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ollieofthebeholder · 1 year

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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3

Chapter 23: July 2016

“Martin, sit the fuck back down. I think we can invoke the ‘you’re supposed to keep the bandages dry’ exception to the ‘you didn’t make the food so you have to help with the dishes’ rule,” Melanie said, a little exasperated.

Martin shrugged and didn’t even look in her direction. “I’m also supposed to change them out every twelve hours. Your argument is invalid.”

“One of these days I am going to convince you to sit down and take it easy after you do something stupid and reckless.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but you still haven’t invested in the horse tranquilizers. Hand me the dish soap, would you?”

Sasha came up and bumped her hip lightly against Martin’s, nudging him to the side. “Here, I didn’t help with breakfast either. I’ll wash, you wipe.”

Melanie grudgingly ceded her space at the sink and crossed back to the table to continue gathering the dishes. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Sasha after last night—she was altogether too curious for her own good, nosy would perhaps be a better word, and she struck Melanie as the sort who would risk anything, including the lives of those around her, to gain a little bit more knowledge. There’d been rumors that the previous Archivist was the same, and now that she knew Gerry had been traveling with her, she was even more inclined to believe them.

Actually, if she was being honest, the only person from the Archives she was sure about was Tim. He was solid, true-blue, courteous, respectful, protective, solicitous of his friends, generous to a fault, a damn good cook—and Gerry was right, Martin was definitely selling himself short if he thought Tim was out of his league. But the other two…jury was still out.

She wanted to like Sasha. She didn’t want to like Sims. The fact that he’d given her less reason to dislike him than Sasha had pissed her off for reasons she chose not to think about. It took a conscious effort not to glare at him when he wordlessly began collecting the dishes from the other side of the table without being asked.

Andy had never done that. They’d lived in the same house since they’d started getting Ghost Hunt UK off the ground, since they’d been able to afford someplace with more than one bedroom and wiring that wouldn’t short out the whole building every time Melanie tried to edit the video, and in all that time he’d never once cleared the table without her having to ask him. Arguments about common courtesy had almost always been met with I never asked you to make food, Mel, that’s on you or something similar. Pete and Toni, on the infrequent occasions they stayed the night or came over for a meal, had had similar attitudes, not that she would have asked them. But Tim had asked, Sasha had offered, and now Sims was just…helping.

It would have been annoying if she hadn’t guessed they were doing it because of Martin. There were a lot of things in this world she could forgive if it meant her brother’s life sucked at least a little less.

“We can wait and talk about…everything in a bit,” Gerry said, nudging his silverware towards Melanie. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind me waiting to give you my statement until later. Might be a bit much.”

Sims shook his head. “I don’t mind. There are…probably more important things that need discussing.”

“You’re not even a little bit curious as to how he came back from the dead?” Sasha asked. Something in the quirk of her lips suggested she was teasing, which was honestly a surprise to Melanie, who hadn’t expected Sims to be the kind of person you teased.

“He’s been in America,” Sims said, dry as the Sahara. “Between him and Damien Mitchell, I have to assume either incompetence on the part of the authorities or it’s something in the water.”

Melanie whirled around to face Sims, shock at what he’d said temporarily overriding the fact that he’d been the one to say it. “Damien Mitchell is alive?”

Sims froze, for just a second, then straightened and turned to face her. “I overheard someone mention it on the Tube the other day, so I looked it up—apparently he turned up in San Francisco a few weeks ago, alive and well.”

Melanie swore. “How’d I miss that? You think they’ll start touring again? It won’t be Sinner’s Gin without Gonzalez and Nichols, but they could get others, or even just do a two-man act, you think?”

“They could, but like you said, it wouldn’t be Sinner’s Gin, and I don’t think they’d perform under that name,” Sims replied. “They need a bassist and a drummer to really sound right, though. It’s not about the music, a lot of their discography would work with just an acoustic guitar, but Mitchell gets lost in the music without something to ground him.”

“Okay, but their first album—”

It had been too long since Melanie had been able to have a conversation like this. Martin and Gerry might have both listened to it with her, but while Martin could appreciate some of the technical aspects of it, he’d never really connected with the music like she had, whereas Gerry preferred heavy metal to the softer, more blues-y feel of Sinner’s Gin. (Martin had once commented that Gerry was too angry for it and he wasn’t angry enough, and she still wasn’t sure if he’d been joking or not.) This was the kind of talk she hadn’t had since the band’s heyday, and it didn’t stop with the band itself either. She was drawing breath to launch a new argument over two albums by a band she’d never met anyone in person who’d even heard of and which was better when the rattle of water against the window punctuated it and distracted her for a moment.

“When did it start raining?” she asked, surprised that she hadn’t noticed—and also a bit surprised that nobody was standing between her and the window over the sink.

“Somewhere between whether Rising Sun was justified in dropping their bassist after he went to rehab and you attempting to give Tim unanesthetized gender reassignment surgery,” Gerry said dryly.

“My fault,” Tim said, holding up a hand, before Melanie could register her horror. “I was in Scouts, I know better than to get within the blood circle when someone’s holding a knife. Even a butter knife.”

“Do either of you want some tea before we start talking?” Martin asked. His hands—which were wrapped to allow better movement than the EMTs had done the night before—curled around the body of his mug, which was held in front of his face; Melanie could have sworn he was hiding a smile.

“No, I think this is going to be a hot cocoa conversation. Jon, you want a cup?” Melanie turned towards the cupboard where she kept the mugs.

“Oh, ah—yes, that—that sounds good.”

Gerry mumbled something Melanie couldn’t hear, but when she looked in his direction, he was looking at the Archives group as a whole. “So where do we want to start?”

Sasha reached into her pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen, which she laid on the table in front of her. “I had a hard time getting to sleep last night, so…I started making a list.” She tossed Melanie an apologetic look. “This was on the nightstand in the room you set me up in, so…”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” She’d put Sasha in Andy’s old room—they’d rented the house furnished—and he’d probably left behind a few little things he didn’t care about or hadn’t noticed. The notepad looked like the one he’d pilfered from the Holiday Inn Express in Glasgow. “What’s the list about?”

Sasha tapped the pen against the page. “You said last night the statements that couldn’t go on the laptop, the ones we have to record on tape, those are all to do with the Fourteen. So I started making a list of the statements and what they go with. Some I’m not sure about, but…I guess you know, so you can tell me if I’m right and fill in the blanks.”

“Most of them, yeah,” Martin said slowly. “One or two…I dunno, they could go a couple of different ways. But we can do our best.”

Melanie handed Jon a cup of cocoa and sat down; he gave her a nod of thanks before turning to Sasha, who skimmed her list. “All right. We’ve got…well, technically I think we’ve got thirty-seven different tapes, but only thirty-six different statements because of that one that got split into two parts. I think I got them in order that we recorded them, but…”

“Order’s not important.” Martin’s voice wavered uncertainly. “Maybe. I dunno. Might be some kind of pattern, but…”

Tim looked over Sasha’s shoulder. “First one was that one from Edinburgh, right? ‘Can I have a cigarette?’”

“Right, the anglerfish thing. I think that’s the Stranger. Pretending to be something it’s not, you know?” Sasha looked to Martin for confirmation, who nodded. “Second one, Joshua Gillespe and that weird singing coffin. That’s the Buried, that’s obvious. Third one was Amy Patel and the thing that wasn’t her friend Graham and the table up in Artifact Storage. That’s the Stranger, too. Obviously it’s the Stranger.” She paused. “Right?”

“The thing that isn’t Graham is the Stranger,” Martin said slowly. “I’m…not altogether sure the table is, though. It’s—there’s something about that one that’s nagged at me. The pattern on the table makes me think more of the Spiral, but…”

“You didn’t…” Sasha gestured at his face. Melanie felt a surge of irritation again.

“Christ, Sasha, no. I—honestly, I can’t risk even going into Artifact Storage if I can help it, but I sure as hell can’t Look while I’m in there.” Martin rubbed his forehead. “There’s too much in there. I’d knock myself out, at best. And it’s too much of a temptation.”

Jon tightened his grip on the mug briefly, then seemed to force himself to relax. “Moving on. The next one on the list—that was Ex Altiora, wasn’t it? I-I assume that was the Vast.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gerry said. Melanie scowled at the mention of the book.

Sasha tapped her pen thoughtfully against the table. “After that was the bin man, right? With all the weird—that’s one I’m not sure about. The teeth made me think the Flesh, but the doll’s heads makes me think the Stranger, and the burnt prayer could maybe be the Desolation.”

“I don’t think it’s the Desolation,” Martin said slowly. “I’m not completely certain about that one, but I think it’s the Flesh. Lancaster Road is pretty close to…there was a Flesh stronghold not far from there at around the same time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were related somehow. Can’t prove it, though. I’ll admit I was a bit tempted to take a Look at Mr. Woodward while I was doing the follow-up with him, but he seemed like he’d managed to get some distance from it, so I left him be. No sense in dragging him back if he’s managed to escape.”

Melanie pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything. Sasha continued. “After that was Timothy Hodges—well, we know that one, Jane Prentiss was involved, that was the Corruption. The one after that was that construction worker at Hill Top Road—”

“No, there was one more before that,” Jon interrupted. “I didn’t have you all do any research into it—there wasn’t any point, or at least I-I didn’t think there was—but it was that one from 1922 that was mixed in with the statements from the early aughts. A staff sergeant who served with Wilfred Owen during the first World War.”

“That’ll be the Slaughter, then,” Melanie said with a wink for Martin. “War’s always the Slaughter.”

Martin gave her a crooked smile. “I can take a look at it when we get back to the Archives…whenever that is…if Jane Prentiss didn’t destroy it. But yeah, probably.”

“No need. I believe you.” Jon turned back to Sasha. “The next one on your list…I remember there was an awful lot of fire involved. That was the Desolation, right?”

“That’s what I have written down.”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” Martin said. “Might have been a couple other things involved there, but not with the statement itself.”

Sasha nodded. “Then we had Julia Montauk’s statement—that one was the Dark, obviously. After that was Trevor Herbert, the so-called vampire hunter…was that the Hunt?”

Melanie set her mug down a little harder than she meant to, making Jon flinch; she gave him an apologetic gesture, even as she spoke to Martin. “Not Trevor the Tramp?”

“One and the same. He was dying of lung cancer at the time, apparently.” Martin stared into the depths of his tea, worrying at his bottom lip. “Midway through he took a nap in the break room. Rosie told me he died there.”

“Wait, what? I thought you said you saw him,” Jon said, looking up at Martin in surprise.

Martin shook his head, still avoiding looking anyone in the eye. “No, I—I couldn’t risk it.”

Sasha set down her pen and cocked her head. “Couldn’t risk what?” she began, then stopped. “Being recognized. You thought he’d know you. You were—doing things outside the Institute, you were involved in the whole paranormal community—that’s how you know all these people when we need contacts for the really weird ones. You thought he’d expose you.”

Melanie was abruptly reminded that she hadn’t decided if she liked Sasha or not. She turned a glare on her that could have melted glass. “You don’t understand the Hunt. Most people who are bound up in it think they’re doing good—hunting monsters, saving the world, that sort of thing. But it usually turns into hunting down anyone who’s bound up in one of the other Fears, and then it just becomes about the Hunt itself. Depending on how far along on that path Trevor was, he might have been able to smell how tightly bound to the Eye Martin is—and seen him as something to take down. As prey.”

“And if he had,” Martin added, looking up finally, “it’s not like he would have just killed me where I stood. The Hunt’s about the chase, not the killing. I didn’t know he was dying, and even if I had known he was sick, the Fears tend to protect their favorites, so I wouldn’t have known for sure he’d actually drop dead of lung cancer mid-statement. If he started stalking me, he’d have found too many other people. That’s what I couldn’t risk, Sasha, putting anybody else in danger. I might be the monster, but that doesn’t mean a Hunter wouldn’t see someone I care about and assume they’re just as bad.”

“You’re not a monster,” Melanie and Jon said in unison.

A smile flickered over Martin’s face. “Not the point, but thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Sasha offered, and at least she sounded sincere. “I didn’t—that wasn’t how I meant it. I just meant you’ve worked so hard to conceal…all of this from everybody.”

“Yeah, the more you know about this sort of thing, the more attention you attract.” Martin made a face. “Sorry.”

Jon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

Tim, who’d been quiet for a while, spoke up then. “The one after Trevor’s half-statement was that one we couldn’t track down, right? The completely made-up personal details from the guy who said he’d dreamed about Gertrude dying?”

“Yeah, ‘Antonio Blake,’” Sasha said. “If that’s not the End, I’ll eat my hat.”

“You don’t wear hats.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t own one. Anyway, then we had the second statement with our friend Gerard here in it.”

“Gerry,” Gerry said.

Sasha paused. “Sorry, what?”

Gerry shrugged, but Melanie saw the same desperate hope in his eyes she remembered from when she was a little girl as he said, “My friends call me Gerry. What was I involved in this time?”

“Desolation,” Martin answered. “That book you tried to get off that one bloke where you both wound up in hospital a couple nights before Christmas.”

Gerry touched the side of his face tentatively and sighed. “Yeah, I remember that one. Nasty business.”

“May I ask a question?” Jon asked hesitantly. “Martin mentioned that—the three of you used to burn Leitners together. Yet every statement I’ve seen involving you, you’ve done it on your own. Is there…a reason for that?”

“Time constraints, mostly,” Gerry answered. “Both the incidents you’ve mentioned, my mum was…uh, hanging about. And with Ex Altiora, she knew it was out there and that someone wanted to get rid of it. If I hadn’t burned it quick, I might not have been able to before she stopped me. With the other one, I didn’t want Martin or Melanie getting hurt, so I lied and told them it was a basic purchase run so they wouldn’t end up in the line of fire, literally. Then it all went tits up and I had to take care of more than just the book.”

“For the record, we knew he was lying,” Melanie said. “He was really, really bad at it.”

“Hey!” Gerry said, offended.

Melanie ignored him. “We wouldn’t have gone with anyway. We’d made plans to go visit Dad and Lily for Christmas. Or at least that was the excuse. Just wanted to get out of London for a bit, really. Anyway, what’s next on that list of yours?”

“Our first live statement,” Sasha said, looking down at the list. “Naomi Hearne.”

Gerry’s face fell. He looked up at Martin and Melanie. “Evan?”

“Five months after you,” Martin said quietly.

Gerry slumped. He looked suddenly a thousand years old. “Christ. None of us were ever getting out, were we? Doesn’t matter how fucking young we were, doesn’t matter if we wanted it or not, we were always going to have to stay or pay the price.”

Tim looked back and forth between the two of them. “Didn’t he die of a heart condition?”

“Yeah, sure.” Melanie snorted. “The Lukas family is really tightly bound to the Lonely. Evan was fighting it with everything he had—we didn’t all see as much of each other as we used to at the end there, but we’d all go out for drinks sometimes, and he was happy. When Naomi proposed, we tried to convince them to elope, up stakes and move, but neither of them wanted to give up their jobs. Two months later Evan was dead. Dunno if it was the Lonely or his family punishing him for trying to leave, but even with all the shit I was going through at the time, I thought it was suspicious that they said it was his heart that did him in.”

There was a moment of silence before Sasha returned to her list. “After that was that creep who kept losing body parts—that’s the Flesh, right?”

“Angela Grackle,” Jon murmured. He looked embarrassed when both Melanie and Tim shot him identical looks of surprise. “I—I heard the three of you talking last night. Martin mentioned that he, ah, wasn’t going to let anyone else investigate that in person.”

Martin exhaled slowly. “Yeah. We’d heard of her before—I recognized that one as soon as you brought up the name. It did legitimately take me a bit to find her, but the real reason it took so long was I had to take precautions. Attacks on the Archives by other entities aren’t uncommon, and I didn’t want to give her any wiggle room to use me as a vector for that attack.”

Jon shivered. Tim frowned slightly at Martin, but Sasha kept going. “Lost Johns’ Cave…is that the Dark or the Buried? I wasn’t sure.”

“It’s both. I think they were both trying to claim Laura Popham, but she was always more inclined to the Dark, so she sacrificed her sister to the Buried. At least, that was the impression I got, since I didn’t—I couldn’t help with that one.” Martin gave Jon an apologetic look. “We had a bad run-in with the Buried a few years back—long story—but I was lucky to get out alive, and I won’t be so lucky a second time, so I kind of have to keep well away from anything to do with it.”

“No, absolutely,” Jon said firmly. “I would think that would apply to all of us. We’ll need to be extra careful with anything any of us have encountered before.” He paused, and a flicker of something very like genuine fear came into his eyes for a moment before he turned back to Sasha. “The next one on your list…it’s Carlos Vittery’s statement, isn’t it?”

Sasha nodded. “That’s the Web, of course. Not particularly subtle, if you ask me.”

“No.” Jon exhaled heavily. “I never should have let you go back to investigate.”

“If you’ll remember, I didn’t exactly tell you I was going back,” Martin pointed out. “And…if I’m being honest, I would have gone back even if you’d explicitly told me not to bother. I, um, I kind of Looked at the building the first time I was there, mostly to make sure the Web wasn’t still hanging about. It wasn’t, but I saw the hints of the Corruption in the basement, which is why I really went back to take a second look.” He turned to Sasha. “I think the next few you investigated while I was, um, out, so—”

“It’s all right, Martin, you can say ‘held prisoner in my own home by six million worms in a trench coat while the rest of you went about your lives without a thought for me like the horrible excuses for friends you are,’” Tim said flatly. Both Jon and Martin flinched at that, but Tim was already looking over Sasha’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah, that one—next one should be easy enough, it involved a Leitner, and I remember you were actually the one who went to talk to the statement-giver, we’d been investigating it at about the same time as the Carlos Vittery statement. The Boneturner’s Tale, that’s the Flesh, right?’

“Oh, God, yeah. Christ, and I though Angela Grackle was nasty.” Martin pulled a face. “What came after that?”

“What did you write down here, Sash—does that say ‘meat flat’?”

“Meat flat?” Melanie and Martin said in unison.

Sasha swatted Tim’s shoulder. “Man who had a ground floor flat put up with a load of banging and a rancid smell every two weeks for a good two, three years, only to eventually find out the man upstairs was getting meat delivered and just…nailing it to every available surface. I assume that’s also the Flesh.”

“That…yes. It’s also one of the most bizarre things that I have ever heard of.” Gerry frowned. “And that’s saying a lot. Might have to see what I can come up with there…what else do you have?”

“The next one…well, two really, it was two parts to the same statement…” Sasha shook her head. “Honestly, Martin, I think you might have to actually look at this one, because I’m stumped.”

Martin spread out his hands, palms turned upwards. “Could you at least give me something to start with?”

“Father Edwin Burroughs,” Jon said slowly. “The priest Ivo Lensik mentioned coming to Hill Top Road. He was arrested in 2009 for, ah, apparently murdering two first-year university students and…eating their skin. Which sounds like the Flesh, but there’s so much more to it than that…”

Melanie sucked in a sharp breath before she could stop herself and shot a look at Martin, who looked flustered and slightly guilty. Gerry narrowed his eyes at both of them. “What? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Martin said, not entirely convincingly.

As many times as Martin had thrown himself on the sword, or under the bus as the case may be, for her, Melanie felt like she owed it to him to do the same for him now. Besides, it was mostly her fault. “Look, in my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

“Melanie.” Gerry’s eyes narrowed further.

“No, it’s not—nothing like that. It’s just, you know, I’d just had to put Dad in a care home and Lily had gone in as well, and Martin was working double time to try and keep abreast of any issues we needed to deal with and handle things with you being in prison, and I was on break between terms, so I had all this energy and nowhere to put it,” Melanie said, the words tumbling out of her almost desperately. She’d always hated confessing her shortcomings to Gerry—it was different with Martin, he never judged, just found a way to help—but if it meant he didn’t get on Martin’s case about this, she’d do it. “As soon as I saw in the papers about what had happened, I knew it had to be something involving the Fourteen, so I started poking around the edges of it—”

“Melanie!”

“—and I honestly found more questions than answers,” Melanie continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I couldn’t pinpoint it either, and I sat with Martin a few nights and went over what I’d figured out, and there were just too many threads, so, well, I found out when he was going to be taken to the courthouse and convinced Martin to call out of work and dragged him to get a good spot to view and—”

“And you Looked,” Gerry completed. His lips pressed together in a flat line. “Fuck, Martin, what if he’d sensed what you were doing?”

“I wouldn’t have risked it if I’d thought he could do that,” Martin protested. “Not in public. Everything Melanie came up with—and if you’ve got his statement, you can tell me if I’m wrong about this—but it seemed like he didn’t choose to do any of it. So yeah, I took a Look.”

“And?” Gerry prompted.

Martin winced and dropped his gaze. “And I passed out.”

“What?” Tim, Gerry, and Jon all said at once.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Martin said quickly. “It’s just—I’d not ever really seen someone with more than one Mark before and I wasn’t prepared for him to have seven or eight different ones. And they were all still fresh, so they were bright. It was like someone suddenly aimed a spotlight at a disco ball. Hit me hard and I lost consciousness for a minute or two.”

“Nobody noticed,” Melanie added. “Not really. One or two people standing closest to us did, but I told them we’d seen him around campus, and we were still young enough—well, I was a uni student—that people bought it. I did kind of have to give a fake interview to one of the reporters, but I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, just, uh, not originally mine.”

“Melanie.” Gerry pinched the bridge of his nose.

Tim grabbed the pen from Sasha, flipped to another page of the notebook, and scribbled something. “I have a question, but it can wait until we’ve finished this, I don’t want to get distracted…okay, next on the list, you’ve written ‘Enjoy Sky Blue’. Yeah, that was that woman whose son got eaten by the sky, right? Definitely the Vast.”

Jon nodded. “And I was recording that one when you—ah, came back to the Institute, Martin, so the next statement would have been yours. Obviously that was the Corruption. Then after that was the letter from Albrecht von Closen to Jonah Magnus…”

Gerry groaned dramatically, tipping his head back. Martin grinned. “Ah, yeah, I remember that one. That’s the Eye.”

“You’re sure?” Sasha asked, surprised. “I would’ve thought it was the End. I mean…the thing was dead.”

“It was watching him with no eyes. Definitely the Ceaseless Watcher. Besides, I can always tell those without effort.” Martin grimaced. “Call it kinship, I guess.”

“Oh.” Sasha took her list back from Tim and made a note. “After that was the clown puppet and the calliope…I guess that’s the Stranger? You said clowns tend to be.”

Melanie noticed Tim’s fists clench tightly, but didn’t call attention to it. Martin nodded slowly. “I know the Circus of the Other was, too.”

“After that was that weird church woman—that’s definitely the Dark—and then…Michael,” Sasha said, staring at the notebook. “I know Timothy Hodges was, well, Corrupted, but…who is Michael?”

“I don’t think Michael is a who,” Martin said. “From the description you gave, I’m pretty sure ‘Michael’ is just what the Distortion is calling itself these days.”

“Oh, is that all,” Tim huffed. “Just the Distortion.”

“I mean…th-that’s not what I mean, Tim. I mean Michael isn’t really its name, or its identity, any more than anything else would be. It’s lies incarnate, deception made manifest, the Twisting Deceit.” Martin’s voice shifted slightly as he spoke, and Melanie felt the prickle of static in the air. “There is no just about the Distortion. It is all-encompassing, all-embracing, it wraps itself around you until truth becomes lies and lies become confusion and you can no longer even recall the question, let alone find an answer to it. If it gives itself any other name, it is only to—” He broke off in a sudden, high-pitched yelp. The static died abruptly. Jon gave a choked gasp and dropped his mug, which miraculously didn’t spill or break.

Gerry withdrew his hand from the back of Martin’s exposed neck, scowling and looking worried at the same time. “Christ, Martin, when did you start doing that?”

Martin’s eyebrows drew together in a bewildered frown. Melanie’s heart dropped into her stomach, and she covered her mouth with her hand, even before he asked, “Start doing what?”

“Your voice went…weird there,” Tim said slowly. He looked as worried as Gerry did. “Like it maybe wasn’t you doing the talking.”

“I—oh, shit.” Martin went pale under the bandages. “That’s not supposed to—I-I don’t—”

“If it helps,” Jon said, not sounding altogether sure if he thought it did himself, “I’ve never heard you do that before.”

Melanie stood up decisively. “Okay. Anyone want refills? Because I think this is where we take a break, move into the living room, and light a couple candles before we keep going here.”

Nobody argued with her, not that she would have expected them to. Even the people who didn’t know much about this sort of thing realized that Martin needed all the protection he could get. The Ceaseless Watcher was trying to dig its hooks in tighter, and Melanie and Gerry would fight that with everything they had. They always would have.

She was starting to realize the Archives crew would, too. It made her feel better about Martin being trapped there. At least a little.

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic #melanie king #martin blackwood #sasha james #jonathan sims #tim stoker #gerard keay #all aboard the exposition express! next stop: trauma town!

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purplesurveys · 1 year

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what is the one thing you remember most about January of last year? January 2022...was mostly uneventful and my camera roll apparently confirms that too, lol. The only thing I remember from it was that my initial promotion to senior associate which lasted all of two weeks got voided and I was told I was gonna be junior manager with immediate effect.

you look at the clock and it’s 11:11, do you wish? I wake up the inner kid and me and wish for 2025 to come faster. how do you think you will look 3 years from now? I hope I have an even better handle of work compared to now. I also hope I’ve been back to Korea by then! Idk man 3 years isn’t too long a time so I’m keeping my expectations at a normal level.

once you graduate (if you haven’t already) are you leaving your hometown? Well, I didn’t. what is your dream job? I already like being in the PR industry, but the dream job in this context is to be on the brand side, I guess. And to get to a high-enough position where I can be the one to actually produce and conceptualize marketing campaigns, not be the agency doing the nitty-gritties and be in charge of just making the campaign thought of by other people happen.

what would be number one on your bucket list? Go to Wrestlemania 50 has been a goal since I was 9.

how old do you think you’ll be when you make your will? I already made a rough sketch of it when I was around 19 or 20, but I have no idea when I’ll actually make a Legit One.

you get a text message. who do you hope it is? Eh as long as it isn’t related to work, I should be fine with whoever.

are there any songs that you hear that just make you wanna dance? Many songs.

do you get any of your songs from limewire? I didn’t. I don’t think I belong too much to Generation Limewire hahaha; I did pirate movies and show off of The Pirate Bay though in like the early 2010s.

what’s the oddest thing you are wearing right now? I’m not wearing anything I’d consider weird.

you and your best friend get in a fight. why do you think that is? Most likely because someone may have spoken a little too harshly to the other. Two weeks ago I wouldn’t have known how to answer this because I haven’t quarreled with Angela since we were in Grade 5 lol; but just this past weekend we were talking and she spoke to me in a way that made me feel like she was invalidating my point, I was having a bad enough day so I snapped, and we didn’t talk for like a day or so hahaha. All’s good now though.

do you use the word “basically” a lot? It slips out but I really try not to because it’s already used so much.

do you use proper grammar or use IM talk? I use proper grammar but I do tend to use abbreviations and shortcuts, especially if I’m having to type a big mouthful.

what is your biggest annoyance at the time? I have an awful amount of work that I have to do and I don’t wanna leave it all for accomplishing on Monday since it would make my plate by then SO full, so I have no choice but to do part of it tonight and tomorrow.

you see the person you fell hardest for. what do you do? Judging from the way she avoided Andi like the plague when she spotted them a couple of weeks ago – I’d wave, say hi, do a bit of small talk, anything that would make her uncomfortable.

have/are you depressed? I’ve been through periods, but I wouldn’t say I’m currently. did you grow up in the united states? No.

are you dreading tomorrow? Not really dreading; I guess anxious is more accurate? Yoongi’s Bangkok show tickets are coming out then so mine and my friends’ fates in June are, in the most simplest of terms, in tomorrow’s hands lol.

do you call anybody ‘baby’? No.

if your school had a winter formal on new years, would you go? We don’t even have winter...

where is the fanciest place you have ever visited? Idk I’ve stayed at a number of fancy hotels and resorts in the past.

who is the one person you can completely be yourself around? Angela.

are your pop-ups blocked on your computer? Yeps.

do you wear earrings on a normal basis? I don’t anymore; I ruined my left earlobe piercing over a decade ago hahaha. I also stopped wearing clp-ons but plan to start collecting them again.

how old were you when you realized that life goes on? Like an echo in the forest? Like an arrow in the blue sky? On my pillow, on my table? Hahahaha but anyway it was when I was 17, when my grandfather died. are your parent’s night owls or morning birds? They like staying up late but I think they’re more morning birds than anything.

do you like to sing? Just on my own.

are there some songs that you will never understand the lyrics to? Sure. do you own a lot of picture frames? Not really, no.

who is your favorite author? I don’t have any.

how many pillows are on your bed? Two.

how is your hair right now? It’s in a ponytail. Nothing remarkable.

is your phone fully charged? Nah, it’s at 4% hahaha.

what’s your favorite thing about the holidays? All the gatherings and the F O O D served in each. Seeing your relatives is great, but I will head towards the lumpia, the pasta, the kare-kare, the shrimp, the pizza, the fried chicken, the sushi, and the cheesecake first LOL are you still in school? I’m not.

how many days/months until your next birthday? 20 days!

what is your favorite type of cake? Cheesecake.

how many rings do you wear on a day-to-day basis? None.

when will you next laugh until you cry? Idk. Might be as soon as tonight if I run into a funny video.

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bellamyblake · 2 years

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The world hurts less when I'm by your side

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting/ Hurt/Comfort/ Angst/ Fluff/ Group Therapy/ Mental Health Issues/ Implied/Referenced Suicide/ Military/ doctor!clarke/ army veteran!bellamy/ Amputation/ Friends to Lovers

Bellamy and Clarke are forced to go to group meetings once a week so they can work on their mental health. He's an ex-soldier who lost a leg and is dealing with the reality of being back home, she's a girl with too much grief on her hands, desperation, anxiety and the inability to fall asleep after she lost her girlfriend to a car accident she feels responsible for. They come together at the weirdest of places-in an old dusty church listening to everyone else's stories and never sharing their own except with each other.

Bellamy gripped his cane and tried to stretch his leg out in the small space that his truck offered because it was starting to feel numb again and he knew if he didn’t move it at least a little bit, Octavia would have to come out with him and help him inside the building, which was the last thing he wanted.

He groaned grustrated when he rubbed his knee and tried to get some of the blood pressure back but the movement alone made his head feel a little dizzy and his heart beat out of his chest loudly-it seemed that every little movement, even the barest of sitting ups, would send him into a hole he couldn’t get out of.

“Maybe you should start thinking of home care.” his sister voiced her concern for the third time since he got in the car and he groaned again as he felt his back hit the seat while he closed his eyes trying to chase off the darkness.

“Octavia-”

“I’m just saying-” she tried lightly but he could feel the strain in her voice, always saw the worry in her eyes.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening, yet she insisted he got to those group meetings once a week and she made sure to personally escort him since she figured, he skipped them otherwise.

There was also the issue that she pre-paid for them without asking if he wanted to go in the first place.

He blinked rapidly and dared to peak at the driver’s seat noticing that while she was focused on the road, she kept throwing worried looks his way and he gripped his cane again, only this time out of anger more than because he needed something to ground him.

“You should be home-” he voiced his own worries even if he keeps his voice calm and collected as always.

She used to say this was his military voice but he likes to think it’s just his grown up one that he has been using at her since he was still a kid who had to raise another kid because their mom worked three jobs to support them

“-with Lincoln and Zach.”

This has been her idea and the only reason he agreed to it was because he had the stupidity to say yes when he was quite drunk one night and because she refused to let it go.

Ever since he came back home seven months ago, all broken and half alive, barely the man he was before, his sister has been insisting on it.She couldn't handle being around him much but she thought this is how she could fix things.

He had to almost force a fight between them one night to make her go back to her husband and three year old son instead of yelling about group therapy or helping him take his prosthetic off or giving him his heart medication or putting wet cloths on his forehead when he had a fever which was every other night.

Surprisingly, she hadn't fought him on it as hard as he thought she would but then again he knew she had a hard time handling him anyway.

He refused to make her a slave to an invalid who missed one leg from a little above the knee and had only one barely functioning one that hurt all the time in addition to his bad back that caught shrapnel and made him hurt all the time, numbing his arm or legs at least twice a day.

He didn’t want her to have to deal with PT, doctor’s appointments or medical insurances.

Or even worse-going to vet centers and just begging for the barest minimum of medical attention and drugs so he could keep on living.

He didn’t want her to worry about his small pension that barely covered all the expenses because he got a small compensation from the Army after the accident which he knew would last him for a bit and he didn’t want her to hover around him all the time waiting to catch him if he fell.

He was content with living his sad and sorry miserable life until he hopefully died out of what would it be? Heart attack?

He already had one back in the hosptal after their transported him stateside for his five surgeries that they weren’t sure he’d survive.

Or maybe he’d get a brain aneurisum like his friend Murphy, who died on the way to the field hospital even when Bellamy desperately fought to save him with his leg already blown up, killing him instantly.

Or maybe he’d fall down the stairs and break his neck because his legs would refuse to cooperate with him on a bad day.

It was grim, but it was reality.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellarkeedit #bellarke fanfic #hurt/comfort #army!veteran bellamy #doctor!clarke #mental health issues #my writing #link in reblog #im so excited to post this tho i know probably few ppl will read it

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1kook · 3 years

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new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming.

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education).

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way.

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms.

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries.

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable.

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows.

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.”

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum.

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close.

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed.

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin.

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone.

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress.

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt.

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite.

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up.

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks.

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.

It’s your turn to mope.

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand.

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses.

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh.

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels.

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad.

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down.

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome.

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities.

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about.

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest.

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover.

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.”

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee.

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite.

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now.

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.”

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold.

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes.

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon.

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her.

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown.

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead.

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear.

It’s the hardest thing about parenting.

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is.

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show.

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years.

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight.

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now.

A second later, “lemme join.”

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick.

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.”

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions.

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit.

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky.

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home.

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts.

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now.

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back.

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice.

Then, and apparently, now.

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck.

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together.

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper.

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt.

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time.

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips.

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you.

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long.

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body.

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him.

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this.

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line.

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could.

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you.

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist.

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore?

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?”

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it.

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you.

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat.

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt.

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time.

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully.

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole.

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything.

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure.

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt.

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time.

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone.

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped.

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas.

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever.

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling.

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence.

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out.

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch.

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach.

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys.

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever.

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.”

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer.

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off.

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again.

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific.

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position.

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you.

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds.

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him.

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt.

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip.

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh.

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you.

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace.

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out.

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you.

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones.

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year.

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace.

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car.

“What’s up?” you ask.

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—”

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well.

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway.

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy.

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news.

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you.

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

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authornina · 3 years

Text

Baby Momma Drama

***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***

“So I can’t take her to see my family?” Dem asked Nicole and she ignored him. He was tired of going back and forth with her about his child. He understood how she felt but she was just trying to control him and the way he parented his daughter.

There wasn’t shit he could do about what happened but apologize and try to be a good father. Nicole was not making that easy for him in the slightest. Then would turn around and use his absence against him when she didn’t get her way. Dem was genuinely remorseful about his actions and she knew that. He always took her feelings into consideration and practiced patience, hoping that she could really forgive him one day. However, anything he wanted to do with Melody she had to be there. Nicole didn’t want her around his family without her either, but they didn’t want Nicole in their presence at all. They only got to see his daughter twice in a whole year.

“Yo, can you fuckin’ hear?”

“Cleary, and just like before I said no. If they want to see her, they can come here, or I’ll gladly go to them.”

“And I told your illiterate ass they don’t fuck witchu. Unless you want A to beat you the fuck up.”

“Please! I’ll drag that bitch if she ever put her fuckin’ hands on me.” Nicole knew Avery couldn’t stand her and the feeling was mutual.

“Bro…” Dem counted to three doing his best not to get mad. This was where he’d been tested the most lately. “So you expect her to just not know her whole other side? She don’t even know her own sisters.”

“Nigga, I don’t care nor is that my problem! My baby is not going anywhere without me. The judge has approved this. I don’t trust you and in the eyes of the law you are not a fit parent. You don’t even have control over any of your own finances! I should actually be arguing with Lake about visitation, not you!” Nicole spat, flippantly. She got all of this information when they went to court. Lake being his guardian only worsened his case and made Nicole’s stronger.

“Really? But when you want dick, I’m trustworthy. When you wanna go out and be a hoe with your dumbass friends, I watch her and muthafuckin KJ too, you can trust me then though?”

Nicole didn’t have a rebuttal to that because not only wasn’t Dem lying but it made her valid points invalid. Dem was a great father and she had him on the tightest leash using the past as a way to control him. She was granted full custody of their daughter and that gave her even more leverage.

“Exactly, now you the fuck quiet with your stupid ass. Come get her ready, I’m taking her.”

“No the fuck you not!” Nicole pushed him back from going further upstairs and he held the banister as to not fall. It didn’t take much after that to set Dem off. He smacked the shit out of Nicole, and she bounced off the wall rolling down the steps.

Stuff like this really felt below Dem. Domestic issues with any woman wasn’t what he had time for or wanted to be involved in. He never reacted on anyone that didn’t do something to him first. It was simple math to Dem, don’t put your hands on him, if you weren’t ready to get knocked the fuck out, or sometimes worse. He handled his problems with finality, but he couldn’t just erase the mother of his child, so this was the bullshit he had to deal with all the time.

All of the commotion could be heard outside. Wreck and Roddy were standing outside smoking. They walked in and shook their heads watching Nicole try to beat Dem up. He wasn’t even really doing anything except flinging her ass around, and she was on the floor screaming all dramatic. This wasn’t the first time they witnessed her do stuff like this but in front of a judge she was miss innocent and perfect. The crazier thing was, nobody ever tried to invalidate her feelings, they just wanted a relationship with Melody, however she wouldn’t allow that unless there was one with her too.

“Chill the fuck out!” Wreck pulled her up from the floor and off of Dem’s leg.

“See! He put his fuckin hands on me, and I’m supposed to let him take my daughter? Get the fuck out my house!”

“Bitch fuck you! You wouldn’t be up in this bitch if it wasn’t for me! Lake was ready to send your ass back to the projects! I don’t have these problems with none of my other baby mommas! You the only one make shit harder than it gotta be!”

“Maybe because you didn’t fuckin’ rape them!”

That word took Dem out of the ring every single time and Nicole knew it. He backed down from her whenever she said it. Dem hated to think of himself like that and it only added to all the other names associated with him. Rapist. It didn’t sit right on his heart and the fact that he couldn’t even remember made it easier to swallow sometimes, but Nicole did not let him forget.

“You a fuckin’ nut, bro,” Roddy said, looking at her with disgust.

Dem said fuck it and walked out of the house. This shit was starting to take a toll on him. He didn’t even get to see Melody and it hurt. He loved seeing her because she didn’t look anything like him, but his father, she had inherited Hassan’s every feature.

While Poppy and Damaris were both on the fairer skin side and looked like him, Melody was the opposite. She actually resembled Loire. Nobody could believe it when they first saw her. Sav always joked that she could pass for Lake’s baby and that set Avery off. She didn’t think that was funny at all. Dem did get a paternity test though and she was indeed his. He could spend hours looking at her beautiful melanin-rich face.

“You ard?” Wreck asked him, getting in the driver’s seat. Roddy hopped in the back and he pulled off.

“I’m tired of her constantly throwing that shit in my face…I don’t even remember.”

“She a fuckin’ nut ass bitch, but I ain’t hear her say that when she was screaming from the dick the other night,” Roddy said.

“You be fuckin’ her?” Wreck asked, as he stopped at a red light and looked over at his brother.

“Sometimes,” Dem shrugged. “When she asks.”

“Nah, turn her ass down next time,” Wreck advised him. “She gon’ keep getting her way cause she think you owe her something. What type of bitch wanna get fucked by a nigga they accusin’ of some shit like that? Fuck that, next time she want some dick, curve her ass. I bet she start actin’ right.”

“Yup, hoes be tryna act like they don’t want sex as much as niggas. They be worse than us. Hold the dick and watch she be like,” Roddy cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for actin’ up Daddy, you can take the baby and this pussy whenever you want.”

“Roddy shut the fuck up,” Wreck laughed. “You on it with us tonight?” he asked Dem.

“Fuck no, you got super nigga back there,” Dem said referring to Roddy who simply shook his head. They had a little beef between them. “I got Damaris this weekend anyway and Haze be getting tired fast now so she can’t handle both of them for too long. I was hoping to get Melody so they can all be together. It’s fucked up they don’t even know their own sister.”

“Lake need to take that bitch back to court and get some custody rights. How the fuck she get to keep a baby away from her damn family?”

“She like Dem that’s why,” Roddy chuckled, lighting up a blunt. “Bitch do not care how her baby got here. She want this nigga and his daughter how she gonna get him.”

“Man, she the last bitch I’ll be with. I’ll marry Mu before I settle for her ass.”

They all started laughing because they knew how much Mumu got on his nerves too. The only reasonable one he had was Haze. She nor Mumu came close to the headache that Nicole was though.

“Talk to Lake, bro,” Wreck advised him. “Tell him you ready to be on your own and handle shit. You can’t keep going through this.”

Dem didn’t respond because he wanted to be independent and not have his brother in charge of his every move, but he wasn’t sure if he was actually ready. ******* “Call Avery and see what she says,” Haze told Dem while standing at the stove cooking. He told her the watered-down version of what happened with Nicole earlier that day. “You already know if she says no then Lake will too. They don’t do shit without each other, but you need to see your child.”

Haze was well aware of the whole situation between Dem and Nicole. She didn’t really have an opinion because it seemed like a he say she say situation. However, if she thought Dem was capable of doing something so vile, she nor Poppy would be around him but Haze didn’t believe he could, even off his meds like Nicole accused. She found out about Dem’s condition and used it as yet another target on his back. Haze only witnessed Dem in action one time and although he was a bit erratic, he didn’t do anything to hurt her or Poppy. She just called Sav and he dealt with him.

“Cause my brother a whipped ass nigga now.”

“No, that’s marriage, Dem. A husband and wife supposed to have each other back.”

“Whatever, A will kill that bitch if they in the same space and it’s not even about Ky. Nicole disrespectful as fuck.”

“Call her,” Haze insisted. Dem blew his breath and started tapping on his phone.

“Hey baby boo!” Avery answered happy for him as always.

“Wassup?”

“Nothing, feeding your mean ass brother and his mean ass kids.”

“Stop actin’ like you don’t love them.”

“I don’t,” Avery whispered making Haze and Dem crack up. “So what you need? You don’t be calling me for no reason.”

“Nut ass Nicole said I can only get Melody if she’s there.”

“Well her bitch ass isn’t welcome in my house!” Avery snapped like Dem knew she would. “Did you forget what the fuck she said to me? What she said about Melody?! But the judge gives her custody?! I tried Dem, I really did try to be cordial with that bitch, but I don’t play about you and I most certainly don’t play about my husband, you know that.”

“A, I miss my daughter. I want y’all to see her. She gettin’ so big and she don’t even know y’all, her sisters, nothing.”

“What you want me to do, Dem?”

“I want y’all to come over her crib this weekend—”

“Dem, I love you, but I am not stepping foot in that bitch house. She better be lucky her ass ain’t on the street! Why can’t we meet her somewhere? What about coming over there—”

“Fuck no!” Haze yelled cutting Avery off before she could finish. “That bitch ain’t coming up in here, A! She be stressing him out to the point it irritate me, and I don’t have time for her smart-ass mouth because pregnant and all I will lay hands on her lying hoe ass!”

Dem wasn’t even a part of the conversation after that. He sat the phone down while Avery and Haze called Nicole everything but a child of God. Dem went to watch TV with his daughters.

“Mommy…” Poppy said, covering her ears hearing Haze talk loudly all the way in her playroom.

“Yea, it’s okay boo boo.” Dem sat on the big pink bean bag chair with Poppy and Damaris on both sides of him and watched DC Superhero Girls.

The way he handled most things that would set him off now, is to just sit with his daughters. They calmed the hell out of him. No medicine or treatment ever brought him that much peace. Nicole was trying to come between that, and he swore she was doing it on purpose, but Dem refused to backtrack and throw away all of his progress, but something had to give.

#on us #authornina #nina

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teklarn · 3 years

Text

𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓸𝓸, 𝓲𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾

character(s): izuku midoriya x gn!reader (x katsuki bakugou)

a/n: gosh i love angst (quick note!! i edit to the best of my ability, however it’s easy to miss things, and i type 100 words per minute, so im sorry if i miss some things!) this ain’t a poly relationship btw, i don’t feel like i could write that well (no shame to people who do!! personally i feel like i would butcher it)

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

based off the song: it’s my party by lesley gore

summary: y/n realizes going to katsuki bakugou’s wedding was a mistake

genre: angst all the way shawties

warnings: light cursing, heartbreak, alcohol, one-sided pining (reader), aged up/pro-hero au, sad reminiscing bc ahaha bakugou made us sad :’) and a crap load of references to the song, friend zoning (eesh)

word count: 2,566

ik yall are waiting for a part 2 of brutal and part 3 of you’re not my boyfriend but this idea just struck i had to get it down pls

- - -

“let’s raise a toast to our finest lovebirds, my best friend and his wife, katsuki bakugou and ochaco uraraka!” kirishima took a sip of champagne.

you lifted your beverage in unison with the others seated at your table but did not drink. you blinked down at the fizzing beverage.

“we wish you all the best,” kirishima said. “you and your best buds have no doubt you two’ll be known as some of the most indestructible symbols of peace.”

another wave of applause passed among the crowd. the last toast was finished and the music resumed. your entire table left you sitting. it wasn’t like you knew anyone here, anyways. nobody except for the few classmates bakugou was still in touch with.

those people consisted of izuku midoriya, who was sitting at the table across from you, as well as across the dance floor.

the lights twinkled up again, red, blue, and green flashing along the floor.

you couldn’t deny it. bakugou in a red suit, uraraka in a wedding dress fell just above her knees, a red bow tied around her waist. you did not doubt that if you were to be sold as a healthy person on the black market, that dress would still be worth more than you.

the only comfort you had was midoriya, who had greeted you when you came in, but the two of you had exchanged no further words. but he looked equally as miserable as you.

uraraka and bakugou were perfect together. they looked happy. and you were happy to see bakugou happy. happy to see uraraka happy with him.

bakugou dipped his newlywed wife to the beat of the music. her back arched perfectly into his large hands.

what hurts the most was that, while you wished it was you instead of her on that dance floor, you knew it wouldn’t work out.

not that you and bakugou wouldn’t have worked out. the two of you were a perfect couple!

what hurts the most was that it was a wish, and in every near universe, you still didn’t have that ring.

uravity and dynamight simply looked...happier.

you stormed out, shaking. why was your katsuki kissing her? holding her when it should have been you?

deep down, you knew you had no right. you and bakugou were barely a couple. throughout his years at yuuei, he’d calmed down immensely. so much that he could strike up a conversation with nearly everyone. as it turns out, introverted katsuki bakugou was a shameless flirt.

the two of you exchanged flitting glances from time to time, but it was never anything serious. at least to him, it wasn’t.

you knew he’d never taken the flirting seriously, and you also knew about his aching feelings for uraraka. how he covered his mouth whenever she walked by. how his voice raised just a bit, and how soft his eyes got.

you shouldn’t have been surprised. he never even hinted that he might have had romantic feelings for you.

the entire room erupted with applause as he kissed her. the katsuki bakugou, kissing someone? pfft, only in dreams.

for some, the dream would be good. like uraraka, who had shamelessly kissed him back.

for you, it was a complete nightmare.

the blaring music, the lights, the balloons, the ‘happy graduation class of 1-A!’

you drowned it all out. you curled your knees to your chest. you had no right to be hurt. not at all. they were his emotions. you had no control over them.

loneliness clouded over you. your chest screamed with longing. a longing to be held. be wanted by him.

you were alone. nobody was coming to comfort you. nobody was-

the door opened, clicking shut just as quickly. someone sniffled.

your eyes flicked up from your knees.

“y/n? i...i’m sorry, i had no idea anyone was out here...i can leave...”

“it’s alright, izuku.”

izuku took a swig from a bottle containing something much heavier than champagne.

that same tug in your chest came about. you were tired of seeing the billboards, the magazines. tired of seeing the unquestionably perfect relationship, perfect love bloom right before you.

dynamight and uravity this! dynamight and uravity that!

the music was loud enough, the lights were busy enough, and the people were ignorant enough to neglect your crying figure.

this was supposed to be my party. he loved me first.

“you okay?” you asked, swiping your nose.

izuku looked back at the graduation party. “no, y/n. i’m not.”

“then we’re both absolute shit.” you let him help you up. “why’re you crying?”

“just...just uraraka.”

“for me it’s just bakugou.”

just as bakugou had calmed down during his years at yuuei, izuku had earned a sense of sarcasm. “are they just oblivious or stupid?”

“goodness, izuku,” you joked, pressing a hand to your shuddering chest. “calling uraraka stupid?”

he gave you a sad side-smile. you listened in silence as the upbeat music played on.

“i guess we’re the stupid ones.” he sighed, chest heaving a little.

“i guess,” you agreed. he pulled you into a hug, and you let the tears flow. your sobs corrupted your chest as you curled into his arms. “why? why did it have to be her?”

“not all heroes end up happy, y/n.”

you looked up at him, eyes puffy, sniffling. “why can’t we be part of that small portion of heroes who are?”

izuku looked up, trying to neglect the water pooling in his own eyes. “i guess...well, not to be a narcissist—” he let out a breathy chuckle, “―but if you noticed, all the greatest heroes die with some kind of regret.”

“maybe i don’t want to be a good hero.” you ignored his efforts to lighten the mood.

“heroes don’t always get to choose whether they’ll be good or not. some things just happen.”

“i’m sorry, izuku.” you swiped at your eyes. “you’re hurt just as badly as me. i don’t want to make it—”

“hey.” izuku gently pried your hands away from your face, fingers ghosting over your wrists. his emerald eyes gleamed as they stared into yours. “don’t invalidate your feelings just because of me. we’re both hurting, but that doesn’t mean i won’t listen to you.”

your sobs came back again, and you fell into his chest.

bakugou spun uraraka, laughing gently as she twirled in his arms. his eyes lit up whenever he saw her. they twinkled. he sparkled. his smile was dazzling. and he was everything you never had.

you were a heartbroken mess, even after all these years. there was a list of all the reasons you were mad at him, and yourself.

your sobs were almost uncontrollable, and at this point, you were shocked nobody came to check on you. not that you cared very much. even if you were making a small effort to hide your face, it still would have been nice to feel a touch on your shoulder, someone perhaps shaking you gently to make sure you were awake.

not that you’d tell them what was wrong. you just wanted to know somebody cared, and to have the option to talk to somebody if you needed to do so.

but here you were. cheesy, upbeat fifties music echoed along the walls of the room. bakugou had secretly adored artists from back then, and you’d often catch him dancing and singing along to long-forgotten oldies.

if you weren’t his best friend, you would have blown off coming here and binge-watched ‘my best friend’s wedding’ and sobbed.

your head was down, forehead leaning on the backs of your forearms stacked upon each other. tears were streaming down, your shoulders shuddering with each weak breath sucked in and released.

until bakugou chose you, you had no reason to smile. at least not now. by no means were you desperate. love sometimes did that to people. made them look needy, look unwanted.

you’ve had plenty of options in the past, but the one person who you wanted didn’t want you back. didn’t even care.

since the graduation party, uraraka and you had been a bit tense. a part of her felt like she knew how you felt, and how bakugou mattered to you more than anyone in the world.

after the first year, she began abandoning izuku and ignoring his emotions towards her. after she and bakugou found each other, they had already known they would settle with one another.

you and izuku had never been close, but you were both good friends and were there when you needed one another.

he had walked you through your pain of senior year, and you’d helped him reach a lot of his goals, too. but bakugou just didn’t seem to care anymore. not even about becoming the number one hero. he looked at uraraka like she was his goal, his new dream, the reason he was happy. he looked at her and saw that he had the world in his hands and wanted to keep it that way.

you? you were pluto. exiled from the rest of the planets. exiled from the rest of his options, when you used to be his first.

“y/n?”

you and izuku backed away from each other. you’d both been crying for quite a bit. how long it had been, you were both unsure.

uraraka now stood at the door. you peeked into the window, leaning back a bit and catching glances of the blonde, who was currently being clapped on the back by his friends, congratulated for ‘getting the girl’.

“are you guys okay?’ uraraka asked.

“would you cry, uraraka?”

she tilted her head. “what?”

you pushed yourself off of izuku. “do you think you’d cry if you saw me kissing him, too?”

“what’re you―”

“you would cry, too! you would be sobbing!” you stabbed an accusatory finger at her. “you were my friend! you knew how i felt, and you’re kissing him?”

uraraka’s eyes widened. “i...i’m sorry. it all just happened, and i—”

“shut the hell up, uraraka. you ruined this party. for me and izuku.”

perhaps you went a bit far, but in your heart and your mind, you knew she deserved it. she knew. uraraka had known.

izuku gave uraraka a sympathetic look before pressing a hand to your back and leading you away.

it still came as a bit of a shock that uraraka had let bakugou invite you to their wedding. gosh. little, domestic bakugou, sealing invitations and batting his eyes at his oh-so-sweet wife so he could invite his best friend.

little domestic uraraka sweetly kissing her fiance on the cheek and pouting as she said, “how can i say no?”

it was disgusting, and everything you wanted to have with him.

you allowed yourself to be selfish this one time. after all, you deserved it. you’d endured hours of bakugou blabbering on about how sweet uraraka was. everything you weren’t.

you took the bottle to champagne. your ankles were aching as you stumbled out of the room. your vision blurred, becoming foggy with tears. not one person stopped you. you guessed because nobody noticed.

like graduation night, you slumped down right outside the doors to the party, the music, lights, and laughter muffled. the only difference was that you had a bottle of champagne and the man of your dreams was gone. for good, this time.

“i wish she noticed me. it was like, after first year, the uraraka i knew just vanished.”

you nodded. you and midoriya were wandering the streets, cool air brushing down your neck and on your face as cars passed.

“uraraka was so sweet, but she lost feelings so fast and...ugh.” midoriya ran a hand through his hair, ruffling his curls. “i’m still a bit...baffled. i know people change, but she and kacchan both switched up so fast.”

“i don’t want to say they’re jackasses, but they’re kind of jackasses.”

izuku rubbed your shoulder as you leaned on him while the two of you walked. “don’t say that.”

“sorry,” you breathed.

“no more being sorry. being sorry all the time leads to shit like this.”

you chuckled. “yeah, it does.” you sniffed. “did i take you away from the party? you can go back if you want.”

he shrugged. “’s all right. i don’t mind.”

“do you want to be here or would you rather be in there?”

“out here with you. i can’t be there right now.”

“me too.”

“let me guess.”

you looked up and scoffed softly.

“this was supposed to be your party?”

you nodded. “my party, my groom. i’m not supposed to be crying at my party, am i?”

your friend shook his head. “not at all. cheer up, y/n.”

izuku slid down the wall, sitting beside you. he rested his arms on his knees, twisting open his own bottle of champagne. “you look like a mess.”

“and you look like you need anger management.” you smiled.

he grinned back. “do i now?”

“yeah, you do. you should have seen yourself sitting there. all alone, the one person drinking something that wasn’t the fifty-thousand yen drinks.”

“54,795.75 yen, to be exact.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re insane. you kidding me? why do you know that?”

“i was the weird kid who took notes on everyone in the class. of course i would know this. i’m offended you think i wouldn’t.”

you tilted your head back in laughter. “gosh, izuku.”

“mhm.”

there was a pause. comfortable silence filled the space, broken by you sigh after gulping down your drink. “so they’re gone?”

“i’d rather not dwell on it.”

“how old are we now?”

izuku gave a breathy chuckle. “twenty-five.”

you smiled. “really, now? and i thought i would be married by now.”

“me too. ‘s a shame.”

“how about, if we’re both still not married by the time we’re forty, we get married to each other, adopt three children and we become hot parents.”

“three?”

“yeah, we can have a mini hero agency.”

“that’s horrifying. but i agree. having a mini hero agency would be pretty amazing.”

“i’m glad you agree with me, izuku.” you brushed a curl from his eyes.

“can’t wait until i’m forty,” he smirked.

“me neither.”

“maybe by then we would have forgotten all of this?”

“we’ll be fighting a villain, and we get our memories erased, and then we fall in love because we wake up beside each other in the hospital. we’re both equally confused.” you peppered him with jokes. “it’s a journey we will go on together.”

“can’t wait until my memory gets erased.”

“do you wanna get out of here?”

izuku shook his head. “it’s their wedding. we can’t. we shouldn’t.”

you gave him a silly look.

“you’re always such trouble, y/n.”

“if you hate it, then wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

izuku’s features softened. “maybe i like it. but only sometimes.” he took your head and lead you out, leaving his drink behind while you took yours.

a single tear rolled down your cheek. he didn’t erase all your pain, nor your feelings for bakugou. it wasn’t what you needed, no.

you just needed a friend. a real one. one that wouldn’t steal your dream from you. and that’s what you knew you had right now.

besides, things could happen in the future, right?

you smiled, and let the cold air touch your skin.

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tj-wrote-things · 3 years

Text

𝐇𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝗼

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Grisha!reader

Based off of this ask

A/N- Hey besties, this is kinda late,, and i hate it but only a little bit. Can you guys like -stop requesting arguments??? pls its breaking my heart.

Mega thanks to @itisroe e for being my editor and shoulder to whine on :)

*Id like to take a moment to say that Nikolai is a bit of a dick in this one, and id like to reiterate that its never okay to invalidate or insult a so. I dont condone that type of behavior, im just writing it

enjoy:)

•

If there was one thing Nikolai Lantsov knew how to do, it was pout. You caught him— more than just a few times— slouched over on the blush red couch with his arms crossed, face smushed into a scowl as he studied you packing your bag.

You sighed, casting an increasingly irritated glance at him as you folded the coarse cloth of your winter coat and tucked it away with the rest of your belongings. The weight would be too much to bear, but you knew it would be cold up north where you were headed alongside Zoya and the Bataars.

“I’m leaving at dawn, whether you like it or not, Sobachka.”

The King looked away briefly at your words, hating understanding that you were right. He hauled himself out of his seat and redirected his sulking to the world outside the large window. It was beautifully blanketed in steadily falling snow.

“Will you really make our last night together a bitter one?” you commented.

“It wouldn’t be our last night if you’d just let me come with you,” Nikolai huffed.

You exhaled, dreading that this would be the third time you had this discussion, which, in his world, was more so a debate.

The reason was simple: Nikolai had no business accompanying them. The objective of the mission to Fjerda was a peace treaty between the Drüskelle and the Grisha populous. As Nikolai fit neither category, it had been decided that he would stay back and continue to hold the country together.

“We’ve been through this: to bring more people on the expedition would only irritate the Fjerdans. Especially, the king of a country with which they’ve been at war for a considerable amount of time,” you reiterated.

Nikolai shook his head again, unwilling to accept it. He refused to welcome the fact that the love of his long life would be away and in perpetual danger for weeks.

The wind whistled as it bounded against the window, filling the room with a violent creaking.

“It’s dangerous, Y/N, why can you not understand—”

You cut him off swiftly as his voice began to rise, “You watch that tone, Lantsov, or I’ll—”

Now, it was Nikolai’s turn to cut you off: “You’ll what? Leave early?” The young man turned to you from the window and met your incredulous gaze. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We both know it's your only vice.”

“My only vice,” you mocked cynically. “In what regard?”

Nikolai spread his arms patronizingly as if he were explaining the obvious to his childhood self.

“Your heart craves adulation,” he said, pointing a sharp, accusatory finger your way. “You’ll take any opportunity to leave Os Alta— leave me— and flaunt your gifts.”

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. In anger or despair, you could not tell.

You would not lie to yourself. You knew with all your heart that, all things considered, your mastery of the Small Science was a blessing, hidden behind the mask of a devil. In the days you served faithfully in the Second Army, your gifts were revered and you were respected in the highest regard amongst your Grisha peers. However, in the years following the war, you became like everybody else.

It was at the behest of your husband that you progressively began to use your power as an Inferni less as the days passed. Ever the political mastermind, he had approached you one summer evening and begged you refrain from using your power in public, claiming that the presence of a Grisha Queen was too much for his fragile country to bear. In the beginning, you had agreed, for if there was one thing that surpassed your love for your husband, it was your shared love for Ravka.

You knew that relations between the Grisha and the others were strained, and so you agreed, taking your husband's hand and promising to limit the displays of glowing orange flames which had burned your enemies as well as warmed the hands of your allies.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to train behind a closed gate, under a roof, beneath the watchful eye of First Army guards armed with fire extinguishers. In fact, it had grown so stifling you had begun to resemble Alina Starkov when first she came to the Little Palace, with her pallor skin and brittle locks.

You brushed the aforementioned hair, now soft and healthy from the effects of tailoring, behind your ear as you placed the brush down and sharpened your stare at Nikolai’s face, shrouded in silver shadows from the icy light of the moon.

“Craves adulation,” you grumbled, knowing that if your voice rose any higher, it would betray every emotion storming around your heart. “Have a look in the mirror, Nikolai, and tell me which of us truly fits your description.”

His description, in all its insulting glory, fit Nikolai Lantsov to the tee.

Nikolai Lantsov, who would smile and wave to a crowd with a Sun Summoner on his arm, allowing you to watch with disdain from your place on a horse beside Mal. Nikolai Lantsov, who would hide behind a pair of gloves to escape the truth of what he had become. Nikolai Lantsov, who had pushed his wife into a state of sickness, albeit unknowingly, sacrificing her life’s blood for the sake of his country.

Nikolai Lantsov, who resolutely shook his head, running a hand through the already dishevelled hair on his head, before waving it dismissively, as if swatting a fly. “Please. You’d flick your hands for anyone who’d ask— if they clapped hard enough.” Nikolai moved for the bookshelf, drawing out a novel as if his words were mere small talk with an old friend.

Your anger blurred to shock. “Flick my hands—”

“Honestly, you take every opportunity to flaunt it. I’m surprised the Little Palace is still standing after having you inside for twenty years!”

There was no sense to his vile declarations now. Though, Nikolai could not see it. The anger, betrayal, and frustration at being left behind were all that clouded his boyish mind as he hurled one unkind word after the other.

“Nikolai,” You moved towards him, arm outstretched, eyes beginning to water. “Lapushka, please—” As your hand approached his, the storm heavier than ever. He wrenched his arm away from you, leering his head back to look you in the eyes.

“Truly, I can’t be sure why you haven’t left already.”

“For saints’ sake, Nikolai. Look at me!”

The dam broke as you flicked your hands, removing the tailoring to your appearance, unveiling the truth of your restrictions.

Nikolai stared with an open mouth and hard eyes as the warm winter flush of your cheeks was replaced with dulled skin, and the sleek shine of your hair was redefined with a brittle and unkempt bush.

“The only person from whom I crave adulation,” you whispered, “is the only man who’s too thick to look past a wavering mask.”

The Lantsov King swallowed, flipping the book restlessly in his hands. “Y/N—”

“Get out.” You left no room for him to argue, even when he opened his mouth once more. “I said leave!” You stalked to the door, pulling it open with a loud shriek of wood. “Now.”

Nikolai Lantsov, who spent the night in a guest room, in a state of perpetual regret.

No amount of tossing and turning brought any comfort to his aching heart, nor his pounding head. He flopped halfheartedly in the guest bed, stiff from lack of use, and from lack of you, revisiting the disgusting words he’d spat. The reason for them, however unjustified, sat heavily on his chest, suffocating him at an agonizing rate.

Nikolai Lantsov, who was afraid that— like his mother and father— you would grow to resent his blood, resent it for its stark difference to yours. The fear that you would regret your marriage to what your people called an otkazat’sya: the abandoned.

The King figured it was only a matter of time before the title served him fully.

It was reasonable, wasn’t it? To lash out at a time of vulnerability? Nikolai couldn’t be sure, having grown up in a family of despots who had never given him the time of day when it mattered most.

Watching the tailored facade fall from his wife’s face, Nikolai was reminded solely of his mother, who, like you, was coerced into moulding her face into that of the perfect queen, at the behest of her husband. He knew then that all he had said and done was wrong. Wrong to her, and wrong to her people.

How could he bring himself to apologize? To walk into their bedroom and beg forgiveness? Would she forgive him? Even if he stooped— a king in tears and on his knees for the woman he loved perhaps more ardently than the country he vowed to govern— would she, in all her scorned glory, crouch beside him, take his face in her hands, and kiss away his regret?

Could he expect her to?

Dawn came around all too swiftly, rousing husband and wife from their fitful sleep in separate rooms, and with it came your departure to the northern lands.

You stood side-by-side with Nikolai as the carriages were loaded with provisions, luggage, and gifts for the Drüskelle, refusing to look at him. Instead, digging fruitlessly in your shoulder bag as an excuse to keep your head down.

The call came from the footman as the time arrived for you to leave. You didn’t make it more than one step forward with your hand gripping the leather strap of your bag before a firm grasp was on your waist.

“Wait,” whispered Nikolai, tugging you back. He cast a glance at the guard, letting him know that they would need a moment. “I can’t let you leave— not like this.”

You held your gaze to the floor. Gently, he tilted your head back up with his thumb and forefinger. “Not now, not when you can barely look at me,” he continued. You held his stare as his hand shifted tentatively towards your jaw. “Not when I can’t be sure you won't come back to me, Milaya.”

You sniffled softly at the nickname, moving your own hand to his face and pausing to tuck away a loose golden curl.

“Please come back to me,” he said softly as if he were sharing a secret. There was an unspoken apology apparent in his reddening eyes while the seconds ticked by.

“Of course,” you murmured back, tipping his head down as you pecked his brow, then his cheek. “Nikolai, there’s not a thing in this world that could keep me away from you.”

You kissed him soundly, your hand running across the expanse of his jaw as he leaned into the tender forgiveness settled in your palm. When you broke apart, Nikolai took your hand from his face. He kissed your palm and walked you to your carriage. The King watched with concerned eyes as you took your seat.

Nikolai kissed your hand once more from his place on the ground and looked up at you. “Swear you’ll write,” he said. “Or I’ll crash the proceedings.”

You barked a hearty laugh, squeezing his hand as he tried to let you go. “I will,” you promised. “And I’ll see you when I come back.”

It was another moment before you let go of his hand. His palm hit the carriage door bearing the Lantsov crest. You watched as the carriage travelled further and further away, Nikolai’s frame disappearing into the horizon.

“I promise,” you whispered.

•

340 notes · View notes

weirdthinkingdragon · 3 years

Text

Welcome To The Family (6/???)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / here

Yandere EraserMic household x reader

Fun fact- Tadao was a sudden decision I made up on the spot after chapter 3 and wasn’t expecting to really make him a character other than a mentioned person with a mold/fungus quirk. I did though, and already love him as an OC more than I should. Oops.

It might be a long while before the next chapter. I think I may have drained myself a bit from focusing on this story so much.

Warnings- swearing, slight coercion I think? Not really sure but better safe than sorry.

I promise the darker stuff is coming soon.

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

I wake up to someone calling me. Hitoshi? Why is he calling me at… 9 in the morning? Come on dude, I want to sleep more for dinner tonight. My fault for hanging out with Tadao a bit later last night than usual. He’s started walking with me to our apartment for the past few days. I wonder why we haven’t hung out until now. Meanwhile, Ryo and I seemed to drift apart. They refuse to even look at me now when I saw them last night.

Ugh, might as well answer it. “Hey, Hitoshi. You need something?” I tiredly slur from just waking up.

“Sorry for waking you…” Apologized the familiar voice of Eri. Wait, Eri? Why does she have Hitoshi’s phone? The wonder why she has his phone wakes me up a bit more.

“Oh, hey, Eri. Is something wrong?” A slight panic enters me in the possibility something bad could have happened to one of the guys. “Wait, is everyone okay?”

“We’re good. Just wanted to talk a bit with you before tonight.” Pipes up the familiar voice of Hitoshi in the background.

Relief floods me. “That’s good. What about?”

“Our dads!” Eri cheerfully informs.

My eyes narrow in confusion. “What about them?”

“What do you think of them?” Hitoshi asks. Huh? Why does this need to be talked about now? Maybe because more likely than not the two adults are asleep, and won’t hear the conversation?

I’m too tired to be filtered right now, so whatever comes to mind is whatever is going to be said. “They’re… An interesting two, to say the least. Hizashi seems like someone I can rely on to cheer me up pretty easily if I’m ever down, and after that day Shouta was sick, I realize Shouta’s secretly a lot more caring than he lets on. Still wouldn’t want to pi- anger him.” Ugh, it’s too early. I nearly just swore with Eri there! Well, saying “piss him off” wouldn’t have been that bad, but she needs to keep that innocence at least for a while yet.

Hitoshi laughs, probably catching on with what I almost said. “Seen it first-hand with his class. Can’t say I recommend it either.”

“What about looks?” Eri suddenly asks, catching me off-guard. What do their looks have to do with anything? They’re also a married couple, so whatever I think is invalid anyways.

“Well, had this weird thought of wondering what Hizashi would look like with his hair fully down when we went to the festival, but that’s really not something that I need to tell him. It’s something I probably shouldn’t be wondering in the first place.”

“What’s the problem in wondering that? It’s just hair.”

“Says the one who always looks like he stuck his head out a car window and hair decided to stay that way.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

I go back onto the topic. “Otherwise, I’m not really sure what to talk about with them. It’s their choices of what they wear. Though it IS pretty funny imagining Hizashi forcing Shouta to wear something he normally wouldn’t.”

“It’s happened more than once before.”

I tiredly let out a laugh. “I believe it.”

“Daddy made him wear a dress!”

An almost inhuman sound comes out of me at the thought of Shouta deeply frowning with a strapless hot pink dress forced onto him, and the only reason he does it is Hizashi would probably keep pestering him otherwise.

“Maybe sometime we could get him to do it again with you here. It’s quite a thing to see.”

“Oh, really? How did he not kill you for laughing?”

“He almost did,” he replies jokingly.

“If he tries to attack me when I’m there, you’re taking the blow.” I joke back.

He goes silent for a moment. “He wouldn’t dare. If he did, he’d have an angry little girl scolding him.”

“Toooshiiii!”

“What? You know I’m right.”

“Hmph.”

“Anyway, want to tell them what you’ll wear?”

“No! It’s a surprise!”

“Right back at you two,” I inform the slightly bickering duo.

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

We both hung up after a bit more of talking about tonight. I could swear there was someone talking in the background for a second, but I brushed it off as the T.V. Eri was probably watching something earlier and forgot to lower the volume.

After playing on my computer for a while since it’s close to my bed, I decided to just get up and get ready. There are not many fancy things I have, so it’s quite limited on what to wear. Hopefully, they don’t mind if it’s a bit more casual than fancy. There’s plenty of time to shop for something, but I’m honestly too lazy to go anywhere. Just something of my favorite color and slightly more fancy than my daily clothes should work.

I have to dig much deeper into my closet to find said clothing from not wearing it too often.

One of my favorite color is grabbed. Nope, that’s not it.

I move a few more. Wait, there it is! I move a few more pieces of clothing and grab it, pulling it out. Hopefully, it still fits. Welp, time to try. I take off my pajamas.

Like a glove. Perfect!

Just to make sure there are no new forgotten holes or something, I look at myself in my body mirror. Huh, I actually look pretty good in this! I might have to wear it more often. Something feels like it’s missing though. Maybe a ring or something would help?

I look over to the select few rings I have, including the forgotten one Ryo gave me. My heart slightly twinges at remembering they gave it as a best friends type of ring years ago. A ring with real blue topaz fitting my middle finger.

Might as well wear it. I slip it on and decide to leave my room, though they won’t be here for a while yet. Maybe Tadao will be around.

My body instinctively starts looking around for the familiar- oh, not again. Does he LIKE sleeping on the floor in the hall or something? I walk up to his sleeping form. I gently nudge him to move with my foot.

He groans, and curls his head deeper onto his arm, also bringing his legs up so he’s a ball. “Come on dude, I know your quirk is related to mold and all, but you’re not supposed to BECOME it.”

“I am one with the floor… I shall be the floor…” He mumbles, probably sleep talking.

I nudge him harder, making him open his eyes to look up at me. “Heyyy Y/N. What time is it?” He sluggishly asks.

I check my phone. “Already half-past noon.”

That got his attention. Both of his eyes snapped open as he shot to sit up. He grabs his rather cracked phone and looks at it. There are a few messages on the screen without him unlocking it. They’re impossible to read as he seems frantic after looking at them. “Already!? Man, I gotta get ready! I’ll be late for work!”

I don’t even get the chance to ask him anything since he gets to his feet and sprints off past my door, probably to his.

Glancing at Ryo’s door, the thought of checking on them arises. No, they’re deciding on acting out like this. Crawling to them could only continue this childish way again at some point. Ugh, what to do now though? It will be boring to just sit around for the next few hours. The park could be good for a few hours.

The villains around though? Nah. Welp, more computer time.

Familiar brown hair in the corner of my eye catches my attention before returning to my door. It’s the woman that glared at me with Hizashi at the studio. What’s she doing around here? Never saw her around before, and she doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to like parties. Funny if she’s attracted to Hizashi like he told me.

She keeps her glare on me as she… Knocks on Ryo’s door? Oh hell no. There’s no way Ryo is hanging out with someone like that. I’m proven wrong though as Ryo opens the door and pulls them in without looking at me.

I- What? What’s going on lately?

Also, okay, what the ever-loving fuck Ryo!?

Calm down, give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the woman hasn’t told Ryo anything about my work, and maybe it can just be a sudden meeting they did at one point, and it’s an opposites attract type of friendship. After all, I haven’t really been around. They were bound to try to find someone else to hang out with I suppose. Should this be a concern to bring up with Hizashi and Shouta though?

I stand there still staring at Ryo’s door and blink confusedly. They couldn’t have found anyone better to hang out with? Even a villain would have been better than her in my opinion. Sure, more trouble from me being around two- basically three- heroes could arise, but I’d be willing to keep that kind of secret for them. But this? This gives me a bad feeling.

What if she’s the reason Ryo is acting so odd?

Next Sunday will be the day to get some answers from them. If they will talk to me, that is.

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

Time seems to slip by while being on my computer. My phone notifies me of a text message. I look at it to see it’s from Hizashi.

“Hitoshi’s coming in to get ya! We’re waiting!” My eyes widen noticing it’s already past six at night.

I try to text him ASAP to not let Hitoshi come in. They won’t be happy with my living place. “That will be fine, call him off. I’ll be out shortly.”

“Too late! Sorry!”

I sigh. He doesn’t even know which one mine is! I put my computer away and quickly left. Looking left and right, there’s familiar purple hair far down on the right. Obviously, it’s Hitoshi. He is staring with great disgust at the peeling walls and ripped-up flooring. Oh boy, it’s probably a disaster with what is about to happen in the vehicle now.

The hallway is rather dimly lit now, making it slightly hard to see, but it’s easy to tell he’s wearing a suit matching his eye color. I’m feeling pretty underdressed now.

“Hey, Hitoshi. You could have waited outside. Uh… You probably should have no offense.”

He glares at a piece of wall that falls off onto the floor. “How do you live in this?”

I shrug. “Eh, you get used to it,” I noticed his frustrated expression. He’s about to ask me why I don’t move or something since I clearly could with my pay. “And before you say anything, I rather like it here. It’s where a lot of my closest friends are.”

His eyes narrow at me. “You could still visit instead of living here.”

Someone jumps upstairs, making the place shake, and a piece of the ceiling on this level chips off and falls next to the wall piece on the floor.

“That’s new,” I comment. It’s true, the ceiling has never fallen before. Makes me wonder when this whole building is going to collapse. Bit worried for my friends here now.

Hitoshi looks at me like I just told him the world is going to end tomorrow.

I start walking to the exit, having Hitoshi follow behind me too closely for my taste. Makes sense if he’s doing it for my protection, but he obviously doesn’t know these people as I do. He almost could be felt against my back. “You mind standing back a bit? You’re rather close.”

He does, but just barely.

It doesn't take long for us to get to the vehicle. Just like before, I get in the center and hug Eri. The slight light in the car makes it hard to see her dress, but I'm pretty sure it's a bright silverish blue. The light wasn't on long enough to notice the two up front.

They do seem to notice Hitoshi in a slightly on edge type of way. For the moment the light was on.

"What's wrong, little hypno-man?"

"Their apartment is not fitting to live in."

"What?" Hizashi's tone almost drastically changes. I'm glad I can't see them right now. I focus on the scenery past Hitoshi to try ignoring the growing unease of him whistleblowing to them.

"It's falling apart. A part of the wall fell to the floor. The inside is much worse than the outside."

"Why are you still living there? You can easily move with the money we give you." Shouta pipes up.

"Because I like living there. It's a walking distance from your place, and all my friends are there."

"You could visit them some other time if you moved. We'd pay a bus for you if needed."

"Exactly! Or I could drive ya to our place! It wouldn't be a problem, and it would give me a little somethin' to do while the grump wakes up in the morning!"

I don't feel comfortable at the thought of having to rely on them like that. They're already so busy themselves, it really wouldn't be fair to them despite what they say.

“Uh… no. Thanks for the offer, but my place is good for now.”

The air is rather tense, telling me that they want to push more on the subject, but decide not to for now.

I decided to bring up what happened earlier. “Remember that bad woman from before?”

“You mean Chiyo?” Shouta spits her name with such hate, someone would think he’d murder her if he could. Hizashi must have told him about our meeting in his studio. Wait, Isn’t that a first name?

As if reading my mind, Hizashi answers for Shouta. “She doesn’t deserve the respect of last name. What about her?”

“I discovered today she might be hanging out with one of my closest friends that doesn’t seem to be too happy with me lately. Isn’t it a bit of a concern she might tell them that I babysit for you guys?”

“That’s confidential information. Like it was said to you before you started, you can’t tell anyone our identities. They can get into serious trouble if they do, and they signed a contract accepting they wouldn’t.” Shouta replies.

“That’s good to know.” I say, sounding relieved. They could be told how Ryo thinks they’re bad parents for me babysitting so often, but that’s something that probably doesn’t need to be brought up. Especially if she can’t tell Ryo about it.

Hizashi pulls up and parks in front of the restaurant we must be dining in. wait- fuck, I’ve heard of this place. It’s one of the most expensive restaurants around here! We exit and enter the restaurant. The first thing I noticed was how well-dressed the two men were. Shouta was wearing a navy blue suit, white undershirt, and a light brown tie. Oddly, he’s also wearing glasses. When did he need glasses?

Hizashi was wearing a cream-colored suit with a dark grey undershirt and a tie matching his eye color. Looking at the four of them and the others around, I am… severely underdressed. Doesn’t feel much better with everyone that stares at me from their tables for a moment.

Wait- Hizashi’s. Hair. Is. Fully. Down. I whip my head towards Hitoshi and glare in betrayal.

He notices with a smirk, and puts his hands in front of himself in mock-defense. “Don’t look at me. He was there then, just didn’t speak.”

My eyes narrow. “So it really WASN’T the T.V.” Seriously though!? That’s so embarrassing! He must have heard everything!

Him and Hizashi chuckle at me, making me feel worse.

A woman comes up from the counter. “Please tell me the name of your reservation.”

“The Aizawa’s.” Um… I’m not exactly a part of this family? Well, it does make sense though I guess just to do a last name. Hizashi smirks at Shouta while he glares in return.

“Right this way please.” She starts to lead the five of us to a table farther in the back. The enormous chandeliers overhead from the really tall ceiling are slightly intimidating if I’m to be honest. Each crystal is taller than Hizashi from the top of his hair in his hero costume to his feet.

The white and gold walls of the place give a surprisingly calming type of effect. It’s rather cool in here as well. Probably to help combat the ones who wear layers of clothes to be more fancy or something.

“You couldn’t have chosen anything else?” Shouta hisses quietly enough for the woman not to hear, but I’m close enough that I can. I’m right between them from behind while Hitoshi and Eri are behind me. I can swear Hitoshi keeps trying to nudge me forward closer to them.

“Aw, don’t worry ‘bout it babe! Besides, you and I both know you’re known much less than me! This way they won’t know us!” He leans even closer to Shouta. “And don’t deny it, you know you like the thought of me bein’ called an Aizawa~”

I can see red start to cover the side of Shouta’s face even though he tries his best to hide and prevent it. Ha! Now he’s the one to be embarrassed!

I let out a chuckle, making Hizashi turn and give me a toothy grin.

We get to a table with booth seats. The color of them is surprisingly similar to Eri’s dress.

I go to sit with Hitoshi and Eri, but like before, Hizashi grabs my wrist and has me sit between him and Shouta. Why do you keep doing this to me dude!? Shouta is on my right by the wall with Hizashi on my left by the opening.

Eri is sitting by the wall with Hitoshi by the opening in front of us. I didn’t notice before, but her dress has some candy apple red jewels the shape of diamonds, adorning the dress even more than it already was. Must be new since it’s never been seen by me before.

… I don’t like the closeness of the two men beside me again. Saying it is uncomfortable is an understatement. A difference than before is the heat of their thighs radiating through their pants onto mine.

The woman hands us menus. “Someone will be here to take your orders shortly.”

I try to brush them off while looking at the menu.

“Hey Y/N, are ya datin’ anyone?”

“Maybe.” They don’t need to know I’m not.

“That’s a yes or no question.” Shouta states with slight annoyance. He must have forgotten I told him I’m not the day he was sick.

“They better not be a villain. We’d hate to have to do something to you and them. Better be honest, you’re not looking the best right now.” Hitoshi accuses.

What the heck Hitoshi!? You’re just going to turn on me like this!? Why I ought to come over there and smack the back of your head myself!

My saving grace as the waiter comes- Tadao!? This is where he works!? He comes up to our table with a notepad in front of him. "Hello, I’m Ito, and I’ll be your waiter for tonight. What can I get you started with?”

“Tadao, you work here?”

His head snaps up from the notepad, and looks at me. “Oh hey, Y/N!” His face becomes a smirk. “What happened to calling me glowstick?”

“Well, you’re not really glowing right now in this light, are you?”

“Ha, you got me there.”

The three men look between us with some look I don’t really understand.

“Ya know each other?”

“You could say we’re close.” Tadao informs. They grow rather deep frowns at the news.

He clears his throat and brings his notepad up. “What drinks could I start you guys with?” We each tell him our drinks and he writes them down. “All right, drinks coming right up!” He leaves to go get them.

“He’s one of the reasons I don’t move out of my apartment. Especially now. We’ve become really close recently.”

“You should stay away from him. He seems like bad news.” Hitoshi informs.

??? huh? “Why, do you know he has a villain record or something?”

“He could be using you. Stay away from him or we might have to make sure he doesn’t do anything.”

Okay, THAT pisses me off. “First of all, you guys can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with outside of babysitting hours. Second of all, I’d really appreciate it if you guys could be less judging of him, because he has never done anything even slightly villainous whenever we met.” My slightly edged tone makes them back off the topic. I wanted to add third of all being he walks with me at night to our apartment place, but that seems like a bad idea if their reaction is this so far.

It grows awkwardly silent between us all for a moment. Maybe I should have kept the others to myself too, but damn it, they need to have more respect for my decisions they were never a part of, and have no need to be a part of.

Tadao comes with our drinks. He places them down, and Hizashi immediately takes a big drink of his.

“Here you guys go, and one drink for one special person.” He jokingly winks at me.

I roll my eyes in response. “Sometimes I truly wonder if I hate you.” I tease.

He rolls his eyes in return. “Admit it, you know you love me.”

Hizashi chokes on his drink. I don’t help him from still being a bit upset. He should be fine anyways after a bit.

He does, and is able to manage keeping his quirk down as well.

“Do I?” I question teasingly.

The three men glare at him. Sheesh, what’s their problem?

He seems rather uncomfortable by it and leaves in a rush immediately after taking our orders. After I almost had a heart attack from the beyond insane prices, of course. Even the cheapest thing is over half the money I’m given a day for babysitting.

I’m getting pretty upset with these guys right now. Starting to wonder if they got hit with some odd quirk again or something.

That calms me down a bit since it would kind of make sense that’s why they’re acting odd. How long will it last though? Better not be long. I don’t know if I can handle them like this without losing my mind.

“Hey, Y/N. We have something for you,” Hitoshi pipes up, and nods towards Hizashi.

“Right!” He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a… necklace? It has my favorite type of jewel in it, encased behind and around the edges with what looks like real gold. A different shine is on it, like something is covering the gold to prevent it from easily being destroyed by weather or wear. The shape is in a rather large teardrop. It looks custom-made as well. Never seen anything even close to what this looks like before.

“It’s a gift!” Eri cheerfully chimes in.

“That she helped us pick for you.” Shouta informs.

Please don’t tell me it’s authentic. It looks real though. I can’t even begin to imagine the price of what it must have cost to create it if it is real. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this! It feels too much like I’m just using you guys if I do!”

The three of them frown. Even Eri seems a bit disappointed.

Eri asking me my favorite jewel kind of makes sense now, but why would they want to give this to me?

“C’mon, let’s put it on ya!” He hands it over to Hitoshi and stands up, pulling me to stand up with him. Hitoshi stands as well.

“Did you guys not hear me? I- I can’t accept it!”

Hizashi shakes his head. “Don’t be so worried, dear little lovesong! We want you to have it! Ya can’t just say no, we spent too much for it to go to waste now!”

Hitoshi goes behind me with the necklace and is able to put it on while I’m still rather reluctant to accept such a gift.

Eri’s eyes almost seem to sparkle when the clasp gets shut on it. “You look amazing!”

I freeze in my tracks to notice everyone is staring at us yet again. This time with slightly different reactions. A couple of them seem to be with envy, making me want to shrivel up and hide in a hole, and others seem to be appreciative I have something more expensive than my clothes now or something.

At least Shouta seems to give me mercy by pulling me back down in the booth and glaring at them all in such a way that they all stop staring. I’m feeling a bit like a ragdoll at this point.

Hitoshi joins him, making sure they truly stop. The glare combined of those two could probably curdle the blood of All Might himself.

The restaurant seems to grow quiet between all of us.

I decide to escape by using the bathroom. Hizashi didn’t have time to sit back down before it was necessary. “Stay here, it won’t take me long.” They still seem reluctant to let me go alone.

Getting to the bathrooms, I didn’t have to go, just wanted to get out of the stares and whispers for a little bit. Despite the men’s glares, of course there was still going to be gossip of someone in here who looks so out of place.

“Hey, Y/N, be careful around them, alright? They’re pretty strange.” Pipes up the familiar voice of Tadao behind me.

I play dumb. He probably shouldn’t know I know they must have been hit with some kind of quirk. “How do you know? They could just be being cautious since their children are with.”

“I admit, I did watch you a bit at the festival. More so the men you were with when they came. Something about them isn’t... “ He seems to be struggling with figuring out how to explain it. “It’s wrong. I just can’t quite put my finger on what it is. Again, just be careful, alright?”

I just nod and enter the bathroom.

A bit after cooling off, I go back to the dinner table, them all still waiting and chatting about school. Well, Shouta being nearly silent as usual. Hizashi quickly stands up to let me sit between them again. Ugh, I really don’t want to.

Yet I do, just to be kind. The least I can do is sit through this since they went through the effort of such a gift, even though to me it seems highly unnecessary.

Tadao comes with our food not much later with a secret frown on his face. He’s smiling, but I’ve learned him well enough by now it’s worry he has instead of a cheerful personality. It slightly drops to reveal his true emotions when he notices the guys glaring at him yet again. He doesn’t say a word, just drops all of the food off and leaves.

This feels like a really ruined dinner, even though this food is incredibly good. The atmosphere has definitely become shit. I seem to be the only one to notice. Hizashi looks over towards me and gives me another grin, not giving much comfort. What’s worse is every time I stop for a moment and rest my hand on my lap, Shouta seems to try to grab it. It led me to just keeping the utensil for my dinner in my hand.

I’ll have to apologize to Tadao for their behavior tomorrow. Easier said than done since I still can’t exactly tell him who they are. Cursed contract.

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

taglist-

@dabi-s-whore, @angelicblackwolf, @fuegy-fuegy

Double fun fact- Did you know slapping someone’s back if they’re choking is actually worse than letting them try to get it out themselves, especially if it’s food? The food can actually get lodged deeper in their throat at the impact. Huh, First Aid is quite interesting.

#Yandere EraserMic household #x reader #yanderes x reader #platonic yandere shinsou x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #welcome to the family #yandere poly x reader

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slowly-writing · 3 years

Text

Bullying

Natasha Romanoff x Teen!Reader

Word count: 2K

Requested by anon: Can you do an imagine where natashas daughter is being bullied and she finds out?

You have your hands shoved in your pockets, pulling your jacket down and allowing the hood to fall more into your face, blocking you from the harsh stares of your classmates. You should’ve expected your life to turn out like this. You knew what high school was like. Fitting in was the main priority and the mob of insecure students would swarm anything different.

You should’ve known that you’d be the number one target. The adopted teenager living with the most famous heroes in the world. It was dumb to think you’d be able to fly under the radar the way Peter had. The boy had comforted you those days leading up to your freshman year. Having just finished his own he told you that it would be fine. Boy was he wrong.

The freshman hall was far enough away from the sophomores that he never saw your torment, and over the last three years you learned how to make sure he never would. You wouldn’t let the boy who’d always been like an older brother to you get caught in the crossfire. He’d try to stick up for you and blow the only normal thing he had left. You’ve made it to junior year, you can make it the rest of the way.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a shoulder slamming into yours, sending you stumbling into the lockers.

“Watch it Annie!” A girl called over her shoulder and you frowned at the nickname. Ever since the kids found out you were adopted they started calling you Annie, after the orphan girl, and you hated it. Rather than saying anything you just quickened your pace and slipped into your first class.

“It’s fine that they call me that,” you mumble to yourself, “that way I don’t flinch at the sound of my own name being called. I’d never be able to hide that from Peter. Or Wanda. Especially not from mom.”

You try to rationalize everything as you settle into your desk, pretending not to see the kids pointing at you and laughing as you become the brunt of their joke.

xxxxx

You manage to ignore it for the most part. The words aren’t what hurt. Well they do, whoever said words will never hurt me obviously didn’t know what they were talking about. But that hurt you could cover with a fake smile and an excuse of being stressed over homework or some other thinly veiled excuse. The giant bruise forming on your forehead was harder to hide.

Some girl named Beverly decided it’d be funny to trip you at lunch, sending you head first into the table. Now you had a lovely purple mark and some swelling by your hairline. Thank god you left a beanie in your locker. It should be enough to cover the injury.

“Hey Romanoff!” The call of your name makes your head snap up in panic, you quickly pull on the hat as Peter makes his way towards you.

“Oh hey Pete, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” you ask, a genuine smile on your face for the first time today.

“I’m heading to the tower to do some work with Tony, wanna walk together?” his smile is wide as he asks, completely carefree, and you wish you could feel that way as well.

“Uh, yeah. Sounds good,” you try to sound casual. There’s no way to brush him off without being obvious. You’re waking the exact same route. Luckily the walk home is fairly uneventful. The assholes seem to be warded off by Peter. The late autumn heat has him in a tank top that shows off his arms, and while he’s not the buffest guy in the school, it’s obvious he can hold his own. If only they knew how strong he really was.

You see a few people staring, more like glaring, but you’re able to ignore them pretty easily. Soon enough the two of you are walking into the lobby of the tower incident free.

“I’m gonna head to the labs. You good from here?” Peter’s question feels heavy, almost as if he was intentionally trying to make you feel safer, but you brush the feeling off with a nod and a wave as you head to the elevator. You’re probably overthinking it. A few moments later you're in the common room and you let out a sigh of relief. Finally a safe place. No teasing here, or at least none with any malice behind it.

“Hey, y/n. How was school?” you look up to see Wanda on the couch and you immediately blush.

“Hey Wan, it was alright. How was...whatever it is you do here during the day?” you tease and she rolls her eyes, a matching blush painting her cheeks. Thank god the kids at school don’t know about this...whatever you have with Wanda. They’d tear you to shreds.

“I do online school and I work, thank you very much. I do important stuff here, ya know, like saving the world,” she’s glaring at you as she says it, but you can see something in her eyes. You can’t quite place it, friendship, something more? Whatever it is, it’s so different from the hate you see from the kids at school.

“A bit full of yourself, aren’t you? I feel like that’s all just fancy talk for free loading and laziness. You gotta get out there, get some dirt under your nails. You’re too spoiled, spending all this time in the tower,” you notice yourself leaning closer to her as you talk and your eyes involuntarily flash towards her lips as butterflies take over your stomach.

“And that uh…that fancy private school you spend your time in. That’s gotta be really...tough?” she tries to defend herself but her words come out weak as she inches ever so much closer. you ‘re about to close the gap when you hear a voice from the doorway.

“I thought I heard you come in. How was school?” The two of you spring apart at your mom’s voice.

“It was good,” you squeak out, adjusting your hat to cover your forehead.

“Yeah, learning a lot,” Wanda mumbles as your mom rolls her eyes. She’s well aware of the weird relationship you and Wanda have, and while she’d prefer you didn’t date until you’re well into your thirties she knows if you’re going to, then Wanda is a good choice.

“What’s with the beanie, love? It’s like eighty degrees out,” your mom’s questions has you panicking.

“I uh...like it. It’s cool,” you defend and Wanda rolls her eyes this time, back to her playful self from earlier.

“I’m sweating just looking at you. Let me help!” she teases and you see the red mist around her hands before you feel it.

“No!” you lunge at her, as if you’d be any match for her powers, but before you even reach her your hat is floating in the air and her eyes are wide.

“What the hell happened?” your mom’s voice is harsh and tears are already gathering in your eyes. You look frantically between your mom and Wanda, who seems to take the hint.

“I’ll give you two some space,” Wanda says before hastily leaving the room.

“Y/n, what happened?” she asks again, gentler this time but you still try to get out of it.

“It’s nothing-” the look in her eyes stops you. It’s the look she sent you when you would try to sneak candy after bedtime when you were little, but this time there’s a pain mixed in that you’re not used to seeing. “It’s just some kids at school. They like to pick on me. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“How long has this been going on?” She looks...sad and it kind of scares you. That’s not an emotion you’re used to your mom having. Stoicness, yes especially when she’s working. Happiness, yes; more often since you came around your uncles tell you. Love, confidence, bravery, exasperation, even anger sometimes. But almost never sadness or pain and now she’s shown both of those in a matter of minutes.

“Mom,” you try again but she shakes her head, brushing the tears forming in her eyes.

“How long, love?” she asks again and you sigh.

“Since freshman year.” It’s her turn to sigh. Sitting next to you on the couch and pulling you into her side gently. It’s an odd mix of emotions, you can see on her face that she doesn’t know if she wants to cry or burn your school to the ground. You’re sure Wanda is getting a headache trying to sort through the many emotions coming from this room. You ignore that though. You leave the turmoil to everyone else for once as you finally relax, the weight of your secret finally off your shoulders.

“Friday, call Wanda and Peter in here please,” her voice is calm, and you don’t know if you should be scared.

“Mom? What are you-”

“I just want to talk to them,” she cuts you off, and you don’t have time to argue before the two are entering the room.

“Hey Miss Romanoff, Friday said you wanted to-Oh my god! What happened?” Peter yells as he sees the bruise maring your face, and Wanda is silent behind him as he processes the scene. Her eyes are red, almost like she’s been crying. Was she crying for you?

“By that reaction I’m guessing you didn’t know about this. Maximoff, are those tears of sympathy or fear for your life?” your mom snaps and you glare at her.

“I didn’t know, if that’s what you’re asking. I wouldn’t have sat by while she was being hurt,” there’s an anger behind Wanda’s words that you weren’t expecting. You didn’t think she’d cared this much. It makes sense, though, when you think about how you’d feel if the situation was reversed.

“As much as I wanna walk down to the school guns blazing, I can’t go beat up a bunch of kids, so I’m going to need the two of you to look out for her,” you scoff and stand from the couch at your mom’s words, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Excuse me, I’m right here. I’m not an invalid! And Wanda doesn’t even go to my school.”

“I’m well aware, you and I are starting training as soon as that heals,” she gestures to your forehead, “and Wanda will be enrolling in your school. Tony can have it all set up by tomorrow.”

“What? No! I’m not letting her start school just so she can get beaten up too!” you practically yell, but Wanda’s hand on your arm has you looking to her.

“I’m not letting my…” there’s a heavy pause, one that you know you’ll have to find the right word for soon, “friend get hurt when I could help. Plus, they quite literally can’t hurt me, and I want to be there for you.”

Her words have your resolve cracking, but you don’t want to give in that easy. “You’re a year older. You’ll be gone before me,” you try to argue and Wanda looks away, a blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

“She also missed a lot of school in Sokovia. She tested in a grade below you,” your mom explains, and it clicks as to why Wanda always did school online. Well one of the reasons at least, she’d be two years older than her classmates.

“Well I could tutor you,” you offer quickly, not wanting Wanda to feel ashamed in front of you. “It seems like we’re gonna be spending most of our time together. Plus you’re miles smarter than me. You’ll be the one teaching me in no time.”

“Then it’s settled. This won’t happen again.” Your mom’s words feel more like a promise and you smile. “And I want the names of the girls that did this to you.”

“Mom! I thought you agreed no beating up kids!” you argue, a smile finding its way back on your face as you try to hold back a laugh.

“I’m not going to beat them up. But I never said anything about some light hacking,” she says with a wink and you roll your eyes, not entirely sure if she’s kidding or not.

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

Marvel women tag list: @imnotasuperhero

Natasha Romanoff tag list: @indiavance555

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x kid!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #Natasha Romanova #Black Widow #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #black widow x you #black widow x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x romanoff!reader #bullying

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

So my finger is actually broken and it made me think about the series where Remus took a stick to the face and Sirius took care of him if you’re willing to do another part to that so I can live vicariously that’d be great

Hey lovely! I’m so sorry for the massive delay on this fic--hopefully, your finger feels better soon <3 Coops and O’Knutzy credit goes to @lumosinlove!

This fic also includes Cap and Logan being brothers, O’Knutzy fluff, and my personal favorite ask of all time:

Anon: We have seen protective Leo in action and he is an absolute badass, but what about the other 2/3 of O’Knutzy. Because gods know they would all protect their fairy gay mother if anyone were to mess with him in the slightest

TW for bruising, swelling, injury

Read the rest of the series here!

“Where is he?” Leo demanded as soon as the door opened. His mother would have been appalled by his lack of manners, but he was too worried to bother with pleasantries. “Is he alright?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Hello to you, too, Knut. Harzy, Lo, how’s it going?”

“Depends,” Finn said. “How’s our favorite rookie doing?”

Logan took a more direct approach and kicked Sirius lightly on the shin. “Move, I want to see my future beau-frère.”

“Are they here?” a rough voice called from the living room.

“Don’t get up, Loops!” Leo shouted down the hall, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Are you feeling okay?”

There was a muffled curse from the other room, followed by footsteps; Leo scowled. “I’m not made of glass,” Remus huffed as he shuffled into the room with an ice pack in his hand.

All three of them hissed in sympathy and Leo felt phantom pain in his nose at the wide bruise across Remus’ cheekbones. “You should go lay down again, dude.”

“You made me soup?”

“You can only have it if you promise to rest.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

“Your face looks like someone biked over it.”

“Rude. I’ll call your mother.”

“You don’t have her number.”

Remus shot him a look and turned to the others, who were watching in clear amusement. “Tremzy, a hand?”

“Can’t tell you. I want soup.” Logan ruffled his hair as he walked past; Remus batted him away, but he was smiling. It was even more crooked than usual with the latent swelling, and Leo felt a pang in his chest when he noticed the missing dimples. He looked so…not Loops. “Où sont les casseroles?”

Finn frowned and glanced in the Tupperware. “That’s not casserole, Lo.”

Sirius reached up and pulled a large pot down from the cupboard. “Pots, Harz. You’ve been dating these two for almost a year and you still don’t know French?”

Finn hopped up on the counter. “Keeps things interesting.”

Leo blew him a kiss and received a wink in return, making them both laugh. “Thanks again for bringing this over,” Remus said as Leo turned the stove on and grabbed a wooden spoon.

“Anything for the rookie, right? You look better than last night.”

“Yeah?” Hope lit in Remus’ less-swollen eye; he was still bruised to hell and back, but the puffiness had gone own significantly and a good night’s sleep seemed to have done him good.

“No thanks to the captain,” Finn snorted, swinging his legs until Sirius whacked him on the thigh with a spoon. “I swear to god he was just fucking with us in the groupchat.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“I told the truth!” Sirius protested. “I don’t know why they’re all pissy.”

“You were so vague,” Logan groaned. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through the texts, then cleared his throat. “Home safe. Re is fine—"

“Get over here—”

“—getting lots of cuddles from Hattie,” Logan continued, ducking out of Sirius’ reach as he read aloud. Leo stepped closer to the stove to let them both run past. “Thanks for the messages. Thanks for the messages? Thanks for the fucking messages?”

“That was pretty vague,” Remus agreed, hiding a smile behind his hand when Sirius finally snatched Logan’s phone away.

“I’m keeping this,” he threatened. “And I sent messages to people who reached out individually with questions, including your boyfriend.”

“Which one?” Logan asked with a smirk.

Sirius shook his head. “Knutty, will you be offended if I kick him out of the house?”

“Eh.” Leo shrugged, still stirring. “He could use some fresh air. Maybe put a bowl of water out with him.”

Logan grabbed a towel and rolled it up, snapping it at Leo’s ass; it connected with a sharp smack and he dodged the second attack by less than an inch. “Hey, cut it out!” Remus laughed. “He’s making me soup!”

“Yeah, Lo, we don’t want to leave the invalid in the hands of Cap’s cooking,” Finn drawled.

Sirius heaved a sigh. “You are all so mean to me.”

“I love you!” Remus said, putting a hand over his heart in mock-offense.

“You don’t trust my cooking either.”

He hesitated for half a second and Sirius spread his hands. “I trust most of your cooking. And all of your baking.”

Leo perked up. “Will you make cookies for us?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he wheedled as bubbles began forming around the edges of the soup. “You know you want to.”

“He made some for the block party two weeks ago,” Remus said with a grin, leaning over to smell the thick steam. “I’m domesticating him.”

“He’s like a feral cat. Once you let him in and feed him, he starts making cookies and never leaves.” Logan slotted himself between Finn’s knees for a cuddle with a devious glance at Sirius.

“I regret knowing you,” Sirius muttered; the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away, and Leo smiled to himself as he pulled a few bowls out of the nearest cabinet. “Soup’s ready?”

“Soup’s ready. Where are we eating?”

“Well, Loops is eating on the couch so he can rest,” Logan said, ignoring Remus’ eye roll.

“I’m fine.” All four of them gave him a skeptical look and he threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Alright, we’ll eat in the living room and pretend I’m on my deathbed. Jesus Christ.”

Leo gave him a playful nudge as he handed him a bowl. “That’s what friends do, right?”

Remus’ face softened and he bumped him back. “This was really sweet of you, Knutty.”

“What was I supposed to do, leave you here alone with only your fiancé and your dog for company?” He looked behind the kitchen island and paused. “Speaking of, where’s my baby?”

“I’ll get her.” Sirius wandered out of the room and they heard the back door open a moment later; after a few seconds of muffled noise, Hattie came barreling into the room in all her long-legged glory. One side of her fur was mussed into bedhead, but Finn dropped down and immediately smoothed it out again as he smothered her with affection.

“Oh, was somebody taking a nap on the deck?” Remus cooed, grabbing a handful of spoons from a drawer.

“I missed you so much!” Finn said, laughing as she licked his face. “So much, precious girl! It’s been too long!”

Hattie wiggled out of his hold and galloped toward Leo—she tripped over her too-big paws and rolled to a stop at his feet with a lolling tongue. “Oh, my munchkin,” he groaned, lifting her into a cradle hold. “Do you think your dads would be sad if I took you home with me?”

“Yes,” Sirius and Remus chorused.

“But I made them soup!” He stuck his lower lip out in a pout and held her closer to his chest. “It’s only fair.”

Logan turned a pleading look on Sirius. “You can’t say no to that face, can you?”

“Someday, you can have a sleepover. For right now, we’re going to eat soup and then make Remus take a nap.”

Leo declined to mention the fact that he had not answered the question and filed that particular information away for later use. For all his bluster and grumbling, Sirius was a softie for puppy eyes of any sort.

They gathered in the living room and carefully balanced their bowls so nobody spilled on the carpet. Remus curled up to make space for Sirius on the couch, while Logan perched on the armrest of Leo’s chair and Finn took the floor; Hattie made the rounds with a roving nose and tried to steal bites wherever possible, to little avail.

“This is really good,” Sirius said after a few minutes of hungry silence, shoving another spoonful of broth in his mouth. “Mon dieu, what is this?”

“Italian wedding soup,” Leo said, breaking a meatball in half. “Mom’s recipe.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not Italian.”

“Not even a little.”

“You guys are the best, by the way,” Remus said. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“We would’ve beat the rookie up if you asked,” Finn informed him with a casual bite of soup. “Say the word, it’s done.”

Remus shook his head. “It was an accident. He tripped, I came up too fast, and it snowballed from there. Kid’s lucky he didn’t get a skate to the face when we fell.”

Logan blinked at him for a second. “You’ve seen your face recently, right?”

“No, actually, it’s a bit difficult to see my own face,” Remus said drily. “I’m sure it looks worse than it feels.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, but made no comment. Leo wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know that story or not; seeing Loops in any amount of pain was hard enough. “Kind of ironic, right?” he said instead. “After all that time spent fixing us, you’re the one we get to take care of.”

Remus snorted. “How the turntables. Hestia did all the heavy lifting.”

“That Tupperware was heavy.”

“Do you want to tape me back together next time?”

“Don’t try me, Loops, I’ll do it and give you a moustache.”

They bickered and teased for the next half hour, long after their bowls were empty and Hattie laid down with a dramatic huff after her unsuccessful quest. Finally, Remus dozed off on Sirius’ shoulder, which they took as their cue to leave.

“Thank you again, guys,” Sirius said as they pulled their coats on. “This really meant a lot to both of us.”

“No problem,” Finn said with a shrug. “We were worried, and bringing over a little soup was easy.”

“It was good to talk to you both outside of practice,” Logan added, giving him a one-armed hug. “Keep us updated?”

“Bien sûr.”

“See you around, Capsicle.” Leo mock-saluted and Sirius laughed under his breath. “Take care of our rookie.”

“Will do, Knutty.”

Leo maneuvered his container around his seatbelt as Finn turned the car on, trying not to lose another lid down the crack between the console. “I’m glad we did that,” he said after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Me, too. Loops still looked pretty rough, though,” Logan said quietly.

The side of Finn’s mouth turned down a tick. “Next time we play the Ravens, that rookie is getting checked like he’s never been checked before.”

Leo’s back cracked as he stretched his arms over his head. “Oh, yeah, Kasey and I already have a plan. That kid is never even going to see the net.”

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whoseafraidofliloleme · 3 years

Text

Invisible Chapter 9

Summary: YN YLN has always been third in Class 2-5, right behind Lee Su Ho and Kang Soo Jin but with both of them having left Saebom Highschool, this is her time to shine. That is until Han Seosangnim asks her to tutor Han Seo Jun. A guy who doesn’t even know she existed.

Ship: Han Seo Jun x Female Reader.

Word Count: 2011 words.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated with any reactions or whatever you want to say. Again I really don't know where I am going with this.

Taglist: @thealexalcala @hayateotaku

Anyone interested in being added to the tag list, just let me know 😊.

True Beauty Masterlist

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9:

Sitting in the Ice Cream shop, opposite you and watching you laugh and joke with Hyun Ji and Cho Rong. This is something Seo Jun could get used to, he could imagine it now, going on dates with you and just enjoying his time with you. Granted before that happened. He had to ask you out to begin with, but imagining your dating life together wasn’t that bad. If Su Ho had been here, he would have whacked Seo Jun and told him to ask YN out already.

Feeling a poke in his side, Seo Jun looked to his side. Ju Kyung was smiling at him. Sighing, he knew she wanted him to admit his feelings for YN to her. It was too much fun to annoy Ju Kyung by keeping the information from her.

“You look her with heart eyes and yet don’t tell me about your feelings for her,” Ju Kyung whispered. Just this whole outing had revealed just how soft Seo Jun was for YN. Not just that, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he asked her out.

Without a doubt, YN would say yes, while Seo Jun was going soft for her. YN was smiling and laughing more around Seo Jun and she could calm him down in a second. He could make her laugh and get her out of her head. They were just well-matched and Ju Kyung like the rest of the class, Si Woo, and Cho Rong were waiting for them to get together.

“My feelings for YN are none of your business Lim Ju Kyung” Seo Jun sneered quietly to Ju Kyung. He knew how much Ju Kyung wanted him to admit his feelings for YN to her. But he wasn’t going to give her that. Annoying her by refusing to tell her was too funny. He thought that Su Ho would’ve spilt the beans. However, Su Ho proved that his loyalty to Seo Jun by not telling Ju Kyung.

Although with how much Seo Jun had been rambling about YN to Su Ho. The guy was losing his patience and Seo Jun could tell from Su Ho’s replies that if Seo Jun didn’t do something soon, Lee Su Ho would tell Ju Kyung and let Seo Jun deals with Ju Kyung’s reaction.

Ju Kyung smirked at Seo Jun. She hadn’t said a name, Seo Jun was just admitting his feelings without actually telling her. Even now, he wasn’t even paying attention to anyone else on the table. All his attention was on YN and he wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it. YN’s blushing cheeks were evidence that she could feel Seo Jun looking at her even if she didn’t look at him.

As the group left, the six of you were walking in pairs. Cho Rong and Ju Kyung at the front, Si Woo and Hyun Ji then you and Seo Jun were walking behind them. Seo Jun was holding your bag. Even though you insisted that he didn’t need to, Seo Jun just smirked at you and picked up your bag anyway. While the rest of the group were talking about school. You and Seo Jun were talking about your next study session that would be at your house. Your mum was quite fond of Seo Jun and had been asking you to bring him around again.

While walking, you heard someone calling your name. You turn around to see who is calling you. You smile and stop where you are, to let the person catch up to you. You hadn’t seen Cha Sun Lee since you’d graduated from Shinhwa Middle School. You hadn’t meant to lose contact with her, but it had happened anyway.

Seo Jun, looked confused as you waited for this random girl to come to you. The other 4 had walked ahead not knowing that you and Seo Jun had stopped. The two of you had been walking at a much slower pace than the others. As this girl got to you both of you hugged and started talking to each other. Feeling quite ignored, Seo Jun cleared his throat. That brought you and Sun Lee out of your reminiscing bubble. You smiled sheepishly at Seo Jun.

“Sorry about that Seo Jun, this is Cha Sun Lee, we went to Shinhwa Middle School together. Sun Lee this is Han Seo Jun” you explained, introducing the two people to each other. Sun Lee laughed and whacked your arm.

“Yah, YLN YN, we didn’t just go to Middle School together, I was also the one who got you and Gong Jae Yi together,” Sun Lee said laughing when you blushed. Nodding your head when Seo Jun looked at you confused.

“Yes yes, sorry forgot Sun Lee’s biggest achievement was being the matchmaker for Jae Yi and me,” you said rolling your eyes as Sun Lee fans herself acting like she is so important. There was no denying that Sun Lee played a big role in you and Jae Yi getting together. But it had been a few years and it was awkward talking about your ex-boyfriend with the guy you had a massive crush on being around there.

“Now that you mention it, Jae Yi is back and there’s a whole reunion happening. So gimme your number and I'll tell you, you can get Si Woo and Hyun Ji to come as well, we all lost contact with you 3 when you went to Saebom rather than Shinhwa High,” Sun Lee told you. You wanted to clarify that she had mentioned Jae Yi first but that would lead to a whole other conversation with Sun Lee. And quite frankly, you were still processing that she had just told you that Gong Jae Yi was back.

You smiled and gave her your number. She immediately called and you saved her number. You smiled at her, hugged her, and then said goodbye to her. Waiting for her to walk out of view, you turned to Seo Jun. He smiled at you, putting his arm around you, and carried on walking.

This shocked you. He didn’t ask any questions, even before he didn’t question you when he heard about Gong Jae Yi. You appreciated that Seo Jun didn’t ask or pester you until you caved and talked to him. No matter the situation, he would wait until you were ready to talk and then just listen to you. Then, he would just let you get all your unfiltered feelings out. Then would give his thoughts, calmly but never invalidating what you had told you.

It wasn’t new for Seo Jun to put his arm around your shoulders. He had been doing it a lot in the last few weeks. It was nice, you were used to Cho Rong, Si Woo or Hae Sung putting their arms around your shoulders. But it was different with Seo Jun, you didn’t have feelings for any of the other guys. When Seo Jun put his arm around your shoulders, you could pretend that you were his girlfriend. It was a little bit heaven, pretending that Seo Jun had feelings for you and that you were together. Sure, you knew it would never happen. Still, you liked the small bit of happiness this little gesture gave you.

It wasn’t until you and Seo Jun were at your home, washing the dishes. That you finally told Seo Jun about Jae Yi, this wasn’t the first time the 2 of you were washing the dishes. Whenever you were at Seo Jun’s house, you insisted on doing the dishes. Especially since Seo Jun’s mum was against you helping her cook and so you had to insist on doing something.

“So, Gong Jae Yi and I got together in the summer before my last year of Middle School and we broke up, a few months into us starting High School,” you told Seo Jun. You knew you had shocked Seo Jun, you’d both been washing and drying the dishes in silence until you broke that by bringing Jae Yi up. Seo Jun stopped wiping the bowl he had been holding. He turned to you and looked at you. You could feel Seo Jun staring at you. However, you avoided looking at him. On a good day, you couldn’t take looking at Seo Jun’s eyes without falling into those deep depths. Now, when you wanted to just get all of this out, you knew looking at Seo Jun wouldn’t help.

“You don’t have to tell me, Princess, I didn’t ask the first time and I’m not going to ask this time either” Seo Jun never asked that first time because it didn’t seem like the right time. So many things were happening in that week that Seo Jun had even forgotten. Well, he hadn’t forgotten but thinking about your ex-boyfriend was the last thing he wanted to do. It helped that, the first time he heard the name had been a busy week in itself. He just let the name go from one ear to another. Happily pretending to be ignorant about the fact that you had an ex-boyfriend named Gong Jae Yi.

“I know, but I want to tell you. Only Hyun Ji, Si Woo and Hae Sung know about us and what happened. We were happy, he didn’t go to Shinhwa Middle School, but we still made our relationship work. Well, that is until he was chosen to go on a High School exchange for the rest of his High School education.” Even though Seo Jun had stopped drying the dishes. You were still washing and just putting them to the side. Though you were over Jae Yi, obviously your feelings for Seo Jun were at a different level. There would always be a small part of you that still loved Jae Yi. Though it had been your idea to break up, that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Seo Jun, made you put the dished in your hand down. He turned you to face him. Lifted your chin and gently wiped your tears. You didn’t even know you were crying. Guess that break up still hurt a lot. Seo Jun hugged you tightly, holding you close as you sobbed in his arms. Soe Jun hated that you were crying, yet he was happy to be there for you. He always wanted to be the one holding you. Helping you work through your feelings. As you pulled away, you apologised for getting his shirt wet, Seo Jun just laughed and told you it was nothing. Before you went back to doing the dishes, Seo Jun pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. You didn’t know why but you appreciated the gesture.

“Moving on from that sob fest, I need a favour,” you say, going back to washing the dishes. Trying not to think about how you had just sobbed in Seo Jun’s arms about Gong Jae Yi. You were such an embarrassment at times. What weirdo cries about her ex, in the arms of the guy she currently has feelings for. Well, you are that weirdo and now here you are asking Seo Jun for a favour.

“Well, if I can do it, I’ll do it, Princess,” Seo Jun said calmly. Already in his head, he had agreed to whatever you asked of him. Short of something illegal, there was nothing you asked of him that he wouldn’t do.

“I know, there’s a class outing planned for Saturday and I can’t go. I don’t want to be the one to tell the class” before you could finish.

“You want me to tell the class about you missing out on the class outing, sure I’ll do that tomorrow,” Seo Jun said interrupting you. You nodded your head and smiled at him. Not being able to go to the class outing. Having to tell the class about that was making you nervous enough. It was a weight off of your shoulders, that Seo Jun was going to tell the class for you.

Chapter 10.

#true beauty #true beauty tvn #true beauty fanfic #true beauty fanfiction #han seo jun x reader #han seo jun x you #han seo joon x reader #han seo #han seo jun fanfiction #moon ga young #lim ju kyung #My Writing #Zainab's Fanfiction #My Fanfic #Invisible chapter 9 #Invisible Ch 9 #lee su ho #lee suho

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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Let’s Talk: Jimin’s & Tae’s confessions (RUN Episode 141)

by Admin 1

Originally, I planned on writing a summary or vmin cut of the RUN episode but then I transcribed Jimin’s and Tae’s confessions and it got me thinking, and now here we are. Instead of a summary here are some of my musings and thoughts about their confessions and how they are right in line with things they’ve said in the past, and even quite recently, as well as how it fits with something Namjoon said in 2020 about them as well. I hope this will at least be somewhat interesting.

So, first, let’s look at Jimin’s confession, since this is longer and was first in the episode:

Jimin’s Confession

Jimin: Sometimes I am blunt. I’m like that at times.

Na PD: Taehyung, has Jimin ever said anything bluntly to you?

Tae: Nowadays, he's really putting in effort to fix that to the point where it rarely happens anymore. Jimin tends to be very hard on himself, which also broke our hearts to see.

Na PD: So, he gets stressed from himself, then gets mad at himself...

Tae: Then gets mad at himself.

Na PD: ...and then he blurts remarks.

(here it was a bit unclear (for me at least) which of the two said which line so I’m sorry if I mixed them up)

Jimin: It’s something I want to be forgiven for.

Tae: But Jiminie being blunt and me being blunt is completely different. Jimin has a kind hearted nature on the regular.

Na PD: Right.

Jimin: Are you usually not like that?

Tae: I’m, well...

The other members stop Tae, since it’s not time for his confession, and instead the question is posed by JK if they forgive Jimin to which everyone says yes.

Tae: You’re innately kind at heart. stretches out hand for handshake.

Jimin: Thank you. Jimin thinks (?) Tae might be going for a fist bump since he gives him his fist instead, which Tae still takes and shakes.

The first thing about this that caught my attention, as well as one of our anons, was the fact that instead of choosing literally any of the other members, Na PD turned to Tae and asked him to verify if something like that (as in Jimin being blunt) ever happened toward him. You could say we’re thinking too much here, interpreting too much into it, and yet it doesn’t change the fact that he chose to ask Tae. Of course it could be because he said at the start of the program that he feels closest to Tae since he heard about him from two of his Wooga squad friends, but it might’ve just as well been because he watched the members for a while already at that point (since they’d already been filming a few hours) and perhaps he did notice how Tae and Jimin naturally gravitate toward each other, have this special bond? Other people who worked with them in the past noticed it, so why wouldn’t he?

There’s actually moment where Jimin turns and says Taehyungie like he wants to ask him something or say something to him which isn’t in the subs and the members don’t notice it either so Jimin never got to actually say whatever he wanted to say. Also, we’ve all seen how Tae and Jimin behaved during the game in the previous episode, how happy, smiley and giggly they were while being silly together.

Then the actual confession itself, Jimin saying that he can be blunt at times, toward others but also especially toward himself. We’ve heard many times from Jimin about how much of a perfectionist he is, how he can get mad at himself for mistakes, how he sometimes speaks without thinking which can end up a bit mean/blunt, and now he’d like to be forgiven for it.

This actually reminded me of something he said to Tae before:

FESTA 2020 from 42:56 min onward (context - the question was: have you felt disappointed in or sorry to the member to your right?):

Jimin: For Taehyung I should say if I compare those two feelings to him I was more hurt than sorry. Over time, it was reversed. Now I don’t feel slighted. I’m more sorry about things. Back then we were buddies so we had a lot of disagreements or didn’t admit that we were wrong. So I felt disappointed about little things. Now he listens to me well so I feel sorry that I talked to him harshly and every little thing.

The last line especially sticks out to me. I know there’s some language nuance here that got lost in translation which wisha mentioned when the FESTA 2020 video was posted (but is now gone since her twt was suspended), and yet it doesn’t change that fact that it fits with Jimin’s confession, how he was harsh to Tae in the past but now feels sorry for it, and with what Tae said, that Jimin is now making an effort to fix that behavior, to not be so blunt/harsh anymore.

It’s so interesting to me to see these mentions of what could be seen as character flaws over the years, things that make them inherently human. Also it fits with what we know about the evolution of vmin, how they used to have disagreements, have issues with proper communication but over time worked on it, got better at it to the point where they can now understand each other by just looking into each other’s eyes, and Tae’s words about Jimin, how he’s an angel, the warmest person he ever met, and now how he has a kind hearted nature, therefore the bluntness is not taking away from it in any way.

There was also something about this in Jimin’s solo RollingStone interview which caught my attention:

(btw, if you haven’t yet, I highly recommend reading the main and solo RollingStone interviews because they are really, really good!)

Taehyung’s confession

Tae: Compared to the other members, I’m very lazy. Once I’ve set my mind on something, to get that into action, it takes me up to 2 months. I’m start working out, then quit. I’ve quit projects midway too. I’m the type where if I’m not feeling it, I don’t do it. There are times when I feel sorry to the members.

Someone (I can’t pinpoint the voice): How would be summarize this?

Jimin: You’d usually call this as “irresponsible”. He lacks responsibility,

Tae: I’m still an amateur.

Na PD: “I lack responsibility and am lazy”. Is that how we can understand it?

Tae: Yes.

Jimin: To be honest, we don’t think it’s to that extent, but if that’s what he feels... we forgive him.

Something I love about what Jimin said (in far fewer words than I will use because you know me, I can’t keep myself short) is that he essentially did two things at once, being: he assured Tae (and the viewers) that him and the members think differently, don’t see it as severely as Tae does himself, and then he also acknowledged the validity of Tae’s words, that even if Jimin doesn’t agree with him, Jimin knows that those feelings are still valid, that that’s what Tae feels and that, at the end of the day, even if the members don’t agree, they can’t change Tae’s mind, can’t force him into seeing things differently. The only person who can do that is Tae himself, and that’s okay. Jimin and the other members will still quietly support and reassure him when needed until he’ll “fix” this weakness, if that is something he wants to do.

This really shows how in tune with Tae Jimin is, but also how emotionally intelligent he is. Beautiful. Also, notice how Jimin said that without being asked to do so, which will come into play again a little later in this post and why I point it out specifically again.

Listening (or rather reading along) as Tae said that, it reminded me of something he said a few months ago:

Taehyung BE-hind Story Interview from 5:49 min onward:

Q: How do you cope when it’s hard to work/with these situations?

Tae: I’m very true to my emotions so uh...if I can’t write the songs or can’t come up with a title I just don’t. Like now!

Yoongi: That’s actually the best way.

Tae: I just don’t write it like how I’m doing it now, and I don’t want to be pressured to create something against my will.

Yoongi: It’s not like you have to finish a song within a day or two?

Tae: Right! So I’ve been taking some rest for about four months now. Now that I’m resting for four months...

Yoongi: Wasn’t your mixtape supposed to be out last year?

Tae: The mixtape that was supposed to happen last year was postponed. I should be in a state full of emotions right now, but I haven’t reached it yet. It’s like...my first mixtape so I want to feel that satisfaction when I release it whenever that time will be.

Yoongi: That’s why you have to finish the whole thing while you’re at it...

Tae: Yes.

Yoongi: ...or else it takes too long to finish it. So, you have to finish it within that period.

Tae: Right.

Yoongi: I’m guessing you might’ve missed the time.

The thing though is that what Tae said, that if he doesn’t feel it, he won’t do it/finish it, that just shows how much of an artist he is, how much his art truly matters to him, and how important it is to him that his art, in this case his music, turns out just the way he wants it to or else he won’t finish it or release it. And while Tae might call this “irresponsible”, I don’t think it’s that in this case, or that it’s a sign of laziness either, though just like Jimin, I don’t want to invalidate his feelings either. All I want to bring across is how in the context of his music, this isn’t a weakness or flaw, even if it might seem like it, especially in their line of work with deadlines, schedules and plans made weeks and months in advance where, usually, you can’t just take a four month break.

So, in that regard, I can understand how it can feel like a flaw to him, make him feel guilty about it and sorry to the members who in this case might rely on him to get something done on time and he might not do it, or not without forcing himself to do it or being dissatisfied, you know what I mean?

Earlier today Tae was on weverse and answered a few questions about his mixtape (though I have a feeling it really is time for ARMY to stop asking him about it and just let him breath) where he said that even though he got a song from someone and made ten himself, even with that break he took according to his BE interview, the songs just aren’t what he wanted them to be and thus he decided to start again.

Some could say it’s again a case of him being irresponsible the way he characterized it during the RUN episode, that even though he said last year he was almost done and would release it soon it ended up being postponed and now he started over again, but once again I think it just shows how very important his music is to him, and therefore I’d actually call it a strength. It shows how valuable his artistic expression is to him, to create music the way he wants to, at his own pace, and only release it once he feels it’s right.

One more thing, just like I said in the intro of this post, Jimin and Tae jumping in to assure the other, reminded me of something Namjoon said during his Map of the Soul : 7 vlive last year:

The context is a little different, but I think it’s still valid here as well, how Tae and Jimin made excuses for each other, how Tae immediately softened how harsh Jimin’s own words about himself might come across, assured both us and Jimin that really he has a kind heart despite this weakness, and then also Jimin by saying that things aren’t as bad as Tae makes them seem either. It’s interesting to really see something play out in a manner similar to what another member said about them based on having been with Jimin and Tae for the last nearly ten years.

Whoever claims that BTS just play out concepts or “plots” and characters given to them by the company really should just take a seat and stop. I mean, sure they all have a sort of persona they embody in front of the camera, at least to a certain degree, they’ve spoken about that numerous times, but they are still humans with flaws and their own dynamics between each other away from the cameras which, logically, also come across on camera as well, not always but enough for us to pick up on it. And in this case, with these confessions during RUN, we saw something that we previously only really heard about happen right in front of us proving (not that they have to prove anything to us, of course, we should simply trust them and what they tell us) that it really is that way.

Here’s the anon I mentioned earlier:

From anon: It might just be me lol but I think rather than Jimin forgetting he's being filmed for a show (with all those members of staff as onlookers as well) and blowing a kiss at Tae / blowing on Tae's chest, he probably just noticed a tiny bit of lint or fluff on Tae's cardigan or mic and decided to blow it off... Of course, if that was the case, that still reveals their high level of intimacy and the fact that even when interacting infront of strangers they seem to be unable to stop showing exactly how tuned into each other they are... I don't think it's a coincidence that Na PD chose to ask Tae, of all the members, to verify Jimin's statement about his flaw. He was probably observing them all day and noticed how particularly close they were, even amongst all the extremely close members.

#vmin #Jimin #Taehyung #BTS #BTS RUN episode 141

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candycityy · 3 years

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51. "I'm your husband. It's my job."

Based on @levetras' super old headcanon.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

It's only when Levi strides into the med bay for the third time that week, looking none worse for the wear despite his self-proclaimed "flesh wound", when she finally catches on.

In her defence. The captain has always never been the type to admit to weakness of any kind, injury and sickness being no exception. So when he'd limped into the med bay earlier that week, claiming that he'd fallen off his horse, she'd actually been concerned. And when she'd failed to find any real injury on his person, she'd chalked it up to her own ineptness as a medic; after all, her medical experience extends only to the six months of training she'd gotten at the local medical school before joining the Survey Corps as a teenager.

She'd eventually discharged him, with only the slightest hint of suspicion emerging when the doctor had pronounced him in the pink of health, and he'd left without protest. The suspicion had grown slightly two days later, when he'd come in complaining of a stomachache, but point-blank refused to take any medicine.

"I just need to rest here for a bit," he'd insisted, and spent the rest of the day interrogating her about her pregnancy symptoms and honest-to-goodness taking down notes, quite as diligently as though he were in the middle of an inter-regimental strategy meeting. In fact, maybe more.

"Again?" she asks shrewdly, as her husband flops unconcernedly into his usual bed. "A flesh wound, really, Levi?"

To his credit, he looks at least a little bit abashed when he pulls up his pant leg, revealing nothing more or less than...a grazed knee.

It's so shallow, a toddler could probably walk it off.

"It might be infected," he tries, when Petra just stares at him in speechless incredulity.

"Infected." Her tone is flat and affectless, and she momentarily wonders if she's been spending too much with him.

He shrugs candidly. "You never know. Anyway, I'll be back in action tomorrow. Eld's taking over the cadet training today, no harm done." He swings his supposedly injured leg back over the edge of his bed with an easy grace, cracks open his notebook, and looks at her, suddenly alert. "So. How are you feeling today?"

Honestly. "Who's the medic here?" she demands, swabbing at his not-particularly-injured knee with a kind of aggressive impatience. He doesn't even flinch at the sting of alcohol, just flips through the notebook and mutters something under his breath.

It sounds, suspiciously, like "mood swings". Petra's temper flares.

"You don't have to babysit me, you know," she says, sweeping to her feet imperiously. "I am perfectly capable of handling myself. I'm pregnant, not an invalid, and I'm not even in the field. The cadets that you ditched today—"

"I didn't ditch anyone, I was injured in the line of duty."

"Ditched," she repeats with a ringing finality, "they're most definitely more in danger than I am."

"You never know," he drawls, "the ceiling might cave in on the med bay...there might be an epidemic. Hanji was just predicting one last week, something about bat-borne viruses..."

She pretends not to hear him.

"So, as your doctor," she says, signing off on his medical excuse form with more force than strictly necessary, "I declare you medically fit. Now get off your ass and back—into—the field." She punctuates each word by prodding him, hard, in the forearm, with her index finger.

He catches her hand mid-prod, ignoring her irritated exhale, his thumb brushing the silver ring that sits at her fourth knuckle. When he looks at her, his eyes are uncharacteristically soft, and she feels the indignation drain out of her, despite her best efforts.

Damn this man. She unsuccessfully tries to pull her hand out of his grip—to be fair, she doesn't try very hard—and eventually settles by muttering grumpily, "I can take care of myself. I don't nees to be protected, like some sort of china doll."

"You don't," he agreed. "But I'm your husband. It's my job."

Even after a year of marriage, Levi's words still occasionally have the power to strike her dumb. This is one of those times. She counts to ten in her head, and then leans over to gently rest her forehead against his, their hands still interlaced.

"I know," she murmurs. "And believe me, I'll keep you posted, okay? If I even feel the slightest hint that anything might be wrong. I promise I'll tell you, even if I have to strap 3DMG onto the doctor myself and send him running into the middle of a drill." Her lame attempt at humour is rewarded with a snort and a reluctant quirk of his lips, and she feels a small, pleased thrill.

"Fine. I'll stop ditching." He sighs; his breath is warm on her face. "But you better keep your promise, you brat."

"I will." She smiles at him, sweet as honey. "Now, get your malingering ass back to training before I tell the commander."

Drabble challenge!

#rivetra #levi x petra #attack on titan #levi ackerman #petra ral #aot fanfiction #candycity writes #thank you for the prompt!!#i had a long day and this was so much fun

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 3 years

Text

We Met Within This Screen [chapt. 6]

[Donnie x reader]

sfw, chapter 5 here

Come on, save it, save it, Donnie chanted to himself later that night, at home and tucked away in his room trying to figure out how to neutralize the situation. He paced along his bed back and forth, phone in hand as he wracked his brain thinking about how he'd get her to let it go. He could tell her that she was...overtired? Go the stereotypical route and say it was just her eyes playing tricks on her? Try to play it off as human teenagers messing around on the roof?

She'd gone to bed already. He hated that he couldn't pursue the subject until morning, her morning, but by then, he'd be tired. When she woke, he slept. But he needed to get it resolved as quickly as possible, so he reckoned it was time to pull an all nighter. Luckily, that wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

He figured he'd get the preliminaries out of the way so he could get right to it when she eventually texted back.

"Good morning

I know you're not awake yet but I figured I'd get an early start today.

I want to know, what exactly did you see last night?"

He shut his phone off and set it down on the bed, fingers rubbing his temples. Depending on her answer, this would either be difficult, or near impossible.

The rest of his time was spent just waiting around for her to finally wake up, dodging all his brothers and trying to occupy himself with something. He was fiddling with the radio he kept on the floor next to his bed when his phone notified him of a message. Turning the volume up, some old-school rock played softly. He didn't always keep music on when he worked, which was what he was doing felt like, but something needed to fill the silence. It also made it feel more casual to have the radio on, for both himself and for whoever might stop by his room.

"Good morning to you too

That was...sudden??"

How nice it was to read those words coming from someone who wasn't his family. Not that they said it like that often anyway, but the small gesture hit differently.

"I'm just really curious about what you said you saw."

Curious? Not quite. More like dying to know, and not because he fancied himself some cryptid hunting.

"That's fair I guess

But don't laugh, ok?"

"I'd never, [y/n]"

"Well

Okay

They were big

But no like not the overweight kinf, not even just 'tall guy' kind of big

kind*

You know?"

Yeah, I aware. I'm 6'8" and have a giant shell on my back.

"They?"

He was hoping she'd only seen one of them. Maybe it would have been easier, but, of course, that wasn't the case.

"I think there were two

Idk it just looked really weird, it was dark but the silhouette from the light made them look bulky, I don't know what it was"

Lips pursed tight, he looked up from his phone, and all of a sudden that music in the background was suffocating. He quickly reached over and shut it off. He needed to be able to divert all of his attention to one thing. Except, even though he should have been spazzing over her spotting them (even if just for a split second), a concern crept up in the back of his mind that made him scoff at himself. The need to know was too great.

His eyes fell on his scaled, three-fingered hand as he typed.

"Did it scare you?"

Perhaps it wasn't what he should have been focusing on. But he was. He knew she hadn't seen much, but what if she quipped that it was frightening, or gross, or…?

"I don't know, Bo

I guess it was kind of freaky

Uh, do you actually believe me? That I saw something?"

"'Freaky?'" he repeated to himself in a whisper, brow ridge furrowed. What was I expecting?

He had to shake himself of whatever was going on in his head at the moment, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Like what he was going to answer her question with. Theoretically, he could go two routes; one, invalidate the experience and try to walk on the line of telling her that it was not real without making her feel crazy. And then probably get mad at him. Or two, go along with it, if he didn't have the heart to do that to her. The answer was already here; he let out a deep sigh. Two, it is.

Nothing could make him want to make her feel that way, even if it meant he'd have to put in a little extra effort in fixing his mistake.

"I wouldn't doubt your judgement, [y/n]."

"Thanks

That makes me feel a lot better

You're a really good guy, Bo :)"

Freezing, he sat and stared at the screen before slowly taking the phone away from his face, lips moving, but no sound coming out. He had no idea what to say; all he could focus on was the fact that the girl he undeniably liked thought he was a good guy. And that, presumably, it meant she might have liked him as well. Big on the "might", he realized as the logical part of his mind took over once again. Regardless, he licked his lips and got to preparing a worthy response. He didn't want to come off as flustered as he felt. Donnie was aware he was not particularly suave—he took solace in the fact that she couldn't see his face or hear his voice. He contemplated on acting a bit more "cool guy" than he actually was, but wanted her to like him for him, not a facade. Which was a major contradiction to all that he had done up to that point, but the least he could do was be the person he was on the inside!

"You there?"

"Sorry, I got distracted…

You really think so?"

"That I think you're a great guy?"

"Well...yes."

"Totally. 100%"

His heart was going, he was stammering to himself, and a new feeling enveloped him. He was no stranger to the different emotions; he'd gotten familiar with many of them. Because though he didn't always show it, he had a lot of feelings. These, he felt most viscerally. But he had to get back on track. If he could push last night's incident under the rug, all would be well. More well than it already was, considering.

"Thank you, [y/n]

To be honest, I've never had a friend like you

So, do you want to talk more about what you saw? I know I'm switching tracks quickly, it's just very….interesting."

It was a jarring and awkward subject change, he knew that, but he desperately wanted to get it out of the way. The sooner, the better.

"I suppose

You seem pretty interested in it"

Maybe she wasn't hanging onto the experience like he'd thought she would. There were so many tales of people seeing inexplicable things and becoming enraptured by the experience that he guessed he should only expect the worst, but it appeared that she was not so obsessed. Crisis averted?

"Not too much, I was just wondering

We can forget about it."

"Oh, I'm not going to forget about it, Bo"

There it is, he thought, not surprised.

After thirty minutes of attempting to throw her off without coming off as suspicious himself, he had to take a breather, reorganize his mind. Only to come back and find that she had to go take care of things, and that she'd talk to him later. He'd done as much fixing as he could; at that point, it was as good as it was going to get. The thought of being looked for by his unknowing friend loomed about in the coming weeks as they did their patrols, when they would pass by her residence, and the times that he snuck off to stop by himself. Sometimes accompanied by Mikey, but he tried to keep it as solitary as possible. Soon, watching her on her balcony from that roof became part of his routine. He vaguely thought sometimes that watching her like that could be considered creepy, but that ship had already sailed.

For the third time in the last month he was there yet again, on the same roof, watching the same balcony, watching the same girl. Sometimes they texted, sometimes they didn't. The times he wasn't talking to her as he sat there were the times he daringly crossed the threshold onto the fire escape. There were only a few instances of that. But did he still feel out of his mind doing so? Yes. The window only looked into part of the living room and kitchen, but he felt scandalous to do it. Most of his time there was spent only with his shell against the wall next to the window, just out of sight. He could always hear her faint but noticeable footsteps coming and could easily vault the railing and climb up or drop down. She couldn't get past his keen hearing unless she knew to tread lightly.

Mikey was with him once again, this time out to look for scrap rather than patrol. He'd been buddied up with his younger brother more often ever since their talk that night in Donnie's room. They only stopped by because they were already out and had a viable excuse.

"Does she know about us? Like, me, Leo, Raph..." rambled Mikey, curious, as he practiced one of his new moves with his skateboard. He kicked up onto the ledge of the roof and skidded before hopping off, tucking the board under his arm. "You guys have been together like, what, two months? And she doesn't even know your name."

Fiddling with the strap reaching around his shoulder, Donnie replied matter-of-factly to hide the embarrassment that was ailing him at the thought, "Okay, for starters, we're not 'together'. And secondly, she hasn't mentioned voice chatting in a while."

"And?" He got back on his board, zooming by Donnie.

"My name? It just hasn't come up," Donnie shrugged.

"Call her, then!" Mikey smiled, still preoccupied with his board and trying out his new tricks. Donnie gave a light scoff and shook his head. His brother passed behind him where he sat leaned against the water tower.

"I don't want to just call her out of nowhere, Mikey, she might be asleep."

He also didn't want his brother there when he did.

"You gotta not be so shy!...oh, look, in the window. Right there. See? She's up," he quipped with a small smirk. The curtain was drawn, but the light had turned on at some point, and they could see her silhouette moving past. Donnie looked over his shoulder to say something but felt a hand slip into his pocket on the other side, stealing his phone right off of him. He was fast, but Mikey was faster in jumping into his board and gliding all the way to the other side of the roof with the fussy turtle hot on his trail.

"Mikey, quit it!" Donnie barked, lunging toward him for the phone.

"You'll thank me later!"

The two wrestled for the phone, Mikey holding it just out of reach as he tried to navigate the screen without dropping it.

"Come on," grunted Donnie as the tussle led them near the edge, where Mikey held it precariously over the alley below. His glasses were jostled off his face when a stray hand bumped them, causing them to fall amongst their feet. Squinting, he partially knelt down and searched for the pair while still looking at his brother and his phone, trying to stretch his arm long enough to snatch it. "Really?" he groaned, "just give me the phone!"

Donnie slung out his staff and used the other end to whack his wrist from underneath just as he pulled away from the edge, losing his grip on the phone. Mikey tried to catch it but it bounced off his hand, going right over the side of the roof and plummeting down into the alley.

Mikey froze. Donnie finally found his glasses.

Laughing nervously, Mikey turned back to him, "Whoops…"

When he didn't immediately find the phone on the ground, Donnie knew what happened. He looked over the edge, and there it was, sitting on the pavement in the alleyway. The building wasn't incredibly tall, but enough to do some major damage. He'd have to switch for one of his spares if he didn't want to deal with a busted-up screen.

"I don't need your 'help', Mikey, so leave it alone next time," Donnie said and gave him a narrow-eyed look, huffing as he leaped down to retrieve it.

Mikey may have been insistent, but he knew then it was time to stop. All he wanted to do was help. For his shy, flakey brother to come out of his shell (no pun intended). Donnie, at that time, had the biggest shot out of all of them for something unique and good. He hadn't yet worked out the logistics of how to bridge the gap between the two, but it was a calling of his to help him along.

Donnie watched for people from behind a corner before creeping out to get the phone, which was face down on the concrete. No doubt cracked to all hell if not completely shattered, though it did have a case.

But as he got closer, he heard a voice. From the phone.

He picked up the phone timidly and shot a glance up at the roof, where Mikey was peeking over the edge in apprehension. Without a word, Donnie activated the taser in his staff, pointing it at his brother and zapping it briefly. He flinched and retreated out of sight.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Bo?" she asked again, tone riddled with confusion. "What was that?"

"Uh, yes—hol—hold on, please," stammered out donnie, flying around the corner and pressing flat against the wall as a group of laughing people passed by the alley. "Just one second," he said nervously. Above him, Mikey was rapidly motioning for him to get up there, eyes wide and body trying to stay low. Baffled, Donnie gestured back at him, mouthing at him to keep his pants on for one more minute while he made his way up.

"Hey, what's going on there?" she inquired, concerned.

A street cat abruptly skittered out from between his legs from the dumpster he stood next to, and he had to stifle a startled yelp. He hopped up onto the nearest fire escape, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, hello…[y/n]," he half-chuckled, distracted by working up the building one-armed as he kept as quiet as possible.

"What was all that? And who's 'Mikey'?"

There was suddenly a shout—Mikey's shout—and his stomach did a jump. He sputtered as fast as he could, "I'm sorry [y/n] but this really isn't a good time, and I mean it really isn't," he pulled himself up onto the roof, and there was Mikey, fending off men clad in black, "so I have to go, but—"

"Don, dude! I need help over here!" cried his brother, sliding out of the way as a sword was jabbed towards him. He countered with a harsh uppercut to the man's chin, sending him stumbling backwards. The blade fell to the concrete with a clank.

"'Don'? Bo, what the hell?! Who is with you? And—"

Donnie jumped into the battle, a mix of nine or ten armed men with swords other weapons, and Mikey trying to stave them off, swinging his chucks with nothing short of reckless abandon. But he still didn't hit himself with them.

Ending the call, he secured the phone in his pocket. He wailed the guy closest to him in the side of the head with the heavy staff, then kicked him in the chest. The man fell to the blow, and Mikey ducked underneath the length of Donnie's weapon just in time as the two came together. Stray bullets flew past them, some colliding with their shells as they spun around for protection.

"How was it?!" Mikey yelled over the clamor, breathless. Donnie sidestepped from the rapid hit he sent towards the human to his left.

"What are you talking about?!" Donnie loudly questioned, flummoxed of what could have been going on in his brain during a fight. "We're kind of in the middle of something here!"

"Your phone call!"

"Yeah, the hell's the talkin' about, Don?" a gruff voice cut through the jumble.

Both of the boys whirled around to see their older brothers there, weapons drawn.

"Oh, right. As soon as I saw those bad guys coming, I let them know," said Mikey casually to Donnie, throwing his fist into the face of the man coming up behind him. "You know, standard biz."

With the rest of the team there, the fight was over twice as fast. Some groaning in pain and some unconscious bodies littering the area, along with their weapons. Leo finished the last one and sheathed his swords, eyes on their tallest brother while Raph kept watch around them. Donnie swallowed as Leo approached him.

"Don, you said you were going out for scrap metal," Leo stated.

In the background, Mikey grabbed his skateboard and was going to try to kickflip over one of the knocked out guys, but Raph yanked the board from him, growling. He checked all of the men to make sure they were down and would stay down.

"We were...just on our way back?" Donnie answered. Nearby, there was a small pile of scrap he'd collected, though definitely not enough to justify being out that long.

"So you stopped at your friend's place?" Leo deadpanned, crossing his arms. "Didn't you think that this could get her in trouble, too? Her apartment's right there, dude!"

Mikey budded in and corrected him, "Ah, we stopped by [y/n]'s. And nah! It's all good."

Donnie's face twitched. "Of course I thought about it! That's why I've only come here three times since, and only thirty minute intervals!" he bit back, throwing his hands up. The rest of his brothers all looked at him and his specificity. "I'm not naive, Leo."

The leader pushed past the both of them, signalling that it was time to leave, and they followed. Not before Donnie got what little metal he had collected and put away his staff, tucking the stuff under his arm. Raph joined alongside Donnie as they ran. "What's with all the secret' stuff, Don? First, ya hide it to begin with, then, ya make out like you were done, and now you get jumped by Foot guys by her place when you shoulda been gettin' scrap!" he said. "How were we supposed to cover for ya if you're lyin' even after we let you off?"

"Technically, I did get some!" Donnie remarked. He held up a piece of the scrap for him to see, and Raph snorted. "But..."

Well, his question would be a little harder to answer.

Next block was the nearest manhole, where each turtle swiftly jumped in, knowing by heart (and years of wandering) most of the sewers and the way back home. In some tunnels was Mikey's telltale graffiti, but it was scattered throughout the place enough to not be a giant arrow to their hideout. In the last portion of the run was the tunnel they always slid down, and once they were actually home, Donnie knew what was coming. Master Splinter was already waiting for them by the time they arrived.

"Uh-oh," Mikey said upon seeing him, sinking behind his brothers. Raph pushed him back up front.

Dropping the scrap in his arms, Donnie squeaked, "That's not good." He quietly cursed how high pitched his voice became when he was nervous.

"Yeah…" Leo cleared his throat, looking down at his hands clasped in front of him. The situation had an awkward tension for everyone in it, save for Raph, who was immune to it by then and Splinter himself. "We took care of the soldiers," he added more seriously. "Got out of there before too much attention was drawn.

"The police may be able to handle them from here, but it will not make a dent in the Shredder's forces," explained Splinter, grave as he paced along the line of brothers. "He owns the city. Until I say so, there will be no venturing to the surface. You are all lucky to be unharmed."

"That ain't it," Raph piped up. "But they'll be bringin' the big guns, next time."

"Oh, I am well aware."

"Um...of which thing?" the nervous turtle questioned, exchanging glances to Raph and then Mikey.

Splinter raised his brows knowingly, and that was all it took for Donnie. The floodgates of his signature anxious chatter opened. He grabbed the edge of Mikey's shell and pulled him over into the spotlight with him, "I met someone over an online game and we started texting after a few weeks, and—and Leo found out and I said I would stop, but we never told you," he gestured toward their brother in blue, who refused to make eye contact, "so I told her that it was through and then Mikey somehow convinced me to go back on it," he sucked in a breath, and Mikey grinned uncomfortably, "and then we started talking again and I don't know why, but I went back there to her apartment building and it was just…stupid."

There was a cumbrous pause. Donnie was stiff as a board, Mikey couldn't look at any one thing too long, Leo stood in his polite but awkward stance, and Raph started to whistle.

As poised as ever, Splinter spoke. "I know."

All four pairs of eyes shot to their father.

"What?"

"Uh..."

"Huh?"

"Wait."

They expressed their collective confusion at the same time, and Splinter chuckled. Donnie wanted nothing more than to be able to retreat into his shell, but that was physically impossible. "Nothing gets past me, especially not you and your nervous habits, Donatello. You are scratching that spot on your neck again, son."

Flinching, Donnie pulled his hand away. He'd be damned; Splinter was right.

But unbeknownst to them, there had been spectator of their fight on the roof that night.

————————————————————————————————

shh do not think too deeply about this my children

a/n: haha plot device go brrrr

i need to finish this cursed fanfiction

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poguesrforlife · 4 years

Text

Young and Beautiful | Rudy Pankow - Part 4

I have to apologise... THIS TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG! I am truly so sorry and I hate how this came out and it feels like a stupid filler and ugh. I hope you guys still love it. Again can't thank you enough for all the support! Tagging all of you lovely people took nearly as long as writing this (just kidding) but you guys truly I Love you. In the next chapters be prepared for: angst and smut and a whole roller coaster of Rudy and Y/N.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Trigger warning: swearing? pretty harmless otherwise

Word count: 2,074 words

Y/N just got the role of her lifetime, starring beside the cast of Outer Banks in the second season as JJ’s love interest. It’s a dream come true and gets even dreamier when she meets Rudy Pankow her alleged love interest. Lines start to blur between reality and film and Y/N is left wondering if taking a leap of faith is worth risking her career.

[GIF not mine credits to owner]

The salty scent of chicken stock filled the apartment as you stirred the wooden spoon through your concoction clockwise. All bright lights were shut off except the one above the stove, lulling the place in darkness. You could barely make out the two suffering figures on the couch.

“I think my head is going to explode,” Madelyne whined dramatically and snuggled deeper into her blanket which made you chuckle.

“Stop whining!” Madison whined right back and rubbed her temples, hugging a trash can close to her.

Both of your friends were currently nursing a really bad hangover and you had been assigned as their caretaker for today, as you were wondrously quite alright after your adventurous night out.

“You both are babies,” You pointed out and transferred the soup you had prepared to two bowls.

With a tray loaded with hangover cures you made your way to the living room and the two invalids.

“What’s that?” Madelyn peeked up when the scent of the soup hit her. You could only laugh at her big brown hungry eyes.

“Pelmeni soup, a hangover cure from home. It’s basically broth with some special dumplings.” You handed her the bowl carefully and watched as she eagerly began eating.

Madison however was harder to convince.

“If I eat anything right now it will land on the carpet three seconds later,” She warned and hugged her trash can closer.

“Believe me, it’s gonna help,” You passed the bowl over to her suspicious face, “Just eat it. You need the electrolytes.”

“It’s that what the Gatorade is for?” Maddie inclined and tried reaching for the blue bottle without spilling the contents of her soup.

“Yeah,” You laughed and helped her reach the bottle.

Content silence ensued as you watched your friends eating without complaining once. When you thought they were satisfied for now you made your way back to the kitchen to check up on your phone. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered when you saw the messages on your screen.

Rudy: - Am I the only 1 who’s not turned into a whining baby last night? -

Chase won’t stop complaining about his headache -

Yesterday was definitely more fun… a lot more x -

Do u have a hangover as well? I could take care of you, rather than Chase -

Miss u already <3 -

You couldn’t help but feel a little mad at yourself for having such a strong liver. You wished Rudy would take care of you right now, but instead you were stuck with tweedledum and tweedledee.

You: - I’m doing surprisingly fine after the tequila fiesta I had -

Though I am familiar with the whining concept… -

Just made some hangover soup from home, if u wanna get some for Chase -

U know so u wouldn’t have to miss me anymore x -

You felt quite bold after sending that last message but you couldn’t help the longing all your body seemed to have for the blonde boy that had enthralled you last night.

A minute after the blue ticks appeared next to your message there was a knock on your door.

The Maddies groaned from the living room at the loud noise and you hurried towards the source.

A smiling Rudy was staring back at you as you swung the entrance door open.

“Wow, you are quick,” You breathed out surprised and stepped aside so he could come in.

“Had some good motivation,” He whispered and left a soft kiss on your cheek as he hugged you sideways. You could already feel the blood rushing to your head by the simple gesture.

He gave you his signature Rudy smile as he saw your flushed cheeks but you only rolled your eyes and pushed him towards the kitchen.

“Who’s that?” Bailey screamed from the other room which made Rudy pivot in his step and make his way towards your invalids.

“G’day sunshines,” He greeted the two blanket burritos loudly. Without hesitation he flipped the lights on. Devastated groaning could be heard from the two girls.

“Oh my God, why did you invite him?” Madison whimpered and buried her head deeper into the blanket.

“He is literally the biggest pain in the ass,” Madelyn agreed and slurped on with her soup.

“Geez, I love you guys too,” Rudy fired back and let you pull him back into the separated kitchen.

“I feel sorry for you, Chase is not even half as bad as them and you have two,” He admitted and followed your body instinctively as you leaned against the counter.

“We should pile all of them into one apartment,” You thought out loud and watched as he cornered you between his arms and the counter. His muscled arms on either side of you and the proximity of his body to yours drove your hormones crazy and you had to cross your arms to keep from touching him.

“So we would have an apartment to ourselves?” His eyes rested on your lips as he spoke, not seeing how you rolled your eyes. But either way you couldn’t ignore the effect these words had on you.

“So we could take better care of them,” You finished your thought in a serious tone and unwound your arms to push him back a bit.

He was quick to catch your wrist however and pull you even closer towards him. “I can take real good care of you, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, you didn’t miss the innuendo. Some part of you would have kissed him senseless right there if the girls weren’t in the room next door.

A whole other part however was nagging with self-doubt.

You were scared to your bones to screw this up. Not only your friendship, or relationship or whatever this was, with Rudy, but also your very first shot at a break in the business.

What if you fell in love? And he didn’t? What if you couldn’t look at each other at some point?

It was eating you alive to only think about all the risks you were taking at this. But a bigger part of you wanted him, needed him. Yesterday night only made the feeling worse.

“What’s going through your pretty head?” The blonde Adonis in front of you whispered. All your worries seemed to wash away as you locked eyes with him.

“Nothing,” You shook your head and nestled closer to him. Body to body, heart to heart and finally mouth to mouth.

He lowered his lips on yours gently, so different from last night, so sweet. You would never get tired of kissing him, of feeling the soft pillows of his lips move against yours. You broke away from him before it got too heated, remembering the two girls next door.

“So,” He breathed heavily, clearly shaken up by the little make-out session, as his hands went though his hair, “Should I get Chase?”

You laughed at his disheveled appearance, a little proud that you could make him behave like that with just a kiss.

You nodded and left another kiss on him, slightly biting his bottom lip and dragging it out while staring at him. His lips chased after yours as his eyes widened. But you were quick to sneak out of his hold and towards the living room.

“Little tease,” He chastised you and smirked as he left the apartment.

“Where did the little mischief maker go?” Madison inquired as she heard the door slam.

“Getting Chase,” You explained and plopped down on the edge of the couch to hand her the still full bottle of Gatorade.

“Is he hungover as well?” Madelyne inclined and you noticed immediately how she tried to fix her hair a bit and sat up straighter. You were more than convinced at this point that something was going on between them.

You just nodded and waited for the two boys to come around again. Rather sooner than later a sleepy Chase with his grey beanie shuffled into your apartment, followed by Rudy.

“I heard there’s soup,” He muttered before he scooted closer to his on film lover and Maddie lifted her blanket to share it with the boy.

You just laughed but prepared him a bowl before joining the others.

“No soup for me?” Rudy asked offended and raised an eyebrow at you.

“You’re not sick, get yourself some.” You watched as he stood up reluctantly and heard a muttered ‘tough woman’ under his breath as he passed you on his way to the kitchen to fix himself some of the homemade food.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with movies and more soup as you nursed your friends back to health. You made a point of sitting as far away from Rudy as possible. You knew you couldn’t trust yourself or him for the matter. If you wanted to keep this to yourself you needed to be careful. But the constant looks he sent your way every few minutes didn’t really help. Admittedly you couldn’t help staring at him as well.

How could you? His jawline was perfectly chiseled like an ancient greek sculptor had brought it into existence. His lips too plumb and rosy for their own good. And his eyes… you could drown in his deep ocean blue eyes.

Madison cleared her throat slightly when she caught you staring and you immediately turned your head and blushed in embarrassment. So much for being careful.

“You guys,” Madelyn suddenly stopped the Disney movie playing on the flat screen and sat up straighter. You were sure she had fallen asleep with Chase a long time ago after they had whispered underneath their blanket. You hadn’t paid them anymore attention, granting them some privacy and also because you were too busy staring at the blond haired man that had thrown your whole world upside down just a couple hours before.

“We need to tell you something,” Chase went on and you immediately knew where this was headed.

“Oh I know where this is going!” Madison exclaimed and sat up straighter. You chuckled slightly at her eagerness but threw her a wink, signalling that you knew as well.

“No you don’t!” Madelyne argued but the arm Chase had thrown around her protectively didn’t really help her.

“You two are dating,” Rudy threw into the room unbothered and reached for the remote to un-pause the movie. You had to suppress a laugh at his carelessness and the looks on your two friends’ faces.

“Oh my God! That is brand new information!” You screamed sarcastically which earned you a couple laughs from your friends while Chase and Maddie still had quite shocked expressions on their faces.

“You knew?” Chase’s mouth hung open as he looked between you, only now realising how they screwed up.

“You weren’t really subtle about it to be honest,” You explained and let your eyes wander to their close proximity on the couch.

“Well, cat’s outta the bag,” Maddie agreed with a shrug and cuddled closer into Chase, totally unbothered and without a care in the world what anybody else might think. You couldn’t help but be a bit jealous about it.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Rudy inquired and you perked up. This you wanted to hear.

“I don’t know,” Chase admitted and looked into Madelyne’s eyes for her reassurance, “We just didn’t want to rush into things that might not be made to last. It was important for us to know where the two of us stand alone before getting anybody else involved.”

You smiled as you saw the loving glances passed between the couple and you were more sure than ever, that this was pure love. They had taken a leap of faith and it had worked out in their favour.

You couldn’t help yourself but search for Rudy during this moment. To your amazement he was already looking back at you. His sweet smile sent your way made you warm from your head to your toes. You knew you weren’t there with him yet, where Chase and Maddie were, but if you interpreted the gaze on his handsome face right, you had a feeling you could be there some day. But you would also take it slow. No more rushed unthoughtful acts of passion. You had to act rational about this if you wanted any chance of surviving his hurricane. You knew all too well how easy it was to drown in him and his ocean blue eyes.

Tags: @lovelymaybankk @sspidermanss @1d5sosddl@arthiriticcricket @teamnick @lieswithoutfairytales @styles-xoxo@normatural @k-k0129 @mileven-reddie @perfektionsmakel @1-800-imagines @http-cherries @golden-eroda @outofstyles13 @jj-maybank-stan @fandom-phaser @hopelesswritingxd@teenwaywardasgardian @poguecollins @jjswhore @xpastel-kawaiix@styles-edward-harry @rollinsstuff @obx-baby @masintahin@floretsoleil @ivebeenthinkingboutu @fandomxreaders@ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @pookie-cleary @kiarascarreras@runway-to-my-aid @saturnspack @sunshinemadds@hucklebaefinn @baileythepenguin @spider6oy@whoreforouterbanks @diego-klaus-hargreeves @saltwatercowb0y @lavenderpope @prejudic3 @summer-clouds-and-long-days @lcil123 @swervavery @poguequeen @ellystone @outsider-at-hogwarts @cianawrites @harrysbbby @milamaybank @drewswannabegirl @jjaybank @merchantjj @lilpeekabooze @outerbongs @pankowstyle @family-buisnes @flowersinvegas @thefangirl05 @katrynec @ceruleanjj @o-b-x @justcallmesams @lightninglydia @this-is-bigger-than--us @thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars @sweetdreamydreams @faded-blue @unfortunatekiwitrash @losers-club6 @usedtobeaj @btsxo-xo @figure-pogue @yejimeji @voidsxnsets @dudebroskiprn @giveme-gaskarth @cailin-lefantasy @obx-writings @otrbnks @barnesaddicted @thebendslikebendover @fxckingmaybank

(I hope I didn’t miss anyone! If you’re not on here but would like to be send me a quick message xx)

#rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow fanfiction #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow smut #Outer Banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank smut #jj fanfic #jj fanfiction #JJ Imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #by poguesrforlife

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