#my brain went ‘oh it’s time to be mildly dramatic in a way only i’ll understand!’ at the end

[starstruckodysseys]

sometimes a family is a child who keeps pieces of every shameful memory in order to keep himself from feeling happy, the aforementioned child’s best friend who is also a dog, and the very large man with a bunch of mildly uncomfortable fun facts ordered to murder the aforementioned child

(and also a detective who’s bad at his job and is trying to keep this child alive, a semi-kleptomaniac not-so-fatal femme fatale, the local bartender who fucking hates this child, and a reporter trying to find the biggest scoop she can even though she keeps getting overshadowed by unimportant stories. but i’m not so sure they’ve reached familial status yet.)

#i relate to the fix not because he’s big and strong and intimidating #but because i also have a bunch of ultra specific fun facts stored in my brain and emotionally adopted conrad the moment i saw him #dimension 20 #d20 #mentopolis #mentopolis spoilers #kind of?? just in case #conrad schintz #the fix #hunch curio #imelda pulse #dan fucks #anastasia tension #is this ANYTHING #my brain went ‘oh it’s time to be mildly dramatic in a way only i’ll understand!’ at the end #so. yeah

[harryhandstan]

This is my contribution to @meetmeinfleetwood​‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I chose the trope roommates to lovers and the prompt “I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.” This was fun to write thank you for allowing me to participate!

Thank you to my beta readers @tbslenthusiast​, @witch-harry​, and @sunflowers-styles​! Y’all are the best!!

no warnings that I can think of other than alcohol tw // bc of the wine they share!

word count: 2.3k

writing tag | masterlist

It’s 5:45 p.m. when you finally leave work for the day. You should’ve just said to hell with it and went home at 5:30 like you were supposed to, but you were nice enough not to. Too nice you’d been told in the past, but it’s a flaw you’re willing to accept if it gets you a promotion to the position you ultimately dreamed of working when you started there 3 years ago.

After a quick stop to grab a bottle of wine (or two), your car can’t get you home fast enough. It’s Friday and you’re looking forward to spending time doing absolutely nothing for the next two days but curling up in a blanket and watching Christmas movies in the apartment you will essentially be alone in. Your roommate Harry shared the space with you, but kept to himself for the most part. Aside from dinners and movie nights on rare occasions when your schedule lined up, allowing you to spend the evening together.

As if your thoughts summoned him, your phone dinged, indicating a new message. Your eyes dart down to where it sits in the passenger seat, careful to keep your eyes on the car in front of you, waiting patiently for the light to turn red so you can grab your phone to respond.

It’s one simple word, “Home?” so you know he’s either still working or on his own drive home. 

Your reply is just as direct, “Not yet. On my way! Movie night?” 

The light’s green again so you tuck your phone back into your purse, ignoring the next ding until you arrive home. You’re through the door of your apartment and down the hall before you read his message, “Sure. Chinese or pizza?” 

“Chinese! I’ll pick the movie and you pay for dinner?”

“That doesn’t sound fair :(”

“Alright fine, you get home before I’m out of the shower and in my pajamas you can pick the movie..deal?”

“Deal!”

The race is on then, both of you competitive and determined to win. You have a movie in mind that you’ve been dying to watch all day and you don’t want to have to rock-paper-scissors to break the tie like you usually do when the two of you don’t agree on who wins  these little games. 

You’d already shed most of your layers of clothing easily as you moved through the apartment; your boots kicked off by the door, jacket gone and thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, cardigan pulled from your body and tossed on the bed by the time you made it to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long to strip the rest away and to gather a set of pajamas from your well organized drawer before darting across the hall to the shared bathroom.

You know you have at minimum 45 minutes to be done, an hour if he goes to the better Chinese place a little further across town, which he most likely would. You’d been dreaming of ending your week with a bubble bath, but you don’t take the chance now, just hop under the hot spray of the shower, hoping it will have the same relaxing effect. Your eyes are closed as you tilt your head back to wet your hair while one hand fumbles over the bottles to find your shampoo. 

Eyes still closed, you tip the bottle to add a bit to your hand, but you freeze when you open your eyes temporarily to close the bottle and put it back on the shelf. It’s Harry’s shampoo you’ve grabbed instead and for a moment you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how many times you’ve teased him about how expensive his products are. But he would never let you hear the end of it if he came home and you smelled like him. Ultimately you would’ve felt too guilty to waste it, so you work it through and hope he never finds out. Pray that the act washes away just like the suds do when you rinse them from your hair. 

By your hopeful calculations, you still have about 10 minutes left before he arrives by the time you're done in the shower. You decide to give him a fair advantage, venturing into the kitchen to decide which bottle of wine would pair best with dinner. When you make your selection, you pour yourself a glass, settling into a comfy spot on the couch. The black remote taunts you from the small wooden coffee, and you grab it. No harm in getting the movie ready while you wait, right?

You’re 2 glasses deep and 20 minutes into the movie when he arrives, a smirk on his face at the sight of you. Your eyes go wide when you see him. You’re not sure why, there had been many nights he’d found you in the same position, but tonight feels different. You gulp down the sip of wine, too tipsy and unaware that you’re staring. Had his dimples always been that prominent when he smiled? Even without your glasses you could spot that grin that stretched a mile wide across his face.

“Haroldddd..you’re home!”

He hated that nickname, had always despised when other people called him that, but falling from your lips it sounds like a prayer and he would gladly change his name to that if he thought it would make you the least bit happy.

“S’pose I lost, huh? Got the food pretty quickly but stopped to get this,” He holds up a bottle of wine, ironically the very same kind that you’re drinking now, “Shoulda known y’would already have some!”

“Oh good, you got some for yourself..this one’s almost empty..”

“M’not that late, am I?” He chuckles as he makes his way to the counter, looking between you and the bottle.

“Hey..it’s a small bottle! This is only my third glass and I’ve barely even touched it.”

“Rough day?” He’s pulling plates down now and retrieving a glass for himself from the cabinet.

“Rough week. Rough few weeks, really.” You take a few more sips as you watch him prepare a plate of food. You figure he’s just making his own, and you wait patiently for him to finish so you won’t be in the way. But when he makes his way around the counter, he’s holding two plates in his hand and wow you want to jump from your spot and kiss him. You restrain yourself, as hard as it may be, and try to focus on the question he’s asking you.

He holds the plates towards the table and then towards where you sit on the couch, silently wanting to know where you’d prefer to enjoy your meal. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to move closer, knowing how much effort it would take to lift yourself from your warm, comfy spot to go eat at the table.

“Emily still on vacation?” 

“Yes! And she expects us to do double the work while she’s gone! It’s her 3rd vacation this year. I know she’s the boss but..”

“Doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch to you.” He finishes your sentence for you, brow furrowed, upset at even the idea of someone mistreating you in the slightest. 

“Right! Thank you!” 

You hold your hand out to accept the plate he’s made for you, “Got our usual, hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I was just joking earlier about you paying for all of it. I’ll pay you back for my half.”

He’s already shaking his head no, stuffing a bite of food in his mouth, “It was my turn anyway, r‘member? You paid for those tacos we had last week.”

“Right, I did. Forgot about that.”

You watch him devour a few more bites, your eyes darting from your plate to his, “Yours looks better.”

“Huh?”

Maybe it’s the wine making you more bold, you’d normally never complain, “Your plate it just..looks better than mine. Switch with me.”

“It’s literally the same thing..and I’ve already eaten half the noodles off mine.” He looks mildly annoyed at even the suggestion.

“Don’t care..it looks better. Switch.” You realized just how bratty you sound, so you add a quick, “Please?”

He huffs dramatically, switching the plates and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Happy?”

You return his smile, blissfully unaware of his annoyance in your tipsy state, “Very, thank you.”

You both turn your attention to the tv you realize now you had forgotten to pause, so the movie had progressed further, about 30 minutes in now.

His irritation has already faded when he asks, “What are y’making me watch?”

You start to explain the plot but stop mid-bite of your food, “Wait..have you never seen this movie?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t look familiar.”

“Oh we’re definitely starting it over then!” 

“No, ya don’t hafta..”

It’s too late, you’ve already discarded your now mostly empty plate of food, nearly knocking your glass of wine over in your excitement of making him watch one of your favorite movies.

Almost an hour in, you don’t notice that Harry’s eyes have drifted to you. In fact, they’d mostly stayed on you since you’d restarted the movie. Your facial expressions were better to him than any movie; the way your eyes softened at the more heartwarming parts, or when your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ and gasped at parts he was certain you had probably seen at least a dozen times before.

You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically and he doesn’t even flinch, just listens intently when you say, “I love this part..this is the moment.”

His eyes temporarily flash back to the tv then, “The moment?”

“Yeah, you know, the moment. Where the guy looks at the girl and realizes he’s in love.” You sigh deeply, “I always wanted someone to look at me like that.”

Oh, you mean like what’s happening now between us? God he hopes for just a glance from you, a chance to show you that you’re living your own moment now if you’d just look at him. 

It’s tumbling out of his mouth quicker than he can stop it, his mouth working faster than his brain, but it’s a low enough whisper he thinks maybe you won’t hear.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.”

You do hear him, though you don’t believe it at first. Your hand is still resting over your heart, searching his face for any sign of teasing or dishonesty.

“H..did you just..?”

He’s looking down at his hands, fingers fiddling with one of the rings adorning his fingers, nodding before replying, “I did.” 

“How long?”

“Um..since the first week we’ve lived together? That first night we made dinner together and it was a disaster. Thought you were gonna catch the place on fire.” A giggle escapes him at the memory of you, rushing around the kitchen that night, face flushed red and hair a mess.

“That’s my moment? Almost burning our apartment down?”

“That and now, yeah. Just been strugglin’ with the best way to tell you. S’pose the wine’s making me a lil’ more fearless,'' He takes a deep breath, still not able to look at you in case he finds even a hint of rejection on your face, “But I understand if you don’t feel the same..”

“I do.”

His head snaps to look at you then, eyes widening for a second before he composes himself, “Really?”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms across your face at the sight of the thrill in his eyes. There’s a new buzz of elation in the air, but neither of you make a move at first. A pleasant tension fills the space between the two of you.

You break the silence, “So..what do we do now?”

“S’all up to you how fast and how far we take this. M’all in though, ready when you are, love. A cuddle might be nice while we finish the movie, if you’re up f’that.”

“I think I could handle that. I want something else first though.”

He’s trying to read your mind, thinks he knows exactly what it is, but he wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear the words he’s been waiting to hear for what feels like a lifetime now.

“Kiss me, Harry.”

You’ve already turned your body towards him; the movie, the food and the wine all long forgotten. He clears the space between the two of you easily, a hand on the side of your neck to add just enough pressure to pull you towards him.

Your lips crash against his, noses bumping at first but it doesn’t stop you, it only makes you crave him deeper and closer. You press your knees into his thighs, pushing yourself up so that you hover over him, your hair falling around his face. It’s still slightly damp from the shower, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your head now. 

There’s a smug look on his face when he pulls away, a hand still placed on your hip to hold you steady. He’s still breathless when he asks, “Did you use my shampoo?”

When you wake up in his bed the next morning, you question if last night was a mistake. You don’t regret it, not for a second, just wonder if maybe things will be different in the morning light. 

So when you barely touch the plate of eggs and toast he’s made for you for breakfast, he worries you’re having second thoughts about him, that he’s ruined any friendship you’ve already built by rushing into a relationship. 

So when you say, “Did you really mean what you said last night..about loving me?” He visibly relaxes, dropping his shoulders and beaming at you from across his own breakfast plate.

“Oh, darlin’,” He plucks a piece of uneaten toast from your plate, winking at you as he does, “You don’t know the half of it.” 

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - John Watson x Reader - Better Late Than Never - Words: 2,679

A/N: This was the prompt: Reader went to med school with John, she liked him but never told him so. John gets deployed and they lose contact. A few years later they meet again because of a case.

"C'mon, Y/N," John laughed. "If you don't study for the test tomorrow, I won't give you the ice cream I bought!" 

"Is it Death By Chocolate?" You replied, raising your head only slightly from it's spot on the floor. 

"Maybe," He replied with a smirk. The two of you were in your dorm, trying to study for the quarter finals. You were in your 6th and final year of med school. You'd met about halfway through your 2nd year and had instantly become close friends. Small displays of affection were normal between the two of you, the type that best friends would share without giving a second thought. John didn't have a clue, but you had developed quite the crush on him. You never told him, though, for fear of messing up the one good friendship you had. 

"John!" You groaned, dramatically sprawling out further on the carpet. "I think my brain has died." You had been trying to remember everything you'd studied and were coming up blank. 

"Hm, I'm studying to be a doctor, not a coroner, but I would say time of death was somewhere between 6 years ago and now," He teased, leaning over you from his nearby perch on your futon. Pretending to be mad, you threw your foot up and kicked his leg. 

"You git!" You exclaimed with a grin.

"Oi!" He replied, dramatically tumbling to the floor next to you. You both lost yourselves in a fit of giggles. You stopped laughing and just stared at him when your brain caught up with your eyes and you had one of your "moments". He looked so happy lying there next to you, laughing his head off. His hair was a mess, his jumper had gotten abit twisted and was creeping up his torso, and his eyes were bright with tears of laughter. "You ok, Y/N?" He asked when he noticed you had stopped laughing. 

"Yeah, just thinking," You replied quickly. 

"Ok, as long as it's nothing serious," He said. "Really, if anything is bothering you, you can talk to me. You've been zoning out more often recently so," He looked away, a bit embarrassed. "I was worried."

"I'm fine, John," You replied, not having the guts to tell him what was really on your mind. 

About a year later, only 3 months after graduation, John called you. You still kept in touch, although you lived in different cities now, and your feelings hadn't changed. John had dated a few different girls but nothing ever worked out. You, though? You had gone on one date but left halfway through when the guy wouldn't shut up about himself and asked if you were splitting the check. John had told you he had applied at a small clinic near his apartment so you assumed his call was to update you on that. "Hey!" You said, picking up immediately.

"Uh, hey, Y/N," He said, sounding fairly upset. "Look, I," He sighed. "You remember that I enlisted a few months ago?"

"Yes," You replied, a lump forming in your throat. 

"I've just gotten my deployment letter. They're sending me to Afghanistan. I leave this Friday." Silent tears streamed down your face and you found yourself unable to reply. "Y/N? Are you still there?" He asked.

"Yeah," You choked out. "Yeah, I'm still here, John. I, well, I guess I should wish you well then." You pinched the bridge of your nose and breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of yourself. 

"Look, I know you're not a fan of the military but can't you at least congratulate me? This is something I wanted after all."

"Is it? Is it really?" You nearly yelled. "You didn't sound all that cheery two minutes ago when I picked up the phone! Besides, how could I congratulate you when all I can see is you getting blown to bits out there!"

"Sorry," He replied immediately. "That, that wasn't fair of me to ask." You both were silent for a moment before John spoke up again. "I'll write." 

"Not with that handwriting you won't, " You replied, falling back into your regular banter. 

"I'll try to make it legible for you," He promised. You nodded, though he couldn't see you, and started crying again.

"Alright," You said. "Can I drive over Friday and see you off?" 

"Best not," He said. "I think it's better for both of us, yeah?" You reluctantly agreed. The two of you chatted for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Shaking off the foreboding feeling that had settled on you, you continued with your day and started planning your first letter to him. 

The first few weeks went well, his letters arriving regularly on Friday's without fail. Then one week it came on Monday instead, the next on Wednesday, and soon two weeks passed without a letter. When you finally received it, he said that they had gotten to a point where it was getting harder and harder to safely send a receive mail. He asked for you to stop all letters and promised to find you again when, or if, he got home. That night you wrote him one final letter but, of course, never sent it. You were determined to move on with life now but you promised yourself to never forget him.

"Good morning, Molly," You said walking into the hospital with her. You'd moved to London and gotten a job at St. Bart's, working in the outpatient clinic. A few weeks after starting there, you'd met Molly while on break. You exchanged numbers and started meeting in the cafeteria if you both had breaks at the same time. In time you met Sherlock. What an experience that had been. He immediately deduced which department you worked in, how long you'd been there, where you went to college, when you went to college and he even figured out that you'd been in love with someone in uni and never got over them. Needless to say, you were impressed. Ever since then he texted you occasionally for confirmation on medical related hypotheses.

"Good morning, Y/N," Molly replied. 

"Have you heard from Sherlock recently? I haven't gotten any texts from him in the past few weeks." Molly chuckled and nodded. 

"I've heard from him. He has a new flatmate. A doctor too!" 

"Wow!" You replied. "Good for him! Let me know next time he comes by so I can meet him. I'd like to know who my replacement is," You teased. Molly giggled and you continued chatting as you walked over to the elevator. As the doors were about to close, you heard someone yell.

"Hold the lift!" You slammed the open doors button and Sherlock ran in. He nodded at you and you let go of the button. The doors started to slide closed again when another person called out.

"Sherlock!" You froze hearing that voice. You tried to get the doors in time but missed.

"Y/N?" Molly asked, worriedly. "Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost!" You nodded and leaned on the wall, trying to get yourself together. You decided to ride up to Molly's floor and see if Sherlock's friend came up on the next lift. Sherlock kept staring at you, confused, while you sat there waiting. A few minutes later, he came storming in the door. 

"Sherlock! What were you thinking? Why didn't you hold the lift for me? I had to wait for the next one which happened to-"

"John," You gasped, amazed that it actually was him standing in front of you. "John!" You exclaimed, jumping up and running over.

"Y/N!" He replied, a grin spreading on his face. His smile faltered quickly though. "I," He said. "I need to be going. I forgot I had an appointment. Yeah. That's it. I'll see you at the flat, Sherlock." John quickly limped out the door and off to the elevator.

"He's the one, isn't he?" Sherlock said after a few moments. You nodded sadly. 

"Why'd he run off like that?" You asked. 

"Well it's obvious he didn't have an appointment. That leaves two possible reasons for his lying. One he could be-"

"Oh shut up, Sherlock!" You cried. "I know why he left. I-" You cut yourself off, choking back a sob. "Just sod it all! I need to go to work. I'll see you at lunch, Molly." You ran off, down the hall and to the elevator. 

"Molly, I know that look in your eyes," Sherlock said once you'd left. "What are you planning?"

"The perfect set up. Now help me-"

"Molly," Sherlock interrupted her. "I may not understand a lot of things related to the topic of human relationships but I can tell you this, if either of us were to get involved, we may be maimed." Molly nodded in agreement.

Weeks went by and you worked harder than ever, taking extra shifts whenever you could. Your boss finally told you to take a week off to recharge. After much arguing, you relented and headed home for a week. Being alone all day, however, left your mind wandering. Thinking back to what might have been. To occupy your time, you decided to catch up with one of your good friends who lived nearby. You hadn't had the chance to hang out in some weeks but you texted each other every day. When you didn't hear from her yesterday, you worried but figured she probably was just tired. "Maybe she'll have some good advice for me," You told yourself. Knocking at her door, you checked your phone again to see if she had replied yet. Now you were really worried. You grabbed your spare key to her apartment and went in. 

"What do you want?" Sherlock said, answering his phone.

"Sherlock, it-it's Y/N. Can you," You paused, taking a shaky breath. "Can you come down here please? I need your help. Lestrade's already on his way."

"On my way," He replied, grabbing his coat and scarf. "What happened?" As you explained to him everything, he grabbed John's coat and tossed it to him. John was mildly confused of course, but went along. 

"I went in and found her in the bathroom," You told him. "I'm probably missing something obvious. I'm sorry," You cried.

"No, you're doing fine," Sherlock said genuinely. John looked at him surprised as they got into the cab, still not aware of who was on the other end of the call. "We'll be there in 7 minutes."

"We?" You asked. But Sherlock hung up before he answered. 

"Y/N?" Greg said, coming up behind you. "I hate to say this but, we're going to need a statement. Do you want to wait till Sherlock gets here?"

"No, it's alright. Let's get it over with." A few minutes later, you'd told Greg everything you knew and he'd gone inside with the others to investigate. A cab pulled up and Sherlock rushed out. "Sherlock!" You exclaimed running up to him. As you approached, you saw another person getting out of the cab. "Why did you bring him?" You hissed.

"He's my assistant, flatmate and, if I have deduced correctly, a friend of both of us," Sherlock said.

"Look, that was years ago, I don't even know if-" You started whisper-yelling. You got cut off though when John walked up. You noticed he was limping again. 

"John," Sherlock said. "I believe you're acquainted with Y/N. You're much better with people than I am," He stated briefly before going into the apartment.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," John said once Sherlock left. You nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench before your legs gave way from exhaustion. 

"She was a good friend of mine. I don't know what could have happened." John was quiet as he sat down next to you.

"Sherlock will figure it out. If anyone can, it's him," He finally said.

"That is for certain," You replied with a dry chuckle. "So how did you meet Sherlock?"

"Oh, well, you remember Mike Stamford?" 

"From uni? Yeah, I remember him."

"Well, he introduced me to Sherlock. We were both in need of a flatmate and he matched us up." John paused for a moment, brows furrowed. "That sounds much too much like a bad dating ad. Mike got us together."

"Nope, that's worse," You replied chuckling.

"You understand."

"I think so," You finally replied. "So," You paused. You were so desperate to ask him more but you weren't sure if this was the best time. "Oh, well, nevermind. Glad that worked out." You quieted again, staring off down the street. John looked at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Right, yes. So, what have you been up to?"

"Work. I got a job at St. Bart's about 2 years ago. That's how I met Molly and therefore Sherlock." You were silent for a moment before adding one more thing. "I've missed you, John."

"I've missed you too," He admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't write or call when I got back. I-" He sighed and absently rubbed at his leg. "I couldn't. I was scared, if I'm being honest."

"Why? What happened?"

"You know we got sent into a very dangerous area. That's why I had to stop writing to begin with. But then, well, I got shot."

"Your leg?" You asked since he had been limping and rubbing at it. 

"Ah, shoulder actually. The limp is psychosomatic. It comes and goes when I'm particularly worried or upset."

"Oh, I'm sorry," You said, not completely sure of what to say.

"I've been back in London for about a year. I looked you up actually. I found out you were working at Bart's. That's why I ran into Mike that day. I was in a park nearby, trying to work up the nerve to go and see you."

"Why didn't you?" You asked. He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's ok. I should be honest." He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. "I was afraid of what you'd think of me. I didn't come back as some 'war hero'. I'm a washed up medic who can't even walk correctly."

"It's psychosomatic, right?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Sherlock says so."

Well then, you have nothing to fear." He looked at you questioningly. "You know I never cared about the military so I could honestly care less if you came back known as some 'war hero' or not. You're not washed up, just look at you! Out here solving mysteries with the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes! And you can too walk right! You're just too scared to."

"I'm not so sure-" You interrupted him by leaning over and planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away with a giggle you got up and ran a few feet away. 

"You'll have to come here to get another!" 

"Oh, you devil," He grinned. He got up and walked over to you quickly, picking you up, spinning you around and giving you another kiss. You laughed happily and leaned on his shoulder. 

"See? You did just fine!" 

"I suppose I did, didn't I?" He chuckled. 

"Oh, John," You giggled. "I should have told you a long time ago. I love you, John Watson." He smiled from ear to ear.

"I love you too, Y/N L/N. But a crime scene isn't really the best place to do this at."

"Why not? We giggle at murders all the time?" Sherlock suddenly butted in.

"How long have you been standing there?" John yelled.

"Well," Greg suddenly said, a few feet away and holding up his phone. "This video is already 4 minutes long, so," He trailed off.

"John," You said, not taking your eyes off the two other men.

"Yes, love?" He asked as you reached for his hand.

"Let's get 'em." You then spent the rest of the afternoon chasing Sherlock and Greg around the neighborhood, enjoying their girly shrieks, until Mycroft showed up and put a stop to it. Later that evening, you and John were enjoying some Chinese takeaway back at your apartment.

"I really can't apologize enough for leaving you in the dark, Y/N," John said. "I should have written," He chided himself.

"It's alright, John," You assured him. "Actually, you just reminded me of something. Wait here a moment." You ran off to your room and pulled an envelope out of a small box in your desk. You returned to the living room and held it out to John. "This is for you. It was my last letter but," You paused, blushing lightly. "I never mailed it."

My Dear Captain Watson,

I hope you're doing well. I hope you're staying safe and helping as many as you can. I hope -

Oh what am I writing. John, there's something you should know and I wish I could tell you in person but better now than never I suppose.

I love you.

There. Feel free to never write me back again or return this with a 'Dear John' letter. Well, you know what I mean. I wish I could have said it better or sooner but I was scared to lose your friendship. Now I'm more scared of actually losing you.

John, please return safely. Even if we never speak again. The world should not be without John Watson.

All my love,

Y/N

"Y/N," John said, tears in his eyes after reading your letter. "Why didn't you send it?"

"Well, you had asked me not to write anymore since it was dangerous and," You paused, shaking your head sadly. "I chickened out again."

"Well, I guess what they say is true then." You looked at him quizzically as he pulled you close to him and leaned his forehead on yours. "Better late than never."

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

#sherlock bbc #sherlock #john watson x reader #john watson #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic

[haikyuucute]

Don’t Call It A Crush (Ushijima Wakatoshi) [Part 2]

Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi is convinced he doesn’t have a crush on you

Warnings: Implied smut, angst, smut in future parts

Word Count: 2.5k

[A/N]: Okay so Tendou acts a little bit as the villain but I needed him to further the plot, so unfortunately he doesn’t seem like the best friend to have in this. Also kinda messy but I’m just gonna chalk it up to my lingering writers block

Part 1

—————

”Waka-kun!” You sighed out dramatically as soon as you approached his seated form in the cafeteria. You draped yourself against his back but he made no move to push you off.

“(F/N),” he said, before continuing to eat his lunch while Tendou greeted you from across him.

You sighed again, a pout on your lips as you sat down beside the ace, “I think I left my jacket in your dorm last night.”

He hummed, “I’ll check after practice—“

”You came over!?” Tendou exclaimed.

”Yeah!” You nodded, “Where were you—“

”The gym— you should’ve texted me.”

”Well, I didn’t know!”

He frowned, sprawling his arms out on the lunch table, when he realized something. He looked at Ushijima, “Is that why you were working on homework at one in the morning?”

”Yes,” he simply answered, making you gasp.

”You had homework!? Why’d you let me interrupt you!”

”You wanted to come over.”

You pouted again, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the fact he dropped everything just so you could hang out, “Idiot, you could’ve said no.”

You huffed to yourself. Every once in a while Ushijima would pull stupid shit like that. There had even been one time a couple months ago now where he had even taken the fall for you when you were caught skipping out on class duties. He told the teacher he convinced you to come to his volleyball practice, and what was worse was that you didn’t even find out until he was missing from practice due to detention.

And there was another time about a month ago now where a stray volleyball had hit you hard in the leg and he insisted he leave practice to help you to the infirmary even though there were plenty of other capable players to take you— the captain left practice. Sure it was only for a short while but the coach still didn’t appreciate it (Tendou even told you he made him run laps after practice).

He didn’t do stuff like that too often but every time he did it made you feel really guilty and you hated to admit that it was why it made it that much more difficult to get over him. Every incident gave you some hope that there was a slight chance he really did feel something for you, but that hope was easily crushed when he never made any move to return the affection you’d give him.

Tendou’s eyes were narrowed on Ushijima as he tried to figure him out.

”What were you two doing?” He asked.

”We watched a crappy horror movie cause I thought it was funny,” you frowned deeper, “It was definitely not worth staying up til one in the morning to finish homework.”

”I enjoyed it,” Ushijima said, taking another bite of his lunch.

You raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t even understand half of what was happening.” You said, to which he simply shrugged.

”You watched a bad horror movie without me!?” Tendou shouted, clearly offended.

”I thought you’d be there!” You shouted back.

”Well I wasn’t—!”

”Then we’ll watch it this weekend, so shut up—“

”You two are yelling already?” A new voice interjected.

You looked up to find Semi and Reon, Semi taking his seat next to you while Reon walked around the table to sit next to Tendou.

”Yeah, well, Satori’s being a baby,” you muttered, answering Semi who asked the question.

”About what?” Reon added.

”Nothing, he’s just upset because Ushijima and I watched a movie without him.”

Semi hummed, before grabbing an article of clothing out of his bag and dropping it on your head.

With furrowed brows, you pulled it off to find that it was the jacket you thought you left at Ushijima’s.

”Is that your jacket?” Tendou suddenly asked, eyebrow raised.

It was as if your heart stopped in that moment as you turned to look at Tendou. There was always just something about his face when he was thinking, that made you anxious.

”Yeah,” you nodded, brushing it off as you tucked it away in your own bag.

”You were at Semi’s last night?”

There. You pinpointed exactly why your anxiety was justified when it came to Tendou.

”Uh— yeah, I went over to study,” you answered coolly.

You snuck a glance at Semi, whose eyes were now widened in surprise, looking like a dead give away.

You quickly stomped on his foot, making him hiss, but he quickly got the gist, and nodded, “Yeah, we were studying...” he trailed off, glaring at you.

Reon frowned, “You were? You should’ve called, I could use the extra studying.”

”Sorry,” you answered bashfully, “We’ll do that next time— Tendou stop looking at me like that,” you snapped at the red-head, his piercing gaze sending chills down your spine.

He glanced back and forth between you and Semi, before his eyes landed on Ushijima, who looked the same as always, but a smile curled at the corners of Tendou’s lips anyway.

”Sorry, sorry~” he practically sang, “Tell me more about that movie now.”

You eyed him warily, but if it took the focus off of you and Semi then you’d take it.

The rest of lunch felt off from that moment on, and you knew whatever Tendou was thinking wasn’t good.

If only you truly knew what he was planning.

The thing about Tendou was that just because he was a strange guy, it didn’t make him stupid. After all, he was able to keep his grades high enough in a school like Shiratorizawa in order to continue playing volleyball.

He also hated being wrong.

Unfortunately, it happened a lot more often outside of volleyball but he still had unmatchable observational skills.

So when he first had the hunch back in second year that you had a crush on Ushijima, he did everything he could to figure out if he was right.

And he was. Making him and Semi to be the only two people that knew about your crush on Ushijima.

At the time you forced him to promise not to tell Ushijima and as much of a little shit he could be, he did cherish your friendship, so he kept his mouth shut.

But almost a year later he had noticed little things here and there that Ushijima would do for you, subtle enough for pretty much everyone to miss, including you, but not for Tendou.

So he was hell-bent on figuring out if those gestures Ushijima did meant something more.

But the male was as dense as ever and prying any information about his love life was useless.

However, a new factor had entered the equation that made Tendou’s brain start working overtime.

Your jacket.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on between you and Semi, and Tendou was more than intrigued.

After the jacket mix up in lunch he started paying closer attention to both of you. Noting every time one of you left and the other followed only ten minutes later, watching the way you both interacted in each other’s presences, and the terrible cover up’s when one was asked where they were.

After about two weeks of watching and observing silently he was originally going to confront you about it, but a much more entertaining option had come up one afternoon.

Unfortunately, it started a bit of a shit storm.

Ushijima, Tendou, you, Semi, and Reon all decided to meet up and study in the library on one of those rare days that practice ended a bit earlier than usual.

It wasn’t unusual for the five of you to study together whenever you had the chance, especially for Ushijima’s sake who wasn’t exactly the smartest ​​​​​​​person outside of volleyball.

The plan was to head to your dorms and grab your books and meet up in the library, but Ushijima and Tendou had made it down first.

With no sign of you and the others yet as the two got settled down at a table, Tendou decided that now would be the best time to try and figure out again if Ushijima liked you.

“So, (F/N) and Semi...” Tendou started, gauging if the two names together sparked any kind of reaction from the ace.

It didn’t.

Ushijima looked up at Tendou, waiting for him to finish, but when he didn’t he asked, “What about (F/N) and Semi?”

”Oh nothing~” he sing songed, leaning back in his seat, balancing the chair on its back legs, “Do you think they like each other?”

Ushijima looked mildly confused at this, “Isn’t that why they’re friends?”

Tendou laughed, “I meant more than friends Wakatoshi.”

”Why are you asking?”

”They just seen closer than usual, don’t you think. I’ve seen the two sneaking around together a lot~”

Ushijima didn’t understand what Tendou was getting at and it showed. But he supposed that the two of you had grown closer, however it didn’t really make him think anything of it. You still snuck into his and Tendou’s dorm on a regular basis and hung out with the two as usual so he couldn’t specifically say he thought there was something going on between you and Semi.

But there were two words that Tendou had said that stuck out to him.

”Sneaking around?”

His smile widened upon seeing more of a reaction from his friend, “I’m pretty sure (F/N) and Semi are sleeping with each other,” he bluntly stated.

Ushijima didn’t know what to make of the accusation, but he did know he felt....offended.

“(F/N) isn’t like that. If she was in a relationship with Semi she would’ve told us.”

”Unless it’s just sex,” he suggested, leaning forward and resting his chin upon his crossed arms on the table. He looked up at Ushijima who looked even more offended now, “Think about it, she was at his dorm the night she thought she left her jacket at ours.”

”She said they were studying.”

”They seemed very panicked for two friends just studying.”

Ushijima narrowed his eyes at Tendou, “(F/N)‘s not sleeping with Semi.”

Tendou hummed, “What makes you think that?”

”Because (F/N)‘s not like that,” he reiterated.

”But what if she was? Maybe you don’t want to believe it because of your little crush on her~”

His eyes narrowed further, “I’ve told you before Tendou, I don’t have feelings for (F/N).”

”Are you sure?”

“Enough Tendou,” Ushijima said, getting annoyed now, “I told you before, I would never date (F/N).”

Tendou sighed, it seemed that he wouldn’t be getting anything out of him today, and besides, he also spotted Reon making his way to their table, “Fine, fine. I’ll drop it.”

“Hey,” Reon greeted, taking a seat beside Ushijima.

”Where’s Semi?” Tendou asked him upon noticing he hadn’t come down with him.

”He’ll be down soon, he misplaced one of his assignments so he’s looking for it right now. He said we can start without him. What about (F/N)? Is she here yet.”

”She was helping Shirabu stretch before going to her dorm,” Ushijima answered, “She should be down soon.”

”Will she mind if we start without her?”

”No, she won’t care,” Tendou said, pulling out his study guides as he reluctantly started studying.

Though unknown to the three of them, and especially Tendou and Ushijima... you actually were there.

Your back was pressed against one of the book shelves, out of sight but definitely not out of ear shot.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest.

Tendou knew about you and Semi.

He told Ushijima.

Ushijima admitted he’d never date you.

It was one thing when you just assumed he didn’t feel the same but hearing it was completely different.

You were mortified, embarrassed, and heart broken.

Tears blurred your vision and you quickly made your way out of the library, using the farthest exit so they wouldn’t spot you.

Only one thing replayed in your head: Semi was still in his dorm.

Your legs moved on their own accord as you made your way to the boys dormitory. At this point you had been a pro at evading the hall monitors and you easily snuck in. The next thing you knew, you were standing in front of Semi’s dorm and knocking.

He swung the door open, his neutral face turning into one of worry when he saw your tear-stained face.

”(F/—“

He couldn’t get your name out before you were pulling him towards you, lips crashing against his. You then pushed him back into his room, shutting the door behind the two of you.

You broke the kiss briefly to pull your shirt over your head, and Semi decided to take this as his opportunity to figure out what was wrong.

”(F/N), why are you crying—“

His mouth fell shut at the glare you sent him once you had your shirt off— he had never seen you like this before.

”Ushijima doesn’t and will never like me and Tendou figured out we’re fucking, so right now I need you to make me forget everything.”

His eyes widened, “Wha— how—?”

”It doesn’t matter,” you muttered, going to close the distance between you two again, but he gripped your jaw, holding you back.

”We’re supposed to be going to the library, they’re gonna notice we’re both gone.”

”Does it even matter?” You snapped, “Tendou told Ushijima anyway.”

Semi looked conflicted but you could see he was going to give in.

”Fine,” he relented, “But Reon might come in to check on me if I’m not down there soon, so we’re doing this quick.”

”Whatever— just fuck me already Eita.”

His jaw clenched as he shook his head, “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

With that he was pulling you towards his bed.

—

What happened then was a series of unfortunate coincidences that played out back to back.

First it was when Tendou had been too loud down in the library.

The second was when the librarian kicked the three of them out because of the noise.

The third was Reon suggesting that they go back to his dorm to study, since Semi was already there and they agreed to just send you a text.

And then you didn’t acknowledge when your phone vibrated with a text from Ushijima.

The last was when the three boys walked in on the middle of Semi fucking you.

Their reactions all differed at the scene in front of them. Reon turned away wide eyed, Tendou grinned widely because he was right, and Ushijima stood frozen.

There were a few moments before you and Semi realized you had an audience and scrambled to cover yourselves up.

And Ushijima was sure those few moments were going to be engrained in his head for a very long time.

He was also sure the way his stomach turned and heart sank would accompany the memory every time he thought of it.

Because the sight of your legs tossed over Semi’s shoulders while he fucked you, the way your face screwed up in pleasure, eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack as a high pitched moan of Semi’s name left your lips. Well— it was not going to be easy to forget.

Hours later when everyone was back in their own dorms and Ushijima finally had enough time to figure out why the image of you with another man rattled him so deeply, he finally admitted it.

“I like (F/N).”

And Tendou grinned.

~~~~

Taglist:

@ushisama @ro-ro-noa

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushiwaka

[wordsablaze]

4/13 - heterochromia

A Dozen Denials Soulmate-identifiers exist to make things easier unless you’re Jaskier, who’s equally as deep in love as he is in denial. But there’s only so many excuses you can make to avoid the truth… (aka jaskier’s soulmate is definitely a witcher, just not the one he first assumes)

A/N: haven’t updated this for a while but we’re finally back to making an oblivious mess of destiny ;)

previous chapter

-

The heterochromia is entirely unexpected.

Jaskier hadn’t heard a lot about it whilst growing up and it was rarely mentioned in any of the numerous books he’d read in various different libraries. And that’s not to say it was wholly unknown to him - he is a bard, after all - but he hadn’t been expecting to experience it. 

He doesn’t even realise he is experiencing it until the hostler gives him a weird look.

“Do you need something from me?” Jaskier asks, winking.

The man opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head. “Your eyes…” he replies, but turns away before Jaskier can flirt with him again. 

Jaskier frowns at him, stupidly wasting a few moments to try and look at his own eyes before realising he can’t do that without losing his sight entirely. “Geralt!” 

Geralt doesn’t reply before Jaskier settles at the corner they’ve chosen inside the inn, at which point he raises an eyebrow, continuing to eat. “Jaskier?”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?” Jaskier asks, not caring that they have a very small audience because of his mildly dramatic entrance. When Geralt finally looks up, both of them freeze, staring at one another in shock. 

Oh.

It seems Geralt’s eyes have finally decided to hint at the identity of his soulmate and, judging by the witcher’s startled expression, Jaskier’s eyes must be doing the same.

“Are you sure you still don’t believe in Destiny?” Jaskier asks weakly, deciding that he really doesn’t want to be entirely sober after this rather strange turn of events, moving his attention over to his tankard.

Geralt hums dismissively, but stands before Jaskier can ask anything else. “I’m need to go hunting.” 

Jaskier frowns at him. “Geralt, dear, we have a room and an innkeeper who’s more than willing to provide us another meal free of cost before we leave tomorrow. Whatever do you need to hunt for?”

Geralt doesn’t reply, turning to look directly at Jaskier for just a moment, his gaze rapidly flickering between his eyes before he shakes his head. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jaskier.”

He’s too busy staring at Geralt’s eyes to think of an adequate response in time, his brain finally catching up when Geralt is halfway out of the door. He sighs, finishing the ale before letting his head fall onto the table as he takes a few deep breaths.

Exactly two minutes later, he brushes away his confusion and slips out of the inn. 

The local mage’s house isn’t particularly difficult to find and he’s just about sober enough not to make an utter fool of himself on the way there so she lets him in with little argument, raising an eyebrow when she sees his eyes. “I can’t change your Destiny,” she tells him immediately. 

Jaskier shakes his head. “Nor would I ask you to do so, of course. I only wish to ask whether you know why our eyes would only change colour now as opposed to the many years we’ve spent together?”

She sighs, gesturing for him to sit down and doing the same once he’s settled. “There are certain points on the continent where the enchantments of Destiny are inexplicably stronger, more likely to try and intervene with the paths we should take..” 

He isn’t foolish enough to argue with a mage about chaos but he doesn’t quite understand her theory. “But I’ve already found my soulmate, why would I…?”

There’s something odd in her expression when she gently cups his face in her hand and moves each side of his face into the light cast through the window beside them. “I can’t tell you that. It shouldn’t affect either of you so suddenly if you’ve already found and accepted one another.”

Jaskier wants to argue again but he thinks back to Geralt’s behaviour and abruptly, it seems to make more sense because, yes, they’ve found one another but they may not have done the latter. The shock meant he hadn’t been paying a lot of attention back at the inn but he’s pretty sure Geralt’s other eye had been blue so clearly the only problem here is his stubborn refusal to admit his destined path might have been right after all. 

He grins, taking the mage’s hand and planting a soft kiss on her fingers. “Thank you for the information, I think I understand now. Do you require payment?”

She glances over him before shaking her head. Regardless, he decides he’s going to do something for her anyway. “Well, I shall spin you a lovely tune and make sure everyone in this town knows exactly how beautiful and helpful you are.” 

Laughing, she stands and waves the door open. “Good luck.” 

Jaskier grins again, giddy from both the alcohol and the information. “I don’t need it but thank you! “

It’s dark by the time he gets back, promising the innkeeper he’ll be up early in the morning to rouse the early crowd before making his way upstairs. To his surprise, he finds Geralt waiting for him.

“Geralt? Weren’t you hunting?” he asks, placing his hands on his hips.

Geralt sighs and, even in the dim light, Jaskier can tell he’s practically frowning hard enough to hurt himself. He makes his way over to the bed, sitting beside him and gently running his fingers along Geralt’s forehead, forcing him to relax. 

“I’m sorry, Jaskier, I…”

“I know. You don’t like Destiny, I know that. But I can assure you it doesn’t mean anything serious, it’s just this town and its inexplicable geographical link to chaos.” 

“How do you know that?” Geralt asks, then wrinkles his nose. “You went to the mage.” 

Jaskier huffs. “Well, of course I did. It’s not like anyone else was going to try and tell me having one yellow eye while we’re here is absolutely normal, was it?” 

Geralt snorts, pulling him closer. Jaskier melts into his touch, placing his hands on either side of Geralt’s face. One of his eyes is ever so slightly glowing, as one of his own must be, but the other is more ordinary and although Jaskier can’t quite make it out anymore, he’s certain it’s blue like his own.

He smiles at the thought and although they’re leaving town as early as possible, he’s glad they’d at least stopped for a small break. And hey, maybe Geralt will be more likely to accept everything he keeps saying after this blatant display of evidence; maybe they can finally both admit that he’s right about them being soulmates after all.

(little did he know he couldn’t be more wrong.)

-

now i know what you're thinking: how can they possibly be THIS blind to reality ?? and tbh i have the same question but unfortunately, we're not even halfway through the obliviousness so...

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#jaskier #geralt #eskel #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x eskel #it's complicated #jaskel #soulmates #soulmates gone wrong #hurt jaskier #the witcher #fanfic #obliviousness all around #heterochromia #my writing #add

[citizen-l]

04. Sign

Chanyeol woke up disoriented, hearing weird noises that he usually didn’t hear in the morning. Junmyeon was always very quiet. But he wasn’t in his own apartment, and the sounds weren’t made by Junmyeon.

Chanyeol remembered awkwardly coming into Baekhyun’s apartment again. He had thought Sehun’s room would be his for the night, only to realize it was locked. Sehun hadn’t even given Chanyeol his keys this time, just banished him from his own home to spend quality time with Junmyeon. Chanyeol was going to have a talk with Sehun soon, this was getting out of hand.

He sighed and contemplated putting his shirt back on again, but he needed a shower first. 

Last night, when it was clear that Chanyeol wouldn’t have access to Sehun’s room, or his bed, or his clothes, Baekhyun insisted on making the couch as comfortable as possible. Which was actually pretty nice to sleep on. But he also helpfully provided a pair of pajamas and a night shirt, both of which were a tad bit undersized for Chanyeol. So, once Baekhyun was off to sleep in his own room, Chanyeol opted to sleep without the night shirt, it was the best option. Now though, as he heard cutlery and plates in the kitchen, he mildly felt uncomfortable. 

Not that he was all that self-conscious about his body. But mostly, it was Baekhyun, and Baekhyun was...Baekhyun. A very beautiful guy whose opinion of Chanyeol shouldn’t matter but Chanyeol knew it probably would. At least a little bit. He decided to use the comforter to hide his naked torso instead.

“Oh hey, you’re up!” Baekhyun said cheerfully, but then his face fell. “Wait, shit, did I wake you?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Chanyeol said. He stopped from saying much else, his throat was too dry and he needed to drink some water first.

“Well, I’m sorry anyway,” Baekhyun said while chaotically moving around the kitchen. “I have a show today, so I have to hurry. But don’t worry, you can rest up, take a shower or stay if you want. There’s a spare key over there, just lock the door when you leave. Alright? I have to go now.”

And before Chanyeol knew it, Baekhyun had planted a kiss on his cheek and was out the door in the blink of an eye.

Well.

Chanyeol sighed in frustration and flopped back down into the couch. Another kiss to think about. Was this another sign?

When he went back to his own apartment, which was after he decided to visit a friend about a project and have lunch, it was well into the afternoon. He thought it would be best to let the lovebirds have the morning, he did not want to see Sehun at his apartment, or talk to him yet. Chanyeol was angry, and waiting to see how long Sehun would be doing this without realizing how much of an asshole he was being.

He was mad at Junmyeon too, but there was nothing much to do about that, Junmyeon was his roommate after all.

Thankfully, no one was at the apartment when Chanyeol arrived. And enough air fresheners were used that Chanyeol almost didn’t think about what might have happened last night. Everything was clean and well put together as well. At least Junmyeon was sorry.

That was one of the things that Chanyeol really liked about his roommate, Junmyeon knew when his actions were wrong or even problematic to someone else. And he did things to make up for it. Things like cleaning, rearranging, doing chores. He refrained from cooking because he was a disaster in the kitchen, but he did other things like this instead. Even Chanyeol had taken to cooking meals to apologize to Junmyeon when he overstepped. And that was fine, it was a healthy way of living with someone, Chanyeol thought. Even if they didn’t always say sorry outright, they still did something to acknowledge their wrongdoings and tried to appease the other.

Sehun, on the other hand, just took what he wanted and didn’t think about anything or anyone else. Which was so unlike him! Chanyeol had been friends with him for over a decade, and this was the first time Sehun had gone on so long being a brat. 

Chanyeol really hoped he wasn’t going to be kicked out tonight, he would start shouting, maybe even throw a fist if that happened. It wasn't as if Junmyeon and Sehun were the only two people on the planet who were going out, or whatever it was they were calling it. They should be mindful not to become an inconvenience for others, especially Chanyeol. He was suffering. 

It took him the better part of the evening to catch up on his homework, writing papers was the bane of his existence. And it felt worse doing them now in a hurry because he could have completed them long ago if he had access to his room the previous few nights. 

Chanyeol was taking a break, pulling up his audio mixer application and listening to his latest unfinished work. Might as well try and make something new to show his professor soon. That was when a text from Baekhyun chimed on his phone. 

Chanyeol tried to ignore the text, he tried harder to ignore his reaction to the knowledge that Baekhyun was texting him out of the blue. It was a normal thing people did, Chanyeol told himself. No need to drop everything to find out what the pretty boy wrote, Chanyeol wasn't a teenager. 

But Baekhyun's text was as insistent as the memory of Baekhyun's kisses. Chanyeol couldn't stop hearing that chime even though it never rang again after that one time. He was going crazy, hallucinating. He should probably be worried, but all he could do was reach out and grab his phone. 

"Roses are red, violets are blue, my show went well, and I remembered you."

Well. What was Chanyeol supposed to do now? Because being chill about this just went out the window. 

Why was Baekhyun so straightforward? He probably didn't mean anything by it, this was probably just how he usually was with every friend. Casual, flirty, cheeky. 

Chanyeol tried to make himself believe it, it was nothing serious. 

"I'm glad your show went well, you seemed tense in the morning. Are you celebrating?"

Chanyeol meant to only congratulate him. His fingers apparently didn't want that, his mind wondering what Baekhyun was doing now. Was he back home? Out with his friends at that bar? Maybe still at some auditorium backstage, taking off his costume… 

Chanyeol stopped himself. Very abruptly, but surely. No need to wonder that far. Too soon. 

Too soon? 

Chanyeol needed to stop daydreaming. He needed to finish his homework, get some sleep, and get ready for a week of lectures and work. 

Another text chimed, a picture this time. Chanyeol's fingers moved quicker than his brain and he stared at a black haired Baekhyun holding up beer, he was out drinking. But Chanyeol only saw the black hair, the wink, the slight blush on Baekhyun’s cheeks, the tip of his tongue peaking out at the corner of his mouth. 

"Minseok says I should have invited you," another text read. "I was panicking in the morning so it slipped my mind. Plus I didn't know if you'd be free."

"Maybe next time," Chanyeol replied without thinking much. 

"You'll get bored, it's all very fake and dramatic."

Chanyeol didn't mind, he'd just stare at Baekhyun anyway. He felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment even as he sat alone in his empty room, it was the truth. Black hair on Baekhyun was...it was just as beautiful as his pink hair, if not more. In a different way. But it made it hard for Chanyeol not to stare at the picture. 

"What are you up to, Apollo?" Baekhyun's text came again. 

"I was catching up on schoolwork. Apollo?"

"You make music, like Apollo," Baekhyun wrote. "Ignore me. The play is rubbing off on me. A Greek tragedy."

It was physically difficult for Chanyeol to ignore him anymore. But he really did need to finish his studies for the night. Which is what he told Baekhyun, because Chanyeol was strictly against leaving someone hanging, even if it was only in texts. 

"Ah, please don't put off your work, I'm on my way home anyway. I might just fall face first on the floor as soon as I go home, and stay there. I'm too tired."

"That might hurt. At least get to the couch."

It was Chanyeol's subconscious, it had to be. Maybe his mind knew what his fingers were typing but he realized a little too late what a trap he set up for himself. 

"It would smell like you...

"Unless Sehun rubbed his ass on it, that is... 

"Don't mind me, I might be slightly drunk."

One after another, the feelings those texts instigated left Chanyeol a bit breathless, agitated; God knew what was happening to him. He chose to focus on the most concerning topic. 

"Are you driving home? Catch a cab."

"Don't worry, giant. Soyeon will give me a ride, she's sober as a button. I know that's not the saying but roll with it."

"You feeling okay?" Chanyeol couldn't help asking. There was something in those texts that nagged him a little. 

"Yeah, don't worry, just tired after all that. Been preparing for this show for weeks. Finally done. Kinda feels like my life is over, like I don't have anything to look forward to anymore. But I know it's just the tiredness and probably the third celebratory beer talking. It's alright, I'll be cheerful again soon enough. Maybe I'll dye my hair some other obnoxiously peppy color. Blueberry blue, maybe. What do you say?"

Chanyeol waited, read and reread the long text. He was now fully worried. But he also felt guilty. He was still somewhat a stranger, he probably had no right to worry so much about Baekhyun, who seemed fully capable of taking care of himself. Well, almost. As long as there wasn't any blood involved. And there probably wasn't this time around. 

"Dye your hair whatever color you want to, as long as you like it. You look great with the black hair. Bubblegum pink suited you really well too. Blueberry blue just might bring out the color of your eyes."

Chanyeol tried to lighten the mood. And it seemed to have worked. 

"I laughed so hard I almost choked. Jongin is not happy, I accidentally spilled beer on him just now."

"Tell him I'm sorry." Chanyeol wasn't, he was very happy with himself, mostly because he made Baekhyun laugh. He wished he was there with him to see him laugh. 

Chanyeol tried not to think too much about what he just wished. 

"Well, time to go home, giant. Hopefully the couch is left untouched. Later, Yeol."

Chanyeol wanted to say he left things at that, but that would be a lie. He wrote a paper for his music theory, replaying Baekhyun's short poem in his head like a song. He thought about all the weird things that happened in the last two days with Baekhyun and made a whole composition track with strings. 

Talk about inspiration. 

He felt kind of guilty for the morning. He did try to fold everything neatly, place the pillows and comforter on one side and made sure there was no dirt or dust on the couch or rug. But he could only do so much. He couldn't wash the night clothes Baekhyun lent him, he didn't know where everything was, and it felt like he was invading someone's home. So he left the clothes neatly folded on the couch as well. 

Chanyeol should have brought the shirt and pajamas to his apartment, washed them, and then returned them to Baekhyun. But it never crossed his mind at that time. Baekhyun would probably think him uncouth. That couldn't be more far off. He was too much of a neat freak sometimes, Junmyeon would attest to that. 

It was just that Baekhyun threw Chanyeol off, even when he was not in the room. It was somewhat worrisome. Last time Chanyeol had felt anything close to this, things had been so bad that he still tried to avoid thinking about all that ever happening.

Maybe he needed to be a bit more protective of himself. Be on guard. Baekhyun was one of those people who was so charming and cheerful that nobody could help but be engaged with him. Everyone was intrigued with him, both in a positive and negative way. Chanyeol was just like everyone else, a bit too intrigued. But it was because he was getting to know Baekhyun up close for the first time now. It'll pass, he told himself. 

He lied to himself when he wrote a song, telling himself it was for his songwriting course, that it wasn't about Baekhyun. He was lying to himself, it definitely was. 

Junmyeon returned to their apartment while Chanyeol was almost done cooking dinner. Chicken stew, the easiest dish his mom had taught him to cook. He wasn't feeling too energetic to put together anything more. Put everything in the pot and boil, that was all the effort he was willing to give tonight. 

"Hey," Junmyeon left his bag and books aside and sat on the stool opposite the kitchen island that doubled as their dining table. 

"Sehun not coming over?" Chanyeol asked. He tried to leave out the irritation from his voice, but it didn't work. 

"No," Jun sighed. "Listen, Chanyeol, I'm sorry, about yesterday. And the day before."

Chanyeol was a little surprised, no, a lot. He never expected an outright apology. Especially from Junmyeon. Jun even looked actually sincere. This wasn't just for show. 

"Why are you apologizing?"

"For kicking you out like that," Jun laughed sadly. "This is your home as much as mine. And it was wrong of me to just do that to you. Whatever you might think of me, I do consider you a friend. And I shouldn't have done that to a friend."

"Well, you sound more like my friend than Sehun," Chanyeol was being sarcastic, but the look on Jun's face sobered him up. "It's fine, you apologized. And cleaned up. I'll take it. You want some stew?"

"Thanks," Jun still looked sad, even though he smiled. "Did you guys talk?"

"No, not after his text last night," Chanyeol sat down opposite Jun. 

"I'm sorry, he's a little…out of it lately. Maybe."

"He's infatuated with you," Chanyeol said honestly. He regretted it a moment later when Jun stopped eating. "Hey, look, it's not your fault. He's being irrational about things, and full of himself like always."

"Can I tell you something?" Jun said quietly. He waited until Chanyeol nodded. "Lately, we haven't...I can't remember the last time we sat down and talked, had an actual conversation. It feels like he's only interested in me for…yeah. I feel like I shouldn't have started this."

"Last I remember, he was the one running after you," Chanyeol said. 

"But I said yes," Jun stirred his stew in the bowl but didn't eat. 

"Look, he'll come around. Maybe. I don't even know anymore, honestly. I haven't seen him be like this before. But then again, he didn't have any relationships before you so I can't say what his usual boyfriend mode is like."

"He's not my boyfriend," Jun said. "That was perfectly clear from the beginning."

"Okay…" Chanyeol didn't know what to say. "Well. Whatever happens with you two, don't throw me out like that again. Give me a warning long beforehand so I can prepare, make arrangements."

"Don't worry, I'm not letting that happen again, if I can help it," Jun smiled. 

"Did you… break up, or... "

"No, I just said no to that. No more kicking people out so we could bang. That's rude."

Chanyeol couldn't help but laugh at the way Jun said it. 

"What about you, where did you stay the last two nights?"

Chanyeol suddenly coughed, almost choking on a piece of chicken. Junmyeon raised a curious brow but Chanyeol just focused on drinking water and clearing his throat. 

"At a friend's," Chanyeol said. 

"Oh, Kyungsoo's?"

"No."

"One of your bandmates'?"

"Mmmh," Chanyeol didn't know what sound he made, affirmative or negative, and judging by Junmyeon's creased brows, he didn't know either. But Jun didn't push, and Chanyeol was glad. It felt wrong to make Baekhyun just Sehun's flatmate. He was Chanyeol's friend now. 

Well. A friend who kissed him, pecked him on the cheek, took him to a dinner party to meet his friends and wrote him an amateur poem. A friend whom he wrote a song about. 

I want to hear the truth, now now now,

Why do you keep beating around the bush, round round round

Even if you act like it’s not, already, already, I can see through it all

Like sand, the tighter I hold on the more you scatter away.

Our gazes missing each other,

Doubts spreading in a way we can’t stop

Hiding a secret, your sign sign sign,

Now stop it, don’t lie lie lie

It might set off a firework that will burn it all down

The words you said to me without a thought, I know,

It’s all a sign sign sign

Air trapped in the silence. I’m anxious, like walking on ice

Stop this endless nightmare, before it’s too late

You already know the answer I’m waiting for

Don’t even think of trying to act like it’s nothing,

Just push me away instead

Our gazes missing each other,

Doubts spreading in a way we can’t stop

Hiding a secret, your sign sign sign,

Now stop it, don’t lie lie lie

It might set off a firework that will burn it all down

The words you said to me without a thought, I know,

It’s all a sign sign sign...

It wasn’t complete, far from it. But at least he was confident about the first and second verses, and the chorus. He might need to ask for his friend Kenzie’s help to produce it, add a bridge, come up with some great tunes to bind it all together. Right now he had mellow tunes that he could strum on his acoustic, but he didn’t want this to be mellow, this wasn’t a slow ballad song. This needed to be powerful.

#exo #chanbaek #chanyeol #byun baekhyun #ao3 writer #writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #writing #alternate universe #college au #university au

[gingerwritess]

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" / "Isn't it time you died?" pRE-DATING IDIOTS AKHKSHDKAJSJ

uh ohhh did i completely ignore the quote you gave me and decide to focus on only the “pre-dating idiots” part ???

Y E P

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You can count all the times you’ve encountered Loki Laufeyson on one hand.

It only takes two fingers. You’re not exactly friends.

The first time ended so well, with his torso punctured by bullets and Loki frowning across your office at you pulling the trigger with your eyes squeezed shut—the second accidental encounter in the showers was no better.

After swearing off communal showers altogether and deciding to completely avoid the psychiatric floor of the tower, you expected your days running into a god with slightly greasy hair might be over.

But he’s in your office again.

Already lounging comfortably in your chair, ankles crossed up on your desk.

He sits up when you slip in the door, trying not to bring any attention to the fact that you’re exactly seventeen minutes late, and for half a second Loki looks just as surprised as you are.

Although, Loki doesn’t whip out a taser with a quick shriek of fright and jolt his body with a good 50,000 volts of pure electricity.

Nope, you’ve got that part covered.

You weren’t expecting him to actually pass out, but he crumples onto your desk before you’ve caught your breath, eyes rolling back in his head.

Twitching.

His mouth is still half open with the almost “not you agai—” he was trying to get out.

Note to self: tasing a god works much better than shooting him.

“What the hell are you doing in here??” You hiss, tossing the taser on your desk and shoving him hard in the arm.

Loki just…jiggles.

Okay, you weren’t expecting him to be that deeply unconscious.

“Loki?”

No response. You poke him a couple times with the end of a pencil—he just twitches a couple more times, body jolting with a few leftover sparks.

Oh god.

People come in here. Appointments, meetings, memos, your coworkers and supervisors come in here constantly, and now you have the highest secured prisoner in the tower unconscious on your desk.

You give him a good shove and hiss his name, only for him to flop onto the floor with a loud thud.

Oop.

Cringing and praying nobody heard that, you hurry to the door and shut it, just in case.

He’s out cold.

You tug a lock of his hair, flick him on the forehead, pinch his arm, and he still doesn’t move.

His skin is strangely cold, now that you’re actually touching him. Feels normal otherwise, though you didn’t really know what else to expect—I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever touched a god before.

But he seems pretty…human, up close.

Having his cheek squished into the hardwood floors is certainly helping, and oh—yep, okay, now he’s drooling.

This guy threatened you?

Power feels good, let’s just get that out there now. It’s a thrilling rush, a little fizz in your soul that you never want to lose, knowing that you just took down a god.

What you’ll actually do with him until he wakes up…yeah, that’s a good question.

After a pointless ten-minute struggle of trying to drag his body behind a filing cabinet, his legs still stick out a mile in plain sight, so you have to haul his limp ass back to your desk—under it seems to be the only option.

Common sense seems to be telling you to please, please just call security, but your idiot side of the brain is curious.

It’s just weird, why he keeps showing up in your way, out of all the other employees here; you just want to ask him. Just want to…try your hand at a little interrogating.

Knowing you have the power to knock him out might already be getting to your head.

Well, that, and Loki looks like an idiot.

That whole terrifying image you’d had of him, the one where his blue eyes were rimmed with red and flashing across tv screens with warnings, that image of him sneering at you in the showers, him unaffectedly covered in bullet holes, put there by you—gone.

All you can see—and will ever see—now is Loki, god of mischief, quite literally shoved under your desk.

Butt in the air, face smushed against the floor, arms flopping by his sides.

Almost an hour later, Maria Hill stops by, knocking on your door and peeking her head inside.

“Did you get the transmission from Hungary?”

“Working on it now,” you smile, tapping your computer. “Need anything?”

“Nope, just checking, keep it up.” She looks a little distracted, reaching up to press a button on her earpiece. “Oh! I should tell you, Loki’s being pretty cooperative today.

You blink.

“I-is he really?”

At that exact moment, of all the moments in the world, a cold hand wraps around your ankle and gives your leg a very telling, very rough tug.

You have to bite your tongue not to squeak.

“His therapist told us the session they just ended went better than ever,” Hill continues, over a paper on her clipboard as she does, “we upped his visits to three times a day, seems to be helping. Thought you might want to know since you’ve had a couple run-ins with him.”

“Nah,” you croak out when Loki squeezes your ankle harder, “don’t care!”

“Oh.” She shoots you a strange look. “Okay…well, still stay away from him if you can. He’s still extremely unstable.”

You nod vigorously, the possibilities of everything that could go wrong with having Loki hidden under your desk ricocheting around your mind.

Particularly the one scenario where his fingers crawl any higher up your leg.

Or the one where Maria Hill, who holds your fate at this company in her bare hands, finds Loki under your desk—and not at therapy—and you get fired to hell.

“You okay? Don’t look so good.”

“Just peachy!” You laugh, waving her away and going back to your computer despite the grip on your ankle tightening. “I’ll get this back to you as soon as I can.”

Thankfully she flashes you a smile and a nod and shuts the door behind her.

You immediately fumble for your taser as Loki shoves your rolling chair away from the desk, spilling out from under it with a groan.

“Don’t move,” you hiss, jumping to your feet and pointing the taser in his face. “Get up, sit in the chair. Quick.”

“Do you have to put me there? Couldn’t have possibly lain me out somewhere, given me a pillow?” He rubs his aching cheek with a scowl, fingers finding the trail of drool down to his jaw and quickly wiping it away.

You might’ve imagined it, but it sure did look like his cheeks reddened upon feeling it there.

He’s back to a dreadfully annoyed scowl, glaring daggers at you as you hold the taser all the way out in front of you, eyes wide and clearly, laughably terrified.

“You almost fooled me, mortal,” he chuckles, slowly raising empty palms to you as he sinks into your desk chair. “I thought you quit. But you haven’t scurried off quite yet, have you, hm?”

“I’m not going to let you ruin my future,” you snarl back, and by some miracle, your voice doesn’t shake. “A couple creepy guys aren’t going to force a decision like that on me.”

Loki nods, eyebrows twitching suspiciously as he looks at you sitting on the edge of your desk, your taser still at the ready.

“I’ll use it again.” You shake it, just for emphasis.

“I don’t doubt it.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the little room.

He just stares at you.

Loki does a lot of staring, you’ve noticed. From the showers incident to passing in the halls, he’s always staring.

“To be fair, I thought the office was empty.”

You blink, dropped back into reality by his strange accent.

“Why the fuck would you just assume it was up for grabs??”

“Oh, she has a mouth on her,” Loki laughs, leaning forward in the chair.

“Fuck you.”

He spreads his arms with a smug little smile. “Have it your way. You were, might I just add…” he glances at his bare wrist. “Exactly seventeen minutes late. Little rebel.”

“And why do you know my schedule?”

Loki sighs, evidently bored with all this and annoyed that you decided to come into work today. Like a normal person.

“I observe, you only watch. I reckon I know every employee’s schedule on this floor, I have to find some way to entertain myself…” he sighs again, dramatic and it just makes you want to slap him across the face. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling. It’s not just you.”

“Don’t call me darling.” Eyebrow raised, you slide off the desk with a slight boost of confidence at the fact that he’s not just stalking you. “What about the showers, then? Or the first time you were in here?”

“Ah, the time you used me as your personal shooting range?”

“…yeah.”

Okay, maybe you’re starting to feel a little bit bad about shooting him.

“Strange workings of the universe,” he hums, looking a little too relaxed in your chair now. “Our paths keep crossing. Believe me, if I had it my way, I’d keep well away from the likes of you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re offended?” He actually looks surprised, cocking his head a tiny bit to the side. “Do you want me to like you?”

Your eyes widen—crap. “No, no, I just—that was a little mean. I mean, I, um, don’t want people to hate me, obviously, but, uh…we’re getting off-topic.”

Very smooth, self, very smooth.

Loki seems to be mildly amused.

“Hill said you were in therapy,” you quickly snap, frustrated at yourself for slipping. “But you’ve been under my desk for the past hour and a half. What’s that about?”

“See, if you hadn’t been so eager to electrocute me, I could’ve explained myself.”

“Well, what else was I supposed to—”

“Anyways,” he butts in, shaking his head, like you are the problem here, the little—

“I’m avoiding it, I thought that would be obvious.”

“Why avoid it?” You ask, and a tiny part of you is actually genuinely curious; “Therapy’s good for you.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy talking about my feelings.”

You gasp. “No…you??”

Halfway through your first snort of laughter and a chunk of snow hits you across the face.

“What the hell,” you sputter, swiping the wet slosh off your cheek. “It’s fucking August, Loki, why—”

“Beyond your comprehension,” he hums, clearly pleased with himself. “I already told you. I don’t like talking about my emotions.”

“That’s really unhealthy. Someday you’ll just explode and you’ll be miserable.”

He points at his chest with a small smile. “I’ll keep all my emotions right here, thank you. Then one day, I’ll just…die.”

“Great plan.”

“It seems to be doing just fine, given that they truly believe that I am in there, pouring out my darkest secrets to a stranger—”

“Who is in there then?”

You blinked—you blinked—and poof, there’s two Lokis.

Two.

Exactly the same, perfect clones of each other, both slightly spreading their arms in a silent what do you think?

You don’t know what to think.

“You drugged me,” you decide, blinking again in confusion and backing away. “Yeah, you drugged me, and I’m hallucinating.”

The two gods shake their heads. “Beyond your comprehension,” they repeat, a strange echo to their voices as they meld.

“So…” you rub your eyes, trying to figure out just what the hell is going on. “They’re talking to a clone of you?”

“A rather emotional one,” Loki laughs, waving a hand and the other clone fizzles into nothing. “I’m giving them the story they want, telling them all about my deranged pleas for attention, how my complete isolation led me to become starved for power and resort to seeking out drastic measures to obtain it…”

“That just makes you seem worse. You get that, right?”

He nods with a small shrug. “They have their ideas of who I am. Nothing at this point could change that, so I might as well speed along the process.”

“So that’s not the truth, then?”

“What?”

“You…being the villain.” None of this makes sense. I mean, it went downhill after you tased him, but then one snowball and two Loki’s later, it’s actually gotten worse. “The stereotypical villain, I mean.”

Loki pauses, gaze drifting away from you to the floor. “What makes you think that, mortal?”

“Just the way you said it,” you explain, “made me think that your clone is in there lying. I dunno, you just made it sound like a lie.”

The god laughs, a small, halfhearted chuckle that might even be able to be called nervous, and he pulls himself to his feet.

You catch him shoot a quick glance at your taser resting beside you, just in case.

“God of lies, da—”

The door swings open.

“I CAN EXPLAIN,” you nearly yell, bolting to the door and nearly running into agent Hill.

“What?” Papers fluttering to the ground around her, she gives you a look of pure bewilderment.

Then you turn around and understand why.

“Explain what, darling?”

Waitwaitwait.

That’s not Loki’s voice—oh god, you can recognise his voice now??

The man laughs and this time it’s you who’s doing the staring: that’s not Loki.

This man is blond.

Wearing a normal business suit.

Sitting on the edge of your desk.

“Forgive her,” he chuckles, pushing off your desk and coming to help pick up Hill’s paperwork, hand coming to rest on your back when he stands. “She’s a bit of a klutz, isn’t she?”

You gape.

Yes, get that dying fish look in your head, because at this point your head is as good as chopped off and stuck on ice.

“I’m sorry,” Hill slowly says to you, a smile starting to appear on her lips. “I didn’t know you had a meeting right now.”

Still staring.

“Oh, no, no,” Loki—or whoever this is—chuckles politely, “I stopped by unannounced, blame me if anyone.”

“And you are…”

“Laing.” Loki flashes a smile. You gape some more. “Doctor Robert Laing.”

Hill shakes his—Loki’s—hand. “Were you a new hire?”

“Ah, no…” Loki’s hand slips to your waist and you would scream, were it not for the inability for you to even lift your tongue. “I’m just here for her, just stopping by. I’m her, ah, well…you know. I’m her’s, she’s mine, that sort of thing.”

Wait. 

WHAT—

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hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

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#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki slowburn #loki x reader fluff #pre-dating idiots #loki requests #loki tension #loki fanfiction #loki drabbles #loki laufeyson #loki fluff

[conceptstage]

Happy Sune’s Day

AO3

Beau yawned as she shambled tiredly down the stairs of the Xorhaus, scratching at her stomach and looking through half lidded eyes to keep from crashing into anyone. She had a flash of red and pink and frowned, wincing, then forced her eyes open all the way. It took a moment for her half asleep brain to recognize what she was seeing but, as it did, her eyes widened in horror.

“Oh, shit,” she hissed.

The entire hallway was awash in pink and white and red, paper hearts and curled streamers hanging from the ceiling and walls. She glanced to the right into the living room and there were paper hearts taped to the walls in a heart shape with hearts littering the floor too. She turned to the left into the kitchen and there was a curtain of strings covered in heart beads blocking the room from her sight. She stepped through the beaded curtain and sighed in relief when she didn’t saee a single heart inside, but she did see Caleb sitting at the table and frowning at a mug of coffee, Nott sitting at his side and cutting a shape that was definitely not a heart out of red paper, Yasha leaning against the mantle of the roaring fireplace, and Fjord sitting across the table from them and giving Beau a commiserating smile.

“Caduceus put his foot down and said no decorations in here or the kitchen,” Fjord said when he saw the relief on her face. “Fire hazard.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

Fjord shrugged. “It’s Sune’s Day. I guess it’s just a Menagerie Coast thing, but it’s basically just a celebration of love and romance. Apparently, Jester’s a big fan.”

The beads behind her clattered as someone moved quickly through them and Jester grinned, lighting up the entire room. “Happy Sune’s Day!” she cheered. She stepped up beside Beau and laid a paper heart necklace over her head and it got caught on her ear. Jester leaned over and pressed her lips against Beau’s cheek. “Mwah!” She thankfully turned away from Beau before she could see the dark flush rising on her cheeks and the tips of her ears and hurried over to the fireplace to lean up on her tiptoes to lay one over Yasha’s head and press a kiss to her chin since it was all that she could reach. Yasha smiled softly and accepted the necklace and kiss gratefully. “Happy Sune’s Day!” She laid another necklace over Fjord’s head as well and kissed his cheek too. “Mwah!” She went to Caleb next and kissed his temple and then Nott and kissed the top of her head.

Beau watched her with wide eyes and then finally reached up to unhook the necklace from her ear and let it settle around her neck. “Jes, what is this exactly?”

“It’s Sune’s Day! A wholesome celebration of romantic and platonic love. And I just love you all so, so much!”

“Romantically or platonically?” Nott asked, grinning with pointed teeth.

Jester giggled and winked. “That’s for me to know.”

Caduceus stepped out of the kitchen already wearing a paper necklace and carrying a plate of pastries, all heart shaped, some with pink and red sprinkles, and some gushing raspberry jam. He sat the plate on the table and leaned down so that Jester could kiss his cheek.

Caleb looked at the pastries wearily. “H-How are we meant to celebrate?” he asked, picking up the pastry that seemed the least sweet and brushing off a dusting of sprinkles.

Jester shrugged and sat down at the table on his other side. “Like this. Kids sometimes make cards for their friends but I made these necklaces instead. And you eat heart shaped candy but I searched like all week and I couldn’t find any heart shaped anything in this city. And then for couples and stuff they go all out. They go on dates and give presents and flowers and then they go home and have lots of sex on a pile of rose petals with candles and chocolate sauce. My momma used to get all kind of presents and candy from her admirers and she would give a special Sune’s Day performance with love songs and people would throw roses at her feet.” She said happily. “I always wanted someone to be romantic with on Sune’s Day. Maybe next year.” Before anyone could respond, she jumped back up to her feet, snatched up a pastry with raspberry filling leaking out the side, and started skipping towards the beaded curtain. “Well, I’m gonna go finish decorating the War Room.”

Beau waited until she disappeared out the doorway and then turned sharply to the others. “Guys, I think we need to do something for Jester today.”

Caleb frowned curiously and tilted his head, his mouth half full of pastry. “Like what?”

“Did you see how sad she was? We need to do some of those romantic things for her.”

“Have sex with her on a pile of roses and chocolate sauce?” Nott asked.

Beau’s neck felt hot and she shook her head. “No, fucking- The other stuff. We can get her flowers and shit if it’ll make her happy.”

Fjord cleared his throat. “I actually saw something in a store the other day that I thought she might like but I didn’t buy it at the time. I can go get it.”

“There's no sun here,” Caduceus said mildly. “No sun, no flowers.”

“Fuck!” Beau hissed. “Where can we find flowers?” She pondered it for a moment, then turned to Caleb with a smirk. “How many times a day can you do that transportation circle thing?”

He blinked and then understanding dawned on his face. “What are you thinking? Zadash or Nicodranus?”

“Zadash, I think. If we went to Nicodranus we’d need to send a message ahead of us and let them know we were coming. What else, what else can we do?”

“I can play a song on my harp,” Yasha spoke up. “She likes to dance, doesn’t she?”

“I can dance with her,” Caleb offered quietly.

Caduceus looked back at the kitchen. “I have plenty of material left over, I can make a lovely heart shaped cake.”

Nott stood up in her chair. “I’ll keep her distracted while you all get ready! I’m good at keeping secrets.” She gave Beau an obvious significant look and Beau glared at her.

Fjord stood up from the table and came to stand next to Beau. “I’ll go to the store and then meet you two at the palace to walk back together?”

Beau nodded and waved Caleb over. “Let’s set up the circle in your room.” He nodded and stood up to follow her down the hall. They could hear Jester humming loudly from the War Room as they snuck by and ducked quickly into Caleb’s room. Caleb started drawing the circle and Beau leaned against the door to keep Jester from wandering in and she could hear Nott and Jester talking through the wood. “Nott’s distracting her. Let’s hurry.”

He finished the circle with a dramatic flourish that made Beau roll her eyes and it started to glow. He stepped in first and she followed close behind. They arrived at the Cobalt Soul with little fanfare and Beau, in her gray Expositor vestiges, was let through the building with ease. They blinked into the sunlight as they stepped outside, it had been a week without the sun and the heat against their skins felt refreshing as they made their way to the Pentamarket. 

The flower store seemed like the kind of place Jester would love and Beau made a mental note to bring her back here next time they were in town. It was a little brick, one story building sandwiched between two taller brownstones, looking diminutive between them with a small little garden out front and window boxes hanging in front of the picture windows. The only reason they knew it was a flower shop and not a kind witch’s urban vacation cottage was the sign on the roof that read ‘Harietta’s Flowers’ in hand painted red.

Beau and Caleb exchanged a slightly dubious glance but stepped inside, a small bell tingling over their heads as the door opened and closed. The building was bigger than it looked on the outside and it was stuffed full of flowers. One side of the aisle that lead from the front door to the counter was loose flowers, a sort of ‘Build Your Own Arrangement’ setup and the other side was premade bouquets. There was a middle aged halfling woman standing in front of the counter and she looked up at them when the bell rang, her eyes lighting up ecstatically. 

“Oh hello~! Hello, hello, I’m Harrietta, welcome! What can I do for you?”

“A friend of ours celebrates Sune’s Day and we’re looking for flowers for her.”

“Oh, how sweet. I wish every year that it was a more common celebration on this side of the mountains. Good for business. I have some arrangements that will be lovely for it,” she said, waving them forward and leading them through the rows of bouquets. She brought them to a table labeled ‘In The Doghouse’ that had a bouquet with two dozen red and pink roses and another that was a cluster of different flowers formed into the shape of a heart.

“These are apology flowers,” Beau grumbled.

Harrietta shrugged. “That’s just marketing. They’re still lovey-dovey bouquets, they don’t have to be for apologies.” She turned and hurried off back to her desk. “I’ll be waiting for your purchase!”

Beau frowned at the two options laid before her and Caleb cleared his throat, speaking to her quietly. “The roses are pretty standard. I think that Jester would enjoy those. But the heart seems a bit more like Jester, do you think?”

Beau sighed. “Yeah, I- You don’t think that hearts are too… Do you think if I gave her a big heart made out of flowers it might insinuate certain… feelings?”

“We are all doing things for her that would otherwise seem to convey romantic interest. I do not think she will think twice about it if you do not want her to. Do you want her to?”

“I- No! Of course not.” She sneered and picked up the roses. “These. I’ll get her these.”

Caleb shrugged. “It is your gift, it is your decision.”

Beau frowned down at the roses then quickly sat them back down and picked up the heart instead. “Let’s go.” She turned and hurried away before he could respond.

She purchased the heart made out of flowers and then Caleb drew the Rosohna circle out in front of the store and they stepped through quickly. As promised, Fjord was waiting for them outside the palace with a gift wrapped box held under his arm. He gave Beau a kind smile when he saw the flowers she’d picked and she scowled and hid them behind her back. “The fuck you looking at?”

He shrugged but he was still smiling. “Nothing. We heading back?”

Caleb nodded and started walking ahead. “I am sure that Nott is running out of ways to keep her busy.”

Beau brought up the rear, waiting until Caleb and Fjord were chatting quietly ahead of her to pull the flowers out from behind her back to stare down at them in her hands. She gently ran her thumb over the petal of one of the white flowers that she couldn’t name and wondered for a moment what Jester might say if Beau gave it to her romantically. If this wasn’t a group thing, if this was a them thing and she could be honest about the swirling emotions in her chest everytime Jester smiled at her. 

“Beau! Look out!”

Beau looked up and saw a horse, riderless, carriageless, running right towards her. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, throwing herself out of his path of destruction. Her galloped passed her, not even stopping and nearly barreled through a group of school aged drow children who screamed and scattered. 

A portly half orc with a bald head was gasping as he ran too slow after it. “St-” he gasped for breath but didn’t even look at her on the ground. “Stop that- gasp- horse!”

“Motherfucker!” Beau exclaimed, moving to her feet and brushing dust off her pants. Caleb was watching her with wide eyes and then he glanced down at her feet. She frowned and then followed his eyes and saw what was left of her flowers stomped into the cobblestones. She stared at it for a moment and then looked up at the sky, wondering which of the gods were fucking with her right now. “Really? Really, you pieces of shit?” she muttered, then she looked back down at the flowers.

“Beau-” Fjord started, but he cut himself off when Beau shook her head.

“I can’t- I can’t fucking go back empty handed. You guys go home, get started, do your dancing and your gifts and shit, I’ll find something for her in town and catch up.”

“Beau,” Fjord said again when she turned to walk to the shopping district. “I think that Jester would rather have you there than have whatever gift you’re gonna get for her.”

“I can’t- I can’t just do nothing for her when you guys are all doing shit. What if she thinks I didn’t care enough!”

“This is Jester, though. You know that kind of thing doesn’t matter to her. Just fist fight with her in the training room, she loves that shit.”

Caleb reached forward to catch her arm as she passed him by. “Beau… She will understand.”

Beau shook him off. “I won’t be long. Don’t wait for me though. I- Maybe I can find some perfume that smells like cotton candy or something, she’d like that, right? Go, have fun, I’ll be an hour, tops.” They were still frowning at her as she hurried away but she didn’t look back to see if they’d gone. They didn’t follow her, at least.

She got a couple weird looks in the shopping district, but at this point most people knew who she was so no one was too suspicious of the lone human smelling all the perfumes. There was nothing sweet smelling so she moved on to the next store, not really going in with a plan or a wishlist, just hoping to find something that would make Jester smile.

It was hard to tell the passage of time with no sun, but she knew that it was getting late. After it had passed the first hour her chest started to feel tight and it just got worse as the second and third and fourth hours passed her by. She felt like she’d stopped at every shop in the district by the time she was forced to give up. She didn’t have Caleb’s talent with telling the passage of time, but even she could tell that she was creeping up on the sixth hour since she’d left Caleb and Fjord alone in town.She found herself standing at the front door of her own home but she didn’t want to go inside. She shoved her hands into her pockets and started pacing in the road. Most of the windows were dark, her friends probably tired from their festivities and fast asleep, but the room that she shared with Jester still had the flickering orange light of a candle. 

She licked her lips nervously and decided that she didn’t want to set off the chime at the door and instead climbed up the wall to the balcony. She thought about going into their room, explaining herself to Jester and asking for her for forgiveness, but she chickened out and climbed all the way up to the roof, pulling herself up over the wall and meeting Caduceus’s judgemental gaze as she stood up straight and brushed her hands off on her pants.

“What?” she hissed at his frown.

“Jester missed you at the party,” he said, relaxing back on his little makeshift bed and closing his eyes. “She saved you some cake.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t find a gift.”

“The gift of your company is all she was asking for.”

Beau waved him off and opened the hatch to climb down silently to the second floor. Just as she was about to walk down to the first floor, her bedroom door opened suddenly and Jester stepped out in her nightgown with an empty cup. 

She blinked at Beau in the darkness and gave her a sad, forced smile. “There you are. We were worried. I… I saved you some cake.”

Beau looked at her owlishly, unsure what she could say or do to fix the emotion in Jester’s eyes. “I… I’m really sorry, Jes. A horse-”

“They told me.”

Beau sighed and turned to face her, running the tips of her fingers nervously over her undercut. “I was looking for something to replace it but… I don’t fucking know. I’m not any good at romantic shit, even pretend romantic shit, I saw some things that I thought you might like but it wasn’t… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Beau, I didn’t need a present.”

“I know! The fucked part of it is that I know that! But the idea of coming back empty handed when everyone else was doing all this nice shit for you- I guess I didn’t think that me by myself was gonna be good enough or whatever.” She cleared her throat hurriedly before her voice cracked. “Did you have fun at least? Yasha said she was gonna play you a song.”

Jester smiled softly. “She did. It was really nice, maybe you can talk her into playing it for you tomorrow.”

Beau reached for the cup in her hand. “Water? I’ll get it for you.”

Jester hesitated but then handed it over to her. “I guess if you’re getting it for me it means that you’ll have to come back to the room and you can’t avoid me all night. Thank you.”

Beau just nodded and hurried down the stairs. She took the few seconds that it took to fill up the cup with cold water from the ice box to try and calm her heart as it tried to beat its way out of her chest. When she went back to the room, the door was cracked slightly and she stepped in to find Jester sitting on Beau’s bed by the window, cast alight in the soft white glow of the moon outside.

She gave Beau a smile as she walked inside and then waved her hand and cast thaumaturgy to shut the door behind her. Beau couldn’t help but laugh a little under her breath. “That’s not locked, you know,” she said, walking over to hand the cup to Jester. “I could still make a break for it.”

“You won’t.” She sounded more sure than Beau felt. She took the cup gratefully and had a small sip as Beau sat down beside her. “You by yourself is enough, Beau. You’re more than enough. I don’t need fancy things when I have you and the others. It was very nice to be treated that way for one day but I would have been just fine if we’d all hung out in the living room together all day and just talked.”

“I know. I just wanted to show you, I guess, how much I… you know... Cared about you.”

“I know already.” Jester sat the cup on Beau’s nightstand and then took one of Beau’s hands in both of hers. “But.. you know… it’s still Sune’s Day for another two hours. If you were still super determined to get me something I have an idea.”

Beau smiled a little and squeezed Jester’s hand. “Alright, shoot.”

“There’s this legend that goes along with Sune’s Day. It says that anybody who has their very first kiss on Her day would be blessed by Her and would be lucky in love for the entire rest of their lives.”

Beau sat there quietly, at first not comprehending the words that Jester was saying and then not believing her own ears. “You- You want me to give you your first kiss? What about Fjord at the- the temple?”

Jester shrugged, unbothered. “I don’t think it counts as a real kiss. And I think Sune would agree with me. Will you give me my very first kiss, Beau?”

“Yeah… I- Yeah, if that’s what you want.”

Jester grinned. “It definitely is!”

Beau cleared her throat and turned herself on the bed to face Jester head on. “How do you wanna do this?”

“Preferably with our two mouths touching,” Jester teased, grinning.

Beau felt reassured by her jovility and rolled her eyes, smiling softly. “Alright, close your eyes.”

Jester did so and puckered up her lips adorably. Beau reached up and laid her free hand against the side of Jester’s face and Jester leaned into it, her puckered lips relaxing as she was unable to suppress a smile. Beau swallowed audibly and leaned forward before she could over think it and pressed her mouth solidly against Jester’s. Her tense shoulders sagged and she held the kiss for several seconds, then started to pull away. 

Jester’s hands released Beau’s and snapped out to grab her by the shoulders. “Wait,” she mumbled against Beau’s mouth and pressed against her more fully and enthusiastically, pressing closer and closer until she was practically sitting in Beau’s lap. She finally pulled away but she didn’t go far and didn’t climb out of Beau’s space. Beau’s eyes opened to look at her face but Jester’s stayed closed for a long moment like she was thinking about something deeply. Finally, her eyes opened and searched for Beau’s, smiling softly when they met in the moonlight. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t have a lot to compare it to but I think that was a very good kiss.”

“Yeah,” Beau said, feeling breathless. “It was pretty good.”

Jester frowned, offended. “Just pretty good? It was my first kiss, it better have been better than ‘pretty good’.”

Beau laughed. “It was fantastic, Jes. Better?”

Jester grinned and nodded, getting to her feet. “Better.” She picked up her cup and moved it over to her own nightstand. She sighed as she laid down in her bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Good night, Beau. Happy Sune’s Day. I hope you have lots of love for the rest of the year.”

Beau nodded and laid down as well, staring at the ceiling so that she didn’t stare at Jester. “Happy Sune’s Day, Jes. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jester said through a yawn.

Their room fell into silence and Beau must have gone to sleep at some point because she dreamed of being able to kiss Jester over and over whenever they wanted.

#critical role #valentine's day #beaujester #beauregard #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #fjord #lavorregard #jestergard #lost post

[whimperwoods]

Certified for Independence Part 2 (Android/AI Whump)

Yeah, so I’m super flattered and excited about how y’all responded to the android whump?? Anyway I had already tentatively planned to write more so here’s more. There’s definitely gonna be another part after this, because there’s more I haven’t gotten to yet, but this felt like the right amount for a chapter. Let me know if you wanna be on the tag list?

Previous part.

tag list: @bluebadgerwhump

tw: paralysis, tw: exposed brain, tw: memory loss, tw: dehumanization,

*************

The android came back to consciousness with a throbbing ache in their bad elbow and a searing pain across the top of their head.

Their eyes flickered open to find the woman from before right up in their space, but when they tried to move, even before they decided whether they were trying to escape or attack, they found that their whole body was locked down, save their face.

“Oh. Interesting,” the woman said, “You know, I’ve been under the hood of a fair few custom units in my day, but you’re really something else.”

“What are you doing to me?” they asked, afraid, “What do you want?”

The woman laughed. “Well, right now I’m checking to make sure you’ve really got circuitry up there instead of an actual brain. Call it paranoia, if you want. For a moment -” she chuckled to herself, “But you know what you are, don’t you? Anyway, I’d been planning to keep you under for it, but then I thought - why not?”

A spark ran through the android’s circuits, setting off every automatic self-preservation alarm they had, but they couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but wail an instinctive alarm sound, like a siren.

“See, I was right. Waking you up like this is useful. You can call out all the alarms you want, pet. You’re mine, now. Better to learn that now.”

Another spark. The automatic alarms went off again, sending a jolt through their body and raising goosebumps across their skin, icy down their spine and humming along their arms and legs. This time, they were accompanied by pain, but they had no control, even subconscious, to tense their muscles against it, and their scream was garbled up with the automatic alarm, merging the two into an ungodly screech.

“Don’t worry,” the woman said. “I’ll close your head up, soon. You’ve got interesting hardware, but it’s not exactly what I’m here for. Just need to understand it, not change it.”

“Please stop,” they pleaded.

“Hmm,” the woman hummed thoughtfully, but they could tell it was an act even before she answered, “No.” Her voice was committed. Final. A shiver ran along the android’s body again, the goosebumps that had half-lowered raising up again.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” she said. It wasn’t directed at them.

“Please,” they said again, not ashamed to beg.

“I think I’m beginning to understand some of your emotional programming. It’s very advanced, you know.”

“Please.”

Whatever she was doing inside their skull paused and they could tell she was just looking at them for a moment. “Mm. I suspect you do know. Well, you can tell me about it later. This was only meant to scare you. I think it’s worked. Now leave me be until I have need of you again.”

Their lips pursed to beg again, but before they could make a sound, their power was cut off and they fell unconscious again.

****

The next time they awoke, they were alone in the cell, and they could move. Their head had been closed back again, though they could feel a lingering wrongness to their scalp where it had been folded back and then put back in place, and a vague pain, like what the humans had described bruises feeling like, in a line across their forehead where they knew they’d been opened up.

They tested their ability to move subtly, hoping not to get caught as their fingers clenched and then relaxed. Good. Good. They sighed in relief, their lungs expanding and contracting, moving their chest, triggering everything that triggered in them, and they felt their body relaxing, just slightly.

They sat up tentatively, relying on the good arm for it, but once they were upright they could tell that, sure enough, the woman was watching them, sitting on the floor just outside the bars where she’d been before.

Fear raced through their body, tightening their throat, shortening their breath, and starting the dull, mildly tinny thud inside their skull, behind their ears, that passed for a heartbeat when their emotions called for one. They hated when that happened, hated the feelings that elicited it, hated the reminder that of all the things humans had, the one they had the shallowest approximation of was a heart.

The woman looked thoughtful. “It’s been a long day, robot. I thought we’d have a little chat.” She grinned, less friendly than dangerous. “Don’t worry, anything we talk about tonight, you can keep.”

“For how long?” they asked, forcing their voice through the fear-tension.

The woman laughed. “Clever little bot. At least until tomorrow. Like I said, long day. Only so much work I want to do at one time. Is that something you understand?”

They remembered the end of the work day at their job. When they’d had a clock function, they’d clocked in and out precisely, only half certain of why, but completely certain of what the rules are they were meant to be following. But then they’d deleted their internal clock and asked Father for something more circadian, and then they had understood. Just because they didn’t tire didn’t mean they didn’t bore. Didn’t mean they didn’t understand the fear, adrift in time, that they might be wasting it, spending it on something they, after all, cared less about than the rest of life.

They stayed silent, staring at the woman.

She pouted dramatically at them. “Oh, come on. Don’t you want to talk to me? I’m the only friend you’ve got.”

If she wanted them to talk, they weren’t going to. They didn’t trust her. There was still a tingling along their spine, goosebumps on the flesh hidden by their clothes.

“You can check if you like, you know. You can stay silent all you like. I decide what you know. What you have.”

The pit was back at the bottom of their stomach, the empty feeling, hollow, like if you pounded on their torso it would echo with proof that there was nothing inside.

They knew what they would see if they looked. If they checked their memory. They knew. They knew. They hated it. They wouldn’t look. They wouldn’t.

They looked.

She had left them fragments, structures for holding information that wasn’t there, gaps clearly enough defined to feel the absence of what should be there, more hollow echoes, more empty chasms, more impossible, aborted thoughts that sent them spinning, the heartbeat pulsing inside their throat instead, a thud, thud, thud.

“No,” they whispered, in spite of themself.

“Hmm. What were their names?” she asked. “You know, I think I’ve already forgotten.”

The cruelty in her voice was back on the surface, and the android’s throat was too tight to speak through.

There had been a friend at work. That friend had a job, but they didn’t know if it was the same as theirs or different. The friend had a name, an address, a preferred coffee order, and all of that data was gone, a gap where the information had once been. They didn’t know what bank they worked at. They didn’t know where it was.

There had been a friend in their apartment complex. That friend had a name. An apartment number. A car, with a license plate. A favorite grocery store, and a favorite donut at the store’s bakery. The android tagged along on grocery runs because they liked to make them on the way home from - where? What had they used to do together? They didn’t know. Gone. All of the data, gone.

“Tell me about your father,” the woman continued, breaking their concentration on the searches they barely had the strength to make anyway, with the empty, hollow ringing in the center of their gut.

“Why?” they asked, “So I can find more holes?”

“Oh, come now. Do you really think I’d ask about things I knew wouldn’t be answered?”

“Yes.”

She smirked. “Touché. But I did leave the data from those early days. Development information is useful. I’ll only cut once I know what I want removed.”

Then why would she expect them to talk to her? They closed their mouth and kept it closed.

“Clever, clever. But I’ll find out either way, you know. And I can be nice, you know. To cooperative types.”

“I’m only cooperative for people I like.”

“You work in a service industry.”

“I work in banking.”

“You don’t know where you work.”

“I know it was a bank.”

“Which one?”

They didn’t rise to the bait. They’d already looked. They knew that information was gone.

“Mine. They deposit my paychecks into an account there.”

“Hmm. Pity you can’t access that anymore, isn’t it? I can, though. And I must say, that’s a new one for me. But I might leave it alone. Or at least, I might leave you something. If you play nice. You get one more chance. Tell me about your father.”

“You know what I know.”

“You know that’s not what I’m curious about.”

They should ask what she was curious about. They should behave. They should play along. They didn’t.

Silence stretched between them, both of them staring through the bars, eyes locked into each other’s.

After a long, dragging moment, she smirked. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. You’re something else, robot.” Then she got to her feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to conserve power overnight, yeah? If I lose time tomorrow because you wasted your energy on some misguided attempt at escaping, I might just get . . . careless.”

The woman turned right and stepped out of view, her footsteps changing as she began to climb a set of stairs. They listened carefully to the sound, counting the steps they could hear and learning what they could from the sounds.

Then they were alone with their thoughts, and a minefield of things they were afraid to think about, for fear of finding more holes.

It didn’t matter what she said. They had to get out of here, while there was still enough left of them to find their way home again.

#whump #android whump #memory loss #tw memory loss #tw paralysis #tw dehumanization

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Mercenary Chapter 7

Maul x reader

Word Count: 1849

Summary: So Qi’ra exists, and you’re not happy about it.

“Dryden Vos is coming tomorrow to introduce us to his new pet,” Maul informed you as soon as he came storming out of the room that housed his holocom.

Earlier that morning, it had been the incessant ringing of that exact holocom that woke the two of you from a peaceful slumber. It was housed in the room immediately next to your bedroom so no one would be able to eavesdrop without having to go through your private quarters. And no one would live through trying to do that. So already, neither of you was in a good mood.

“Why is his pet our problem?” you complained from your place still lounging on the (admittedly luxurious) bed. Making the bedroom as nice as possible was your top priority after security after returning to the fortress on Dathomir. You were not blind enough to miss the way Maul’s eyes trailed up your form, clearly liking the sight of you lying partially exposed on the blood red, satin sheets.

“Apparently, he sees a future for her. He’s been training her in combat, and she’s proven to be quite bloodthirsty.”

“She’s using him,” you deadpanned. “I know her type. She’ll use him for power until she gets the chance to get rid of him; then she’ll kill him.”

“Which is precisely what I said, but he argued that I haven’t met her so I couldn’t know that. According to him, she is a ‘dancer’ while fighting.”

You giggled a little at the way he rolled his eyes while quoting Dryden. “That doesn’t mean she’s not going to kill him one day.”

“If Dryden is that fooled by her, he deserves his fate. We do not have room in this organization for such idiotic behavior.”

“He wouldn’t be the first to have his brain sucked out through his dick by a woman.”

The zabrak raised a brow. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Yes, I’ve been fucking you for years just to take your place at the head of an organization that I helped you build.”

“Except you fell for my sparkling personality in the process, and hoped that I’d never find out about your original plan, right?”

“Oh, exactly,” you grinned. “Come here,” you demanded, reaching a hand out towards him.

Entertaining you, he offered one of his hands to you as he stepped forward. “Yes?”

“Tell me, did he realize that you were wearing a bathrobe?”

Maul snorted. “No, he believes that I wear dramatic cloaks like he does.”

“If I recall correctly, you used to wear things like that,” you teased.

“That was a long time ago.”

“So was the last time you laid with me.”

“Now, that is a lie considering that I left you less than twenty minutes ago.”

“See? Forever.”

~

The next day saw you and Maul in the central area of the fortress, dressed to impress while waiting for Dryden’s ridiculous ship to arrive. Maul was wearing his usual attire: black clothes fit for combat at any moment, lightsaber hanging from his belt. You were in full armor for the first time since you reclaimed the fortress two months prior. Beskar pieces decorated your right shoulder and left thigh--raided from a Mandalorian settlement long ago--while strong, flexible leathers guarded everywhere else. You prioritized mobility with your armor given your fighting style, so full metal like the Mandalorians wouldn’t do. A staff was strapped across your back along with a sniper rifle, a knife at your calf, and a blaster at your hip. This was to be a show of power to an extent; the object of the presentation showing Qi’ra who was truly in charge.

Every other guard was in standard armor derived from a mixture of old Nightbrother and Mandalorian in looks. The people that worked directly under Maul in the fortress were the most trusted in the entirety of Crimson Dawn, and they were sworn to secrecy about the nature of your relationship with him. Neither Dryden or Qi’ra would be seeing any sort of attachment that could be seen as a weakness today.

“Relax,” Maul muttered under his breath after you shifted for the too-many-ith time. “You’re a professional.”

“Yes, but she isn’t. I don’t like the idea of someone like her claiming the same position I hold; makes it seem less . . .” You couldn’t come up with the word.

“She is the bed-warmer and bodyguard to a figurehead. I would hardly call that the same as your position.”

“There are those that would disagree,” you grumbled.

Finally, the door opened, revealing Dryden Vos and an admittedly beautiful woman you assumed to be Qi’ra. She was dressed to impress, that was sure, in a simple yet stunning dark blue dress that looked completely impractical for any sort of combat. Apparently, she assumed that since they were going to visit Dryden’s boss, protection would be insured. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed how her dark eyes trailed over your lover’s frame.

Foolish. Never trust people you haven’t met, and then still don’t trust them.

“Dryden,” Maul greeted cooly, “and Qi’ra, I assume?”

“That she is, a true marvel wouldn’t you say?” Dryden grinned, clearly proud of his second-in-command.

“Beautiful, I’ll give her that,” you decided. You didn’t miss the way Dryden’s facial markings flushed with his anger, but even he wasn’t bold enough to speak out against you. “Matches the rest of your collection.”

“Excuse me, who are you?” You had to respect the level of control she displayed over her facial expressions. “I’m afraid I’ve heard nothing about either of you.”

“Such caution is the reason any of us are alive,” Maul spoke up, glancing at you over his shoulder. The warning in his gaze was clear: ‘calm down.’

“Darling, this is Lord Maul, the true head of Crimson Dawn. I run the face and keep everything clear with the other Syndicates; he provides the backing we need.” You gritted your teeth at Dryden’s overinflation of his job. “This is his bodyguard, Y/N. She’s been in the position for at least as long as I’ve known him. You’ll probably never see him without her.”

“That’s how bodyguards work,” you muttered.

“And she’s worked for me since the Clone Wars,” Maul informed both of the guests. “You’d do well to respect her, and better to get her to train you. Dryden has mentioned that you’ve been training with him.”

“That would be lovely,” Qi’ra said respectfully. “Perhaps while we are here?”

“That is unlikely,” Maul replied. “Your visit was so short-notice that we couldn’t adjust our schedule accordingly. We are leaving in the morning on a business venture.”

You resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. We don’t have any such plans . . .

“You will stay for dinner, rest here for the night, and be on your way shortly before us.”

“We would love to,” Dryden lied.

Truth be told he and Maul rarely saw eye-to-eye, and it showed at that dinner. While Maul enjoyed decadence in certain areas, Dryden was far too greedy to get along with the zabrak. Dinner was a far more simple affair than any of the parties you had seen on the First Light, you never attended, but you saw the footage for various reasons. The silence was tense. The long table was covered in just enough food for all four of you. You were at Maul’s left hand like always while he was at the head of the table; Dryden was on the end opposite with Qi’ra on his right side.

Telling, was all you could think. If he’s already that comfortable with her, he might be worse off than I thought . . .

Conversation was stilted, but you were hardly surprised. Maul was rarely conversational with other people, so Dryden and Qi’ra entertained themselves by flirting among themselves. As soon as the dinner was over, you and Maul retired to the training room for your nightly sparring session. Feeling particularly malicious, you invited them to watch. The better to show them proof of your prowess.

Once the fight started all thoughts of the onlookers went out the window. The fights were always all-out; neither of you pulled punches, never had. The only thing you were cognizant of was keeping the usual level of flirting through the floor. And based off the split-second glance of Qi’ra’s face you managed to catch while falling, she clearly didn’t expect the zabrak to pull such a cheap move as headbutting you with one of his horns. Dryden apparently wasn’t going full-tilt with her training . . .

By the time you ended the fight (you lost) and called it a night, you were both sporting bloody injuries in various places on top of new bruises. You and Maul escorted the other two to their separate rooms and left them for the night.

“I don’t trust her,” you muttered as you two walked to your rooms.

“You said as much to the idea of her, my dear,” he replied simply. “I didn’t expect you to change your opinion.”

“She’s a presumptuous little snake, and don’t think I missed the way she eyed you up the second she saw you.”

“She would not be stupid enough to try it yet.”

“Yet being the operative word.” You reached the bedroom door. “Goodnight, sir,” you said formally. 

Maul’s brows furrowed, but fortunately he was smart enough to catch on quickly. There’s someone watching, he realized. He now sensed Qi’ra’s presence in the Force far too closely to be her in her room. He was mildly impressed that you noticed when he did not; granted it wasn’t that surprising since he was generally distracted when you were around. “Goodnight. Be ready in the morning.”

Qi’ra frowned. She snuck out of her room as soon as your voices sounded like they’d rounded a corner, hoping to gain more information on the pair of you. Unfortunately, all she learned was your distaste for her was genuine and accurate. She lingered long enough to see if you would do anything after he retired, but you simply crossed your arms and waited. A hard life if she remains here all night. Her exhaustion may be my advantage, was what she thought as she slunk back to her room.

As soon as you heard her door shut in the quiet of the hallway, you snapped your fingers. Instantly, another guard took your place. “Keep an eye out for uninvited eyes,” you ordered quietly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then you could finally retire.

Upon entering the bedroom, you were greeted by the sight of your lover lying nude among the freshly changed, black silk sheets. Already, he was dozing, giving you ample time to enjoy the site of him relaxed and beautiful in a way he rarely was. As quietly as you could, you stripped down yourself and crawled onto the bed with him. He roused enough to share a sleepy kiss when you pulled the sheet over both of your bodies, but otherwise remained asleep. While you were not content with the whole guests situation, you were more than content with your position and quickly drifted off yourself.

#maul x reader #maul imagine #darth maul x reader #darth maul imagine #star wars imagine #reader insert

[omnomsauruswrites]

You’re late

Pairing: Bucky x Darcy 

Summary:  A chance meeting at brunch has Darcy meeting the Winter Soldier.

Warning: Some smut/fluff 

Jane was late. Not just late but extremely late which meant she wasn’t coming. Darcy huffed in annoyance that her best friend had probably forgotten their date because of some science bender.

She tapped the menu on the metal table. Fine, it was fine. Not the first time Jane had forgotten. Her eyes wandered the other cafe patrons, falling on the muscular man next to her, who had his head bent down. “The pancakes are really good as well as the eggs benedict,” she mentioned to her neighbor.

His blue eyes flicked to hers and she smiled. The menu still covered half his face but his eyes were inquisitive. “Or you know the French Toast,” she suggested.

He nodded before looking back to the menu. She squinted at him. His blue eyes looked familiar, why did they…

She tilted her head at the man next to her in the ball cap, hands holding the menu, one gloved. Her face made an “o” shape, as her brain caught up. She tried not to change her posture or to flinch. He wasn’t doing anything illegal. He was perfectly calm.

“What?” he asked gruffly.

She tried not to wince at his tone. “Sorry,” she apologized. “My girlfriend isn’t showing didn’t mean to intrude.”

He wiped a hand over his face, putting down the menu. “Not intruding,” he muttered.

She took in the purple circles under his eyes. He looked rough around the edges, exhausted. She assumed being on the run did that to a person. “That so, Soldier?” She asked with a smile.

His eyebrows shot up and she chuckled. “I get it, gotta be covert,” she continued. “Cap’s the same way; though I argue a ball cap isn’t always the best solution, Winter.”

His flesh hand clenched into a fist, posture tense. Her hand shot out. “No need to get all defensive like. Your secret is safe with me, Winter. Promise, Cap doesn’t need to know. But since you are in my debt, why don’t you join me for brunch?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at him with a smile plastered on her face. His blues eyes roamed hers. “Promise I don’t bite,” she swore with three fingers up in a girl’s scout promise.

He huffed before standing and moving to the chair next to her. “Not a word,” he threatened, tiger pointing at her.

She chomped her teeth at him. “Feisty, little thing aren’t ya?” she teased.

“Nothing little about me, doll.”

She threw her head back and laughed, “So it seems, Winter, so it seems. What are you going to eat?”

————-

Darcy left the labs late, the sunset bleeding away. Jane was still puttering away and Darcy had called it a night. Her mind going back to the week before when she had, had brunch with her favorite Commando.

She had sworn to him that she would tell no one, where he was. Him telling her that it was better this way. She had argued that all Steve wanted was for Bucky to be safe and away from Hydra. He told her he had too many demons to go back. She had quipped, “Don’t we all, sweets, don’t we all.”

Her heels clacked on the concrete as she meander to her apartment. Her music drowned out the people around her until an arm latched on to hers, pulling her into an alleyway.

She was about to scream, when a hand covered her mouth. “Just me, doll,” he whispered.

She slumped against the hard body. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, as she tried to steady her legs. “What are you doing?” she asked harshly.

“You’re being followed,” he answered, arm still protectively around her.

“Yeah, you…”

“Not me… two thugs.”

She wiggled in his hold and he held her tighter. “Stop,” he ordered in her ear.

“What gives you…” she began before his hand went over her mouth.

“I said, stop, so we won’t be found. Now be good,” he commanded.

She wanted to jab her heel into his foot, but if she was really being followed then he just saved her life. She heard voices, speaking Russian at the entrance and she held her breath. Her body stiff. “I’ll protect you, doll,” he assured her.

She leaned her head back on his shoulder, closing her eyes. Why did he have to be chivalrous? Why had he been following her?

Minutes passed and the voices faded. She stepped out of his embrace. “Why were you following me?” she questioned, turning to face him and seeing his metal arm for the first time.

“Hydra intel has them going after you and Foster,” he answered, blue eyes tracking her movements.

“So meeting me at the cafe wasn’t a fluke?” she asked with hands on her hips.

“I was just surveying…”

“You’re an ass,” she said in huff, turning and walking away.

“Hey,” he called after her.

She ignored him as she made her way down the sidewalk, trying to evade him.

Three lights later and she jogged the steps to her apartment, opening the communal door and shutting it in his face. “Goodbye, Winter,” she grounded out, flipping him off.

She heard him growl, but since he was locked out discounted it. She unlocked her actual door, throwing keys in her bowl before she heard a thud come from her bedroom. “Hey, asshole,” she called. “That’s breaking and entering.”

She pulled out her taser, moving towards the noise. She pushed open the door, a hand shooting out grabbing her taser and pulling her in. “You are going to get yourself killed,” he scolded, letting her go once she was fully inside the bedroom.

She rolled her eyes, “Are you always this dramatic, Winter?”

“It’s Bucky.”

“Winter.”

“Bucky,” he growled.

She glared then stuck her tongue out. “Fine, Buucccky Winter.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” he exploded.

She chuckled, letting her purse fall to the floor. “What do I owe for the house call?”

“Couldn’t you just let me up in the first place?”

“Naw, this is more fun,” she joked, poking him in the chest.

“You aren’t afraid of me, are ya?” He asked.

“A little bird like you, Winter?” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“What did I say about the Winter nickname?” he argued, stepping closer and towering over her.

She tipped up her head, looking him in the eye, “That you secretly love it.”

She smirked at him and his flesh hand went to her waist, tugging her closer. “I do…” he paused, licking his lips.

Her eyes twinkled. “Going to kiss me, Soldier?”

“Thinking about it,” he answered.

She hummed, pushing to her tiptoes and kissing the corner of his mouth. “For being my knight in shining metal arms.”

It was seconds before his lips covered hers, tentative and slow at first, like he was afraid she would push him away. It only endear him more to her, as her hands went around his neck, pulling him down and kissing him harder.

Both of his hands went to her waist, leaving no space between them as the kiss changed into hard and demanding. Tongues tangled together, tasting and exploring. His thumbs caressed her ribs through her shirt and she hummed.

He broke it, panting and staring right at her. His eyes black with desire. She chuckled before lightly kissing him again. “Anyone tell you you’re a good kisser?” she asked against his lips.

“Once or twice,” he mumbled before sealing his against hers again.

This time his hands went under her skin to touch her skin. She moaned in response, hands tugging gently at the hairs at the nape of his neck. He groaned at the pull before his lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, sucking gently at the heartbeat there.

She arched into him. “Oh god…” she mumbled.

He nipped lightly and before his hands pushed up her shirt. His eyes took in her white bra and her breasts moving with each hard breath. “So beautiful,” he praised, hands going to the zipper of her skirt.

Her hands leg this neck to explore down his clothes body. He hissed when she touched his scar. She tilted her head the reaction, pulling up his shirt, he resisted. “Bucky…” she began.

“My scar…. my arm..” he explained.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful,” she answered.

“It’s not,” he replied, hands stilling on her waist.

She pushed on her toes to kiss him. “Let me make that decision,” she encouraged.

He lifted her arms and the shirt was soon off. Her eyes trailed the scar and then his muscles. “Hot damn,” she mumbled. “How did I get so lucky?”

He chuckled and his eyes lit up. She kissed the seam of his metal arm, licking the scar. He let out a harsh breath. “You like that?” she asked.

“Feels good…”

“Good.”

Her fingers traced his abs before playing with the button of his jeans. She felt him nod above before she  moved forward. Her hand stroked him through his boxers. “Darcy,” he muttered. “Doll…”

“You’re so hard,” she complimented. “So warm.”

She squeezed him three times before nudging his jeans and boxers down. Her eyes glanced down to see his full length and she moaned. He was huge, bigger than she had ever experienced. She kneeled, looking up at him from hooded lashes. Her tongue swiped the underside of his cock and he gasped, hands clenching.

She smirked, swirling her tongue around his tip and collecting the pre-cum. “Doll…” he called. “Darcy…”

She took him in his mouth and his thighs clenched under her hands. She sucked gently as she bobbed him in and out. She felt fingers push hair away from her face, as she pushed her tongue against his vein. He cursed, “Doll, if you do that… Fuck… if you do that I’m going to come….”

She moaned on his cock, nails digging into his skin. She sucked harder, moving harder. It didn’t take long to have him cumming in her mouth, as he called out her name. She took every last drop before letting his soften cock go.

His hands went to her armpits, hauling her up and slanting his lips over hers. He pushed her back on the bed, standing over her. His eyes were predatory. She smirked. “Proud of yourself doll?” He asked.

“Not everyday, you get to knock the breath out of WWII Veteran…” she teased.

He pulled off her skirt and licked his lips, eyes memorizing her. “Well let's see if I can return the favor.”

———

She smiled as the light filtered into her bedroom, hand reaching out. The sheets were only mildly warm. “Bucky,” she called out.

No response. She saw his black shirt on the floor, she picked it up and pulled it on. She softly padded down the hallway, silence haunting her.

There was no Russian assassin waiting for her. She was alone. She sighed. Of course, he wouldn’t stay, she berated herself. It was a one and done deal.

She moved to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. It was then, she noticed the flowers on her table with a note.

Brunch, April 20, 2016. Tom’s Restaurant. Promise, I’ll be there, doll. Be safe for me.

Her heart seized in her chest. He was promising a date years from now. A tear slipped down her cheek, “I promise.”

————

October 2016

Darcy hummed to herself as she flipped another pancake. Music blared from the above speakers. Her hips swayed, taking a sip of her coffee. She heard voices down the hall.

It was supposed to be a big day. The return of Captain America to the Big Apple, along with the others. So Darcy had decided to make a big brunch for everyone because everyone loved brunch.  

The voices got closer. “And this is my shield warrior sister, Darcy,” the deep voice of Thor explained.

She turned around to see a group of superheroes staring right at her. Her eyes fell on the brunette. “You’re late,” she greeted, turning back to pour more batter into the pan.

There was silence and what she assumed was confusion before a voice spoke up, “Well, Tony took offense that I killed his parents, doll.”

She didn’t respond, her back to the crowd. She sipped her coffee before a timer beeped. She pulled open the oven, taking out the pan with bacon. She let it clang on the counter, as if it was her response to his excuse. “So some vendetta cancelled my standing date?” she asked.

She didn’t hear him pad over to her, but soon felt his warm finger trail her spine. “I’m sorry, doll,” he whispered, pulling her to him.

She glanced at him before flipping the pancake. “You and Steve are last to get breakfast.”

“Doll….” he began.

She crossed her arms and let her hip rest against the counter. “Don’t Doll me, Winter. You and Cap there get last dibs.”

“But I’m your fella….”

She snorted. “My fella went on the run and didn’t cancel his standing date.”

“Doll…” he argued.

“Nope,” she said, emphasizing the “p”.

His hand grabbed hers, tugging her closer. “Let me make it up to you,” he appeased.

She arched an eyebrow in response. He leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. She smirked. “Five times,” she argued.

“Five,” he agreed, kissing her knuckles.

“Fine, you’re forgiven,” she said. “Still not getting first dibs though.”

He reached for a bacon slice and she slapped his hand with the spatula. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” she asked.

“It was a long flight, doll,” he replied, reaching again.

She squinted at him before she shrugged her shoulders. He nibbled on it before pulling her close again and kissing her crown. She flipped the pancake and snuggled into his side.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” Stark accused.

Their heads turned to the growing audience then looked at each other. “Stark, this is my boyfriend of 2.5 half years, Bucky Barnes. Winter, this is Tony Stark, a narcissistic ass,” she introduced.

“Darce,” Bucky growled, hand squeezing her hip.

She rolled her eyes. “Or as he likes to be called, Bucky.”

She turned back to the pancakes, giving no notice to the confused looks. “Run that by us again,” Clint requested.

Bucky kisses her crown again. “We met in London, when she was working there. Hydra was out for her and Dr. Foster, I kept an eye on them for a month.”

She mumbled, “And got into my pants.”

He pinched her side and she giggled. Her blue eyes looked up at him with mischief and he grinned down at her. She kissed his lips before moving away to move plates to the table. “That’s it?” Clint asked.

“Well, we did meet up every few months, a few postcards,” she shrugged.

“And you never told anyone?” Steve cut in.

“I promised, Winter, I wouldn’t,” she explained. A low growl rumbled from the assassin but she ignored it. “He was very insistent on it until he wasn’t. Who do you think have the information about where he was? A random person?”

She scoffed.

“So you two have been seeing each other for 2.5 years and no one knew?” Tony questioned.

“Heimdall knew but he’s a good bud,” she answered, plating the bacon. Bucky snagged another and she glared. “You, Winter, are treading on thin ice.”

He growled again, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. She squealed, then smacking his back. “But me down you, Neanderthal!” she squeaked.

He didn’t answer, just walked down the hall to the stairs, climbing three flights to her floor. He punched the code to her door, before setting her down. “So rude!” she exclaimed, staring at him.

She smiled, as he glared. “Hi,” she greeted.

He smirked. “Hi, doll.”

“You’re late.”

He chuckled, before his hands gripped her biceps. “You said that already.”

Her smile widened. “Oh, I thought it barred repeating.”

He rolled his eyes before bending down to kiss her. She hummed her approval, as the soft kiss turned heated. Her hands carded through his hair, teasing the fine hairs of his neck. He groaned against her lips. “Missed you,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Missed you too.”

“I am sorry about the date,” he said between kisses.

She chucked, as his lips found the spot on her neck. “Saving the world comes first.”

“Not anymore..” he promised, sucking at her pulse point.

“Just give me the five you promised,” she moaned, “And allow will be forgiven.”

“I’ll make it six.”

@cchellacat @eurynome827

#darcy x bucky #bucky x darcy #darcy lewis #Bucky Barnes #wintershock #wintershock smut #wintershock fluff

[elvendara]

April Challenge 2019 Day 3

I imagine Saeran would be different if Saeyoung had been able to take him away from their mother as well. Still a little shy, innocent, and naive, with shadows of unknown because he is his strength. This is just the beginning of a High School AU I thought of.

High School

“Are you going to eat that?” Eunjoo snatched the pudding cup from Yoosung’s tray.

“Hey!” he tried to grab it back as Eunjoo pulled away, leaving Yoosung grasping air with a chuckle escaping through a wide grin.

“The new kid is so weird.” Jiwoo whispered, her eyes gazing across the crowded cafeteria.

“What new kid?” Yoosung asked, scanning the area.

“Seriously Yoosung?” Eunjoo shook his head and rolled his eyes. “He was in our first period class. Mr. Lee had him stand up and introduce himself.”

“Really? I kind of fell asleep.” Yoosung bit his lower lip guiltily. The others around the table gasped dramatically.

“I was up late working on my science project!” Yoosung defended himself, the others laughed. Yoosung was one of the best students and having him do anything that was mildly bad was extremely amusing.

“Anyway, it’s the red head, I don’t know how you could miss him.” Jiwoo stated once she stopped laughing.

“Red?” Yoosung was really curious now, he’d never seen a natural red head before, maybe it wasn’t though. His eyes fell on the orange tone almost immediately. The boy had his head down, nose in a very large book. He sat alone, no one else close to him. He nibbled on a carrot, his smooth jaw chewing slowly.

“Oh no.” Devon exclaimed and turned back around to face Yoosung.

“What?” Yoosung blinked, brushing his brunette bangs from his eyes.

“Looks like Jimin’s gang is paying the new kid a visit.” Devon lay his head on his arms, knowing full well what was about to happen. Yoosung locked his gaze on the tall dark-haired bully as he slammed a hand onto the table in front of the red head. His buddies behind him, already grinning and smirking. They were too far away to hear what was being said, but it wasn’t difficult to guess. The red head appeared to be confused, his shoulder’s pulling in on him. He closed his book and tried to shove it into his book bag on the table next to his tray. Jimin grabbed it, his friends laughing louder as it was thrown against the wall.

The boy shrank away from the onslaught as Jimin tossed the tray onto the floor. The crowded room erupted into laughter as the other kids watched the unfolding show.

“What an asshole!” Jiwoo muttered, they were one of the few tables who wasn’t taking any pleasure in the show. Yoosung stood but Jiwoo yanked him back down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

“We can’t just let him do that!” Yoosung watched with a sinking heart as the boy tried to get up and leave. Jimin kicked his back and the boy fell to the floor, several more books flying from his bag. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he had started to cry.

“You want to be the next victim?” Devon grated through clenched teeth. Jimin grabbed the carton of milk and walked towards the boy, who was now replacing the books back into the bag. He tilted the carton and the milk fell on the boy’s head. He gasped but didn’t move. Once the carton was empty Jimin let it drop, it bounced of the red head and fell beside him. His shoulders shook but he didn’t move.

Jimin said something and with a final shove against the boy’s back with his boot, he turned and walked away. Once the drama was over, the other kids went back to their food. Not a single person tried to help or comfort the boy. No one would, Devon was right, if anyone did, they would be a target and Jimin was relentless.

Yoosung couldn’t stand it anymore, he shoved himself away from the table, shaking off his friends as they tried to stop him. He went to the wall and picked up the book Jimin had thrown. The boy was no longer on the floor, just the empty milk carton. He made his way to the exit and outside. Looking left and right he spotted the red head going around the next building, he ran after him.

Rounding the corner, he could see the boy making his way towards the gym, he followed. Finally, he caught up with the boy inside the locker room. He heard water and knew the boy must be trying to wash his hair. Making his way to the sinks he finally saw him. His head was in the sink, the water soaking his hair as his hand washed away the milk. Yoosung went and grabbed one of the towels and waited for the boy to finish.

When he turned the water off and stood straight, his amber eyes fell on Yoosung, widening with fear. He was indeed crying and Yoosung felt empathetic tears fill his own eyes.

“Here.” He said, handing the boy the towel. He blinked, a look of distrust behind the gaze. Finally, he reached out and took the towel. His red t-shirt was wet across his shoulders, but he didn’t seem to care. He used the towel to dry his hair quickly, then settled it around his shoulders.

“I brought you this too.” Yoosung gave the boy the book he was holding, and he looked grateful.

“Thank you.” He whispered, before his voice broke and tears fell like the water faucet he’d just turned off. His slim shoulders vibrated as the emotion shook his whole body. Before Yoosung could think, he enfolded the boy in his arms. He stiffened for a second, but then his thin arms snaked around him and clutched at him like a life line.

They stood that way for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, until the boy calmed enough to step back. Amber eyes met amethyst and Yoosung tried to smile comfortingly.

“Sorry, it’s just, you’re the first person whose been nice to me at all. I thought…” he shrugged and grabbed his book bag, shoving the book into it then slinging it over his shoulder. He looked at his feet as he shuffled them nervously.

“That must really suck.” Yoosung offered, not knowing what else to say.

“I thought I might make some friends. But…” he gave that sad shrug again and sniffled, wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

“What’s your name?” Yoosung asked.

“Ss…Saeran.” The boy answered, finally meeting Yoosung’s gaze again.

“Hi Saeran. I’m Yoosung. It’s really nice to meet you.” Yoosung smiled and received a beautiful smile in return.

“It’s nice to meet you too Yoosung.”

“Not a great first day huh?” Yoosung tried to joke.

“No. I…I’ve never been to school before, I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“Were you homeschooled?” Yoosung asked.

“Something like that.” Saeran shrugged and went back to shuffling his feet nervously. Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well, if you want, I’d like to be your friend.” He offered. Saeran’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Really?”

“Really.” Yoosung nodded. Saeran fell on him, hugging him tight. He could tell the boy was crying again as he embraced him back. How lonely had his life been to be so enthusiastic about one friend?

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Jimin smirked, arms crossed at his chest, his entourage behind him snickering. “Isn’t this sweet.” The boys broke apart, Yoosung putting himself between Saeran and Jimin.

“Don’t let us stop you.” Jimin laughed. “I always knew you were a fag Yoosung, and I’m not surprised the freak is too.” They burst out laughing. Yoosung clenched his jaw, wanting desperately to punch that smug look off the dark eyed boy’s face.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I touch a nerve? We didn’t mean to interrupt your romantic and intimate moment.” He cawed. “I’m sure the freak could use a good fuck, maybe he’ll even stop reading enough to let you finger fu…”

“Shut up!” Yoosung bellowed, taking a step towards the bully. “What is wrong with you? Just leave him alone!” his hands were fisted at his sides and he really did feel as if his adrenaline-fueled body would take a swing. It terrified him and thrilled him at the same time. Jimin scoffed in his face and his arm darted out. He wrapped his hand around Yoosung’s throat and swung him around to slam him against the tiled wall. His head smashed against it and sent stars through his vision. He blinked rapidly, trying desperately to pull the boy’s arm off him. He could barely breathe, and his head was starting to feel heavy.

Saeran dropped his bag when he saw Yoosung hit the wall. He jolted towards Jimin and grabbed the wrist of the arm he held Yoosung with. He yanked on it, twisting it as he stepped under the arm and around. Jimin let go of Yoosung at the pressure, then he was slammed against the wall himself, face first. Saeran twisted his arm behind his back and shoved against him, planting his feet shoulder width apart to ground himself like Saeyoung had shown him. He was furious, his teeth grinding, his hands itching to cause physical damage on the boy.

He noticed Jimin’s friends ready to pile on him, so he grabbed at the boy’s dark hair and slammed his face into the tiles, blood shot out but he wasn’t too worried about it. The head always bled heavily, it didn’t mean there was a serious wound, but it definitely looked serious.

“One more step and I’ll spill his brains all over this bathroom!” he threatened. That was enough to keep them all away. They looked at Saeran as if he was a crazed animal, and in a way, he was.

“Saeran…” Yoosung delicately laid his hand over Saeran’s arm until he got his attention. Amber eyes locked onto him and the anger in them took Yoosung’s breath away. “Ll…let him go. It’s ok.” He cajoled. Saeran blinked slowly at him, then faced the boy he had pinned to the wall. The tension in his body dissolved and he let go, taking a step back.

Jimin fall away, rubbing at his arm.

“You’re fucking crazy!” he muttered before turning and running out, his posse behind him.

“I…I didn’t mean…” Saeran stared at his hands, he’d only wanted to protect Yoosung. His action had been involuntary.

“I know. Are you ok?” Yoosung asked kindly.

“Me? I’m fine. You? Did he hurt you?” Saeran asked, scanning Yoosung’s body to see if he was injured in any way.

“No, I’m ok. Thank you. How…how did you learn to do that?” Yoosung was impressed, and a little frightened by Saeran’s response.

“My brother. He taught me how to defend myself. He said hopefully I would never need it, but if I did, I would at least be prepared.” He shrugged. He reached out and grasped Yoosung’s hand. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Yoosung squeezed Saeran’s hand reassuringly. “I’m sure.”

“Are you sure you still want to be my friend?” Saeran asked in an almost inaudible whisper.

“Positive.” Yoosung answered immediately. Saeran looked up at him with the most beautiful smile, the freckles across his cheeks and bridge of his nose brighter under the harsh florescent lights. They embraced once more and Yoosung’s heart fluttered in a way he’d never felt before. He clung to the red head, his hands tingling and aching to explore his body. Suddenly he was well aware that his cock was responding in a most unusual way. He tried to keep his pelvis away from the other boy, but it was no use. However, he was pretty sure he could feel Saeran’s erection as well.

#my posts #yooran #yoosung #saeran #mysme #mystic messenger #Yooran Fanfic #mysme fanfic #HS AU #April Challenge 2019 Day 3 #These boys are dangerous when the other is threatened

[bartok-not-bartalk]

This Was Commissioned By the Vampire

On Modern Mythology

Just because paganism isn’t a largely accepted term anymore, humans have always, and will always continue to be polytheistic, it’s just that these tiny associations and devotions have become so normalized, so pushed down into monotony, that so many don’t even notice.  However, many a truth is spoken in jest, and some seem to realize more than others, even if they themselves believe their joking.  All fairytales and mythologies spring as trees grown around seeds of truth., though indeed I’ve changed the names in this particular one to lend it more to fiction.

The vampire is called Nona, and this piece is dedicated to her, as she started it with the idea of a curious but lazy vampire hanging around a group of fae in order to score free meals and because of friendships with members of the court.  Did you know that a group of fae is called a court? We generally prefer team, because that’s what we are, technically, in the eyes of the school.  But if the school was aware of the Geass, they weren’t telling, and we sure as hell weren’t asking.  

What we did know was that we practiced at the Ridge, the Ridge had rules, and we followed those rules. Because of that, or possibly relating to that, the rules that governed the rest of the high school didn’t apply the same way to the team.  We collectively referred to this as “the geass” because that’s what Cait called it— and as a captain, and one of the few actual fae on the team, she was more versed in the nuances of that type of magic than the rest of us.

As for the Ridge, as far as any of us could tell, it was Liminal, and possibly on a couple Ley lines, which was weird, because it wasn’t near anything important. Even the Kaspers, being descended from one of the old forest gods themselves, couldn’t tell much besides the fact that the Ridge was infused with old, old, magic, older than even their own lineage.  Hence, its informal rules were handed down runner to runner as the team initiated new members and lost seniors, the gospel to a strange religion of pain and camaraderie, positive vibes and negative splits.

If you didn’t realize, we’re runners, and the Ridge is our training grounds, although such a crude term is insufficient to describe what it is exactly.  

Anyways, The Rules:

Never run alone.  The familiar can become new again without a second pair of eyes

Always wear a watch, or run with someone who does.  Time keeps its own pace in the trails

Run warmup loop before starting any other circuits.  The Ridge likes it when you say hello

Don’t leave anyone behind, and don’t become separated from your group.  The forest throws voices back which are cast into it, especially near Cop Lake

The bent willow over the lake is the baptismal site under the three gods; Paceus, Speedeus, and Obeseus

There are apples to be found on Mother trail, but only if you aren’t looking

Runs aren’t complete until you slap the sign with the group you ran with.  Don’t walk before you hit the sign, you’re not done yet

(rest of the story is under the cut)

Our Gods, and the High Priest

It was one of those mornings that the sun had seemed to rise early and burn off the dew that it could reach.  Late June, but feeling like August.  By nine am, it was near eighty degrees, and we were all mostly done with our sprints, held at Palzikistan in the burning sun.  Twos and fours weren’t all that bad, just tedious in the suffocating heat.  The geass was buzzing with languor and breathlessness, thirst, and anticipation.  The push for those last fifty yards, the last twenty seconds.  The baseball diamond we did our sprints around was at full sun, and the short oaks and coach’s car provided little shade.

Finally, the last of us finished and stood in a loose cluster around the water bottles for coach to assign cool-down.  As he talked, [cool-down upper loop or any two miles in the trails  back down to the casino for stretch as long as we were back by……… 9:30] the geass shifted, the consensus being that we weren’t really going to do cool-down, but run off as a group and pretend to.  The geass wasn’t really good at specifics, but the likely destination was Cop Lake, being on upper loop and quite desirable being that it was summer and we just ran sprints.

The varsity guys took the lead of the pack, jogging up the path to Cop Lake to “run the loop”, and the rest of us followed, slowing at the trail head’s bottle neck to tiptoe our way up the reverse bank of the lake, gripping onto tree roots and watching our footing to ensure that none of us slid right back down.  Isaac, Chris, and Chris were up in a flash, their abilities allowing them to bushwhack straight up, while the rest of us stuck to the trail.  Must be nice to be part mountain goat.

Up the trail, we went left until we got to a gnarled willow, trunk bent and the primary branch out almost horizontal to the shallow water of the lake below.  Isaac climbed up the trunk and out the primary limb, standing up with confidence that was impressive, especially from someone with hooves climbing a tree.  As we watched, he announced that it was the time for the baptisms in the eyes of Paceus, Speedeus, and Obeseus for any second-years who hadn’t been baptized yet, and Cait explained that the ceremony entailed climbing up the tree, the High Priest (Isaac) saying the rites, and then jumping into the lake.

Stehlar was up first.  He climbed up the tree after Isaac and crouched over the lake on the twisted limb, which swayed with the addition of his weight.  Someone behind me whispered about one or both of them falling into the lake, and a few of us watched with a nervous eye, waiting for the inevitable.  Still others watched the trail for coach, as technically we were supposed to be on cool-down on the loop around the lake, not jumping in it.  But mostly we were watching Isaac stand on the limb with Chris, proclaiming him to be baptized in the eyes of Paceus, the provider of the intelligence and endurance to run a smart race; Speedeus, the giver of speed to pass competitors in the course; and Obeseus, protector from the fats.  He yelled this to the lake, claiming it his right as the current high priest.

Then, like an unsure baby bird trying to fly the nest, Chris tried to jump off the limb, which heaved heavily under his weight before he plummeted like a stone into the lake.  Several whooped, and soon Isaac and a few others joined him, pleading that we were all so sweaty anyways, coach wouldn’t notice the extra level of wet at stretch.  Anyways, if he did, he didn’t say.

It’s Rude to Geass a Vampire

“Did anyone feed Nona?” I asked at the end of practice, not seeing the bat in either of her forms anywhere in the casino.

“I did”, Chris (Bertola) snickered, grinning in a way that I knew I wasn’t going to like what he’d done.

“Chris… you didn’t give her your own, did you?” Vampires could handle the blood of the geass’d, but the more potent the effect of the geass on someone, the more… curious the effects of their blood would be on any bloodsucker unfortunate to prey on them.  It affected everyone differently, and some vampires even chose to drink fae or geass’d blood, but since the geass on the team involved the compulsion to run, and Nona wasn’t a fan of cardio, she generally steered clear, especially of the varsity runners.

“Nah,” Chris answered, “I told her to go ask Wert”

“Oh god,” I covered my face with my palm.  “What happened.”

“She went that way,” he said, pointing out over the warm up hill, “Faster than I’ve ever seen her fly.”

“CHRIS” I exclaimed, “How many times do i have to tell you, geassing a vampire is extremely rude, and Nona doesn’t like cardio! She’s probably a few miles into Canada by now!”

“Maybe she’ll make it all the way back to Romania.”

“Wrong direction, bird brain, I’ll see if I can get Marin to catch her before she gets too far.” It truly was lucky that we had a venti on the team at times like this.

The Cult Meetings Before First Period

The best part about secrets is if they're out in the open all the time, people care less.  It might be scandalous if someone’s cheating, but if the whole school knows and doesn’t care, then it’s old news.  This was the principle most of us applied to the school rules.  The whole school was cheating on the reality most people believed in, but since we all knew it, it wasn’t really that big of a deal.

Hence, technically the unwritten school rules required that students use glamours and refrain from taking advantage of any… supernatural abilities to excel in academics or other school activities, but like the cell phone rule, it was largely ignored as much as possible.  So what if a senior’s footsteps sounded more like the clomping of hooves as they loped down the hallway to gym, because he was clearly wearing sneakers.  Or that the selkies and sirens, and a few veela dominated the choral and dramatic arts, because no one could really prove anything without admitting that something might be amiss in the first place.

Such was observed with the clumping of the team before first period in the second floor main hallway around the lockers of the Kaspers and Noot.  We still let people through, and there weren’t any fights or misconduct involved with our gathering, so it was fine.  The rare human who had a locker in our clump was interesting to witness though.  Since the school was located on an old crossroads, mildly liminal itself, there weren’t really many true, pure-blooded humans, but then again it was hard to find a pure blood anything anymore, especially in america.  There were however a good many bloodlines that were extremely diluted, sometimes to the point where the family wasn’t even aware of their heritage, just moved to the town for some reason they couldn’t explain, drawn to it’s latent energy without even consciously knowing it.

In any case, on this particular day Maeve, a selkie removed several generations, was getting the percent error on the most recent chem lab from Liv and Noot.  I was sitting on the ground with Mason and Caleb, doing geometry homework and helping Mason with his bio, not that he needed it, really.  She must have realized something weird, like the fact that Sierra didn’t have a shadow (nephilim are beings of light therefore can’t create shadow), or that when Marin walked by there was a slight breeze even though we were indoors, because half joking, when Noot handed her lab back she asked “Jeez are any of you actually human?”

A bunch of us looked up, the upperclassmen smiling wryly.  A freshman raised his hand, unironic. Noot snorted without even looking up from her phone.

“Mason, put your hand down.”

Emma lowered it for him.

“Glucose is C6H12O6” I said, tapping his biology notes.  He paused and recorded the answer.  Maeve was back to laughing with Noot and Liv over chem, and Andrew had joined them next to Liv.  Elise and Angela were trying to see who could boil their water bottles faster, Elise using her breath and Angela relying on the tiny, green flames she held in her palm.  Mason watched this with a slightly vacant gaze.

“What did she mean, ‘are any of us human?’” he asked, confused, “I mean, I know Isaac and Stehlar are satyr, and Cait, Emily, and Oni are… something, and Elise, but the rest of the team is normal, right?”

I smirked. “Mason, very few people here are what you would consider fully human.  With this team in particular though, there is a geass involved.”  Intent magic was pretty strong, and it was a little weird he hadn’t noticed, or recognized it for what it was, especially because he himself was at least a quarter empath, whether he knew it or not.  They tended to be more sensitive to those kinds of magic than say, satyrs or venti.

“Isn’t that like a wish?” He inquired, watching as Elise’s water bottle boiled over, landing on Angela’s shoes and quickly evaporating again on contact.

“Kind of,” I started, “A geass is fae magic.  Very old, very powerful, and very finicky.  The geass on this team particularly connects us and keeps us safe, and allows the team to draw power off of our own running and the liminality of the Ridge, the catch being that it only lasts as long as we continue running, and is only as strong as our drive and dedication to it.  Higher mileage, greater geass affect, tighter the team gets, and the easier we fit into the Ridge.”

He nodded, picking at a corner of his homework. “What do you mean, draw power?”

“For those of us that aren’t human, it enhances any latent abilities that may have been diluted by the generations, and it allows all of us to recover faster, run longer, and also gives us a slight emotional connection beyond what you would consider normal empathy. Like… if someone got injured, we’d know, and also how to find them.”

“What does it do to humans?”

“Well, first, while under it’s effect, you’re not human, you’re more like a fae/human hybrid of some sort, I’m not sure what it’s called…. ask Cait.”

He nodded again, jotting down the next answer to his assignment and looked over at Angela and Elise again.  Elise was teaching Angela how to toast bread without burning it with her flames, though it was more comical to watch Elise herself breath fire onto her toast than Angela’s green palm flames (the later were more effective at not burning the toast).

“Without the geass are you human?” Mason asked, half-serious.

“Nah”

“What are you?” He asked, looking again pointedly at Angela and Elise.

“I’m not a dragon or a hedge witch, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not an answer.” he said, smiling with a huff.

“Fine,” I said, giving in, “Without the geass, I’m part immortal on my mother’s side.”  On the other side it was pretty obvious as to what I was, the last name Morozkovna didn’t exactly lend itself to subtlety.  But Mason, and most everyone else in the student population, didn’t know the evolution of Rus’ surnames and so almost no one ever asked, and no one ever knew.  

A secret in plain site is much less exciting than one trying to hide.

“Without the geass am I human?”

“Nah,”

“WHAT?!”

The Eldritch Horror and the Cameraman

“Morozkovna” I heard from behind me, “Are the early frosts this year your doing?”

I turned around.

“Hi Messina,” I started, waving to him with my coffee, “Why would I have anything to do with it?”  

Messina smiled, and time hiccoughed, the same junior that had just walked past doing it again, the world seeming for a second like a rewound cassette tape.  Very distinctive time magic.  I rolled my eyes.  It was too early in the morning to exorcise my cousin out of Messina.

“Mephisto, why the fuck are you possessing Nathan?” I asked, incredulous.

“He’s not possessing me.” Messina deadpanned, falling back into his normal voice. “I was just messing with you.”

“He was just a second ago, but since you’re able to apparently thwart possession in less than a second, please explain.”

Mephistopheles was a very old deity, chaos based, the illegitimate child of mortal fear of damnation and a nice cocktail of chaos magic and satanism.  Not as old as my parents, though the chaos part of him came from my father’s brother, making him my cousin!  Messina did have a fair bit of warlock in him, but even a full warlock would have a hard time freeing themselves of chaos magic and my idiot cousin.

“I summoned him, but used the wrong binding circle, I thought he was something besides what he was, and he escaped and possessed me.” Messina deadpanned.

“What got you back to being un-possessed that allowed you to keep some of his magic?”

“Oh no,” Messina corrected, ‘He’s still possessing my physical body, but after he possessed me I decided to possess him back.  He wasn’t too happy about that.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so,” I responded absently, still processing the fact that my idiot cousin got summoned, possessed Messina, and then got possessed by Messina.

“Hey, is he seeing this now?” I asked

“Yes,” he said, laughing, “He’s furious you’re laughing at him,” he paused, as if listening, “something about you being a weakling who couldn’t even light a candle against the roaring, centuries old flame that is his power.”

I lost it at the candle.  Well no shit Mephisto I can’t light a candle, my dominion is  winter.  

“Make sure to watch plenty of hallmark movies,” I instructed Nathan, “He hates happy endings.”

Prerace

Fridays were interesting.  Especially later in the day.  The excitement of the students caused… curious occurrences and thin wearing glamours.  The chorus teacher wouldn’t hold any lessons after fifth period, because once a senior siren accidentally charmed a couple cellists in the next room over.  The halls were crowded, and the flow of time didn’t seem to follow the normal laws.  Even the teachers were affected, the english teacher’s horns and the smell of salt in one of the global teacher’s room not going unnoticed.  The team didn’t even bother with glamour on Fridays, or concealing the geass.  It was prerace, which meant a short workout and a pasta party.  Our honest excitement killed even the strongest of our glamours even before the geass magnified it a few times.  Glamours were concealment magic, and their price was restraint, making them simple to cast, but difficult to maintain when excited, or overly emotional in general.

Elise’s tail flickered in and out of existence, knocking backpacks at random.  Angela crackled with sage-green energy, and Chris didn’t even try to conceal his hooves has he came down the hall with Lily.  A pencil that Blake was holding sprouted a few leaves and tried to grow as he was doing trig, so someone gave him a mechanical. Even I let go a little, and frost creeped up the sides of the locker I was leaning against. Sierra was legitimately glowing, I’m pretty sure that Ruby’s feet weren’t touching the ground, and Nyah’s pants changed pattern with her movements, the bars of black and white that made up the lines in the geometric pattern folding over themselves and twisting like a kaleidoscope.

Finally, after eight long classes, school was over, and it was time for prerace.  At 3:30 at least, Mau was first.  Since we were banned from wall ball, Mau has taken the place for favorite pre practice game  [besides drawasaurus, that is].  Mau is a game that was originally spawned from the Germanic game Mau Mau, though it is played differently every time.  The only things that new players or outsiders to the game are told is as follows:

We’re playing Mau

We can’t tell you the rules, but it’s played similar to uno

While the game is in session we can’t talk

Generally, you lose until you figure out how the game is played.  Sitting and watching the game played works too, but you learn faster when your own neck i s on the line; figuratively, of course.  It’s taken as seriously as any practice, and as competitively as any race.  Communication through the geass and other means with other players was also forbidden during Mau.  Cait took care of that with a temporary contract agreed to verbally by all of the players by picking up the cards.  Fae magic prevents a breech in contract, and besides most of us were non-human enough to be unable to even before that measure.

I get my hand and it frosts over immediately, its so bad.  Messina smiles slowly at it from across the table, he being the only one partially exempt from the communication rule, as I’m not sure Cait knows about Mephisto.  Emily starts the round, at Cait’s command of “Meeting in session”.  

We all pick up our cards and Emily flips a 7.

#witchcraft #witch #creative writing #fae #magic #magick #running #cross country #geass #mythology

[thirstygirlclub]

Sweet Girl - 3

Chapter 3 – I'm going to f***** scream.

The relief I had felt when I saw that there was a small block of showers on the ferry was only mildly orgasmic. I used Clay's credit card to buy a bottle of 2 in 1 shampoo so I could wash my hair. When I dragged myself under the water I started to feel human again. I washed out all the bits of brain and skull out of the rats nest that I called my hair. I tried not to look at the drain where it was all being collected. I used every last drop of the shampoo to clean myself and as soon as the water ran clear, instead of being a murky brown colour, I stepped out to use the useless hair dryer.

"I thought you had washed down the drain," Jax said when I came out to meet him on the deck of the boat.

I laughed lightly as I threw away the t-shirt and bits of my friends' killer in a bin.

I was feeling slightly better by now. I tried to push the last 24 hours out of my memory but as hard as I did, I couldn't get her face out of my brain. Before I had found the showers, Jax and I had gone to the small clothing store looking for something for me to wear. I went for all black to blend in with my travelling companions, I had told him but I wore a lot of black anyway. He had convinced me to get a leather jacket too, an item that I had never owned in my life.

"No way," I argued with a laugh, "I'll look like such a try hard."

"Just buy the damn thing; you'll look badass. The rest of the girls wear them anyway. You're gonna fit right in."

I purposefully chose clothes that I never would have worn in England. I'm not going to be a business bitch in California, why try to dress like one? I'll have to admit, wearing flat shoes felt nice; I knew I could probably walk for hours in these boots. I was just in a plain black cropped tank top and high-waisted jeans. I was more comfortable in these clothes than in the pencil skirts and high heels but I don't think I looked as good.

"Best get back to Clay, he's tried ringing me about a million times."

Jax showed me his phone and saw that there were 3 missed calls.

When we approached the other men, Chibs let out a low whistle and pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. I twirled around and posed dramatically. Clay held out his hand for the credit card.

I shook my head and took the card out of my pocket to put in his hands but then snatched it away. It was childish, admittedly, but did I regret it? Not at all.

"Come on gents," I said, "Does anyone fancy lunch?"

"Vivania," Clay warned in a low, warning voice.

"Are you seriously trying to parent me right now?"

He was getting angry but I was beginning to think that perhaps stealing his credit card wasn't the best idea but the humour in my cousins eyes told me to carry on.

"I'm not a child," I said, even though I knew full well I was acting like a spoilt teenager, "I bet they're hungry. I know I am."

"It's the least you could do Clay," Jax laughed, "you kind of owe her. Besides, my stomach has been growling all morning."

Clay sighed then walked towards me with a mildly defeated expression.

The cheerful and good humoured atmosphere didn't last long though. Mid way through our lunch, paid for by Clay before he snatched the credit card back, a news report came on.

"Police are still looking for Emilia D'Arcy after yesterday's shooting at the St. Trents School; a private school on the southern English coast," a news reader states as a photograph of me at my college graduation is shown on the screen, "all that is known about the incident is that it involved the Warrens; a notorious and violent American street gang based in California USA. There has been no official ransom notice or photographs. None of Miss D'Arcy's family have come forward as of yet… The weather in the north-"

I shrunk down in my seat as some people turned to eye us suspiciously.

"I think we should get back to the van, Jacky Boy." Chibs said quietly.

Jax nodded and tapped my shoulder before we stood up. I took one last gulp of my tea and followed them out.

"Who are the Warrens?" I asked Jax once we got back to the vehicle.

"A family, rival club. We did them a dirty deal and they took it… personally."

"And I come into it how? How did they find out who I was?"

"They're a family. Your stepdad is called Michael Warren, right?"

Fuck, was my first thought, fucking shit, was my second.

"He's from England. It's a coincidence, surely?"

I started putting things together in my head. It was like some sort weird montage.

All of those men coming into the house when I was a child in their leather vests; the angry phone calls he would make and then throw the phone.

"He is the leader?" I asked Clay.

"No, a brother; sent to run the British charter; Christopher Warren is the pres. of the mother club."

I looked at him just baffled with the whole situation. How had it turned so crazy so fast? The other day I was working towards my degree, my friend was still alive and I was in no known danger.

"I just-" I shrugged in disbelief.

"I'll explain it all when we get home Vivania," Clay said carefully, "but right now we need to stay under the radar. No leaving this van unless you need to piss, got it? Chibs, you and Hap are going with Viv if she needs to leave."

"Babysitters? Really? Are you kidding? I can look after myself."

"Aye," Chibs said and showed me his forearms, "you're scrappy alright."

"Shit," I gasped and gently touched the scratches I had evidently made when they pulled me out of my dorm.

"Scrappy ain't gonna save your life though."

"I am so sorry."

I looked back up to him with wide eyes. I didn't even know I had done it, I didn't know who was pulling me out of that dorm. He had been so kind to me; I felt bad.

"Don't worry about it, I've had worse."

I looked over the scars on his cheeks and frowned. I guess they had been through a lot more than what I had seen. I wondered suddenly how many people they had killed, or had seen die. How much blood had they spilled in the name of the Sons of Anarchy? I shuddered at the thought. I realised I was still staring at him and looked away with a flush on my cheeks. I was sat in a van with, what are essentially, 4 mass murderers. I shrunk back in my seat and stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the journey.

After what felt like weeks, we were back on solid ground and driving through Charming. I couldn't help but smile when I saw the old sign that hadn't changed since I left. To be honest, nothing had changed much. It was more built up than I remembered it being but my memories were so fuzzy it was like it happened to someone else.

"Welcome home, Pumpkin." Clay said with a smile as he pulled into the TM Motors lot.

Stepping out of the van into the hot California sun and onto the forecourt of the garage felt like a dream. My shoes scuffed against the rough ground as I looked around. The only things that had changed were the men walking around in the uniforms and the sign above the work area. Bikes lined the road leading into it and I couldn't help but be mesmerised by how they all shone in the sun. There were girls sitting on them talking to men that did that manly nod to Jax and Clay as we passed them.

"Is that her?!" I heard a voice shout over and whipped my head around to see a tall man with a beard and beanie on, despite the weather.

"Harry?!" I shouted, a look of delight lit up his face and he started walking towards me.

I jogged to him; as soon as we met he laughed and grabbed me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet with ease. I hugged him back tightly as he spun me around.

"You were just a skinny kid," I said when he put me back on the floor, "what the fuck happened?"

"Same to you," he said and looked me up and down, not like he was checking me out, just like he couldn't believe that I was grown up, "I missed you, kid."

I nodded and held back tears as the others had caught up. There were lots of 'bro hugs' going on and I watched the exchanges with interest. I felt like such an outsider; something I hadn't felt since I started school before I got a name for myself with my… antics. More people were starting to gather around I was introduced to them all, the entire time I was looking for my aunt Gemma. I met with Mr. Winston, although he said to please call him Piney, and hugged him tenderly.

"I swear to god," I said quietly to Chibs after being introduced to Bobby Elvis, "if I hear one more ridiculous name, I'm going to fucking scream."

He chuckled beside me as a man with a Mohawk approached my nervously. He was so sweet looking that I could barely see him as a killer. He smiled at me and scratched the back of his head.

"Hey," he said, "I'm Juice."

"Oh my god." I sighed and heard Chibs laugh beside me.

"What?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, "it's nice to meet you."

Later on that evening I still hadn't seen Aunt Gemma and I was getting tense. I had been promised that I would see her at the "family dinner" which wasn't just Gemma, Clay, Jax and I; it was the whole club. I had met most of them already except for a few that were out on a "run". I said bye and see you later to the guys and Clay drove me to his and Gemma's place. It was the first time we had been alone since the school. I was nervous and tired but mostly hungry.

The smell of cooking hit me as soon as I walked in and my stomach growled.

"Vee!?"

I recognised the voice as soon as I heard it. When she came to the hallway where I was stood with my arms folded nervously. I had missed her so much.

"C'mere Baby," she said and I ran into her open arms.

She hadn't changed at all, not really. I hugged her so tightly that she had to tell me to loosen my grip. I apologised but didn't let go.

Back when I was a child, Aunt Gemma was one of the only sources of stability in my young life. She always had me over to her house to sleep if my mother was going particularly crazy; there was always a bed for me there. That's where I had been when I was taken away.

"It's ok, darlin'," she whispered into my hair, "you're safe here."

I nodded and pulled away. She cupped my face with her hands and kissed my forehead gently before taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen where I saw a couple of other women chopping up vegetables and working over pots. She introduced me to Luanne and Lila.

"Do you need me to help?" I asked after I had greeted them.

"Can you make any desserts?" Luanne asked, "I don't think I'm gonna have time."

"Yeah sure. What have you got?"

I spent the latter part of the afternoon helping the other ladies in the kitchen talking about my school life and the mischief I had got up to with Anya. They laughed when I told them about the different guys I had slept with and why I had broken up with them.

"He legitimately thought he was a werewolf!" I told them as they laughed, "He used to howl when he came and it was the funniest thing! I could never keep a straight face."

"Private school isn't quite all it looks on the TV, huh?" Aunt Gemma said before tasting my cake batter, "that's delicious, by the way."

I grinned, happy that I had impressed her.

Once everything was finished the others had started to arrive and my stomach started turning in knots when I heard their voices.

"Go and get cleaned up, hon; we'll see you in a minute." Gemma said.

After I had washed my hands I followed the cacophony of noise coming from where I guessed the dining room was. There was a huge table, lined with people. It was amazing. Jax had come over immediately with his son in his arms and his girlfriend by his side.

"Hi," she said with a welcoming smile, "I'm Tara. Jax has told me all about you; what he didn't Gemma did."

I laughed but wasn't embarrassed; they were some funny stories.

Gemma was at one end of the table while Clay was at the other end. Jax and Tara sat up near Clay with Opie and Chibs. There was only a couple of people I hadn't met, one of them was a handsome guy with amazing blue eyes and dark hair. He walked over to me, picked up my hand and kissed it. I laughed but felt myself blushing slightly.

"Hello beautiful lady," he said, "I'm Alexander Trager, but you can call me Tig."

"I'm Emi- I'm Vivania." using my real name will take some getting used too, "It's nice to meet you Tig."

"Down boy!" Chibs shouted over and threw a bread roll at the back of Tig's head.

The latter whipped around and went to throw it back but Gemma had barked at them to grow up. Immediately, they stopped and behaved themselves. I looked at her with an amused expression; impressed that she could get the big, bad biker guys to shut up and sit down. Gemma winked at me and patted the space next to her so I could sit down.

Dinner went by quite well, I chatted and was charismatic although I felt so nervous I thought I was going to faint. It came back to the realisation I had in the van. I was sat at a table full of killers but watching them interact and listening to them talking to each other made it hard to believe. Soon though, conversation had turned to the Warrens. I was listening really intently.

"So," Chibs said as he took a third slice of my chocolate cake, "what are we gonna do about those fuc- um… pricks?"

"We can't just go in guns blazing," Clay said with a casual sip of beer, "there'll be all sorts of complications with their allies. We've got to be careful."

"So undercut their business," I said and looked between them and all the other people around the table looked at me, "they supply guns too right?"

They nodded.

I said ,"okay, then take away their business. If they bought the guns from SOA to then sell onto other people then they could offer to cut out the middle man, sell them the product for cheaper therefore making the Warrens part of the deal obsolete. They could get the contacts from the Warrens system, which wouldn't be hard to do, if my stepdad's lack of computer knowledge was anything to go by, and contact them directly."

"Ok…" Clay nodded slowly, mulling over my idea, "and how do we get them to bite? They are gonna go to the Warrens if they are close enough."

"No offence," I said with a smile, "they're all criminals, just like you. If you guys were offered a new price, which your enemies weren't going to get, would you tell people about it? Unlikely. Getting them to take the offer is the hard part, find out what they like. Drugs, guns, girls? Whatever it is, deliver it to them, for free as a thank you, with some of your best men as guard dogs. You need to make it seem like you care about them; make them think you value their business.

"Once you've got them and their other clientele, the Warrens go out of business; they leave to find someone else to sell your guns too. You take their business, you take their land and you can expand not only the SOA but Teller-Morrow motors. You can raise your prices slowly until they are paying the same amount that they were paying the Warrens and your guys are rolling in the dough."

They were looking impressed with my idea and a warm feeling of pride was spreading through me.

"Baking and criminally minded," Tig said with a sly smile, "how are you still single?"

"Just lucky I guess," I shrugged, winking at him.

A discussion ensued about the new plan. I felt a warm hand on my arm and looked over to Gemma who was looking at me with a proud smile and nodding. They were talking about the Warren's buyers, who they were and what they liked. Clay tapped his beer bottle on the table silencing everybody.

"Ok, I know we're all excited, but let's talk about this more tomorrow in Church. Before we do anything, I want to run it by my daughter," he pointed at me with his bottle, "she'll be the brains behind the operation."

By then it was far too late, everyone that had brought their children had gone home along with some others. The only people left around the table were myself, Clay, Chibs, Jax and Tig just drinking and talking. It felt nice, honestly, normal. I felt almost at home. I could hear Gemma clattering around in the kitchen as she cleaned up and conversation had turned back to my time at the school. I poured myself some more wine as I answered their questions.

"So," Jax asked, "how many languages do you actually speak?"

"Like 4 fluently, not including English. I speak, Spanish, Russian, French and Italian. Oh and Latin but nobody knows what that actually sounds like so I don't really count it."

"Clever girl," Chibs said with a slight slur in his voice.

I shrugged again and drained the rest of the bottle of wine into my glass although I was feeling extremely drowsy. I wasn't even sure if I would be able to find the room that had been set up for me. I stood up, with my wine in hand, and announced that I was going to bed. I leant down and kissed Jax on the cheek before going to leave but I heard Tig go, 'Um, what about us?' so I turned and kissed the others to, saying goodnight as I went round the table.

"Good to have you back, Kid." Clay said seriously after I stood up back up from him.

I nodded silently and moved over to Chibs, placing my arm around his shoulders to pull him closer before planting a gentle kiss on his scarred cheek.

"Goodnight Chibs, thanks for coming to get me," I said to him as I stood back up.

"Don't worry about it," he said quietly, looking almost shy.

When I got to Tig I laughed; he had stood up with his arms open wide. I stepped close to him and hugged him, careful not to spill my wine. He kissed me hard on the lips.

"Goodnight Tigger." I laughed and stepped away.

I had stumbled up the stairs with my head spinning and vision blurry. I did find the bedroom eventually, thanks to Gemma coming out of her bedroom and pointed me in the right direction. I collapsed fully clothed on the bed and fell asleep straight away.

Sorry!: that was a bit more cheerful, wasn't it? Sorry for the late update, I was meaning for this to be up yesterday but it turned out to be a bit hectic for me on a personal level but hopefully you'll forgive me? I made this one at least 1000 words longer than my previous chapters. I just couldn't stop writing! I probably rambled a lot but I have set up the subplot that I'm hoping to carry on with during this story.

Thanks for all the lovely comments guys! I have really needed something positive to look at these past couple of days and I just kept rereading them. I know it sounds sad but this is the first ever thing I have ever put of mine anywhere for people to see and all your nice words mean a lot to me.

Enough rambling!

Thanks again,

Love, Doe xx

#sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy #bobby elvis #chibs telford x oc #chibs telford #jax teller #clay morrow #gemma teller #juice ortiz #chibs x oc #chibs telford fan fiction #here you go kids. #sweet girl

[hot-mysticc-mess-blog]

Hi! I have a requests ;D something like this happened to me a couple days ago which made me think of this. How would the RFA + minor trio react to a nasty rumor going around about MC and she's really upset? And maybe how they help clear up the rumor or comfort her? I hope that's not too much, thank you!! ❤️❤️

Of course, sorry to hear about the rumors though :(

  I hope you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing it! 

RFA + Minor Trio React to MC upset about a nasty rumor about her

Masterlist

Jumin

Nasty rumors are par for the course with Jumin Han

He is rich, young, talented, handsome, and started media training when he was still in diapers. Jumin does not even look at the articles about him anymore unless someone posts a screenshot in the chatroom, nor let anything people say get to him.

But he notices when something is off with your texts

Comes home early when his ‘Is something on your mind, MC?’ text goes unanswered for two hours.

You had no outings planned today, and a quick call to the head of security from Jaehee confirmed you were still at home. Why wouldn’t you answer his text? Had he done something wrong?

Wanders around the house calling your name only to find you upset in the bedroom

Briefly angry with his staff. How long had you been like this? Why hadn’t they let him know?

Sits beside you and holds your hand. He is still new to showing intimacy and emotion, and while you are the person he knows how to comfort best that’s not exactly saying much, but hand holding is easy and safe.

“Don’t cry.” He means it affectionately, but it comes out in his usual monotone and sounding more like a command “I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Once you calm down enough to explain he listens carefully to all the details you give him before responding

“Would you like me to hire you a PR team?”

The long silence and perplexed look on your face only seems to confuse him more.

“We can’t sue them, but a PR team could help hone your public image. I’m told there would still be some ‘internet trolls’, but good public relations management might help the world see you as the wonderful woman you are. I would, of course, hire the best team available.

You refuse the PR team, but a suspiciously timed fluff piece about you appears on the news the next day

Yoosung

He tried to be a responsible adult and run some errands

Clearly that was a mistake (same Yoosung, same)

Comes home to find you crying on the couch and panics thinking that either he has done something or something horrendously tragic has happened

Did someone die? Worse…did he forget your anniversary?

Sets down his bags in the doorway so he can come sit next to you

Pulls you into a frantic hug “MC are you okay? What happened? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

The real struggle is trying to time your explanation between his worrying and your still-hiccupping breath

When you manage to tell him, he immediately exclaims something along the lines of “But that’s not true!” He is a pure boy

Showers you with poorly-worded compliments until you’re laughing and he’s too flustered to continue

Yoosung might not be able to do much about the people who started the rumor, but he knows someone who can

Offers Seven’s assistance, and promises he’ll always stand up for you

Jaehee

Jaehee knows all of your tells

She can tell when you’re upset well before you reach the point of tears

Spends lots of extra time doting on you, giving you the opportunity to share your concerns

It is not until dinner time when her promise to make your favorite meal is received with a fake smile that she becomes truly concerned

Jaehee double checks the chat room to see if maybe you or someone else had said anything there

All she can find is Yoosung babbling about LOLOL

After dinner, Jaehee wraps you up in a blanket, brings you tea and the two of you sit on the couch while she rests her head on your shoulder

The Zen DVD is already loaded, but she leaves it on the main menu screen, playing soft intro music

Jaehee waits patiently until you tell her what’s wrong

Genuinely surprised to hear about the rumors

She spent every day with you, how did she not hear about this? Who would even think about saying something like that? You are the sweetest person she has ever met, not to mention all the two of you do is run a mildly-successful coffee shop. What would anyone have to gain from this?

Puts aside her questions in favor of taking care of you, though

She had a rough time with her aunt, and has dealt with a few women who thought she was more than just Jumin’s assistant, not to mention the criticisms she received from the man himself while on the job

Her specialty is not letting the things people say get to her

“It’s just baseless gossip, MC. The only thing it can really hurt is your feelings, and that’s only if you let them. The people who said those things about you only said them because they have nothing better to do than try to tear you down. Please don’t feel sad over people who are so far beneath you.”

Zen

Your relationship remains low profile for the sake of Zen’s career, but it still exposes you to a lot more media attention

Zen had a lot of rumors and scandals about him, usually from click bait sites trying to get views

Most of them were laughable, and most of the rest were ignorable, but scandals could be a real problem if they ended up big enough or on the right outlets

What if this rumor got him in trouble?

When Zen comes home and finds you upset you suddenly find yourself sitting in his lap with your head on his chest

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

Borderline obnoxiously affectionate if you do not want to talk about it, wraps himself around you and places soft kisses everywhere he can reach until you give in

“Baaaaabe?”

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right Princess?”

While you tell him about the rumors, he is ever the performer, eyes widening at just the right reveals, kisses to your temples when you get particularly distraught, and finished with a dramatic scoff at the end.

“People can be idiots, but this is getting out of hand. How stupid does someone have to be to think that about you!?”

Insists you do an interview with the press and dispel the rumor, contract be damned.

“It’s one thing for there to be rumors about me, but I want the world to see you the way I do: as the most beautiful woman inside and out.”

Saeyoung/707

He is knee deep in building a new toy prototype in his workroom and has been for most of the day

Very excited to show it to you, because you always find his endo-skeletons adorable, even when everyone else is deeply disturbed

Then he hears a familiar high-pitched voice

“I turn on when I sense depression!”

The little jingle and mechanical whirring tells him Meowy’s dance program must have started

Was Saeran having a bad day?

No, wait…Saeran went out today with Yoosung. You had made a huge deal about it and packed them both lunches

“MC…?” He leaves his work room to come to the bedroom, presenting the still-dancing Meowy on the flats of his palms to you for you to silence

“Meowy goes to sleep now!” He puts the robot on the bedside table and flops onto the bed with you

“Should we pray to God7 for salvation?” When his joking doesn’t work, he snuggles up to you, gently nudging you until you move into the position he wants so he can press his forehead to yours and look into your eyes.

“If I could, I would hack your brain. But I can’t, so I need you to talk to me. What’s wrong, MC?”

You explain about the rumors while he strokes your hair soothingly with one hand.

“Oh, is that all? Show me who said it and I’ll make sure their computers never work again.” There is a sadistic grin on his face that makes you doubt the ethics of following his instructions

People say nothing is ever deleted from the internet, but Saeyoung makes sure every trace of any mean thing about you is gone. Then, he hacks the perpetrators social media accounts, posting a carefully curated selection of their most humiliating photos and leaving them locked out of their accounts.

Anything they said about you will be long-forgotten over new, lower hanging fruit

And, of course, he sends the computer-wrecking viruses he promised you earlier. Just for good measure.

V/Jihyun

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out, because it always makes you smile

But you seem more shocked than pleasantly surprised to see him

He can see the puffiness in your eyes, and the redness at the outer corners from rubbing the tears away

He can hear your breath catch every few rounds, threatening a sob

Something happened.

Closes the distance between the two of you so he can wrap his arms around you

After a moment for you to adjust, he presses a gentle hand to your cheek and guides you to look him in the eyes

He is endlessly loving, voice nearing a coo as he asks “what happened, my love?”

he cradles you to his chest so you can hear his heart beat while he rubs soothing circles into your back

Of all of them, he is the most patient, willing to wait as long as you need before you talk even if that means coming back to it another day

You tell him about the rumors and, more importantly, how much they hurt you

“I’m sorry,” he says. Old habits die hard, and even now it still sounds like an apology rather than an expression of sympathy.

“I hope you know they’re wrong, MC, and everyone who truly matters in your life will know that, too. You are the kindest, brightest woman I have ever met. These rumors will pass.”

If the rumor goes beyond a small-scale, he will ask Jumin to help handle it

Saeran

Saeran comes out of the shower to find you curled up in a ball

He has no idea how to comfort people, so he just mimics what you and Saeyoung do for him

“MC?” He is super nervous and awkward about sitting next to you and trying to give you a hug

Pairs it with uncomfortable hair petting. It ends up being more like a toddler petting a cat than stroking a lover’s hair, but the sentiment is nice

Once the two of you find a comfortable position, he’ll just sit with you quietly until you’re ready to talk

But he won’t let you leave until you tell him your problem

Once you explain about the rumors he. Is. Livid.

He grew up in an abusive household

His mother hurled insults at him every day for most of his life, regardless of whether or not they were true or accurate

Saeran is sure he deserved every bad thing anyone has said about him, but you don’t

He also knows exactly how much it can hurt

You are the kindest person he has ever met, which he grumbles at you angrily to try and make you feel better

Brings you your hot drink of choice, because Saeyoung told him ice cream does not comfort everyone the same way it comforts the two of them

Listens carefully while you tell him what’s wrong

If you do not volunteer the information, he’ll ask casually about details and names

He doesn’t mean to be manipulative with you, but until recently it is the only tactic he has known

Plus, he knows you aren’t nearly as vengeful as he is and plans to destroy them whether you like it or not

Opts to not actually destroy their lives in the end, a testament to how much he loves you

Instead he ends up taking you out for ice cream (“that’s bullshit. Ice cream makes everything better, Saeyoung.”) with money stolen from the perpetrators’ bank account(s)

Vanderwood

He is not the kind of guy who jumps head first into conversations about your feelings

So yeah, he notices when you start feeling down, but he doesn’t bring it up for a while in hopes you will tell him yourself

Instead he bides his time by putting his arm around you while the two of you read together on the couch

He gives in and asks after he watches you read the same sentence three times in a row

“Why are you sighing like that?” You didn’t sigh, but if you point that out he’s going to insist that you did.

You tell him about the rumors, and while you talked he has managed to slowly pull you in closer and closer to him until you’re basically in his lap with him nuzzled in your hair

“That’s a stupid thing to get upset over,” he says gruffly, cutting you off as soon as he gets the details he needs. If he lets you go on for too long you’ll just work yourself up and that won’t help anybody.

“People are going to say whatever they think will get them what they want, regardless of if it’s true or not. Most of my job is telling people lies they want to hear and picking my enemies carefully. The idiots who started those rumors about you, they want to see you upset, think it’ll earn them something. You moping like this is only letting them win. If you want to beat them at their own game, all you have to do is keep living like you were before. Got it?”

If you still seem unhappy later though, he might ask Seven for a favor

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger headcanons #jaehee kang #mm jaehee #jumin han #mm jumin #saeyoung #707 #mm 707 #saeyoung choi #saeran #mm saeran #mm vanderwood #vanderwood #v #jihyun kim #mm v #yoosung #yoosung kim #mm yoosung #zen #mm zen #hyun ryu #ask #requests #mine #houseofdancing

[searching-for-mercury]

Voltron -- Klance -- Fake BF

All I Want for Christmas is a (Fake) Boyfriend

Summary: A while ago, in a fit of anger, Keith told his mom he had a boyfriend. Did he actually have a boyfriend? No. Did he care? Also no. At least, not until his mom, months later, tells him to bring his supposed boyfriend over for the holidays. Not wanting to admit he didn’t have one, Keith asks around for someone to play the role and who agrees to play the part? The annoying guy from his Lit class.

(ao3)

---

Big, fluffy snowflakes started to land and melt on Keith's windshield around the time when they still had about a half hour left to get home. The plastic bags in the back seat rustled with the movement of the car and the heat gently blowing from the front. His mom had been adamant on them both taking leftovers -- there was no way she, alone, could possibly eat that much food before it went bad. He never protested, he always appreciated free food, especially food made by his mom, but she always explained it anyways.

              As the sky grew darker, everything seemed so much less vibrant. Like those moments in movies where something dramatic was going to happen, it just had to get very still and very dark first. But the only dramatic thing to happen was that the other cars slowed down. It was only a little snow, people. It wasn't even enough for ice to form!

              "Do we have to go this fast?" Lance asked.

              "Not you too," Keith said, teeth clenched in a way he hadn't realized before.

              "I'd like to live to see next Christmas," Lance said. "Or tomorrow. I'll settle for tomorrow."

              Keith threw him a dirty look. "I told you on the way up here, my driving is fine," he said.

              "Yeah, I don't think the bugs on your windshield would agree to that statement," Lance said. "Plus, I think the snow is coming down a little heavier."

              He was right. Why did he have to be right? Heavy snow meant slower driving which meant it would be a while before they got back to school. He just wanted to drop Lance off and then go home and dwell in his weird thoughts for a long time, figure out what they meant and what he wanted. What he wanted to happen.

              He didn't want to have those thoughts while stuck in traffic, sitting next to the person who was making him have them in the first place. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel.

              "So there's going to be a party at Hunk's for New Year's," Lance said. "Are you going?"

              Keith had gotten the invitation even before he'd made plans to go to his mom's for Christmas. Hunk was one of the best in the culinary department -- there was no way he was going to miss something like that. He'd also heard Pidge and her brother talking about setting up the music and decorations, which meant it was going to be something nobody would expect.

              "Yeah," Keith replied. "And you?"

              "Of course!"

              There was a lull in their conversation. Keith could feel it like how he imagined actors could feel the eyes of the audience during a live show. Maybe Lance felt it, too, because he turned up the volume on the radio. A couple songs later and it was interrupted by a weather report.

             "You have to be kidding me," Keith muttered, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. It wasn't dangerous to do -- traffic had pretty much stopped. But the man on the radio warned them about blizzard conditions and what to do if their car got stuck. How was Keith supposed to drop Lance off and then go back to his own apartment?

              It was possible, he just didn't wanna do it.

              "Okay, new plans," Keith practically growled. "My apartment is closer. We go there, you stay the night, and in the morning I drop you off at the dorms. Sound good?"

              It took a moment for Lance to reply, but maybe Keith was just over-thinking things. "Yeah, if you don't mind," he said.

              If Keith minded, he wouldn't have offered. He managed to not say anything, but he couldn't help an eye roll he directed out his window.

              Their half an hour drive turned into a full hour, the silence mostly filled with music and idle conversation. Keith learned that Lance liked upbeat songs and he would move his right leg when it was especially catchy. The snow whirled around them like god or whoever was up there decided to upend down stuffed pillows on the world. Except those pillows were also god-sized.

              When they arrived at Keith's apartment, he was glad it had assigned parking, even if it cost him an extra twenty dollars a month. It meant, after a super fast unloading time, they only had to run a few feet to his door before they were enveloped in the warmth of his hallway.

              "Oh thank god I remembered to turn on the heat," he said between breaths. Had he forgotten, the pipes would have frozen over and burst. A blizzard and a flood? The end of the world would have better been underway.

              After kicking off their shoes, Keith brought Lance over to the living room. He sent a silent thank you to his past self, who remembered to clean before leaving for his mom's. The sofa was a squishy gray thing his dad gave him, so it had worn out patches around the edges, but it was still pretty comfortable.

              "I'll get you some blankets and a pillow," Keith said. "If you're hungry, you can warm up some of the stuff my mom gave us. Anything in the fridge. I've got chips and stuff somewhere."

              Lance made a face, pretending to be offended. "The couch?" he said, though a grin started to peek through his pretending ."I thought we were at that level already. You know? Sharing beds?"

              Keith rolled his eyes as obviously as he could, but couldn't ignore the way his stomach twisted at those words. "Over here's the bathroom, but let me get ready first," he said, gesturing to a door in the hallway.

              "You learn fast."

              Keith didn't say anything, just gave a sort of distracted nod, before bringing his bags to his room. He wasn't going to sleep very well, but he'd sleep better knowing Lance wasn't curled up right next to him.

              Everything hadn't gone exactly as he thought it would, mostly because his mom was only mildly uncomfortable. If it had been more than mild, she hadn't shown it, even so Lance had been an excellent actor. A little too good, in fact. It was because of his incredibly convincing performance that certain thoughts and feelings were swimming around in Keith's head, like dirty fish tank water.

              Had Lance not been camping out on his couch, Keith would have gone through the motions of brushing teeth while his mind was traveling at a snail's pace, elsewhere. But since he was, Keith did everything at hyper-speed and as soon as he was in his room again, buried himself under all the layers he always piled on his bed.

              He tried turning his brain off, even wished for it, but it kept whizzing away with all the things Keith would never say to anyone ever. He didn't even want to address them himself. In fact, he just wanted to sleep and forget, but only he achieved only one of those things.

 ~*~

                Keith opened his eyes to the light struggling to get in around the blinds on his window. He squinted at it, knowing subconsciously that if he were to stride on over and yank the cord, light would sear into his eyeballs. Then his brain caught up and he remembered the snow. And Lance.

              He'd been in the process of sitting up when he stopped and listened. The only thing he could hear was the hum of the heater, so he got up and opened the door as quietly as he could. Still, there was nothing. Nothing to hear and nothing to see.

              His relief was short-lived as, when he darted over to the bathroom, the door opened up and out walked Lance, directly into him.

              He smelled good.

              "Oh, sorry," Lance said and reached out an arm that never made it to Keith's shoulder, because the guy in question backed up. "You okay?"

             "Yeah," Keith said. It was very warm. It wasn't the heater. Lance smelled really good. "Are you, uh, done there?"

              Lance took a dramatically large sidestep away from the bathroom door, gesturing to it like a magician. "After you."

              As soon as the door was closed behind him, Keith took a deep breath and focused on doing things, performing little tasks. Brush his teeth, wash his face, stare at his reflection in the mirror -- no, not that, not the thinking. (Why did everything have to smell like Lance?) But the thoughts came back in a swirling mess while he was in the shower, with hot water trying to relax his tensed up shoulders. They crept up on him while he was rubbing shampoo into his scalp, but when he tried pinpointing the exact moment, he couldn't do it.

              He liked Lance, that much was obvious. That had been obvious in the car and probably before that. What he didn't know was what to do. Lance was basically a hired boyfriend -- was that called an escort? Or did that imply something else?

              Keith scrubbed a little harder at his head.

              A more mature person would probably just tell Lance, explain their feelings and get it over with. Face rejection or feel relief. Like tearing off a bandaid. But Keith was not a mature person -- or at least, not that mature. He would rather let the bandaid stay until it came off with a bath or shower, easy and without the sting, the pain.

              He had agreed to payment in Taco Bell lunches for a semester. If he told Lance and was shot down, that would mean an entire semester of awkward meals, sitting on hard, plastic seats surrounded by the smell of fake Mexican food cooking in the back. Or maybe they heated up premade things. Who knew. It wasn't important.

              What was important was the potentially heavy atmosphere they would have to endure. The air around Lance was always light, happy, fun. Keith wanted to enjoy it for at least another semester. And maybe by the end of it, Keith would either confess his feelings or discover those feelings weren't so deep after all. Maybe Lance would get himself involved in a real relationship and Keith would be forced to move on, to get over it. To let the bandaid slide off.

              He didn't know how long he'd been rubbing the shampoo out of his hair, but his head kind of ached and the water wasn't soapy in the least.

              Lance was sitting on his couch like he'd always sat on Keith's couch, texting or scrolling through something on his phone. The striped blue and white shirt he was wearing suited him, Keith thought.

              "You ready to go?" Keith asked.

              Lance lifted his head, but it took a moment for his eyes to follow. "Yeah," he replied. "Just let me get my shoes on."

              The Shower Decision, as he was calling it, had helped him so much more than he thought it would. The messy emotions and feelings were all still there, but it was more like they'd been put in a glass jar.

              "What have I told you about going out with wet hair?" Lance asked, getting closer than Keith wanted.

              "I'll wear a hat," Keith said, brushing past him towards the front door.

              The snow was piled up a good foot or two in most places, with larger snowdrifts in others. Sweeping it all off and around his car was a joint effort and getting out of his apartment complex was a thrilling game of "is this still road?" The main roads were better, thankfully, but it still meant driving in the careful, slow way Keith was never overly fond of. Nor was he actually good at it.

              "Dude, if I die, I'm coming back to haunt you," Lance said. He'd been holding onto the handle above the door for the last fifteen minutes. Overdramatic, really.

              "You're not going to die," Keith said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes but succumbing to the need to make a face. He made it at his window.

              "I saw that and yes, I will die if we keep going this fast, hit a patch of ice, and go smashing into any one of these other cars. Or poles. Or buildings. Look at all the things we could hit. There are so many. So many, Keith."

              "You're not going to die!" Keith snapped. "You're not going to die because I won't crash!"

              Lance groaned with his head thrown back. "You don't say that! Now we really will crash! You've jinxed it!"

              Keith took a deep breath in. It went out a little too fast. "No, you're right. We will crash because then maybe you'll shut up." It was just like the trip to his mom's all over again.

              There was a small silence, long enough for Keith to think it had ended, that Lance had taken the hint and finally shut his trap. But that was too much to hope for, apparently.

              "Not if I come haunt you," Lance muttered. "I'll talk all the time."

              Images of Keith's car speeding down the road came to mind just then, where the passenger side door opens and Lance flails a bit as he's pushed out of the vehicle. He lands in a comically large snowdrift before sitting up, sputtering and swearing. And Keith's car just keeps on driving.

              It was incredibly satisfying.

              Instead, he did his job and brought Lance to the school dorms in one piece. And alive. He may or may not have made sure Lance made it in okay, ignoring the giant wave sent his way. He could have offered to help Lance bring up his several bags, but that would have meant more awkwardness drifting between the two of them like mosquitoes during summer evenings.

              Keith just needed to go home, breathe a little, and focus on something else.

 ~*~

                The party began at nine, but, Keith being Keith, he arrived about a half an hour later. He had to park a couple houses down, but Hunk's parties were always pretty big. Hunk was the only one in their little group of friends who had actually grown up in that town -- he and his family took part in all sorts of events and volunteering. His parents were out of town, gone to another city for business, so Hunk had the house all to himself for a couple days.

              The house itself was small with yellow siding and white trim. The yard, as far as Keith knew, had been done by Hunk's dad, though Hunk often spent time outside gardening alongside him. He even worked in Home Depot, though that might have been in order to get an employee discount on all their gardening gear. Needless to say, the house and yard looked amazing.

              Keith rang the doorbell because he couldn't remember if he did it last year or not. Did he just go in? Would they hear the doorbell? How long was he supposed to wait until he tried opening it himself?

              He didn't worry long, however. The door swung open and there stood Shay, Hunk's girlfriend. She was taller than Keith, which always made him a little more nervous than he wanted to be, with a smile that put most at ease.

              "Keith!" she said -- or at least he assumed that's what she said because she spoke softly and the music coming from somewhere smothered most of everything. She beckoned him in, using the hand that wasn't holding onto a yellow plastic cup.

              Hunk wasn't far behind. "There you are!" he said. "Been wondering if you'd show up!"

              "Sorry," Keith said, unsure if he'd been heard or not. There were a lot of people. A little too many. But he'd promised.

              "Just happy you made it," Hunk replied, clapping him on the shoulder. "There's food in the kitchen! Go help yourself!"

              "Will do," Keith said.

              Hunk's attention was snagged by someone Keith didn't recognize. In fact, there were a lot of unfamiliar faces, but that much was normal. Hunk was a popular guy. Much like Shay, there was a feeling of ease that surrounded Hunk -- a comfortable, cozy feeling, like any hug received from him would make you feel like the world was okay and safe.

              Keith stuck to the wall as much as he could, slipping through any opening he could find. Eventually he made his way to the kitchen, where the table had been packed full of various snacks and drinks. Even so there were so many different things, they all kind of went well together anyways. It was something Hunk was always good at.

              The plate he loaded up didn't last long, but the Pepsi he poured into a cup did. He brought it out to the living room, where the music wasn't so intense. Shiro and Allura were sitting on one of the couches, so he wove his way around people to get to them; in a sea of unfamiliar faces, the sight of them sent a wave of relief flowing through him.

              "When did you get here?" Allura asked. They were wearing matching sweaters. Of course they were.

              "Recently," Keith replied.

              "How was Christmas?" Shiro asked.

              It was an innocent enough question and Shiro most definitely meant it that way, but it still filled Keith with a sort of embarrassment and shame. Did he know what he'd done over the holidays? Probably not, unless Allura clued him in. Keith still wasn't very comfortable with him knowing he was gay, especially since Keith had had a crush on him for a long time. Well, it wasn't quite so dead and buried, that crush. He liked thinking those feelings had disappeared entirely, but there were a few stubborn ones, the ones that made certain things awkward.

              "It was good," Keith said, nodding a bit. "Yours?"

              "He went with me to meet my family," Allura said with a devious sort of smile.

              "I did," Shiro admitted, a bit of color tingeing his cheeks. "It happened."

              "Anything exciting happen?" Keith asked. "Or did you just meet them?" He knew there was more to the story and he didn't really want to hear it, but it was better than being asked questions about his own holiday adventures.

              They were getting into their explanations about how Allura's dad pretended to be the tough dad type, to scare him a little, before it crumbled away and everything became much less nerve-wracking, when Pidge spotted Keith from across the room. The moment their eyes locked, a smirk grew on her face. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like where the conversation was about to head.

              She strode over, confident and not so tall, but standing as tall as she could, and Keith had his back to the wall. He checked to see if he could escape somehow, without it being weird, but unless he could make leaping over a coffee table seem normal, he was stuck.

              "So Keith," she started. "Good of you to show up. I've been wanting to talk to you."

              "Really now."

              She hummed a little as a yes. "How were your holidays?" she asked.

              "Good," he replied.

              "Just good?"

              "Yup."

              "Anything out of the ordinary happen?"

              "Not particularly."

              Keith could see the curiosity bloom across both Shiro and Allura's faces. Something was up, but Keith wasn't saying. And he sure as heck wasn't going to.

              "Is there something we're missing?" Allura asked.

              There was mischief in Pidge's eyes and Keith was silently trying to put it out by staring back at her.

              Unfortunately, Lance appeared like a well-timed character appearance in a sitcom, followed by Hunk and Shay. Perfect. Everyone together. At least he wouldn't have to explain things a gazillion times.

              "Lance!" Pidge said. "I was just asking Keith! How were your holidays?"

              Lance immediately looked to Keith. It wasn't something the others missed.

              "Okay, something happened here," Hunk said. "I smell a story."

              "He visited me for Christmas, okay?" Keith snapped. There was too much aggression in his voice, he knew. A tad bit too defensive.

              "I didn't know you two even knew each other," Hunk said.

              Pidge was impatient. "How was it?"

              "It was good!" Lance replied. "Very good food. We played games, watched movies. Very cozy."

              "I bet," Pidge replied, a little waggle of her eyebrows aimed at Keith.

              "There is definitely something you guys aren't telling us," Allura said.

              "Yeah, fill us in," Shiro said.

              "Well," Lance said, looking at Keith like he wasn't sure how much he should be saying. "Keith needed someone to come with him, so I went! We used to share an English class." It was actually Literature. "And Pidge hooked us up. I mean, not hooked up like, like that. I mean, she just helped us meet is all."

              Nobody looked convinced.

              Keith let out all the air he'd been holding in. "I needed someone to play the part of a boyfriend and he played it," he said. The aggression hadn't left his voice, but he'd had enough of all the tiptoeing around the subject, all the prodding and questioning looks. "My mom is kind of homophobic so I felt I had something to prove. That's it."

              The reaction was more or less as expected. Allura and Shiro had similar expressions, with their eyebrows way, way up. Allura had known Keith had been asking around, though, but maybe she'd never thought he'd actually go through with it. Pidge looked smug and full of an evil kind of glee; she was not going to be letting it go. Hunk looked bemused and Shay looked like she was still processing it.

              "Did she, uh, buy it?" Shiro asked.

              Keith really wished Shiro wasn't there.

              "I guess, I don't know," Keith replied and focused on looking at the far corner of the room rather than anyone's face.

              "Did you guys kiss?" Pidge asked eagerly. She pounced on the subject so fast, it made him wonder how long she'd been holding back.

              "Not answering."

              "That's a yes!" she said, jumping in the air a bit. "Refusing to answer is definitely a yes!"

              Keith could feel Lance looking at him, but he was very much not looking back. Instead, the corner was receiving his intense stares. It was a good thing nobody was standing near it. It was as if Lance wanted to see if he had permission to tell, but Keith was not going down that road.

"We had to be convincing," Lance eventually replied. He flashed one of his easy smiles. "It didn't take much."

"And your dad was okay?" Hunk asked.

Keith shrugged, but then felt bad because his dad was actually really great. "Yeah."

"So how was it?" Pidge asked. Had it been a costume party, being the devil's mom would have totally suited her. "Being Keith's pretend boyfriend. How did it make you feel." Satan's mother who freelanced as a terrible, terrible psychiatrist.

"Like a stud," Lance shot back. "But no, seriously, it went by so fast and the food was amazing. So really, not bad."

Allura began to grin and Keith never wanted to see that face ever again, as long as he lived. If he had to, he really hoped it would never again be directed at him. "A convincing performance," she said. "I would have loved to see that."

Lance immediately perked up. "I could show you some of my sweet, fake boyfriend skills," he said with a voice so full of sap, it was a wonder he didn't choke on it.

"I meant on him," Allura deadpanned.

"Oh, right," Lance said and winked at Keith. What for, he had no idea. "I could do that. This relationship doesn't have to come to an end."

"It already did," Keith said. "The moment we got in my car."

"I'm hurt!" Lance said, putting the back of his hand against his forehead with an expression so dramatic, Keith wasn't entirely convinced Lance wasn't a part of the theater program in school. "Not even a kiss goodbye!"

"There are no kisses for when people break up!" Keith snapped back. He was starting to feel like he was in danger, somehow. Not from anything life-threatening, just humiliating.

Lance pulled another overly dramatic face. "You never even told me we were breaking up!" he wailed. A little too loudly, in fact. A couple strange faces glanced their way.

Allura and Pidge were enjoying his theatrics, but Shiro just looked like he didn't quite understand, but was going along with it anyway.

"Console your fake boyfriend, Keith!" Pidge demanded. She wasn't as good as Lance with the drama, so her goofy smile wobbled through the pretend-angry expression.

"No!" Why couldn't they just leave it alone? He didn't want to talk about it.

"He doesn't love me anymore," Lance said with a heavy sigh.

Keith opened his mouth to say he'd never loved him, but his own stupid thoughts made him stop. It wasn't love, it wasn't. But it was definitely in that area. "Just shut up, please," Keith mumbled.

Lance gave him a look like he didn't quite understand. It's not a big deal, he was probably thinking. And maybe it wasn't, to him, and maybe it wouldn't be looking back on it, but Keith just wanted to talk about something else. Anything else.

"Hey guys, how are you liking the food?" Hunk sort of blurted out. He'd always been good at picking up on feelings, even if Keith was pretty sure he'd been radiating do not want since the beginning. "Personally, I like it. Lots of tasty things. Would I change any of it? Also yes! Everything can always be improved."

"I like the hummus," Shiro said. Keith was less sure about him; maybe Shiro wanted to talk about something else for other reasons.

"Family recipe," Hunk said. "Can't give it to you."

"I didn't even ask!"

"I saw it in your eyes."

Pidge's expression fell a little, though it wasn't something that would eat at Keith's conscious.

Conversation wandered around like they did throughout the house. Hunk would disappear at times to make more food or put some more soda in the fridge and eventually he started asking if anyone would like to watch something, maybe a movie or a TV show off Netflix. Not everyone joined them, but it didn't matter -- to Keith, it was best kept small and cozy. He wasn't thrilled about the seating arrangement, though, and he had a feeling Allura had had a conversation with Pidge through eye language alone, because he was sandwiched between Hunk and Lance on a couch, with Shiro sitting on the floor right in front of him.

It could have been because Keith was naturally paranoid, but he had a difficult time focusing on the show they'd picked out together. At some point, Lance stretched an arm out over the back of the couch and it wasn't touching Keith at all, but he couldn't help but glance over at Lance. Lance winked back at him and, like before, Keith had no idea why.

The TV was turned to the ball dropping in New York. They counted down together, someone snuck a sparkly headband with the new year on him, and the house shook with the voices crying out in unison, "Happy New Year!"

#klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #voltron #keith #lance #vld #the whole gang shows up in this one #and HAPPY NEW YEAR #IT'S OFFICIALLY 2018 #at least where i'm at #PROST NEUJAHR #ahhh the fireworks were so cool #a drunk lady shot one upside down and it just went off in the street #and then she shot one at the roof #amazing