

You felt inappropriately happy, given the scene before you, but Batman had been cold to you these past few weeks. This was a step to him getting over it.

You heard people approaching.

“Jesus Christ!” you heard Gordon’s muffled voice behind the door. Probably counting the 31 dead security on his way up and outside.

“Let’s go,” Batman commanded, pushing open the door right before Gordon opened it.

“Batman-”

“I’ve got what I need,” he simply said and walked away, with you giving Gordon an apologetic smile and following behind him.

***

“Positive for suxamethonium chloride,” Bruce announced from the Cave computer as you walked towards him, freshly cleaned and changed.

“What?” you asked.

“Roman Sionis’ blood has traces of suxamethonium chloride, a neuromuscular-blocking drug,” he explained, “Induces paralysis for about ten minutes.”

“Jesus,” you whispered, “Red Hood injected him with that, and then peeled his face off while he couldn’t move?”

“Yes.”

“And does this sucks- suxo-”

“Suxamethonium chloride,” Bruce helped you.

“Yes, that,” you rolled your eyes, “Is it like, an anesthesia as well?”

“No,” Bruce replied, “Only a muscle relaxant. It’s used to perform quick medical interventions in emergency departments. When a muscle relaxant is induced, doctors would have the patient under a ventilator, since the diaphragm is also paralysed. But Red Hood did not have a ventilator, meaning Black Mask did not only feel the pain while he was being skinned, but was also suffocating.”

“Good thing he didn’t use a ventilator, though,” you shrugged, “At least since he couldn’t breathe, he would have passed out after a few minutes.”

“I see you have gotten used to his methods,” Bruce commented.

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

“You used to be more surprised after learning Red Hood’s brutal rituals,” Bruce pointed out.

Huh. He was right.

“I guess so,” you responded, “I would have had to get used to them eventually. Plus, it’s not like Black Mask was a saint, either. He deserved what he got.”

“We are not the ones who decides who deserves what,” Bruce reminded you.

“Just saying,” you shrugged again, “I’m heading to bed. Night, Bruce.”

“Hmm.”

You lied in bed that night, for the first time not thinking about how brutal Red Hood was. You just wish you could see him already. The past few weeks- for some reason you felt lonely. You felt like you were being deliberately ignored by someone you wanted attention from- while they were still flaunting their presence to you.

You missed him.

Fuck.

You finally realised that you missed the fucking asshole. Were you so bored that you were now craving the sight of a criminal?

Where was he, anyway?

You scoffed.

Right. Probably celebrating. With Black Mask gone, you just remembered- that Red Hood was now technically the ruler of the underworld.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood and the outlaws #batman #dc #bruce wayne #batfamily #nightwing #dick grayson #dc universe #dceu #gotham

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Video

“...for we all have stripes, and we all have horns, we all have scales, tails, manes, claws and thorns

and here in the dark is where new worlds are born...”

It’s Halloween, when all the weird and wondrous beasts of the world creep out of the shadows and throw themselves one hell of a party.

For Emma Swan and Killian Jones, witch and shapeshifter respectively, it’s a chance to kick back, get high, and watch the mayhem unfold...

Rating: M Words: 1200 (Chapter One) On AO3

To accompany this brilliant piece of art from @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 for the @csrolereversal, and also I think suiting today’s @cshalloweek theme of Fright Night, we have witch!Emma and shapeshifter!Killian, and a Halloween party that’s literally out of this world.

come sit at our feast

Of course we’ve all heard the stories. Centuries of them, handed down, tales of things that belong to the darkness and the eerie edges of this world. Tales of ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night. Of witches and goblins and banshees and djinn, of wendigo and yaoguai, mokèlé mbèmbé and yara-ma-yha-who. They come from every culture and in every land we tell of them. We sing them in verse and scribe them in books, we paint them and carve them and we hide behind our hands in darkened rooms when they leap out from nowhere on our TV screens and we scream with all the breath in our lungs though we’ll later swear we knew it was coming.

We love the stories. We love to be spooked, scared even, love the pounding rush of adrenaline through our veins, our hearts racing, terrified yet always safe, knowing that it’s not real, not really.

Except when it is.

—

She’d put the scarecrow on her lawn. That was the first thing he noticed. Smelt it, actually—pine resin and straw and sweet decay wafting down the darkening streets from at least three blocks away. The scarecrow was on her lawn and there were pumpkins in her windows that had faces.

He paused just outside the gate, a large black dog with chalcedony eyes, one with the shadows until he chose to emerge from them, always felt but rarely seen. At least, not by most.

“This is your fault,” said the scarecrow, in a voice raspy with disuse. Its dead-eyed face turned stiffly on its neck and glared at him with all the feeble power of its clumsy features. Its ratty top hat teetered on its cloth head. “You told her to ‘lean into it.’”

Brightly coloured leaves adorned the porch and candles lit the way along the path that led to it. The gate swung on creaky hinges in the chill breeze. It seemed she had ‘leaned into it’ with a vengeance.

He cocked his head at the scarecrow with the closest thing to a shrug a dog can manage then trotted through the gate and along the candlelit path, ignoring the hollow glare of the eyes that followed him as the scarecrow spun on its wooden stake. If Jefferson didn’t wish to be displayed on her lawn like wares in a secondhand shop then he shouldn’t have messed with her.

Everyone knows you don’t mess with a witch.

She stood in her doorway, framed by the flickering glow of firelight, holding a besom broomstick and wearing a black and pointy hat at a jaunty angle on her head. He wished he could roll his eyes. Perhaps she had leaned in a bit too far after all.

The trio of small girls standing bravely on the porch seemed suitably impressed. The tallest of the three, dressed as Captain America, held out her candy bag with arms that barely shook and the small princess at her side, after a nudge of encouragement, did the same. The smallest girl, almost lost in her dinosaur costume, was too interested in the dog presently absorbing light at the top of the steps to care much about candy.

“Hi,” she said, her brown eyes wide with wonder. He adopted his friendliest expression and let his tongue loll from the corner of his mouth. She giggled.

The tongue loll gets them every time.

He allowed the dinosaur to pet his ears and gave her hand a sloppy lick that had her giggling again. Captain America observed the exchange through narrowed eyes.

“Is that your dog, miss?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s definitely mine,” replied the woman in the doorway, smiling with just a few too many teeth. “He showed up as a stray a few years ago and he’s just so cute I had to keep him.”

He huffed a deep, indignant bark. {Stray indeed.}

The woman smirked at him and Captain America stumbled back, grabbing the startled princess by the sleeve of her dress and pulling her down the porch steps, but the dinosaur was unfazed. “My sister doesn’t like dogs,” she informed him in a quiet voice. “But I love them.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You have really pretty eyes. Like the sky.”

“Eva, come on,” called Captain America, who was by then halfway down the path, clutching her candy bag tightly in one hand and the princess’s sleeve in the other. “Let’s get out of here.”

The dinosaur kissed his head. “Bye, puppy,” she said, and ran after her sisters.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called him “puppy.”

The woman was leaning against the doorjamb, watching the proceedings with great amusement. “I see you’ve made a new friend.”

{What can I say, love? Women adore me, even the extinct reptilian ones.}

She laughed. “Well, you’d better come in before any triceratops show up. You know what they’re like.” She set her bowl of candy down on a chair next to the door, and with a wave of her hand produced a sign that read “Take one, if you dare.”

“I don’t think many more trick or treaters will show up but just in case,” she said, closing the door behind them and locking it with a flick of her wrist.

{And what if they take more than one?}

“They won’t.” She flashed him that slightly-too-toothy grin. “At least not if they know what’s good for them. Catching sight of her reflection in the hallway mirror she frowned and snapped her fingers. Her casual jeans and sweater, the loose ponytail and the absurd pointy hat disappeared, replaced by a dress that hugged her slender form, short and strapless and blood red. Riotous curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, and her eyes were smoky black. She smoothed the dress over her hips with a satisfied nod, then turned to him. “Are you going to go like that?”

Spears of bright white light rose from the ground, whirling in a dizzying spiral around him, and when they spun away the dog was a man, with hair as black as his fur and the same blue eyes. “You prefer me like this, then, love?”

“I do,” she purred, pulling him towards her by the collar of his leather jacket and into a kiss that fired his blood. He grabbed her hips to draw her closer, backing her against the wall and plundering her mouth. It was far too long since he tasted her, that rich, dark flavour headier than the finest rum. She nipped at his lips with enough force to sting, challenge glinting in her eyes. With a hungry growl he fisted his hand in her hair, tugging her head back to return the favour with his teeth on her neck.

“You know, we don’t have to go,” he murmured against her skin. “We could stay here.”

“We could,” she gasped, in a breathless voice that made him ache. “Or we could go, get high as a pair of kites then come back here and fuck until sunrise.”

He ground himself against her, chuckling at her helpless moan, then stepped back with a smirk. “As you wish, my love. Lead the way.”

For anyone interested, the full text of the amazing poem quoted in the summary: If you are a monster, stand up. If you are a monster, a trickster, a fiend, If you’ve built a steam-powered wishing machine If you have a secret, a dark past, a scheme, If you kidnap maidens or dabble in dreams Come stand by me. If you have been broken, stand up. If you have been broken, abandoned, alone If you have been starving, a creature of bone If you live in a tower, a dungeon, a throne If you weep for wanting, to be held, to be known, Come stand by me. If you are a savage, stand up. If you are a witch, a dark queen, a black knight, If you are a mummer, a pixie, a sprite, If you are a pirate, a tomcat, a wright, If you swear by the moon and you fight the hard fight, Come stand by me. If you are a devil, stand up. If you are a villain, a madman, a beast, If you are a strowler, a prowler, a priest, If you are a dragon come sit at our feast, For we all have stripes, and we all have horns, We all have scales, tails, manes, claws and thorns And here in the dark is where new worlds are born. Come stand by me.

― Catherynne M. Valente

#cs role reversal #cs halloweek #witch!Emma #shapeshifter!Killian #monster mash #come sit at our feast #allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 #profdanglaisstuff #cs fanart #cs ff #cs ff au #magic au

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acerosu · 5 years

Text

Choice Part 2 - An Ice Diamond Fic

Oh here we go again. I can’t keep away from this glorious fusion that @dragonademetal invented. This is a somewhat sequel to my last fic about Ice.

Also very inspired by this piece of art cause DANG

So yeah here we go. Contains violence and angst.

Yellow Diamond sat in the control chair of her ship as it bent the gravity around it. Stars streaked by as solid beams of light, countless planets and nebula nothing but a blink. The call had come in just minutes before; a frantic plea for help, the Peridot hiding behind data towers in the corner of the room. Amidst the garbled transmission, the Diamond heard all she needed to know. Yellow’s hands gripped the arm rests, eyes focused on the view screen. Five more agonizing minutes until they were in range. Her fingers dug into the chair, cracks running along the surface.

“My Diamond.” Her pearl looked up, her normal aloof air clouded with worry. “Are you sure this is safe?”

Yellow didn’t even turn, still staring ahead. “No.”

A flash as the ship adjusted to light no longer distorting around it. The screen displayed additional readings and data on the planet below with the majority now showing a view of Homeworld. Yellow scanned over the information before she narrowed her gaze on planet closing in. Distress calls rang in on all frequencies, confirming that the lack of visible damage meant very little in terms of the stability of the crisis. Yellow closed her eyes, attempting to focus before the plunge into presumed chaos. Raising a glowing hand, she brought her ship into the atmosphere and began decent at a long arc along the surface.

The forges and building complexes sat empty, not a trace of smoke or spark rising from their pipes. Yellow flew over palaces and towers, seeing little to no activity. Then she heard it, the clash of metal and rock. Throngs of gems had gathered at the arenas, the crowd swarming between alley ways and gates to bring material inside the towering walls. The entire display screamed chaos as supports were broken down to expand into other structures that were stripped of their previously held purpose. Some sections had been left to rot in a pile of rubble. Yellow hovered the giant hand ship over the disarray, her stare focused as she spotted the figure in the middle of it all. Ice.

The fusion of White and Blue sat at the center of the main arena, arms draped over the throne constructed for her. The opposite wall and seating had been completely removed leaving a view of the sprawling research district and the surrounding temples. The fusion waved an idle hand at the crowds below, lounging as if this were an old Era 1 ball in honor of her majesty. All had to admire her. The Perfect, Graceful Diamond. It was as if she needed the attention as an organic needed water. Yellow left her ship floating a safe distance away and teleported onto the open palm. A stark wind cut against her face. The weather controls had even been left abandoned for this shameful game.

“Sunray!” Ice’s voice purred out like silk, a mix of Blue’s sincere mirth and White’s passive aggression. She held out an arm in greeting. “So nice of you to join me.”

Yellow stood her ground, glaring out across the demolished arena. “Greetings, Ice.” She knew she had to shout, not just to be heard, but so maybe one of them in there would hear the brass in her tone and see reason. “What are you doing?”

Ice brought two hands to rest under her chin while around waved out over the destruction. “Oh, just a little redecorating.” She grinned ear to ear. ”We can’t have rule of the galaxy with such tacky, blocked shaped buildings and those horrid vents, spitting smoke.”

Yellow held out her own hand, guiding her ship closer to Ice’s head, yet still out of reach. She could see a difference in Ice. Something under the surface. The fusion’s limbs hung a little longer, the hair a bit messier, the nails sharper. The smile alone was the same she witnessed when White left her ship, expecting nothing but worship. She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words.

“Materials are still scarce, my Diamond.” Yellow bowed her head. “So the pipes and forges are a necessary evil for now.” She could see Ice staring at her, the smile gone. Something was listening. “But once we finish our expansion into the outlying systems, we won’t have need of them anymore.”

Groups of gems closest to the conversation had stopped their work, looking up at the confrontation. Inky tears began falling down Ice’s cheeks. Her hands balled into fists.

“Don’t you like the beauty, Sunray?” Ice stood up, moving toward the hovering ship. Yellow knew if she fled, it would break what little stability the situation had left. “I thought you enjoyed the crystal towers, and star lit libraries, the gentle pools of water under the high fountains.”

Yellow remained on the palm of her ship, trying to hide her shaking as Ice brought her face right next to her. She could feel the rage twisted inside the fusion; Blue’s grief for all that had been lost and White’s pride for needed to keep it going, even when it lay shattered at her feet.

“Blue.” Yellow whispered. Black tears fell about her, staining her ship. “Please still be in there.” She inhaled, straightened herself up before Ice. “I can’t let you do this. You know it’s hurting our subjects. Hurting Homeworld.”

Ice twitched, her head level with Yellow’s ship. A row of fangs peeked out from her silvery hair, growing into a sinister grin as the mouth extended further along the forehead where the eyes should have been. It had not been tears, but vile drool that had been falling amid sharp, hungry teeth. Yellow backed up, horrified.

White had hidden away in her ship, Blue off always grieving at the zoo. Even Yellow herself had avoided White. She only spoke about herself, her accomplishments, her glory. Why even bother listening. And now those eons of praise from her subjects fell on dulled senses. White wanted more. They had all grown so far apart, no longer working together to build each other up. And the fusion standing before Yellow made that perfectly clear; only a gnarled wreck attempting to rake its personal desires from all, no matter the costs.

“Sunray.” The pet name was snarled out like the howl of some creature lost in the chase. “I only do this for you.” Ice raised her head, volume rising with each word. “For us!”

A tongue lolled out from between the fangs, pouring out even more drool. Yellow wanted to reach out, to give a gentle touch in offering, just as she had done when Blue bent over crying, just as she had done when White struggled to feel her own worth. But in the end she had to withdraw her gesture, tightening her resolve along with her fists.

“You have to stop!” Yellow pointed to the gems under them. “Look at what you are doing to them!””

Ice tilted her head before reaching out to snatch Yellow in her claws. A finger pet along the helpless Diamond’s face and neck. Yellow struggled, seeing the two mouths hovering ever closer. The grip was a mix of tenderness and barely restrained anger. She could feel her armor cracking under the stress and kicked her legs out in desperation.

“Blue!” Yellow pushed out words, trying to keep her form intact. “White! Look at me. Look at them. Can’t you see this is wrong?” She felt a claw gently stroke her hair. Were they even paying attention? Her voice grew to a frantic shout. “You are destroying everything we worked so hard to build!”

Electricity sparked from Yellow’s gem, spreading down her body and over the hand clutching her. The monster screamed, shattering panels along walls and cracking the buildings below. Yellow found herself free, the shock forcing Ice to drop her back down to the palm of her ship. The jolt had not brought Ice back to whatever senses she had left. Instead, she glared around at the gems gathered at the arena to do her sick bidding.

“Why are you not working!?” Ice shouted at the throngs below. Wisps of frozen breathe rose from her new mouth. “It’s not perfect enough! It’s not beautiful enough!”

Yellow jumped just in time as Ice swung an arm, tearing right through the ship. The gems on the arena stands were not so lucky. One of Ice’s clawed hands swiped across, leaving a wake of debris and shattered pieces of gems. Yellow landed amid a crowd fleeing in terror in all direction. She stared up at Ice, barely able to form a clear thought.

“Everything must be flawless!! Why can’t you see that?!”

Ice opened her second mouth wide and inhaled. A blinding light shot out from between the teeth, spraying thick plasma that froze everything it touched. Gems and structures alike lay stuck in chunks of ice, the air thick with a chilled fog. Ice stomped forward, crushing the now weakened buildings under her massive feet.

“We can always rebuild! Always make it perfect! Then they will love me!”

She lashed out with an arm, shattering more of the frozen landscape to pieces. Shouts rose amid the destruction as the gathered gems scattered. Another inhale, Ice turning to glare at Yellow and the many gems still scrambling around her.

“Get down!”

Yellow shouted, bracing herself for the attack. She had no idea if anything she could muster would be enough. Electricity crackled from her hands as she held her arms up. The blast shot forward and barely managed to deflect the icy beam away from her. The other gems behind were not so lucky; their terrified expression frozen as they tried to run.

Another roar from the fusion above. Yellow had been knocked down from the shockwave, but quickly regained her footing. Rising haze from the cold assault had hidden her, for now. She dashed away, past Ice’s legs to an overhang behind her in the still standing arena walls. Now berserk, the fusion laid waste to the surface, not caring what was frozen or crushed.

“Go through the tunnels.” Yellow urged on any gems she came in contact with. “You can hide until this is over.”

If it can even be stopped. Yellow looked up at Ice, who was now crawling on her arms and legs, blasting another section of Homeworld with her breath. Black drool stained her path of destruction.

Yellow knew there had to be a solution. She recalled when she and Blue had fused the first time. They had just been in a losing battle, barely scraping through to victory. Blue thought she had died. They ran into each other’s arms, emotions raging. The result was a mix of colors and limbs, their hearts becoming one for a brief moment. Unstable fusions did not last long.

Yellow followed the ruins Ice had left in her wake, running along as best she could. For a moment, the roaring and crashing stopped. Yellow looked up, no longer seeing Ice towering in the distance. Perhaps they wore themselves out? There’s no way she could have been that lucky. Yellow jerked as the buildings on her side crumbled.

“Sunraaaay.” Ice’s lack of eyes had been replaced by a grinning set of fangs, now drawn toward Yellow as if they possessed some form of sight. “Why aren’t you happy, Sunray?”

Yellow leapt to the side as a clawed hand shot out, snatching up the rubble where she had just stood. Ice was pushing herself through the buildings for a better chance of grabbing the Diamond up all for herself. Yellow stood tall, refusing to back away.

“I will stop you, or get shattered trying!!”

Yellow focused her power, letting the electricity build in her gem before calling it out with a touch of her hand. Ice had lodged herself between two buildings and could not turn away fast enough. The lightning struck along neck shoulder and neck, crawling along her back. A grotesque roar ripped through the air. Yellow strained, legs weakening as she kept the electricity flowing. The lines of light along Ice’s form flickered, pulling apart at the center. Yellow was about to collapse when she saw Blue’s outline amid White’s head starting to break apart from the mass of screaming limbs and teeth.

“No!!” Panicked voice yelled out, not Blue’s, not Ice’s. But White’s. “Stay with me! You have to stay with me!” Still an outline of light, White reached out, clawing Blue back to her. “Don’t leave me!”

Yellow stepped back in shock, pushing herself to remain standing. She could see Blue fighting to get away in desperation, crawling along the ground. But White had the advantage, Soon the monstrous form of Ice rose once more, drool spraying over the debris as the fusion roared in both pain and victory. The snarling mouth turned toward Yellow, now calm, a tongue slithering out to lick along the lips.

“Poor little Sunray.” Yellow winced at the cruel laugh. “I guess you’ll have to be shattered!”

The structures behind her collapsed as Yellow turned and fled. Limbs trembling from exertion, it was enough for her to duck for a brief moment under a fallen roof as Ice flailed about the ruins, knocking anything in sight over in search for her quarry. If she had to be shattered, let it be by the hands of her own family; a fellow Diamond worthy of the task. She closed her eyes as the crashing about her grew louder. Then Yellow turned. A leaking forge pipe lay open along the ground, lava sputtering out. Bracing herself for her final plan, Yellow broke cover and dashed along the alley ways. The twisted laughter echoing behind her let her know that Ice had taken the bait.

Only a small section of the forge district had been damaged. The rest sat ready to be utilized again. Yellow easily outran the animalistic Ice and stood at the center of the main storage chamber. It was all piles of iron and coal mixed with other raw materials ready to be turned into metals. Ice crawled toward her, her mind bent on only one thing. Yellow raised a hand, hoping she had enough power, enough will to release another attack.

The bolt shot from her fingers, contacting the ground just under Ice. The fusion halted, not wanting to risk another forced separation again. Only one trick left, and it was easy to avoid. Ice sat back on her haunches, smiling until Yellow ran out of energy. The crackling soon faded leaving nothing but charred ground.

“Little Sunray.” Ice reached out a clawed set of hands. “Do not worry. I will make you perfect next time.”

Yellow fell to her knees, unable to do anything but watch Ice crawl ever closer. The drooling set of fangs hovered just above now. Then Ice jerked her head back, mouth closing. The ground under her snapped, groaning in protest. Before she could take another step, she fell down into a pool of lava, all let loose from its pipes after Yellow’s attack and Ice’s weight. The fusion roared, in pain but still tried to claw her way to Yellow. Steam rose mixed with burned coal and sulfur, all adding to the heat. The mixture was no longer molten rock but metal. Ice managed to pull herself up halfway out of the flaming pit.

“I’m sorry.” Yellow shifted to her arms and knees, unable to stand. “I’m so sorry.”

The fusion glared back at her, form breaking at the outlines. In desperation, Ice spewed out her freezing breath against the engulfing lava. All that resulted was a blinding rise of steam that burned her even more. Half charred, Ice collapsed at the edge of the pit, barely able to hold her shape. Yellow raised her hand and let out the final bolt. It struck the gem in the forehead of the fusion. The scream that followed was clearly that of their leader, their great White Diamond.

Shapes flickered and broke. Ice’s multiple limbs and hulking body broke into two shapes before the light faded. They fell to the ground, motionless. Yellow ran to grab Blue before she fell into the steaming hole of metal. Exhausted eyes looked back at her.

“Are you alright?”

Blue couldn’t answer, only take Yellow’s hand in hers and squeezed lightly. The molten pit sputtered and fell in on its self, now hardening from lack of a heat supply. Yellow held Blue against her, kneeling on the ground. Every inch of her body ached with exhaustion and pain. Yellow couldn’t imagine another fight like this, something so beyond her own mind and body.

“We can’t stay here. She’ll do it again.” She whispered.

Blue rested her head against Yellow’s gritty shoulder pad. “My ship. We have to,” she trembled, barely able to speak, “leave now. Before she wakes up.”

Yellow looked up over the ruined landscape. White lay motionless in the dirt and ash. The shipping docks were still intact in the distance, with a large blue arm sitting at the peak. Hand in hand, the two Diamonds helped each other to their feet and began the long walk to freedom.

“Please.”

A single word. Yellow and Blue turned to see White on her hands and knees, limbs trembling. Smoke rose from her weakened form, ash staining her now charred dress and cape. No longer a glowing form of magnificence, only a cruel reflection of the destruction around her. She raised her head to look at them before collapsing back to the ground. Tears stained her eyes.

Yellow looked at Blue, who closed her eyes, shaking her head. All the pain, the demented plans, the manipulation. Yellow sighed, unable to say it.

“We have to stay.”

Yellow’s eyes widened. They were Blue’s words. And she had to admit they held truth. After all they’d been through, each of them breaking down along the line, each of them striving to prove to the others that they were worthy; and in the end that’s all they had. Yellow looked over at White, who was still struggling on the ground. She remembered eons ago when she had fallen in battle only to look up, a glowing hand in offering reaching for her, pride flowing despite the loss of victory.

“All she has is us.” Yellow had to say it out loud too believe it. She turned to Blue. “Imagine if I didn’t have you.”

“You’d be a wreck.” Blue managed a smile. “Come on. We have a lot of work to do.”

The two limped over to White and sat beside her. The almighty Diamond expected the worse and curled up, protecting her gem with her hands. Her entire form trembled amid the ruins of Homeworld. It would take a long time, but they didn’t have to force it. They always had what they needed. Blue reached out first, laying her hand on White’s shoulder, followed by Yellow. White opened her eyes and stopped shaking.

#fic #writing #su #su fic #my writing #ice diamond #yellow diamond #white diamond #blue diamond #fusions are scary man #speash when white is in one #just damn #this was stupidly fun to write

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saffordstories · 5 years

Note

‘Flashback’ Anabel

Send ‘Flashback’to see one of my muse’s old memories

~ten years old~

Anabel had been following the man for several blocks now. Crouching down behind a crate she waited for any sign he might give to signal he had fallen asleep. She had lived on the streets for almost a year now, and had managed to get by so far. Barely, but she had managed to get by. Her governess always said she was a little devil to teach with all her mischief until her father returned home. But with winter here now, food and heat were scarcer. And earlier today she had seen this man be given some coin while begging on the street. While normally she wouldn’t try to steal from older beggars, seeing how easily they could over power her, she was getting hungry enough that she was willing to try this.

He didn’t seem... that intimidating. Maybe. He had been drinking from that dark brown bottle a lot since he had settled against the wall an hour ago. The small fire in front of him had been extremely enticing. But Anabel made sure she stayed put. The moment she was sure he was asleep she would go in. Should be any moment now. Anabel waited patiently, crouched and balanced on her toes, rubbing her hands together as silently as she could, staying within the shadows, and breathing light as to not alert the man she was here.

If her father were still here she could almost hear him saying how raged this man looked. Medium length black hair was clipped choppy and uneven, his clothes showed years of use and wear, at one point she had seen one chipped front tooth, pale brown eyes stared off into space, his nails and hands were filthy and lightly scared, and years of living on the streets had left their mark as lines on his face. To any respectable person walking down the street, he looked like any other beggar.

But being one herself now, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

After some time, it seemed like he was asleep. His breathing had slowed down, and his head had lolled to the side. Anabel made sure to wait a few more minutes though. Just to be sure. Once she was though she made sure to move as slowly as she could stand. Every crackle of the wood or sound of a pebble being moved under her foot made her sure that he would jump up any moment. When she finally reached his side she checked his face to make sure he was still asleep. Feeling her heartbeat in her throat, but keeping a calm expression on her face, she began to reach into the pocket she had seen him tuck a small bag of coins into. Anabel took a breath.

Her hand was well into the pocket when the man’s hand flew into her vision and her wrist was snatched tightly. The screech that came from her was not intentional, but the attempt to pull her hand away and scramble away was.

“Jus what do ya think you were doin’ ya lil brat!?! Ya think you can jus’ creep up like that and steal wha’ i rightly earned? Like hell you’s will!”

Anabel wasn’t sure what this man would do, but the look he was giving her was enough to tell her that if he wanted to do her in... he was capable. For a moment she was scared, frightened beyond belief that she was going to die here. But in that moment the spiteful side in her kicked in, and she decided that if she was going to die she wasn’t going to go quietly.

“Let me go you bloody creep! Before i bite your blasted finger off!” she shouted at him as she attempted to kick at him. Which were unfortunately dodged.

For a few minutes he stared at her. As if he were looking over a piece of art that he could possibly sell to the pawn shop a few streets down. He wasn’t intermediately hurting her, but Anabel didn’t like the idea of what he could possibly have in store for her.

“Ya know, i know you’s were followin’ me. Seen ya out of the corner of my eye. You got potential. Good at sneakin’, might even be useful if you’s has the right stuff.”

The man finally let go of her hand, and Anabel made sure she scooted back a few feet as fast as she could. She didn’t outright run away just yet. Curiosity kept her here for a moment to see what he was talking about. If she didn’t like it though she would be sure to run fast.

She watched as he reached into his coat and pulled out a small portion of bread. Tearing it in half, she watched in disbelief as he tossed her the smaller half towards her. Without question she pounced on the crust and gave it a small sniff before tearing into it. Tasted fine. She was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to it. And judging from the bite mark on it already he had eaten some already.

“Tells ya what, you help me out in sneakin some stuffs around, and i’ll make sure you’s don’t die from the frost or a knife ta the back. I’m not ‘bout to pamper you’s or hold yer hand, but least you’ll survive the snow. You’s got some skill. Saw that much. What do ya say lass?”

Anabel stared him down as she thought. He had seen her earlier today. Maybe he would keep his word and help keep her safe. To be honest though, she would agree to just about anything at this point to get something in her belly.

“What’s your name?” she muttered before taking another bite. The man scratched at his chin and shrugged.

“Don’ know why you’s wanna know, but it’s Chester.”

#anabel #chester #chimeracarnival

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luxvitae · 6 years

Text

Your Everything | Taehyung

⇢1.8k

⇢His mind, body, and soul. These were the things you loved about Kim Taehyung

happy birthday to the light of my life

⋙Mind

Art usually came easy to you. You never had a problem with creativity before, you always had a lot of it. That is until artist block had hit you like a freight train and you were stuck on your senior project with a paintbrush full of purple ink and a blank canvas.

“Hey you,” a deep and familiar voice sounded as the door of the studio opened to reveal Kim Taehyung, resident man child who doubles as your best friend and boyfriend.

“Hey,” you strained, smiling tiredly as you watch him walk over to you and drop a short kiss on top of your head.

Looking at the blank canvas in front of you, Taehyung makes a face of confused pride. “It’s looking…..good babe. I think you missed a spot though.”

“Oh shut up,” you groaned, leaning back on your stool so you were leaning on his stomach. “I have lost all motivation. And my creative river has run dry. I’m washed up at 23.”

Shifting his body around so he stood next to you, he moved your head so it was leaning against his side instead while he rubbed your back and played with your hair in reassuring and and firm touches.

“What’s the prompt?,” he asked, tilting his head to the side to look down at you.

“Childlike wonder,” you said, the two words burning holes in your brain from all the times you stared at the stupid slip of paper that was causing your demise.

Taehyung thought for a little bit before pulling up a stool for himself so he sat next to you, hip to hip. “Don’t you ever wonder why people sleep with their eyes closed? Or ever get fascinated not by the first birthday candle, but the second one? What about how peanut butter and applesauce are liquid forms of something solid? Or why there isn’t a grape flavored gummy bear?,” Taehyung rattled off, looking back at you and smiling his beautiful, full smile.

“Childlike wonder isn’t childlike at all,” he said slowly, bringing the paintbrush in your hand up with his own, “It’s the unbothered curiosity not tainted by age.”

“So let go,” he whispered, drawing his hand back from your own, leaving the paintbrush of purple to rest suspended in the air. “You’re not washed up at 23 love, you’ve just forgotten what it’s like being untroubled by the hurdles of adulthood.”

Pecking your forehead once more, Taehyung left you to simmer in your own thoughts in the empty space of the art studio. It wasn’t until a week later, after your finished your piece, that you realize the way Taehyung thought, the way he navigated through the neurons in the brain to create abstract ideas and impressions, was what inspired your piece to come alive.

Taehyung and his beautiful mind.

⋙Body

“T-Tae I d..don’t,” you gasped against his intrusive lips and the harsh grind of his hips against yours.

“Shh baby,” he whispered against your neck, lips traveling further and further down until he was nipping at your collarbones, pulling your shirt down in the slightest, dropping wet kisses all over your chest. “You’re safe with me. I promise.”

Picking you up in his arms, your arms come up to lock around his neck instinctively. Playing with his hair at his nape, you pulled at the strands hotly so his lips detached from your skin and his head lolled backwards.

“I trust you,” you whispered as your foreheads leaned against each other’s before smashing your lips against his again. This time wasn’t like any other kiss; it wasn’t innocent or playful or sweet. It was harsh and needy, but meaningful all the same.

“Should I fuck you against the wall or the sheets?,”his husky voice asked, a sense of teasing in his tone so you just rolled your eyes.

“Why don’t you worry about fucking me in general first,” you played along, voice sultry against his harsh tone as one hand traveled down his chest in a slow, feather like touch.

“Oh baby,” he growled, pushing off the wall and navigating his way around the apartment without taking his eyes off of you, “I don’t need to worry about that.”

Once he reached the bedroom, your mind went blank as he softly laid you on the sheets, a totally different demeanor from what he showed you in the living room. Supporting his weight on his hands with his legs between yours, the kisses turned slow and steady, hands exploring the expanse of your still clothed body. As he started to roll your shirt up to reveal your stomach, you expertly flipped the two of you over before straddling his hips.

“Y/n-”

“Shh baby,” you quoted from him, “Let me take care of you first.”

With that, you shimmy your way down, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the new skin being exposed after each button. Taehyung was always rushing to please you first, but not today.

“I love you,” you whispered into his ear before kissing down his neck to his stomach.

“I love your stomach that clenches in laughter when I tell a joke that no one else thought was funny but you,” you said, kissing around his belly before going back up to his arms. As you journeyed around his body, Taehyung’s eyes never left your face, eyes getting darker and darker.

“I love your strong arms that hold me in times of distress and in times of joy, the arms that never let me go even if I say I want you to. I love your hands that hold mine, guiding me in all the right directions with you,” you said, slipping his fingers into your mouth so you could suck on them causing Taehyung to groan under you.

Popping them out, you ventured down, undoing his belt buckle and his pants for you to be face to face with his growing bulge. You begin to rub at it, causing friction from the scratchy fabric of his boxers, feeling his dick harden under your touch with every second going by.

“I love your legs that support you because they allow you to support me as well,” you continued even past his whining and moaning, putting his hands over yours to make sure you didn’t stop.

“I love you feet that walk next to mine,” you breathe out before Taehyung is flipping the both of you again, and this time you didn’t mind. He hurriedly gets rid of your shirt and shorts along with his jeans and underwear. “Because we’re in this together.”

“I love your back,” you gasp as he goes down on you, licking you through your underwear, causing your hands to fly to his hair, pushing and pulling at the strands. “I l-love your back because it has never t-turned, oh god, it’s never turned on me.”

Before you knew it, all three of his fingers that you sucked on were pushing into you, making your head fall back in ecstasy, moaning out in pleasure. But you weren’t done yet.

“I-I love your chest,” you managed to say as Taehyung came back up to drop a kiss to your lips.

“What about it baby?,” he asked, lining up his cock with your entrance before pushing in, slowly, then all at once.

“Oh god Taehyung,” you moaned out, arching your back from how good the stretch felt and how well he filled you up.

“What about my chest baby?,” he prodded at you, allowing for you to get a grip on your thoughts until he started to shallowly pulse against you.

“I love your chest,” you breathed, hands going against the muscle to feel his rapid pulse against your fingertips, “Because it holds your heart. And that heart allowed you to love me.”

⋙Soul

You start to think you saw it at the puppy shelter you and Taehyung volunteered at last month. Then, again, you think you saw it in the way he looked at the fans during the fan signs, cheering them on and giving them words of advice. But you definitely saw it when you visited his hometown with him.

“Eonjin! Jeonggyu!,” he screamed in excitement as he walked through the doors to see his little siblings already waiting there for him.

The two of them tackled him to the ground, you found a smile already on your lips from the laughter ripping through the small but cozy home, brightening the already lit walls. You watched as your boyfriend ruffled their hair and picked both of them up, carrying them into the kitchen where his mom and dad were still in the process of cooking.

“Taehyung!,” his mom said in surprise, dropping the plate she was holding up and wiping her hands on her apron to gather her son in her arms for the first time in a while.

“Hey mom,” he smiled, eyes watering just a little bit, but not enough to fall. After greeting everyone including his dad and little cousins, he grabs your hand and pulls you forward, introducing you and showing you off to everyone that gathered to see him come home.

“Uncle Tae, did you bring us anything like last time?,” a little girl that you remember as Taehyung’s niece asks, cheeks ablaze from how candid she realized her question was out loud.

“As a matter of fact,” he said thoughtfully before picking up the little girl and swinging her around, her high pitched laughter bouncing off the walls, “I did.”

Asking you to come with him, you follow him to the car trunk to reveal two big bags full of little gifts and trinkets. Leave it to Kim Taehyung to spend his money on everyone else.

“Love, aren’t you tired?,” you asked softly, taking on bag into your arms. You were convinced your boyfriend was an angel as he got off a 15 hour flight from Chicago to Korea, went straight to his dorm to pack, drove to pick you up, then embarked on a two hour drive to Daegu (which he refused to let you behind the wheel), then entertained his siblings, helped his parents in the kitchen, and still had enough energy to entertain everyone else.

“Yeah. Exhausted actually,” he laughed, “But these people, my family, I haven’t seen them in what’s felt like forever. I don’t wanna miss a single second of my time with them.”

You first witnessed it when the two of you went to an outreach program in June, the way his eyes would soften around the edges and his smiles came more naturally. You thought you were sure when he attended his first actual college lecture after all those years of online schooling, the excited demeanor to learn. But you weren’t sure. It was only until this moment, right now, as he set down the bags in the middle of the room and cheered along with the little kids while acting like Santa and calling out their names to give them their gifts, were you sure that you’ve seen it. Understood it, even.

Kim Taehyung and his beautiful soul.

In light of my love’s birthday, I did a thing :)

-M♡

#bcgnet #kimtaenet #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine #taehyung day #happy birthday my love #v scenarios #v imagine #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts #bangtan #luxwriting

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eternalstereksecretsanta · 6 years

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I got you, babe.

@hazelestelle | AO3 | I saw you were a Cherik fan as well, so I hoped this au might be a good fit. Mutual pining, a touch of fake relationship, some hurt/comfort, and mostly-sfw fluff to finish. Hope it works for you, and that I got your AO3 name right!

I went with sort-of Rouge/wolverine powers for the boys (derek is p much still a werewolf). Lydia is telepathic, probably. XD

Rated M for light gore.

X-Men AU/fusion where Sterek are on a mission, pretending to be on a date. It all goes sideways, of course.

“Target on the move, headed for your six.”

“Stiles.”

“I mean your ten.”

“Stiles.”

“Noon.”

“STILES.” Derek hissed, trying not to let his face betray his frustration. “Stiles. I can see him in the mirror above the bar. And do you even know how to use those directions? Noon and six are directly opposite each other.”

Stiles waggled his eyebrows in a manner that Derek assumed was supposed to convey something significant, but managed to mostly convey: Dork. He sighed.

“It’s easier to pretend to be a couple on a first or second date when you don’t make me want to strangle you. Or pull your guts out. With my claws.”

“Aw, sugarwolf, I know you don’t mean it.” And Stiles grinning through, ugh, a mouthful of pasta should not have been as cute as it was, but he was right. Derek didn’t mean it.

Derek didn’t mean it so hard that he’d been dodging Lydia out of fear she’d “pick up” on his disgustingly sappy feelings for weeks now.

It had been fine, Derek thought, until Stiles had gone on the Chicago mission. He’d had to subdue some actor who was in league with the brotherhood, and she’d put up a hell of a fight. In the end, Stiles had had to pull more from her than he intended, which Derek knew he hated doing, since it usually meant he pulled a little personality along with the energy and mutation.

But in that case… Derek had suddenly realized just how screwed he was. When Stiles walked off that jet, he’d almost been swaggering. He’d later confessed to Derek that although her actual personality (liked honey mustard, hated butterscotch, could never turn the television off if a dog show was on), had faded very quickly, but her confidence had lingered. Stiles had tried to explain to him what that felt like, that certainty that all eyes were on you, and for good reason. The pride in her work, her art, her desire to convey the authenticity of her character. Stiles explained that there was a particular way of walking that just… people would move. And that knowledge, that of course they would, that of course you were… all of that… yeah.

Derek was screwed. He’d known Stiles for years, both more or less growing up in the Xavier mansion for most of their teenage years, and for more than a few of those years, Derek had been harboring, maybe, a tiny little crush on him. Just a little one. Just, like, a desire to see him happy, every day, forever, and if Stiles would let Derek be the one to make that happen??? Well. Derek wouldn’t have turned that down.

But the little flashes and sparks of feeling and desire he’d been fighting off for years, those had nothing on the instant surge of heat he felt went Stiles walked off that jet like he was headed for murder. That comfort, that physicality…

Yeah. Derek was fucked.

So he’d been avoiding Lydia, until he could figure out how to downplay his sudden an overwhelming desire to Have Stiles on any surface that would support them, and then feed him cookies after, even knowing Stiles would probably have made some stupid joke about “mating” and “providing”.

But Stiles, he’s pretty sure, isn’t interested in him that way. Oh sure, Derek knows he’s bisexual, but just because he likes guys, doesn’t mean he likes Derek. And Stiles has had a pretty good string of one-night stands over the years, as far as Derek can smell tell. And he never picked up any of the hints Derek has dropped.

Which, that’s fine. Derek was mature enough to know that if Stiles wasn’t interested in long-term relationships, at least right now, starting something with him would be foolish. And selfish. And sad.

But oh god. He wanted.

So he’d been avoiding Lydia, right up until she cornered him that morning, told him he was stupid and gross (which he knew), and ordered him to report to the hangar like she was his general or something (she kind of was).

And now they were here, “undercover” on a “date”, trying to figure out if some mutant the Professor had seen was causing trouble on their own, or in connection with that group of assholes led by the professor’s ex husband Magneto.

“… which I was not responsible for, by the way, no matter what Danny- Shit. He’s moving.”

Derek tried not to let his eyes flash, as he focused on the disappearing coat of their wayward telepath in the mirror.

“Into the back alley,” he asked, quietly, “or the bathroom?” and Stiles nodded.

“Bathrooms, I think. Well, I kind of-”

“Nope.” Derek cut him off and then, for show, made an apologetic face as he appeared to excuse himself, and head for relief.

Stiles scowled for a very brief moment, sensitive about Derek’s continued insistence that he be the most physically vulnerable one at all times, before schooling his face, and returning to his pasta.

Derek didn’t give a shit about Stiles’ feeling on that subject, and they’d had that fight a few times. Stiles’ case was always that he could take care of himself… which he absolutely could. Derek didn’t disagree. There was a reason they were both so often used to fill out missions that required a more combat-heavy team. Stiles was more than decent at hand-to-hand, and he could knock out his opponent flat, if he wanted, with a little skin-to-skin contact.

But Derek had a goddamn Healing Factor. So. Stiles could suck it up, and eat his pasta, and watch Derek’s back as he ventured into the potential trap.

It was not a trap. The man was in front of a urinal when Derek entered, so he courteously took one several dividers away and proceeded about his own business. The man finished, and washed his hands, and Derek followed suit, very carefully thinking only about the meal, and the restaurant, and Stiles. When Lydia had debriefed them, she’d explained that the Telepath seemed to be more intra-skilled, than inter, likely to pick up on a deliberate move on his mind (hence why no other telepaths were assigned to the mission), but not particularly gifted outside of his own head, and so unlikely to “eavesdrop” on them and see them coming.

Very carefully still focused on Stiles, Derek waited a moment for the other Mutant to leave, and then exited the bathroom himself.

And was immediately tackled.

“I’ve got you, you piece of-”

By Stiles.

“Shi- Derek. Hi. Crap.”

Stiles had one glove three-quarters off by the time he realized who he was on top of, and in the surprised silence that followed, they both heard the click of the door too the alley closing.

In a moment, they were both on their feet again, stumbling towards it as quickly as possible, Derek shoving his way in front, and shoving Stiles down towards knee height, which Stiles turned into a roll, just as Derek had intended. Come in at different heights, and at least the enemy couldn’t get you both-

The door slammed open, and Derek slammed into a fight.

He popped his claws and pulled back, blocking a punch (sizzling with electricity) that was aimed at his face, deflecting it with his coat-covered forearm, ducking the next one, trying desperately to figure out who the good guys were… if there were any.

He recognized all three of the black-clad folks (including the Kitsune, who he was fighting, and a scaly mutant who was swinging at Stiles) as members of the brotherhood, meaning the new mutant, who, it seemed, had a knife and was making a reasonable show of holding off (aw hell. shit) his bloodthirtsty cousin, a temporary ally.

Derek spotted his opening and, already lamenting the loss of his second-best shirt, hooked his right foot behind his opponent’s left knee, swept her feet out, and threw himself at Malia Before the Kitsune hit the ground. Her claws tore through sleeve, forearm, jacket, shirt and torso, but he grabbed on, took advantage of the surprise, and spun her while taking out her knees as well. With her suddenly face-down in the dirt, he pulled both arms behind her, not being particularly careful of either of their claws, and put a knee in the middle of her back. Even as solidly muscled as he knew her to be, he was still bigger.

He looked up to find the new mutant with his hands on the Kitsune’s face, as the guy’s eyes rolled up and his head lolled, and to see Stiles finally shove his opponent into the wall hard enough that he dropped like a sack of rocks.

But then Stiles dropped too.

Derek flinched, desperately wanting to go to him, but knowing he couldn’t let Malia up. He pulled cuffs out of his remaining jacket pocket and slapped them on her, giving the new mutant the side-eye, and then gesturing him over with his head.

“Put your weight-”

But the man ignored him, instead sliding his hand into her hair, closing his eyes, and looking serious.

Her body went lax.

Derek practically leapt up, dashing across the alley to Stiles, knowing their backup had heard the fight and was probably moments from them… close enough for everyone but Stiles to be someone else’s problem.

Derek dropped to his knees, and gingerly lifted one of Stiles’ arms so he could see what Stiles was hunched so protectively over.

Oh. Okay.

There was a fair amount of blood, and Stiles’ face was pretty white, but although the rents in Stiles’ formerly nice green shirt showed deep cuts, some of them deep enough that Derek could identify dermal and fat layers… the cuts were all high on his chest, and most of the major vessels had been missed. He’d taken the hit largely on his sternum, which explained the pained gasping of a person struggling to regain their breath after having the wind knocked out of them.

“Hey, hey,” Derek said, catching Stiles’ more-than-a-little-panicked gaze, “Hey, they aren’t that bad. You’re gonna make it.“

Stiles didn’t quite look like he believed Derek, maintaining both the pressure he had on his chest with his left hand, and the grip on Derek’s sleeve (What was left of it)), with his right.

Derek saw their temporary comrade slump against and slide down one wall, obviously exhausted, just as he heard the static come through his earpiece.

“Wolfman,” a voice said, tinny and more distorted than usual, “We’re engaging a group of Brotherhood, probably the backup for the guys you two have hopefully taken out.”

“Copy,” Derek replied, knowing whoever was in the jet still, porobably Lydia, could hear. “Dyson is down”, and clearly in rough shape, since he didn’t bother reacting to the code name, “But alive. We won’t be moving anywhere yet, but we can wait until you clean up your share.”

“Copy. You’re such a dick,” came the reply.

Derek did not bother responding, just started tearing apart the remaining clean-ish parts of his former dress shirt to press against Stiles’ lacerations.

Stiles gave him a half-hearted smile.

“Some day,” he panted, “ you two. Are going to. Learn to. Like eachother!” he ended on a gasp, clearly not yet stable enough for speech.

“Shut up. Don’t be stupid.”

Stiles looked a little smug, but it was quickly lost as the strain of his wounds caught him again.

They sat like that for a few more minutes, Derek trying not to wonder if the make-shift dressing was getting warmer, wetter, soaking through.

Stiles’s eyelids drooped for a moment, and Derek was on him.

“Don’t you dare pass out. I am not sitting in this alley with your unconcious body all night.

Stiles’ eyes popped open a little.

When they drooped the second time, Derek leaned over and blew cold breath right in his ear.

Stiles’ eyes popped open again, but Derek didn’t straighten up, staying hunched half over him, hands pressed as tightly to his chest as he could, he thought, without making it harder to breathe.

They locked eyes like that for a moment, but then Stiles’ started to close again.

Derek was done.

“Fuck it,” he said, moving one hand away to take hold of Stiles’s gloved hand. Stiles’ eyes widened, and he shook his head.

“No,” Derek insisted, “Fuck that. If maybe getting a little bit of my mood or whatever is really so bad, I won’t make you.” Derek stared straight into Stiles’ still-clear (but fighting) gaze. “But I live with it all the time, and I don’t think it’s worse than slowly bleeding in an alley. Christ.”

Stiles looked scared, and then mutinous, and then resigned.

“Fine,” He choked out, stating to cough, face screwing up in agony as they both tried to keep pressure on his chest.

Derek barely waited, whipped the glove off Stiles’ hand, and lifted Stiles’ arm by the wrist, encouraging him to grab Derek by the bicep, through the convenient holes in his clothing, over the newly-pinked skin.

Stiles gripped weakly for a moment… and then he let his mutation kick in, and his hand clamped down like a vise.

For Derek, the alley started spinning as he went light-headed with exhaustion. He started to sway, but then Stiles’ other hand, now somehow de-gloved as well, came up to grab him at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, steadying him, keeping him in place.

By the time he felt the cuts on his own chest start to open again, and saw the deep lacerations on Stiles’ getting shallow, he was seeing double. Stiles let it go on for another moment, until Derek could feel the hand on his bicep start to loose traction in the blood, before he let it go, and returned his hands to safely clothed parts of Derek’s arms.

They both sat there panting, holding eachother up, bleeding sluggishly as they came back to themselves.

“You,” Derek gasped a little, “You didn’t finish-” He gasped again. “You’re still…” Stiles shook his head, and then leaned in again, and rested it on Derelk’s shoulder.

“I’m no worse… than you are now… buddy.”

Derek wanted to object.

“But I will heal-”

Derek felt Stiles shaking his head.

“Not while I’m… Holding this… much of you… hostage.”

Derek still wanted to argue, but he was just too tired. Instead, he dropped his arm down to Stiles’ waist and pulled them parallel, leaning back towards the wall he was mostly certain was right behind him.

It was. They both slumped.

“You guys,” the new mutant said, from his mirror position ten feet away, “are strange as fuck.”

Derek didn’t bother with a response.

fin

PS: The backup shows. The whole mess is dragged into the jet, telepaths, brotherhood, stubborn asses and all.

PPS: They both spend a night in the infirmary, healing faster than Stiles normally would, but slower than Derek. They make significant eye contact, but don’t really talk.

PPPS: Derek sleeps for eighteen hours when he’s finally left alone in his bunk, with no well-meaning folks poking him and checking his bandages and shit every hour.

PPPPs: Derek starts getting worried when he returns to his regular duties, and Stiles is no where to be found. Everyone assures him that Stiles is just fine. Derek figures Stiles is avoiding him.

P(5)s: Stiles shows up at his door two weeks later, at 10 at night. He has two churros, one half-eaten, clearly stolen from the kitchen, clutched in his left hand. He thrusts them at Derek and shoves his way in.

P(6)s: Their first kiss tastes like cinnamon and sugar.

P(7)s: Stiles explains that it only took so long, because he was waiting until he could be sure that the him that started something was just him, not Derek-flavored him. It took that long to clear most of his Derek-draw from his system. To be clear: it wasn’t that he didn’t want this, or wasn’t sure if he did. But he knew the quickest way to kill anything they might have, was to give Derek reason to doubt Stiles was acting 100% consensually and of his own free will.

P(8)s: Stiles hadn’t needed the Derek-spiced thoughts in his head to figure that out. He’d enjoyed the little bits of his friend in his head, but he’d already known, he was pretty sure, an unhealthy amount about Derek. Certainly everything important.

P(9)s: Their Second kiss also tastes of cinnamon and sugar.

P(too many)s: There are still crumbs in Derek’s bed the next morning, but there is also a Stiles in Derek’s bed the next morning, So he doesn’t care. Even a little bit.

They sleep in.

#eternalstereksecretsanta17 #esss17 #fic #submission #sterek

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caliboyjaeffrey · 7 years

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Crowded (Jinho x Reader)

Rating: PG-13-ish, with some suggestive themes

(A/N) Ayyy it’s been awhile peanuts! Sorry for not uploading regularly, my second semester is winding down and finals are arriving so I have to really buckle down and study! I thought I would give you all a little something something to bide you over until summer comes for me next week lol So, here’s some fluffy w/ some smol spice: JINHO AKA MY PENTAGON BIAS AND HIGHKEY THE MOST ADORABLE AND DADDY-ISH PIECE OF GLITTER THIS SIDE OF THE GALAXY SERIOUSLY HE IS SO TALENTED AMAZINGGGGGGGG. Anyway, please enjoy!

You'd never thought in your whole life about leaving your small town, nestled in the tall green mountains of the countryside. You were content to stay there and live out your days, maybe start your own shop, become a teacher, grow a garden...who knows, the possibilities were endless. At least, your little naive brain liked to trick you into thinking like that.

Maybe you wanted more.

Your town was hearty and practical, close and tight knit like a brand new sweater. You knew every person's name by heart, and have grown up with the people your age since day one. You'd thought to yourself many times, you'd probably marry and grow old with one of the boys you'd met in preschool. But that all changed when Jo Jinho and his family came tumbling in one hot summer with bright eyes and warm hugs. Of course, the town had met them with the same enthusiasm, happy and ecstatic to have brand new faces after so long. People thought they were there for vacation away from the great bustling city they called home, but shocked everyone when they said they were going to stay. You'd been in your senior year of high school then, their son Jinho a year or two older than yourself. And you were completely head over heels for him. He seemed like a whole different breed of boy from the other country bumpkins who courted you. Not to discount them or their sweetness, but Jinho was something sophisticated, modern, and new. Nothing like you'd ever seen before in your small town world. You lived on the tallest hill in the town, and nestled right at the bottom of it was Jinho and his family. You rolled your bike past his house every evening after school, and he would be sat outside, singing softly to himself and throwing you a shy smile whenever he caught you looking. That's how it started out between the two of you, slow and shy, glances and small conversation, discrete touches and excuses to have one another over for dinner. Then one day you found yourself wearing your prettiest dress and sandals outside in your yard with a glass of lemonade, Jinho suddenly popping up from the hill out of breath. He had given no indication at all as to why he was there, simply collapsing on top of you and pressing the lips that you'd only dreamed about for weeks onto yours. You remember your drink slipping out of your hand and bouncing on the springy grass, trickling down the sides of your leg and soaking your dress. You couldn't care less as you wove your fingers through Jinho's soft hair and tasted everything you'd never had in your life. Jinho had easily swept you away from the other boys of your town and made you his, news traveling fast in such a small place. Both sets of parents could already hear wedding bells and you'd only been dating for a year. Now that you had graduated high school, you weren't sure what exactly you were supposed to do. Jinho, for all his knowledge and worldliness, always suggested staying right where you were. He dreamed of starting a family with you and maybe opening up a shop, a small farmer's market. "I have that picture painted in my head," he would murmur against your neck, lips pressing to your skin like a brand, marking you as his. You'd hum, eyes closed as his hands traveled across your bare skin on one of those rare nights where he would spend the night with you, not sleeping until the sun rose. "But what about being a singer, Jinho?," you'd turn to him, eyes wide and hopeful. That's when he would sigh and smile wryly, "I just don't know if I'm good enough for that to happen." It always broke your heart to see Jinho not believe in the fact he was incredibly gifted, his voice something crafted by gods. He could croon the sweetest lullabies and belt out the highest of notes, no one in any of the towns over could match him. Before his family moved away from the city, Jinho had planned on auditioning for one of those big fancy entertainment agencies that groomed shiny, perfect performers. You didn't want to see a perfect Jinho though, because to you, he already was. Why ruin something that was already fine? "But why not try to audition? Like you said you were going to before you moved," you smoothed your hand over his lean chest, placing a kiss over his heart as the moon rose higher and higher in the sky. He looked down at your quizzically, quirking an eyebrow that you could spot in the white lunar light. He rolled over and pinned you underneath him, trying to regain control of the conversation, "Don't you realize what that means though? If I were to audition and make it, we'd have to move to the city. Leave everyone behind." You could feel every spot where his skin pressed against yours, burning into your body, "I wouldn't mind, because it doesn't have to be forever. I've never been anyway and it's always interested me. I've only ever seen skyscrapers on tv, Jinho, I want to go at least once." He smiled at your words, leaning down and kissing you on the mouth softly, "How about I think about it?" You nodded, lacing your fingers with his, whispering against his lips, "I just want your dreams to come true, Jinho. I want you to do what you love." Jinho felt himself melt at your words as he murmured, "You're my dream, baby girl." You blushed and turned away from his intense gaze with a smile, unable to respond to his genuine adoration. He knew that you felt the same way though, knew that you cared just the same as he did. With cool fingers, his hands trailed to places that weren't so innocent, making your cheeks go rosy for a different reason. His soft voice was playful and teasing, laced with something like lust, "And I do what I love." He kissed down your body, gazing up at you through his lashes, his eyes erotic and dark, "I do her quite often actually." And mindblowingly well too, if you might add.

A few weeks had passed since that conversation and you thought Jinho would never bring it up again. One morning, though, over breakfast and coffee, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath, "I bought two train tickets." You looked at him, confused and lost, "Train tickets...?" It dawned on you suddenly, eyes growing big and mouth stretching into a grin, "Train tickets?!" He nodded sheepishly, chuckling as you rushed around the table to leap into his arms, "We leave early tomorrow. My audition is in the evening that day, so we can't dilly dally." "I can't believe this is happening," you smiled, cupping his cheek affectionately and kissing his nose. "I'm so proud of you, baby." He blushed, but you knew deep down he was eating your praise up, "Let's just hope I do well." "I know you will," you laughed, then smirking at him suggestively as you settled into his lap, "I know you do a lot of things well." He mirrored your smirk, thumbs already tracing hypnotic circles on your thighs, "I think I need some practice before tomorrow though." You leaned in and placed light kisses on his jaw, flushing when you heard him sigh in appreciation. You couldn't wait for Jinho to audition tomorrow, everything felt so right and nothing could possibly go wrong.

The train ride there had been slow and quiet, picturesque views lolling you to sleep until you woke to your boyfriend shaking you. "Wake up, ______," he murmured with a smile, his eyes already weary looking. You were stunned by the sights that met you when you exited the train station, the city was absolutely blinding. Never in your life have you seen so many people, feeling like a single grain of sand on a beach. "Jinho...," you whispered, taking a hold of his hand. "It's so..." "Crowded?," he offered, already tugging you along down the busy street. "Amazing," you replied, eyes wide as sauces as you gaped and gasped at sky scrapers and wonky looking modern art. There were so many sounds, sights, and smells, you almost had sensory overload. "The entertainment company isn't too far away," Jinho said, his grip on your hand secure as his head swiveled around to read different street signs. "It's called Cube something or another, so look out for that." "Cube. Gotcha," you affirmed, nodding at his words and only half listening as you admired everything around you. You and Jinho walked for a few blocks, stopping once at an incredibly aesthetically pleasing cafe for you to grab some coffee, before you reached the agency. Cube Entertainment looked fashionable and sleek alongside the other buildings of Gangnam, blending in seamlessly with its surroundings. "There she is," you sighed, stopping with your boyfriend in front of the building. "There she is," he echoed, tightening his grip on your hand before leading you inside the glass doors. You were both greeted by a handsome receptionist, looking straight out of a magazine as he cheerfully hailed, "Welcome to Cube Entertainment, do you have an appointment?" Jinho let go of your hand for the first time since the train, your fingers cramping as you realized what a death grip he had had on you. You couldn't help but see the way his hands shook as he slung off his backpack and pulled out some papers, "I do. A private audition? Under the name Jo Jinho?" The receptionist looked him up and down with a scrutinizing eye, obviously none too impressed with your boyfriend's appearance. Your blood boiled, making you lean your cheek protectively against Jinho's shoulder as the man looked over his papers and searched him on the computer. Maybe your boyfriend wasn't a giant beanstalk or over six feet tall, but that didn't mean he couldn't kick someone's ass. You huffed, but Jinho looked down at you with a tired smile, calming you instantly. The receptionist spoke up, "Ah yes, I see your name scheduled here. Right on time as well." The man walked out from behind the counter, gesturing toward a corridor, "If you'll follow me Mr. Jo." You went to make a move with Jinho when the man suddenly stopped you, "I'm afraid she'll have to stay outside of the building. Auditions are a private meeting." You instantly felt distressed and so did your boyfriend, who turned to you with a brave face. His voice was uncharacteristically softer than usual, "You'll be okay, right? I'll have my phone on me no matter what, alright?" You nodded, your lip trembling like a child's as you leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek, "I'll be fine. I'm a big girl after all." "That's my girl," he smiled, leaning down to kiss you chastely. "I love you. Call me if anything happens." "Okay, I love you too," you murmured, watching as Jinho trailed after the man who looked far too annoyed for his own good. You took a deep breath, turning to walk back outside of the entertainment company's building. After the strange quiet of the reception room, you were wholly unprepared for the cacophony of noise that greeted you as soon as you walked out. Construction, car horns, loud music, people talking, it was a madhouse of sound that assaulted your ears and made your pulse quicken. You felt incredibly alone without Jinho with you, and overwhelmed. "Jeez," you mumbled to yourself, searching for someplace that might offer you refuge from the noise for the time being. You don't think you could stand outside the building for one more moment. You searched frantically up and down the street with your eyes for some sort of cafe or shop you could stay in. You decided to try a hip looking cafe that seemed to have a lot of people your age hanging at it. You walked inside hurriedly, having crossed the street at a sprint because cars began to honk at you for accidentally jay walking. You weren't even sure how crosswalks worked entirely, so you had just decided to book it. You couldn't even begin to imagine what Jinho would have done if he saw you do that, he'd probably would have had a stroke. You squeezed into the cafe, heart sinking as you realized how crowded it was. You had no other choice though, it was either this or the chaos of the street, and you'd rather take your chances here. You looked around for a table, finding one suitable enough for you and plopping down there. You weren't sure how long Jinho's audition would last, but he would call you most likely when he was done. No biggie, right? You weren't usually this clingy, but for some reason you felt incredibly anxious not having your boyfriend beside you. Your head was pounding and heart racing as you tried to take in everything that was happening in the cafe. Baristas were yelling behind a counter, coffee bean grinders screamed loudly, and people chattered in a mindless manner underneath all the noise. You took a shaky breath, eyes beginning to tear up as realized it was just as bad in here too. You don't know what your thought process was, but you gathered your things with blurry eyes, intent on leaving this place. You let out a small sob as you ran out of the cafe, looking wildly up and down the street for the Cube Entertainment building. Suddenly, the building had disappeared and nothing looked familiar anymore, everything was blurring together and looking the same. Your heart raced, tears streaming down your face as you ran down the street. You could call Jinho, but what if he was singing? This was his dream and you didn't care if you had a panic attack in the middle of traffic, so long as he could do his audition. You wouldn't call him, not until he called you. You kept running, gasping for breath as you realized you were in a park now. The welcoming sight of trees a beacon in the hurricane of sensations. You collapsed behind one of the tall trees that lined the sidewalk of the park, your back leaning against the scratchy bark was a comfort. You couldn't stop crying though, no matter how hard you tried to plug your ears, the sound wouldn't go away. You were suddenly hit with an idea. You rummaged through your bag, pulling out your headphones and popping them into your ears. You pulled out your phone and plugged them in, searching quickly to find what you were looking for. The moment you heard Jinho's voice come through the speakers, you calmed down. You were playing a recording you had taken of Jinho singing at your last birthday, his voice smooth and happy. You wiped at your tears, wanting them to stop, wanting to be stronger for your boyfriend. You couldn't help but bury your face into your hands, wanting above all for Jinho to help you.

After what had felt like hours, your phone began to ring, and you woke up from your numbing trance to see your boyfriend's name on the screen. You answered instantly, voice cracking as fresh tears of relief spilled down your cheeks, "J-Jinho?" "_______?! Where the hell are you?," he asked, his voice full of worry. You bit your lip, realizing how angry he sounded as you stuttered, "I don't really know. One moment I was at a coffee shop and the next I ended up in a park-. Please Jinho, I'm so scared and I don't know where to go-" "Stay right where you are," he commanded, curt and short. "I'm coming to get you." "Okay," you replied, but realized he had already hung up on you when the line started beeping rhythmically. He was completely furious no doubt, but what were you supposed to have done? It was probably twenty minutes before you saw Jinho walking down the path, eyes frantic as he searched for you. He looked like a wreck, clothes and hair askew and his bottom lip worried between his teeth. You instantly ran toward him, coming out from your hiding spot behind the tree, "Jinho!" "_______!," he gasped as you leaped into his arms, holding you in an iron grip. He buried his face into your neck and you felt the moisture of his cheeks as tears fell down his handsome face as well. "I was so scared Jinho, I'm so sorry," you wept, digging your fingers into the soft folds of his sweatshirt and relishing the fact he was there with you. "Why didn't you call me?," he exasperated, holding you out at an arm's length. "I told you-" "I know," you stopped him, looking down at your toes in shame. "But I just couldn't Jinho, I didn't want to ruin your audition!" "Nothing matters more to me than you," he said firmly, his eyes hard as he cupped your face. "Not money, not a stupid audition, not anyone else." You smiled, kissing him once on the mouth before pulling away and looking at him earnestly, "And that's why I didn't call you. Because you matter the most to me, Jinho, and that includes your dreams." Your boyfriend looked at you with eyes so wide they swallowed you whole, he looked completely shaken by that statement. He pulled you close again, his lips brushing against your ear, "Thank you, baby girl." His voice was soft as velvet, "You're the first person to really believe in me." He kept you there, his arms on you tightening, "I have good news." You held him just as tight, toes curling in anticipation and smile already spreading wide, "And what's that?" He finally leaned back, looking at you with eyes full of happiness, "I passed the audition. I've been put into a project called Pentagon. It's still not definitive and we can't tell anyone but-" You cried out in joy, Jinho picking you up and spinning you around as you both laughed and cried again. You grabbed your boyfriend's face and peppered it with kisses, connecting your lips to any exposed skin. The kisses started out chaste enough, until Jinho got it in his head to take control of it himself. Soon his tongue had slipped into your mouth and the kiss was no longer innocent. You let out a small sound of surprise, making his hold on you tighten. He pulled away with a groan, looking down at you in adoration and lust, "Baby, I need-" You were already nodding, tugging him along, "What hotel were we staying at again?" "Already on it," he replied, his grip on your waist tugging you close, so you were never too far away. With your exhaustion gone and joy pouring from your heart for Jinho, you decided that some celebrating was definitely well deserved. And he certainly deserved a reward or two after his audition...and for all the trouble you have him.

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