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dancingbabya-notes · 1 year

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You Think Like me

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Bakugo x Oc

There will no longer be an explanation I want my drafts to be empty I'm just queuing and leaving it at that. If you want an explanation send me an ask.

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I grew up admiring the heroes of our society and not wanting anything. Or that’s what my parents told me. At about three I developed my quirk I had a healing quirk, or more like a repair quirk I couldn’t grasp it as a child. The only think I needed to do was eat, actually it was just a be healthy kind of thing.

Everyone praised me for my beneficial ability. All Might was my role model and I wanted to be a hero like him. Through training and other things, I was able to get into the hero course. In class B.

“Those lame class A don’t even have a healer,” Monoma boasts as I hold my hands over him.

“Shut your mouth, if you didn’t get hurt so fucking much, I wouldn’t have to heal you every two fucking seconds,” I hiss.

My hair lay in waves pulled back by a headband, the taupe color doing nothing to the purple eyes that I was given. I’d never experience hurt or pain since my body would heal itself before I could feel it. The only people who could stand my prickly nature was Kendo and Pony.

“Hey, Mere, how’s the new design coming?” Kendo asks as she leans over me.

“If your fucking boyfriend hadn’t interrupted me, I’d already be done with this stupid project,” I grumble.

The other groups were already halfway done, and my group was lagging behind. They know how slow you are. You can’t even handle the designs for a little school project. Such a loser. Imagine having to actually work with others when they know how lame you are. Grabbing at my headband I feel the hard-plastic dig into my palms as it breaks.

“Whoa there Mere, are you okay?” Someone asks.

“I’m fine, just take the old design from my notebook. I need to go for a walk,” I roll my eyes before getting up from the table.

Second year of school already. Everything we had done was always overshadowed by Class A, despite the levels having no meaning of skill. The Autumn air felt great against my warm skin, a slight drawback to my quirk and not a happy one. If overused I could end up with a pretty bad fever or even pass out. With my hair free of the torture device, it made it a bit cooler, but anything else is unacceptable.

I could hear people whispering as I walk by. The thoughts got louder and louder, walking faster I almost ran to the dorms, but I didn’t. Without a word to any classmates working in the dorm I walk off to my room.

“A hello would have been nice,” someone scoffs.

Once inside my room, door locked, curtain closed, I felt better. Almost.

“She thinks she’s so amazing. Who lets people like her live? Just having a healing quirk isn’t enough. Always glaring and shouting. No regard for other’s feelings.” The thoughts kept coming and coming.

“Shut up,” I mumble sitting down on the ground.

“Please.”

I did everything I could. Around the end of elementary school someone had burst my bubble. Everyone was asking what middle school everyone would go to. I had long picked out my middle school, but someone get in my face. I thought I’d handled it, but it got worse. I couldn’t tell when other words came out if they were telling the truth or if they were lying to me. Even my family, every word felt fake. After entering UA, it felt the same. Only Pony and Kendo were able to show me a truth, their words were not lies or had no undertone of mockery. Despite that I kept my distance.

“Mere? What are you doing?” Someone asks from behind me.

“Reading, what does it look like?” I snap the book shut with a sneer.

“Oh, sorry. We need your quirk, Monoma got into a fight with Bakugo again,” they explain.

Slamming the book on the table I raise a brow. “What the hell did he do to get his ass handed to him this time?”

“Well um...”

“I’m waiting.”

“He said something about how you and Bakugo are so similar in attitude. And that you were better since you have a healing quirk verses a destruction quirk like Bakugo and...”

Walking away from the desk I frown. “I’ll heal him, but if he mouths off again, I’m gonna wait two days before I heal him.”

Just as I go to the infirmary to heal the pompous smart ass, I almost run into someone. Sliding out of the way I keep my eyes forward.

“Watch where you going, fucking extra,” huffs the blond male.

“I moved out of the way, didn’t I? Not like I walked into you,” I roll my eyes.

Recovery girl looks out of the infirmary. “Kumori-san, you don’t have to worry about healing Monoma. He has to learn his lesson.”

“It’s my job as a rescue hero in training, I’ll heal him this time. But the next time he gets beat up by one of those kids I’m not healing him,” I explain as I walk in.

She looks at me and smiles.

“You heard me, right?” I raise a brow to the blond.

He doesn’t say a thing as I place my hand on his shoulder to begin. The walk back to the classroom was odd.

“What’s on your fucking mind?” I huff.

“Nothing for you to concern your pretty little head over. There’s no reason to waste time worrying about those class A students,” Monama waves his hand.

Adjusting my headband, I raise a brow. “You’re thinking about how you can get them back for the embarrassment. Stop wasting your fucking time, focus on bettering yourself. The best act of revenge is showing that they don’t faze you and your better without them.”

“Kumori you seem...” I interrupt him.

“Tell Kendo I have a fever or something, I’m going back to the dorms,” I yawn. “If sensei asks for my homework it’s in my desk, turn it in for me.”

Monoma doesn’t say anything, as much as I could remember was walking toward the steps then black. My eyes opened and there was the angry blond sitting in the chair next to me. His brow furrowed.

“What the hell do you get out of falling down the stairs on people?” He shouts.

Sitting up slowly I pull at the bandages gently. “I fell down the stairs. Damn, I was more tired than I though.”

“What?”

I raise a brow. “I didn’t fall down the stairs on purpose, I was tired from quirk use. I supposed the fact that I can’t turn this shit off really takes a toll out of me. At least you can fucking tell when your quirk is gonna go off.”

He stares at me. “What class are you from?”

“Class 2B,” I roll my eyes as I slide to get off the cot.

“Lay your fucking ass down until Recovery Girl returns,” he shouts.

Flinching, I stare for a second as my arms move to cover myself before really registering what he said. Shaking my head, I stand up and drink the water sitting next to me.

“I’m fine, if you didn’t notice from the lack of cuts, I have a healing quirk.”

“That old lady told me to keep you here till she comes back,” he hisses.

I raise a brow. Sitting back onto the bed I look at him again. “If that’s the case, I’ll stay. Leave, you have important class stuff to do right?”

“My class doesn’t need my help,” he rolls his eyes.

Sighing I lean back on the bed and pull my phone from my skirt pocket. The screen was surprisingly in tack, turning it on I look through my messages.

“These fucking idiots are worrying over nothing,” I roll my eyes.

To promote class unity, we had made a group chat, everyone was sending worried messages about me falling down the stairs and how I haven’t returned to the dorm. With a quick glance at the time my eyes go wide.

“What?”

“I have to make a call, keep your fucking mouth shut. Got it?” I glare.

He groans as he crosses his arms leaning back into the chair. I start the video call and place a small smile on my face.

“Sissy! How is school?” The chipper voice of my little sister is met to my ears and her beaming smile as she sits up.

“I’m doing good Ato, are you being good for Gramps and Gram?” I ask.

Her face pulls into a pout. “Grandpa won’t let me make mochi to mail for your birthday.”

I frown. “Ato, that’s too much for you to do. Just do what you always do.”

She starts to tear up. “But sissy, you’re working so hard at school that you need something sweet.”

“Wait.” I sigh. “Do what you want. I can’t win against your tears.”

She practically jumps up and down. “I’m gonna make Sakura mochi, I collected the flowers earlier this year and Gram froze the buds.”

Giggling I notice the bandage on her arm. “Ato, who hurt you?”

“No one, I was climbing trees with some of the other kids,” she explains quickly.

“You don’t bruise like that from climbing trees,” I hiss.

“It’s fine really, I can handle it Sissy. No reason to get angry please,” she whispers.

“Want me to visit during the anniversary?”

She’s still. “You don’t have to. You have school and it takes money to come home right?”

“It’s our parents death anniversary I’m not gonna just stay home for that. I’ll put in my formal request alright, see you soon Ato,” I state.

“Just don’t fight anyone, alright? Gram told me that just because you can heal physical injuries doesn’t mean you can heal the emotional ones. I love you sissy, bye.” She hangs up.

Putting my phone down I feel the anger well up in me. “Damn old hag who does she think she is?”

Bakugo looks at me with a brow raised. “You’re the only one in your family?”

“Huh?”

“Only one with a healing quirk?”

I nod bringing my knees to my chest. “Fucking parents didn’t think that it would manifest that way. Why am I telling you this?”

He raises a brow. Recovery Girl walks in and I look at her with a small smile.

“Why did you keep me?” I ask.

“Wanted to double check that everything healed alright. You try to push yourself into exhaustion to take care of your class,” she explains placing a bread in my hand.

I roll my eyes. “If they’d watch out for their limits and found a good way to avoid serious injury you wouldn’t see me so much.”

“Kumori, I know you have this quirk, but it still takes a toll on you,” she points out.

“I’m fine, I haven’t had any serious backlash since I healed that Midoriya kid.”

She nods. “I felt horrible making you do that too.”

I raise a brow. “I’m not weak ma’am, the scar doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

She glares. “It’s still there, my assistant got hurt doing my job. Your still a student, Kumori.”

“Well, if I’m at full function, I’m going back. Those idiots are losing their minds,” I wave my phone a bit.

“Thank you for looking over her Bakugo, you may go back too,” Recovery girl calls.

Standing up I make my way to the classroom. Bakugo was behind me the whole time, grabbing my bag and left out homework I turn to leave. Bakugo already had his bag and nodded at me.

“I didn’t know you had a little sister,” he states.

I glance at him. “No one asked.”

Silence again as we walk down the stairs. “You’re friends with that damn extra.”

“Monoma is a package deal with Kendo.” I huff as I reach for my shoes. “Why the hell did they give me a tall locker!”

Reaching over me he takes the shoes out and I frown.

“Thanks.” I force the indoor shoes into their spot, and we are out of the building.

“Don’t expect me to be nice to you now that I know all this,” he growls.

I shake my head. “I didn’t call my sister in front of you for sympathy, I did it because I’m not changing my schedule just cause I wasn’t in my room.”

He doesn’t say anything as we get to heights alliance, I could have sworn that Dorm A was closer than Dorm B. But as I walk in, I glance back.

“Hey, Hot top! You better be the best hero ever, when I become a healer come to me if you need it,” I shout.

He waves and I close the door. Questions bombard me as I walk to my room. After a quick shower I sit with Kendo and Pony as we relax a bit.

“Mere, why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?” Kendo grumbles.

“We got our asses chewed out since we weren’t being careful, just because we have a healer,” someone states.

I chuckle. “Serves you idiots right, I almost missed my sister’s call. And by the way in a few weeks take care of your fucking selves, I have to leave for three days.”

“What?”

I roll my eyes chewing on the candy. “Yeah, family shit that I have to deal with. I don’t wanna hear that you guys got the shit beat out of you because you weren’t careful.”

It was time for the school festival, two weeks had passed since I fell down the stairs. Bakugo seemed to be constantly in my field of vision. Ignoring it I held my bag as I got ready to go. As I walk out of the dorm, I see the blond again.

“Pretty early to be leaving!” He shouts.

“Pretty late for your morning jog,” I raise a brow.

“Those extras kept me up last night,” he huffs.

I wasn’t sure what it was that came over me, but I sent him a smile. “Your idiots seem like the type to do that.”

He shrugs. “You gonna miss the festival?”

“Yeah, I didn’t notice that their anniversary fell on the same day,” I shrug. “I know we aren’t close like that, but I wanna ask you something?”

“Huh?”

Adjusting the headband, I glance at the blond. “You ever feel like the words that people use to praise you are actually snide remarks. You know what never mind, maybe my dad gave me a bit of his mind reading quirk.”

Bakugo is silent. “Like how everyone says that they’re your friend but is gonna turn around and push you down.”

“Ah you noticed I threw my hands up when you yelled.” I wince.

“Nah, I could tell.” He stops walking.

“What?”

“You were crying, weren’t you?” I look down. “Shorty, you’re a really great person. Tell your little sister that she doesn’t have to take shit from no one when she’s got two heroes in training on her side. And if you want to, I’m here for you.”

I hadn’t noticed his phone in his hand. Tapping it to mine I stare at the contact exchange notification. He walks away. I called him twice that weekend and I also managed to bring myself to talk to Kendo at least. Bakugo was at the gate waiting for me when I got back.

“How was the kid?” He asks.

Handing him the bag I smirk. “She made you a gift. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to. My Gram also made you some of our snacks.”

“I didn’t ask for anything like this,” he scoffs but is still careful with the bag.

“How was the festival?” I sway back and forth.

Bakugo rolls his eyes. “Shitty, those extras made me go to that pageant thing and they announced that they had a few missing. You didn’t tell me your class nominated you.”

“Kind of glad I left; I wasn’t about to get dressed up for their entertainment.” Walking toward the dorm I frown.

We weren’t even five steps from the class A dorm, something came from the door and tackled the male next to me. I blink looking at the red-haired male and the blond with a black mark.

“Bakubro, were you going for a walk to meet her?” Asks the red head.

“Shut your mouth shitty hair, and Dunce face careful with that bag,” Bakugo shouts.

“Awe, but Bakugo you turned us down for ice cream and we wanted to see what was taking you so long,” the blond one frowns.

I giggle and raise a brow. “Thanks for walking me this far. I can get to the dorms on my own. Besides I have to get this stuff to them, or they might lose it with me.”

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Shitty hair’s real name was actually Kirishima Ejiro, and Dunce face is called Kaminari Denki. I learned that a few days later when I almost got burned by the acid spewing girl named Ashido Mina. They only approached me because Bakugo had been mumbling about me apparently. Not sure how to feel about it I continued about my week and attempted to avoid then.

“Hey, Kumori!” Calls a voice as I walk out from the lunch line.

Raising a brow, I send a small wave back. But two seconds to wave and I was practically dragged to sit with them. Tilting my head, I watch as they continue to talk animatedly as if they hadn’t just dragged me over here against my will.

“What the hell are you idiots doing forcing her to sit here?” Bakugo growls.

My phone starts to ring, and I see the video request from my sister. Getting up I point to my phone and go to accept it in the hall.

“Awe, I thought I’d catch you at lunch,” she whines.

“Why aren’t you at school, Ato?” I sigh.

“I had a fever. Gram thought it would be fine if I took off today since it was so high,” she pouts.

I sigh. “Fine I’ll finish my call in the lunchroom but be warned it’s loud.”

She is beaming as I turn to walk back in holding up my phone as she looks around excitedly.

“Who’s that?” She asks trying to get a closer look at the blond who was now next to me.

“Bakugo, he’s the one you made the gifts for,” I explain.

“Oh, cool. I didn’t know you were friends with the other classes,” she grins.

I shrug. “I wouldn’t say they’re friends just more tolerable than others. But Bakugo is a friend.”

“Hey short stop, those kids bothering you still?” Bakugo asks.

“No,�� Ato looks away from the camera.

I raise a brow. “I don’t believe that for a second. Explain what happened.”

“Nothing, I just... Mere you’re mean,” she goes to hang up.

“Fine I’ll ask Gram what’s going on then,” I glare.

She’s quiet and looks at me. “Promise not to get mad?”

“I’m not promising that. You’re asking me to hide me emotions from you and lie,” I glare.

“Your right sis, well Uncle Ikumi has been coming to the house,” she starts. “And he asked Gram for money.”

I slam my fist on the table biting my tongue. “Oh, how lovely that self-righteous, soul sucking piece of...”

“Sis, I know you don’t like him. But he’s been coming back a lot. Remember how he would only come every two months?” She continues.

A nod.

“He’s been coming back every week almost.”

My head hurts from the blood filling my mouth. “Thank you for telling me, I’ll make sure to call him.”

Hanging up the phone I look to Bakugo. He looks a bit confused.

“So, your uncle?” He starts.

“Oh, I don’t have any aunts or uncles, both my parents are only children. He’s just some leech that wants to suck the money out of my family,” I stop myself before I blow. “I think I’m gonna go back to the dorm. He actually asked my Gram for money in front of Ato, that soulless ugh.”

The whole walk back I felt like steam was coming out of my ears.

A knock makes me pause as I tie up my hair. Opening the door, I greeted by the angry blond. Letting him in I look him over as he sits on my bed, patting the spot next to him I raise a brow.

“I didn’t know we were close enough do room visits?” I sit next to him dropping my hair.

“You seemed really mad earlier,” he points out.

“Of course, Warai Ikumi is the reason my parents are dead, if it wasn’t for him getting involved with my parents and dangerous villains. I ugh, sorry I shouldn’t be mad. But I’m fucking livid.” I frown trying not to break the hair tie tangled between my fingers.

He ruffles my hair. “You have a right to be mad. But let the adults handle it.”

“I tried to let the adults handle it before, but it changed nothing,” I sigh leaning against him. “Bakugo do you think I’m crazy?”

“No, you’re pretty sane for putting up with that shit,” he mumbles. “Look, last year you know my idiots went to rescue me and we all go in a lot of trouble for it.”

I nod. “But I admire Deku and everyone for doing it.”

“Why would you admire that nerd?” Bakugo huffs.

Wrapping my arm around the male I mumble. “If they hadn’t rescued you, I would never have met you. Or even gotten close to you. Unless you don’t consider me close.”

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Third year seemed to finish quickly, god it came and went. Starting hero work was quick. I was happy not to be in the spotlight, as a side job I worked in the hospital having to get a second education. Bakugo and I often talk because that dumbass gets hurt often.

Wrapping the bandage tighter I glare. “I know I said to come to me, but it seems like you hurt yourself on purpose.”

“Why would I have done some stupid shit like that,” he scoffs.

“Have you been getting along with Deku?” I ask.

He growls. “I don’t see why I have to get along with that damn nerd.”

I raise a brow. “He’s your childhood friend he’s been right next to you since day one.”

“How is the short stop?” He grumbles.

“She’s doing fine, claims that she really met the one. I don’t even think you met me at that age so I can’t even ask you,” I groan thinking of the little girl.

“Is she boy crazy?”

I roll my eyes. “I wish that were the half of it. She even claimed one day that her destined one might be a villain and it’d be a tragic romance with me being a hero and all,” I roll my eyes.

“She seems like your sister,” he chuckles.

Smacking him forcefully. “That’s not a compliment mister Dynamite.”

“Hey, I’m injured already no reason to hurt me more,” he laughs.

That was how almost every interaction with Bakugo was even with others. Your sister was living with you now as you worked, and she went to school. Graduating from UA felt like a distant memory as two years had already passed.

“Sis, where is my bag?” Asks the girl sporting the same taupe curls.

Smothering a yawn, you stand in the doorway still tired. “It should be by the couch, you made sure to do your homework right?”

“Yeah, I finished it after school during the study group,” she runs around quickly.

“Want me to make you a smoothie?” You offer walking toward the kitchen.

“Can you drive me to school too?” She asks.

You raise a brow. “Sure, I can, let me get changed and put the stuff in the blender.”

Maybe ten minutes and you were driving her to the building. Ato wanted to go to a police academy school so that she could join the police force as soon as possible. Her reason so she can understand why. After a very lovely conversation with Uncle Ikumi, you and Ato informed him that any of the money you both received after you parents’ death was untouchable. You had a reoccurring payment for school and had discussed it with the teachers and bank. While Ato was only just now using her money.

Once sure your kid sister was inside the school, you drove away to work. Well, more like your second home. When you first started you were stubborn, and often times now you weren’t below forceful persuading to get home in time to see your sister off to bed.

“Hey Bandaid,” turning to the voice you raised a brow.

Your hero-name wasn’t a clever one, but it was recognizable. “Charge Bolt, I just got in, what on earth could you have done now?”

“Nothing yet. Not like I plan on getting hurt, but we were planning a get together on Friday. You wanna come?” He offers.

Shaking your head, you scroll through your phone for your schedule. “I have a night patrol on Thursday and Friday Ato has parent-teacher meetings.”

“Man, how am I supposed to get Bakugo to come now?” He curses.

“Huh? Bakugo is more than capable of going to out of work meetings on his own thank you,” you hiss.

Hands up and a worried expression. “Come on I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just ever since you two started talking it’s like you both calmed down and it’s almost like you’ve been dating.”

“Oi! Dunce face, why are bothering Shorty first thing in the morning?” The voice behind me made me pause.

“He said there’s a get together on Friday, I turned it down cause of parent-teacher meetings and I have early shift Saturday,” you explain.

“Eh? Why they put you early after a day off?” Bakugo huffs.

“They need a healer I suppose, I’m not sure. I’ll take what I can get at this point working doubly as a nurse makes this so much harder.” You send a weak smile to the two.

Sure, rescue heroes were just as important as others, but they don’t go into the spotlight as much. In your case they had other priorities, you hated having to work in the hospital sometimes since you were so lucky to work in the same agency as some of your high school friends.

“Get some good rest on Friday then, we don’t need a burnt-out healer.” Bakugo huffs.

On Thursday morning you were confused, a message was sent saying you didn’t need to come into the hospital for assistance. Unsure you still went in after making sure that Ato had stuff for the morning. Once at the hospital you were practically dragged in to help. There was a mess and a disaster, you had gotten a call from your agency, but you explained you were already working at the hospital. After that call they sent you with the A&E. It was practically double work now, both as a hero and a nurse. Lucky for you your utility belt was the main thing you kept with you.

“Bandaid, we need you over here!” Someone calls as you shake your gloves off for a new pair.

Practically running and sliding your breath hitched. Hero work meant getting hurt it was an occupational hazard and usually you were the one mainly responsible for healing . But you never felt sicker than seeing your friends in egregious amounts of pain.

“Hey, you responsive big guy?” You ask checking the red irises for a response.

“A little scratch like this won’t keep me down,” laughs the man.

Placing your hands over his chest as you forced you quirk to work.

Ten minutes. It took you ten minutes to finish healing the hero, how you knew when someone was sufficiently healed when your hands would glow a sort of white color. Once finished you were quick to get everyone else, a few minutes for a few. After everything was done you went to check on the hero.

“Mind telling me how the hell you got in such bad shape?” You demand.

Dynamite now walking around with the gaping hole in his uniform. “Work.”

“It took me ten minutes to heal you,” you add.

“Really felt like less time,” he rolls his eyes.

You go to argue again, but an iron taste fills your mouth. Vaguely you remember seeing the male’s eyes flash with worry.

Eyes open you look at the time. Sitting up slow you sigh.

“Oh, good you’re awake. I know you’re a hero, but I never know how to address you,” sighs the doctor.

“Surname is fine,” you stretch.

“Well, Miss Kumori, you’re at perfect health. But that may be due to your quirk, we wanna do some routine checks and you’re free to go,” he states.

“What time is it currently?” You ask.

“Noon, I was just about to check on you. Um Dynamite said not to worry about your appointment today, he will handle it.” He explains.

“Um, alright.” You nod.

Once finished with the checkup you drove home, it was odd. Instead of waiting you called the aggressive male for confirmation.

“Your sisters’ school is full of assholes,” the voice growls.

“You drove Ato to school? Thanks for that, I’m back home now so you don’t have to go to the meeting I can go,” you offer.

“No, you need your rest. I also gotta explain myself,” he huffs.

You nod. “Good, because I passed out for almost twelve hours and I wanna know why.”

After getting off the phone with Bakugo, you call your sisters teacher.

“Ms. Kumori, what do I owe the pleasure?” The voice was strained.

“Sorry if I’m calling at a bad time, I just got released from the hospital and was calling in concern to the parent-teacher conference today,” you begin.

Tone change, you hated how quickly her mood changed. “I’m so sorry to hear about that, did you want to change the date to a different day?”

“No, a coworker of mine will be coming in my place. I just wanted you to be aware that I know he’s coming in my stead,” you explain.

“Understood, I’m sorry that I can’t see the excited sister of Kumori-chan,” sighs the woman.

You have to hold yourself back from replying. “My apologies again for the sudden change. Have a nice day.”

Done. You fling your body on the couch and wait for the two to return.

“Shh, if you leave now sis won’t even know,” Ato doesn’t know the meaning of subtle.

“Your sister has known me for years, and I’m sure she’s already awake,” the low voice huffs.

“I am awake, so Ato. Wanna explain your me why Bakugo drove you to school?” You sit up and glare.

Her face flushed as she looks away. “Well, I um, you said that if you didn’t come home to call the numbers.”

You raise a brow. “Bakugo’s number isn’t the first one on the list.”

“Seriously!” She shouts. “You go to work just after I go to sleep and then I’m woken up to banging and pounding on the front door, and I can’t call the only person I know that you know? Sis, I was worried when paramedics and police came to the door!”

Getting off the couch you force the girl into a hug. “Go relax. I know it’s stressful, how about I make your favorite for dinner?”

“Can we go to the conbini and get ice cream after?” She sniffles.

“Anything for you today,” you sigh. “Now go shower.”

Bakugo awkwardly stands at the walkway.

“You gonna hold up the walls or you wanna take a seat?” You tease walking into the kitchen.

He sits down. “Look I know that you were worried.”

“Worried?” You squeeze the glass in your hand and clench your teeth. “Bakugo, I was more than worried. Seeing you that hurt terrified me.”

A pause. “You cured past your limit. Why?”

Looking at the water pot you frown. “Oh, so you want me to stop trusting my quirk. You know how it works by now when I first started healing you it was red. I have never seen it red especially not over you so why?”

“You healed my cancer,” he sighs. “Got diagnosed not too long ago, said it was due to a side effect or something.”

“What?”

“You healed my open wounds and my internal ones, look I owe you my life and you know I don’t like owing anything,” he grumbles.

Placing the cup down you walk into the living room. Glaring at the man sitting on the couch the tears started before you spoke.

“So, you’re telling me that you had cancer. You didn’t tell me until now? How long? How long have I only been healing you halfway? Bakugo, do you know how much I care for you? I know you didn’t ask me to, but I’ve cared for you for so fucking long,” you whimper. “Why did you tell me after the fact? Why did I have to pass out for you to tell me this? I could have lost the man I love all because he’s stubborn and doesn’t know how to ask for help.”

He stares. “What?”

You clench you fist. “I love you, Bakugo Katsuki. I love you so much that I put my jobs on the line. Why can’t you see that?”

By now you were on your knees hitting him weakly, it wasn’t even hitting your small fists held no power as they slid weakly against his skin.

“Why do you think I haven’t changed companies? When everyone asked why I picked the company I did?” You continue. “I feel so stupid, following you around like a fucking child. God damn it. I can’t follow you if you’re not on this planet.”

He pulls you tight to him. “Alright, I hear it. Just shut up.”

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

After that incident, you forcibly checked everyone. Oh, and it was everyone. Deku had several exhausted muscles and a few fractures, Uraraka had knocked her equilibrium off balance you don’t know how she did it, but she did, Kaminari was a breed all his own since he had fried off a few of his nerve endings, Kirishima was actually working at half capacity with a few of his internal organs half hardened, and Bakugo was fine for now. You picked up the name Nurse. Shit your hero named was changed to Nurse. Making sure everyone was working properly became your task for years.

“Kid, good to see you’re alive,” jokes the black-haired teacher.

He wasn’t your own teacher but knew about you. “No thanks to your students.” You huff.

“They and you have graduated, they aren’t my problem anymore,” he snorts.

“Mhmm, well I didn’t know you were affiliated with the same company as us,” you sigh. “Want a checkup?”

He chuckles. “Nah, don’t overexert yourself on my account kid. Just here to offer you this.”

He hands you the paper. Recovery girl recommended you as the nurse for UA, sure you lacked the external sweetness.

“You guys sure about this?” You raise a brow. “My husband isn’t gonna like this.”

It had already been six years since graduating from UA, Ato was in her second year of high school. You held the title Nurse, and often times others worried you were over working yourself. Bakugo had risen the ranks and got second with Deku at first, with enough money you and Bakugo worked together to start a hero agency with you in charge of rescue.

“He’ll handle it somehow,” shrugs off the man.

“Ever planning on retire?” You chuckle.

“Not till my hair is gray like Recovery girl.”

That evening you place the recommendation on the table. Not like hero life was very private, everyone knew that Nurse was married to Dynamite. But no one knew that you were the same person to heal hundreds of people, even after graduating school you were training. Now if you had healed Bakugo from four years ago, you’d be fine.

“Welcome back, Angel,” laughs the man sitting by the kitchen.

“Hi babe, how was... never mind I can see how it was,” you chuckle.

“Yeah, I heard Aizawa visited you,” he points out.

You nod. “Recovery girl put in a recommendation for me. It makes sense that they need a strong nurse for UA.”

He frowns. “You won’t be home as much.”

“Are we home as much?” You raise a brow.

“You know what I mean...” he pulls you into a hug as you stand by him.

You frown. “I’ll be home as much the same.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

Looking down at him you try to think of a way to say it. “Well, you know how we talked about the possibility of kids?”

A brow raised.

“It seems that plan will move forward a bit faster,” you state.

Blank. He stares blankly for a long moment before he practically plucks your off the ground. A shit eating grin on his face as he laughs.

“Really? Shit, being a nurse at the school might be better for you than being the head rescuer then. Damn I mean... Shit! There’s gonna be a little monster running around with our qualities mixed together,” he shouts.

“Babe, can you put me down? Despite a healing quirk I still have to experience some of the lovely symptoms of this miracle,” you chuckle, just happy he’s happy.

“I just, shit. I gotta tell the old hag,” he realizes.

“Wanna invite them over? I haven’t told Ato yet,” you admit.

“What about your Grandparents?” He asks.

“I’ll call them,” you chuckle.

The news made your sister cry, oh god did she cry. Ato was way more emotional than you and seemed like she was so happy despite sobbing like a drama character. Mitsuki was so happy and offered her help if needed, which you accepted. Now as spring came through you were working as the new UA nurse.

“Nurse!” Someone calls.

“Yes?”

“How are we supposed to uh...”

You raise a brow. “I can move around on my own just fine, and Recovery Girl said she’s more than happy to sit in as nurse while I am on leave.”

The news after quite some time spread like wildfire, Dynamite and Nurse having a kid? The headlines got more ridiculous. But as you neared your due date there was a slight problem. You’d have to take a year off school, agreeing with the principal that you’d be there for the entrance exams and other more difficult events.

“Are you ready?” Mina asks.

“Who is ready for a kid? My parents sure weren’t and I’m no different,” you sigh.

“Well, you both know what it’s like so it’s not too bad.” Mina was referring to the incident from third year.

Your child might have a time-based quirk and apparently, they can move between time. That left you and Bakugo to babysit for a little while, but that was a kid from the future about two or three.

“That was a toddler, a baby is a different difficulty,” you sigh.

“Bakugo isn’t gonna handle this well,” she chuckles.

“If only I had a bit of my dad’s mind reading quirk,” you sigh.

After the baby was born you realized you did. It was odd to realize it after something like that, but it made so many things clear. But it didn’t keep you from feeling like you were doing something wrong.

“Is Teru keeping you up?” The tired voice of your husband catches you off guard as you sit up.

“No, I’m just worried. Maybe it’s just me,” you shrug.

Warm arms wrap around you. “It’s not just you, I get uneasy when you get up.”

“Well I put the crib in the spare room to avoid that,” you frown. Standing up again he chuckles. “Let’s change that.”

#oneshot #bnha x oc #bakugo x oc #complete story #possible angst #I swear I knew how to tag like three months ago

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

brand new eyes

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: having a penpal in the sixth grade was overdone, in your opinion. and handwritten letters just weren’t convenient. you weren’t happy at all to start talking to some random girl your age across the sea, but once you started, neither of you could find it in you to stop.

warnings: fluff!!!! mutual pining. badly written letters (actually the whole one shot). brief battle with sexuality. a seriously strong connection between two characters (almost soulmate territory here tbh). every single mistake here is 100% mine!

word count: 8.7k!

At first, you were sure that the pen pal letter suggestion for extra credit was stupid. Why would you handwrite a letter when you could send an email? Why would you send a letter by mail that would take much longer? It took two weeks for a handwritten letter to arrive, and only seconds for an email. It didn’t make any sense.

And then you got your first letter.

You realized very quickly why handwriting was what your teachers asked for. You never knew that handwriting could be so vulnerable, so open. You had never seen letters that were so loopy, so delicate. That letter was written so neatly and so personally even if the girl who had written it hadn’t meant it to be that way, and you knew that a computer even with all of its special fonts wouldn’t be able to do that.

You understood why the handwritten rule was there.

But you didn’t like it when it was your turn to craft something so beautiful.

It wasn’t a competition by any means, but you didn’t want your letter to look anything like the words you scratched down into your notebooks. You wanted them to be neat and pretty and most of all understandable for the girl behind the pen and across the sea, because she had done the same for you.

By the time you stopped ogling over the letters and started actually reading the words that the girl had written, you learned her name. You learned it within the first line, actually.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was obviously from Sokovia, she spoke English as her second language, and she had an older twin brother that she both adored and was annoyed by. She was in the equivalent of your grade in her country, and she liked to cook with her parents. The letter was basic and slightly elementary, just an introduction to what she was willing to share with a stranger that lived thousands of miles away.

But that didn’t make it any less special.

You started on your return letter minutes after you let her pretty words sink in.

You drafted your letter and let it sit for an hour without you looking at it, and then came back to it only to cross things out and revise it, and then put it on the expensive paper that your mother had bought for you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. It started with a greeting, your name, and then into the same sort of things that she spoke about in her own letter, the things that people that went to school with you had learned in passing over the years.

It felt like giving someone the rundown of your uneventful life so far in the simplest of ways. It felt like someone getting to know you as you wanted them to, because you were telling your story. There was no other side, or truth, or lie, just what your pen and your brain decided to write. It was controlled chaos. And you adored it.

Your print was easy to read. It wasn’t loopy like hers or as “girlish”, as one of your classmates said when you brought both letters to school to get an extra one hundred. It wasn’t fancy and alluring like hers, but there was still something magical on the pseudo-aged parchment.

You sent it off to the post office the next day, and you put her letter on your desk.

§§§

By the time that your third letter from her came, you already were drafting your own. It came straight to your mailbox and when you checked the mail that morning, you were ecstatic to see it waiting for you, like a pet waiting for it’s person to come home. As usual, it started off with the gentle scrawl of your name, just a bit larger than all of the rest of the words that were on the page.

I can’t believe that it’s already been weeks of us writing. We started in August, and it’s nearing the end of October. Speaking of, is it starting to get cold there for you? It’s already cold for us. Our grandmother always makes us the best tea and soup when it gets cold outside, and I could send you the recipe if you wanted!

My brother and I are curious about one thing, and we hope that we get your answer in time, but, is Halloween really a thing? We have both heard of it, but we’ve never done it here. It sounds magical. I’ve always wanted to dress up however I wanted and get candy for it. If I were to do it, I would probably be a Disney Princess, maybe Merida. Sadly, we don’t do that here. Does it really happen in the United States, or is that a movie thing?

Hopefully you don’t mind my questions much, or my short letter. Pietro likes to read over my shoulder while I write and receive the letters, and I like to write at the kitchen table. There’s no escaping him. You’ve never talked about siblings, do you have them?

The rest of the letter was like that, aloof yet curious and bouncing around all the same, and then signed with her always rushed conclusion, which was nearly the same every time.

You read it and put the letter in the box that you had bought from a thrift store, a box just big enough for the size of the neatly folded and tied off letters that she gave you. You clipped the box shut and put it back under your desk, and then started working on your response.

Instead of just a letter, you sent her a letter in a small box that had the candy that you had gotten on Halloween night, and the mask that went with the rest of your costume. It wasn’t the Disney Princess that Wanda wanted to dress up as, but it was something. It was your something.

§§§

As the December portion of your letter writing, you and your penpal were supposed to learn of the other’s traditions during the Holidays, whether you or them celebrated or not. A huge slide show about the culture of your Sokovian friend was supposed to be shown, and you knew that there would be a lot of the same PowerPoints, a lot of the same pictures and sayings and explanations. You wanted something different. You also had no idea if Wanda did Christmas, but you had to ask.

Wanda,

I’m sure that you know that our assignment now is to present a slide show about what our penpal does during the Holiday season, but because I don’t know whether you celebrate Diwali or Christmas or Hanukkah, I’ll start with asking you about New Years, because I’ve never met a person who didn’t celebrate New Years.

What do you do on New Years Eve? I’ll start by telling you that I watch the ball drop with my family, eat food, and drink cider after it hits midnight. It’s a big deal here for us, because the new year is a time for self revolution, apparently. I’ve never done a New Years resolution, but maybe I’ll do one this year. Have you ever done one?

I know that food is very big over in Sokovia, so what kind of food do you traditionally have when you’re celebrating? Do you like it? Can you cook it yourself? Because I know that you have the same questions for me that you have to put in before you leave for Winter Break, I’ll answer my own questions.

And you did. You were thorough, partly because you thought that it was kind of you to do so because she should get a good grade, and also because she had written that she was thankful for your descriptions on multiple occasions. You had noticed that she was the more whimsical writer and that you came off as the more grounded one, and it intrigued you.

You wondered if you two would come off that way in person to other people, if you ever got the chance to meet.

When her letter came two weeks later, wrapped in aged string as always, you skipped to your bedroom, already pulling the box out from under the table and starting to read it. You smiled through the whole thing.

In her own way, not as precise or even in order as you, she had told you everything you needed to do a good slide show about Sokovia during the Holidays.

§§§

You were emotional at the end of the year. Not because you were leaving the sixth grade and going to a new building in the school and leaving behind your kind teachers, but because the pen pal assignment was over.

No other assignment had been so important to you, or eye opening. You were only twelve years old, but you were old enough to know that you had never found a friend like you had in Wanda, who was still thousands of miles away. No one else, not even the people that stood feet apart from you, offered you friendship like Wanda Maximoff did.

You couldn’t stop writing to her.

It was your turn to send a letter, the final letter that you were supposed to send, and then her closing letter was supposed to come two weeks later. You couldn’t just close it. Your entire mind was screaming at you to not close the book that you had hardly started yet.

So, as your pen rested on the parchment paper (without drafting first), you lifted it up, and changed your mentality from a “goodbye” to a hopeful and questioning one, as you hoped that she felt the same and wanted to talk just as much as you did.

Wanda,

It’s the end of the year. Technically, we should be done with our letters because it’s the end of the year, and the assignment is graded. This should be a closing letter, but I don’t think that our friendship was ever dictated by the grades that we got. We were always closer than all of the other pen pals at school that I knew, and I was hoping that you would want to continue writing.

You couldn’t write much more after that, because your pen was shaking and you were starting to get in the danger zone of dropping tears on the paper. If this was your last letter to Wanda, you wanted it to be pretty. Just half as pretty as she always made hers, if you could manage it.

You sent it off the next morning after finding an old string that was nearly the same colors as hers and getting your friend across the street to hold it down and color the outside of it for you.

§§

A part of you wanted to say that you wouldn’t have been expecting to still write handwritten letters to a girl in Sokovia in the ninth grade, but you certainly were. While everyone else in your class had lost contact after the assignments were done or tried and failed to keep contact afterwards, you and Wanda continued talking all through the years.

It astounded your parents, who were sure that in the beginning, you were just obsessed with someone who was your age and who wasn’t exactly like you. They thought for sure that you would have lost interest in talking to Wanda, but after three straight years, gas spent taking you to the post office, and money spent on special stamps and the same paper, they were starting to finally get the hint.

Because you were so close with Wanda, you hardly had close friends in your neighborhood, and maybe two or three at school. There was no one that knew you like Wanda did, and no one that knew Wanda like you did. One particular letter where you confessed probably the worst thing you had ever done to her that no one else knew was what finally let you know that she was the most judgement-free person in the world, and that you would do anything to keep her. You would never forget how the letter went, and how her response sounded.

Wands,

I’ve done something terrible. I may have accidentally gotten involved with a boy who already had a girlfriend, and I had no idea. I had literally no idea, and today she just called me out of nowhere and started crying over the phone to me, and I had no idea that he was with her. At all. It was so pitiful, and she’s not mad, and she says that she won’t tell anyone it was me, but still. She seemed to really like him, and I think I may have just ruined a relationship. I have no idea what to do, and all I feel is guilt. Nothing more or less. Should I send her something? Give her a gift card? I feel terrible because she was just so sweet about it.

The letter went on and on with your scripted rambling, so repetitive and panicked that you were shocked to know that Wanda had, in fact, read the entire thing. She got a message back to you rather quickly, and that made you both nervous about her verdict and glad, because you felt like with an answer so quick, she must not have judged you too harshly. You remembered opening it with shaky hands, and inhaling and exhaling when her first words after your nickname were “breath in” and “breathe out”.

Wanda once said that writing to you was like writing to a diary who always wrote back, and you couldn’t agree more. She knew everything, and she never judged. And, when the time came for her to put all of her eggs in your basket of trust, you did the same for her.

You distinctly remembered getting the few letters that you kept at the bottom of your letter stack, even though you liked to have them in chronological order. In the eighth grade, Wanda was having a crisis over her sexuality. Being anything but straight in Sokovia wasn’t the best thing to be, and you knew that. The first letter she ever sent you about her sexuality had dried spots on it, where she had obviously cried. Her handwriting wasn’t anywhere as neat as it usually was, and it sent you into a state of panic.

We talk to each other about everything, so here I am asking for your advice because I won’t be getting anything here. I know that usually we keep our letters formal for aesthetic purposes, but I can’t this time. Also, no one other than you can read this.

From there, she told you that she was sure that she liked women, and that she was even more sure that her parents would be upset at her. She told you that she had been dwelling on it for a while, thinking about it and having it weigh heavily on her mind. She was all over the board with it, from her parents being upset to her being afraid that you were going to be opposed to it as well, or tell her that she was “too young to think that way”. She ended the letter by telling you that you were the first person that she had ever told.

You started your letter with your own confession, and Wanda Maximoff was the first one you ever told, too. You were past having your crisis, though, and you helped her through hers without a second of complaints. You always wished that you had someone to help you when you were down and questioning yourself, so you knew that you would be that for Wanda without hesitation.

You two grew together even more, and by the ninth grade, you both knew that there wasn’t going to be anything in the world that could stop your letters.

You came home one day after a long day and checked your mailbox out of habit, knowing that a letter wasn’t due for a few more days. But there it was, wrapped and sitting pretty for you. Your name was scrawled beautifully on the front in the handwriting that got better and better with every year, but you would recognize it anywhere. A smile grew onto your face as you walked to your front door, unlocking it and rushing inside to get to your desk. Of course, your name came first in the loopy letters.

I hope you’re doing alright! Things have been busy over here on my side of things, but never busy enough to not write you back. I just wondered, have been wondering for a while, really, if we were ever going to meet. We’ve been writing to each other for years, but I’ve never seen a picture of you. I know everything about you, but I’ve never met you. You are my best friend in the entire world, but I’ve never heard your voice. One day I would love to finally meet you. Would you be open to thinking about one of us flying out? Maybe after school is over for the both of us, we could make it happen. Number

It was much longer than that, but that was what caught your attention, more than her description of her busy week did. You read the letter three times. And then again. Your heart thumped in your chest as you tried to get a grip on yourself, irrational nervousness gripping your throat like an iron fist.

You knew the day was coming. You knew that it was. You two didn’t know what the other looked like at all, and neither of you had ever asked. Sometimes, you thought about it, but other times you found that it really didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what she looked like because she was the best friend you had ever had, so you forgot about it. But that wasn’t what worried you.

The thought of meeting her nearly put you in cardiac arrest. You couldn’t meet her. What if you met and you two were totally bored of each other? What if how close you were on paper didn’t reflect at all in real life? What if you two found roadblocks in conversation that you never saw before? You didn’t want to meet her, not at all. You were terrified of it.

Because if you didn’t connect with Wanda on sight, then you doubted that you would ever be able to connect with anyone else. If you were wrong about Wanda being your person and her being yours, you would be crushed. If you figured out that the person who you gave your all for didn’t like you anymore after meeting you, you would die on the spot. You couldn’t afford to find it out.

You sat at your desk for an hour after reading her letter, smoothing your hand over the paper like you always did before you wrote your response. You knew what you needed to say, you just didn’t know how to say it.

What she had already written helped you, too. She was implying that they met up after graduation, which was still years away. You had time to hold off on it, to not talk about it for a while. You had some stall time in the bank, for sure. And you were going to use it.

§§§

You made the mistake of not putting the letter in your box.

Your mother came into your room, and she saw the letter. Your desk was typically off limits, so you were upset that she read it anyway, but what she said led all anger out of your body and made way for fear.

“You should totally go see your friend, sweetie!”

“What?”

“I’d pay for you to fly out,” your mom said. “I’d come with you, but I would pay for you to fly out and see your friend. You’ve been writing each other for three years now, and you’ve never seen each other. You guys should do it.”

“You’d fly me out to Sokovia?”

“You’re a great kid, of course I would.” You took the letter from her hands gently and put it in the box, and she gave you a look. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

You didn’t answer.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to meet her,” you admitted plainly, and then your mother gave you a look.

“She seems so excited to, after all these years. She’s such a sweet girl, what are you worried about?”

You couldn’t answer that. Your fears were your own, and they sounded ridiculous out loud. They made no sense to everyone else, and sometimes not even to you. Wanda Maximoff was nothing but sweet and kind and a good friend, and there you were, trying to blow her off because you were scared of a possible lack of face to face connection.

“Can we just drop it?”

And you did. In fact, all four of you did, until later.

§§§

By the end of your junior year, you were done for. Not because of tests or applications or any of that, it was because you realized that you were in deep for Wanda Maximoff.

It all made sense. The need to keep writing to her, the excitement you had felt getting a letter since sixth grade, the way you marveled over her penmanship and loved everything that she said and did. You were so in love with her, and it was irreversible. You were in love with her and what the two of you created together.

And you couldn’t lose that because of a bad meeting.

You avoided the topic of going there or Wanda coming to you, and you finally got each other’s numbers so that you could text on some international texting app, but primarily, it was still the heartfelt letters with the occasional heart stamps and constant string coming your way. And you wouldn't haven’t wanted anything different.

You sat at your desk on the last day of school as you wrote to her, writing about how you were about to watch some of your slightly older friends graduate in a few days. You also mentioned how you were excited to be a senior and get through your last year of high school just so that you could go and do whatever it was that you wanted to do, because you were only seventeen, and you didn’t know anything.

Sunshine,

I can’t wait to get out of high school. It’s not bad, just boring. I wish the people here were like you, and then maybe I could actually carry a conversation with them. Have you told your family yet? I told mine. My mom was… shocked to say the least, but she was fine with it. I think she might have suspicions about us writing to each other now, but who cares? I want to know if you’re alright.

How’s your new job going? I know you were excited to get one, so I hope it’s treating you well. It’s funny that you and Piet work across the mall from each other. I knew it was gonna be like that, even though you said it wouldn’t be! You two are inseparable, it’s so cute. Does he have any idea what he wants to do after we get out of school?

I kind of think that I want to start my own business. A flower shop, maybe. You know how I sort of have a green thumb. I think it would be good for me to own something. What do you think?

You wrote for about thirty minutes more, answering the questions she had asked you in a previous letter and signing your name at the bottom, a small smile on your face as you thought about her and her brother making food together like they always did.

You loved her. You really did.

§§§

It was in the middle of your senior year when you realized what the problem with her coming was. You had been keeping it so far in the back of your mind that you didn’t even realize that the alarms were blaring in the back of your head.

You knew that if you saw Wanda in person once that you would never be able to let her go. You would have to pick up and move to her country or she would come to yours, and it would kill your mother for you to move. So, that would mean that you would be asking for Wanda to leave her own family to be with you, and you couldn’t be selfish.

So, you would be selfish in a way that was also selfless by holding off on seeing her.

You hadn’t told her that you loved her, and you planned on never admitting it. You were sure she kind of knew, even just a little, but she never said anything. The way that you were holding onto the idea of her probably said enough for her to know. You just hoped that she knew that you were in love with her as a friend, at least. Wanda was the type who needed to know that they were loved, and she so was.

You loved her without even knowing what she looked like. You loved her without knowing whether she had a nasty habit or if she was a neat freak. You loved her without seeing her in a dress or in your favorite color or even looking into her eyes. You had never even heard her voice before, but that didn’t matter at all. You fell in love with her hand writing, then the way that she wrapped her letters, and then her words themselves. And then, you just were in love with Wanda Maximoff. All of her. All that you knew. And the things that you didn’t.

You thought about a confession letter for a long time. You were terrified of it, to say the least, because what if it backfired? What if she thought that you were only interested because she came out to you? What if she thought that you didn’t mean it at all?

Or worse, what if she just completely didn’t feel that way at all? What if the feeling she got when she wrote to you was nothing but platonic? That would be the biggest nightmare of all, and you had no idea how you were ever going to be able to pick up your fancy pen and put it to your special parchment after reading that.

By the time that you finally stopped wrestling with yourself about whether you were going to tell her that you were in love with her, you got a letter in the mail. A heart stamp was on the outside and it was tied with the string it always was, and the familiarity calmed your racing heart. You opened it gently, like you did with all of the letters you got, and then you saw her familiar scrawl.

How could someone’s handwriting feel like home?

Moonlight,

I would love to tell you about everything that’s been happening here, but I believe that it’s rather boring compared to what’s been bursting at the seams in my own mind. With every letter that I’ve ever written to you since we were thirteen, I’ve hesitated with my pen over telling you what I know has been true for years. I think that, finally, I know that I have something to say to you. I’ve always wanted to admit this to you, ever since the seventh grade.

I think that I fell in love with you, a long, long, time ago. I think that I know I did. I haven’t told you, and I never intended to tell you, because I was scared. I’m still scared here, as I write this letter, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.

Pietro already knows, but he knew before I even did. I’m sure it has something to do with us being so in sync, that he knew where my heart, love, and loyalties were before I even knew myself. I tell you everything, and something as monumental as falling in love with someone, I believe that you should know. But I couldn’t tell you. Not in the beginning, and apparently, not even after a year or two.

I’ve never seen you or heard your voice or held your hand, but I don’t need that to know that I truly have fallen in love with the person that you are. You are a beautiful person with the most gorgeous soul I have ever had the privilege of talking to, and I think that we have stumbled upon a connection that we may never see again, if you feel the same way.

If this made you uncomfortable in any way, please tell me. I’m sorry if this came on too strong, or too up front. I never want to make you upset.

It’s okay if you don’t want to carry on writing to me after this letter. I just thought that I needed to tell you after all this time. We never lie to each other, and I think that this lie to save me from possible embarrassment or losing the greatest friend I have ever had has expired. Thank you as always for reading, Moonlight.

Your Sunshine, Wanda.

Your jaw was slacked, and your mouth was open. Your heart was beating so quickly, but it wasn’t frantic. Your mind was going at a thousand miles a minute, but you were calm. You were supposed, but you weren’t. It simply felt… right. It felt like you had secretly been expecting it all along, like your soul had known the whole time, or maybe even like it had known that you felt the exact same way. It felt like you were receiving news that you had already heard about.

But that didn’t take away any from the pure elation that you felt. You set the letter down so that you didn’t accidentally wrinkle it, and then put your head in your hands to hide your smile and think, like they would help you any.

She loves me. Wanda loves me. And not in the way that friends loved each other, that’s not how she loved you. She felt what you had been feeling, a bond so strong that it could be felt on paper.

Your hands shook as you reread the letter. You scanned over it for a second time, a third time, and you were tearing up by the fifth, finally setting it down again and leaving it on your desk. It didn’t deserve the beautiful darkness of the box where it’s predecessors went, not yet. Probably not ever. You would have framed it in the moment, if you could have.

Part of you was glad that she admitted it first. You were going to, one day, maybe. But the worst part was the hypothetical wait for the letter to cross the pond. Whoever sent the confession letter would have to wait about two weeks for a response, and that felt like forever. You knew that just as much as she did, and she still took the chance to do it.

So, with the most fond and gentle smile on your face, you took out your special pen, wrote Sunshine as the entrance, and then professed your own love right back at her, trying as hard as you possibly could to make it as beautiful and raw for her as you felt on the inside, and as the one that she gave you. But, all you could think of were the first two sentences, but you knew that you were going to go for much longer than that.

Sunshine,

Oh, Wanda. How I wish we were both brave enough to do this earlier.

§§§

By the end of your senior year, you two were dancing around each other, taking it slow, as if you both hadn’t professed your love for each other. You kept writing your steady letters to each other, the same nicknames, the same doting words and pretty scratched across the paper with dark ink.

For the most part, nothing changed. But neither of you could deny the way that you wanted to see each other. And so, your time was up. You had to stop messing around.

The first time the two of you planned to see each other, it was supposed to happen over that summer break. It was supposed to be a nice experience for everyone, at a time that was actually pretty convenient.

And then, right during the week she was supposed to come, her aunt passed away, right in her sleep. It didn’t even come to your mind to think about rescheduling so fast, and that was the first time you had ever gotten an email from Wanda. She emailed you the morning that she found out, saying that she would rather send the first email than have you show up at the airport upset because you didn’t know she wasn’t coming. She was able to resell her ticket and you assured her that it was totally okay for her to not be coming, and you gave her condolences, as well. Wanda was very close to her family, and you knew that she felt that loss.

The next time the plans fell through, it was because you were going to surprise her. Your mom paid for your ticket, and you had finally grown out of your own mind and realized that it was going to be what it was regarding meeting Wanda. But, when you emailed her two nights before, spilling the beans because you didn’t want to just go to the airport without knowing how the hell to get around, you got a quick response. Turns out, she wasn’t anywhere near her house, or the airport. She was on a marine biology trip in some waters off the coast of Romania, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to write you all about it yet. You begrudgingly canceled the trip and told her that of course, it was alright. That night, your mom assured you that the two of you would just try again later.

But then life happened. You went off to culinary school, a last minute yet sure decision after Wanda had taught you that there was so much more to love about food other than the taste. She had your new address and you had hers, because she moved from Sokovia to Italy for her marine biology major. The letters came and went faster, with the smaller amount of mileage.

Long story short, neither of you had enough money to go and spend thousands on a trip, and not even one helping the other out or splitting the cost helped much. Wanda was getting increasingly nervous about whether it was ever going to happen, and though she never stated it directly, it was very obvious. You were getting there, too.

The thing that kept you going was the letters. The same as they had always been on her end and yours, they were the one constant in your life. Wherever you went, you knew that her letters would follow you, and that you would still write from your heart and send your own across the sea over to some place in Europe. You knew that as long as her letters were lengthy and detailed and that if she took the time to wrap them as gently as she had been, that you two were strong. And as long as you kept giving advice and writing her entire short stories about you week, she knew that you were still hers.

You would be hers until your heart stopped beating, and long after that. You were there for her for as long as she wanted you to be, and that was widely known.

§§§

It took four years for you to get back home and in a place where you could afford a ticket in or out. Wanda took a little longer, but that didn’t matter. It only gave you even more time to save and plan for when she came, and the date came.

You were both twenty two when you bought her the winning ticket. You were flying her out to Florida for a week and a half. The Keys, to be exact. You knew that she was going to love it and the beautiful waters that came with it, and it was away from the meddling eyes and mouths of your family, the ones who had been routing for you from afar (and in the beginning, behind your back). It was just going to be the two of you in a condo, and you knew that it was going to be heaven on earth.

Now, hell on earth was the anticipation of waiting at the airport. You had no idea what Wanda Maximoff looked like, partially because it didn’t matter while you two wrote, and also because you wanted to see her for the first time in person. You two had a flare for dramatic romantics, another reason that you two clicked so well.

You stood with a sign that you had made the night before with paint that you had mixed yourself into her favorite shade of red, a scarlet, almost pink color. You were in a sundress because it was sweltering outside, and you were almost nervous about how she would take the heat after being somewhere so cold all of her life. You were rocking back and forth on your feet without even noticing, and your stomach growling was the last of your worries. Your heart was racing and your hands were shaking, but you willed them to stay still so that she could at least have a chance of reading it.

You were sure that you were about to pass out. It seemed like it had been millennia and a day all the same with her in your life. Everything that you had written each other was really about to come to life, after ten long years. You felt almost like it wasn’t real at all, like you were about to be woken up by your alarm back in your apartment over at your old school. But it was very, very real, and all the receipts and your racing heart advocated for the truth in it all.

The gates opened, and all of a sudden, people were lazily walking out, as one would do after a long flight. You were certain that the woman who was standing next to you could hear you start to slightly hyperventilate, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you in that moment was Wanda.

A man came up from behind you and bumped you, and he said his apologies while you bent down to pick up the sign. Despite your nervousness, you stopped to tell him that it was okay, sign still face down on the floor. He grinned at you and then frowned when he looked up, causing you to mirror his expression.

Your name. It was clear as day, accented, close, and sounded like a sigh of relief and wonder floating in the wind. It came from a woman you didn’t know the voice of, and just like that, you remembered what you were doing. You left the sign on the floor, stood up, and turned around as fast as you could, eyes slightly wild as they soaked in everything about the woman standing in front of you.

Her hair was almost a cross between light brown and light red, even in the fake lights of the airport. She had light makeup on and she looked a little tired from the flight, but the look of elation on her face wiped it all away. Her pink lips were curved into an open mouthed smile, like she had forgotten the words while they were already halfway to her tongue. Your heart raced as you looked at her, and you didn’t even need to question who she was. Or who she was to you. You couldn’t look at anything but her face, the face you had been missing so achingly without ever seeing it before, the face that you knew was bound to give you comfort that you had never felt one in your life, until the end of your days. Her eyes were wide and a clear blue as they stared back at you, reflecting your exact expression, and you sensed that the two of you had already synced up and gotten on the same page, just like you had both predicted.

“O-oh my god,” you breathed out, just inches away from her. “Wanda!” You went in for an embrace at the same time, both of you somehow knowing which way to lean your head to avoid collision, and just where to put your arms. You fought shaking when you held her, your nerves completely shot at it finally happening. You were actually with Wanda, in an airport, hugging her like there was all the time to spend in the world. “Oh my god,” you repeated, and you felt her squeeze you a little closer to her. You could have cried in that moment.

“You,” she pulled back from you to take your face in her hands, her blue eyes scanning over your face like she was studying priceless art. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was the way she looked when she watched the animals underwater. She shook her head slowly, eyes welling up with the thinnest layer of tears as her lips turned up into a smile. “You are beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked downwards, feeling yourself get hot at the bold and sincere compliment. You knew that anything more than about three words was going to smoke you stutter “Wanda, have you seen yourself?” She laughed, a soft sound that you had imagined hearing so many times that you almost thought you had made it up, until you saw the upturn of her mouth and the mirth in her eyes.

“I’m- I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Wanda breathed out, and you felt the same exact way. How had you pulled it off? After nearly a decade of pining that was mutual and writing to each other about every little detail in your lives, she was finally right in front of you, where you could see her and touch her.

“How’d you know it was me?” You asked after a second of grappling for something to say. “I didn’t have my sign up when you came.”

The smile that was on her face went from being flat out joyful to content, almost peaceful. It rubbed off on you immediately as you leaned back into her touch, ignoring all of the people bustling around in the busy airport. “I just knew that it was you.”

§§§

For the entirety of the day Wanda arrived, all the two of you did was stare at each other and hold onto each other, like you were both equally terrified that the gods were going to come down from wherever they resided to split you up again. There was hardly even any talking when you arrived at the condo, and it felt natural. The two of you had already spoken so much, and now you needed to catch up on just seeing her. You’ve seen her soul, her mind, her heart, and now you were seeing her face. It felt like you had always known it.

But you were the first one to speak as you held hands on the deck, her thumb drawing subconscious hearts on the back of your palm. “You have a way with words, sunshine.” The name contrasted to the sky, which was dark but illuminated with an almost full moon and stars. The city was mostly behind you, so the natural light was what you got. It was all that you needed.

You felt her content fade into joy. “Really?”

You knew that she was nervous about her English, but to you, it was perfect. From her accent to the way that she sometimes missed connotations that were specific to the language to the idioms that accidentally slipped into your letters, you loved it. “Mhm,” you hummed, leaning your head on her shoulder. “And I never would have imagined that you sounded so… sweet.”

“Sweet?” She parroted, and you smiled even though she couldn’t see it. Somehow, you knew that she could feel it, in some strange way. “Can I ask you something?” The answer was yes. It was yes, and it always would be yes. So, you said that. She cleared her throat, a quiet sound that you stored in your memory to keep, simply because she made it. “Did you… did you mean what you wrote?”

You were stumped. There had to be hundreds of letters between the two of you, and thousands upon thousands of topics. But you couldn’t question yourself for long, because then you knew exactly what she was talking about.

Did you truly love Wanda? The question came up a few times between you and your mother when you were in your first year of culinary school. Were you in love with Wanda Maximoff, or were you in love with the idea of Wanda and the mystery she brought? The question had been brought up, many times by your mother, who was only just making sure that you were being smart, and the answer never once varied. Yes. You loved Wanda Maximoff with every breath you took, every stroke of your pen, every glance at her pretty script. You knew that Wanda was it for you, and seeing her only solidified it. The way your hand fit together like they were the missing parts of a lost artifact made it concrete. The way she gave you everything back and the way you did the same told you everything you needed to know.

You leaned off of her shoulder and turned to face her, a soft smile on your face as the moon came out from behind the singular patch of clouds in the night, illuminating her features. You saw her face and her spirit through brand new eyes, and it was wonderful. It was all you could ever ask for. “Wanda,” you started, your voice quiet enough to not disturb the moment, and the sound of waves crashing not too far away. “I’ve loved you since I knew what love was, and I have been in love with you for as long as I knew what the difference between the two really was. Everything that I have ever sent to you, every word, I meant it all. And I’ll mean it for the rest of my life.”

She was staring at you blankly, with only a bit of something lingering in her gaze. Then, as soft as a breeze, she was muttering something under her breath in her mother tongue and putting her hand on your face. “Can I kiss you?”

You ignored the way that your heart surged in your chest. The moon was still out and bright, shining down on the two of you like you had paid for it to be a spotlight. “You never have to ask,” you said, and then, as fluidly and gently as humanly possible, she tilted her head and leaned forward, and you met her halfway.

§§

You had never been scuba diving before, but Wanda was in her element. She helped you suit up after she told the instructor that she was certified, and then rolled her eyes playfully when he checked behind her work. You cracked a smile. The entire time he was instructing, she was nearly bursting at the seams to get into the water, and the second he said that the two of you were allowed to go, she was holding your hand and asking if you were ready.

You never thought that Wanda could look more beautiful than she already had, but in and near the water, she was something else. She was in a state of grace and peace all the same, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be so tranquil, for the rest of her life. All you wanted in return was to be privileged to see it.

The gods that made you fear a bad trip were actually on your side, because Wanda excitedly pointed out a group of migrating sea turtles, not even paying either of you any mind at all, carrying about through nature. You smiled at them and at her, unable to decide which one was going to be the apple of your eye at the moment. You chose her.

§§§

You got out of the shower, your skin still slightly damp and the air humid from the heat of the water. You smiled at Wanda when you caught her looking at you, giving you that same blank stare that she had the first night the two of you got there. You stopped in your tracks, giving her the encouraging look that you knew she needed. “You okay, Wands?”

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched. It was the first time she had spoken the words aloud, and you both knew it. The weight of the words and the confession felt so true, so genuine, that it went straight to your heart and made it swell with warmth. A small yet generous smile stretched onto your face as you felt everything fall into place. “I love you, Wands.”

“More than I’ve ever loved anything,” she continued, like she hadn’t even heard you, and you looked back at her with a doting expression. “And, I’ve been holding off because I don’t know how to say that,” she paused, and then she fell into deep thought.

You took a step closer, assuming that the small language barrier had come up. When it took her more than a few seconds and you saw the little scrunch of confusion between her brows appear, you spoke up. “There’s no rush,” you said gently.

“If other people were to look at us, they would say that we have only known each other for three days,” she said, and you nodded. “But, I feel that we’ve known each other for thousands of years. I feel that we were made to meet, and that we were always going to no matter what came up. Why else would we both be so focused on talking to each other? I have always seen you as someone special to me, always, but now that we have finally seen each other face to face, I think that my… heart is recognizing you as it’s other part.”

You had no words in your mind at that moment, because they were all in your heart. You couldn’t open your mouth to convey the pure shock and relief that you felt at her admitting something that you had been feeling the whole time. You swallowed and felt your eyes burn with tears, but before they could fall past your cheeks, Wanda stood up and wiped them from your face before pulling you close.

Nothing mattered. Not the fact that you were still wet and she was in her pajamas, not the fact that you were in a towel, not the fact that the pizza man was knocking at the door. It was you and her, like it always had been in your mind, and Wanda’s too.

You were it for her, and she was it for you. And while you hugged it out in that beautiful condo in Florida, you silently thanked your sixth grade English teacher for making you write to a random girl your age all the way across the Atlantic, and you thanked Wanda for being the one who wrote her way right into your life.

so. uh! hiiii! i hope y’all liked it! i loved writing it, even though she was a lil bit of a challenge, not gonna lie. feedback is always appreciated!!

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel fanfic #wanda fluff #scarlet witch #marvel au #wanda maximoff fluff #lgbtq #lesbian!wanda

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unkownknowledge · 3 years

Text

This post is a sort of collaboration with @golden-wingseos who is kindly letting me use their toxic traits post as a base for writing some Fluff! Check 'em out! Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Albedo might be a OOC. This is my first attempt at more serious writing. And of course you should always remember that problems in a relationship might need more than a short talk.

Edit: request are open, if anyone reading this likes it feel free to request. Rules are pinned.

Now onto my post:

_____________________

Albedo: your heart is real

_____________________________

-you knew Albedo's secret, you knew his feelings, you knew enough to know he didn't want to love you.

-yet he did.

-you also believed he shouldn't be chained to someone else's wishes, especially when it wouldn't bring him happiness.

You were sitting in Albedo's lap, your head on his shoulder as you gently played with his hair.

"I'm going to destroy monstadt you know," he said, like he always does in an attempt to push you away, "that includes the people"

"Then I'll just stop you." You reply calmly.

"Then I'll have to kill you."

"So then you won't destroy monstadt."

Albedo was confused, you usually told him you would stop him but you've never said he wouldn't do it to begin with.

Albedo grabbed your shoulders and made you look at him, "what does that mean? Why wouldn't I destroy monstadt?"

"Because you would have to kill me." You said smiling.

'That damn smile' he thought, "why would I not destroy monstadt, not fulfill my master's wish, just because you would need to die?"

"Because you love me."

Albedo pushed you off and got on top of you, holding a knife to your throat, "would someone who loved you so this?"

"Yes" you never stopped smiling at him.

"Exa-wait what?" Albedo was dumbfounded, not comprehending what you meant.

"You're trying to push me away," you grabbed his shaking hands and pushed them down, causing him to release the knife, "because you don't want to feel any remorse, because you don't want to hurt me."

"Who says-"

"And I know you don't want to destroy monstadt," you grabbed his head and brought him closer, "because you love it there."

"I'm not real, I'm just a tool my master made to carry out their dreams. Stop treating me like a person."

"But you are a person, and as a person you can choose what you want."

"Well I want monstadt destroyed!"

"Even if that meant killing me?"

Albedo was shocked, he never felt conflicted before. Not in following his master's wishes, but now? At your words? He doubted every desire he's had.

You placed his hand on his heart, "feel that?"

"That's my heart..."

"So your heart is real. Now tell me, what does a tool need with a heart?"

Albedo didn't answer.

"Your master might want to destroy monstadt, but who says they want you to? Why give a weapon a heart?"

You didn't give Albedo time to respond before you kissed him.

"Your heart is real. Just like your love for me."

Albedo sat up and pulled you back into his lap, "you're an anomaly you know that? No one else can make me feel this way." He looked into your eyes and put his hands on your cheeks, "I guess I can hold off on destroying monstadt, atleast until I conclude my research on you."

"Well, let's start experimenting."

_____________________________

Hope that didn't suck.

_____________________________

Diluc: you'll get hurt if you love me

_____________________________

-Diluc has been avoiding you for a month now, he hasn't even gone out to do his darkknight hero duties.

-he's just locked himself away in his manor, ordering his servants to not let you in.

-Diluc, however, forgets that you met because you tried stealing from his house.

You were fed up with Diluc, he kept pushing you away and now he has CROSSED THE LINE! You're going to break into his room and make him explain why he's been avoiding you, it's been a year since you and him went on a date and now this? Something is seriously wrong.

You climbed up to the window sill and lock picked your way in, you walked over to Diluc's bed and sat down, waiting for him to return.

Diluc entered the door and, without looking, fell on his bed right next to you.

"You look tired, almost like you took the long way home just to avoid the route I take."

Diluc shot up and looked at you in shock.

You crossed you arms over your chest, "I want an explanation."

"(Y/n) what do you m-"

"You know full well! And don't call me (y/n)! You always call me 'dearest' or 'honey's, in fact you do a lot of things you seem to have forgotten about, like dinners, and tea times, and DATES!"

"Please I-"

"No! No running away, no excuses!" You grabbed his shoulders and turned him to you, "why the hell are you avoiding me!?"

Diluc looked up and saw you were crying. This isn't what he wanted, this is the opposite of what he wanted!

Diluc looked away, unable to face you, "Because I want you to hate me."

Your eyes widened, "w-what?"

"I want you to leave me, in a way that won't make you sad to leave me."

"Why!?"

"BECAUSE YOU'LL GET HURT IF YOU LOVE ME!"

You jumped at him and held him close, and yourself closer, "idiot."

"What?"

"I said," you managed between sobs, "your an idiot, Diluc. I knew full well what I was doing when I fell in love with you, and I did it anyway. What-what gi-gives you the right t-to abandon me now?"

Diluc was shocked to say the least, he didn't know what to say.

"I know how dangerous being near you is, how many enemies you have, how likely I am to die, but Diluc," you look up at him with tear stained eyes, "I won't be able to live another day, not without you in it."

Diluc pulled you onto his lap and held you, enveloping as much as he could.

"(Y/n)- honey, I'm sorry," he cried in your hair, "I'm so sorry, so very very sorry. I just wanted to protect you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you got hurt because of me."

"But you did hurt me, you hurt my heart."

"I know.. but please," he tilted you head so your eyes would meet his, "let me heal it."

_____________________________

Kaeya: no more secrets

_____________________________

I wrote this perfectly but the draft didn't save. If it's bad blame my rage.

_____________________________

Another day without you.

Another day spent drinking.

Kaeya remembered that day clearly, more clearly than he wanted.

Kaeya was happily walking home to you.

He was always happy on the way home, but he was happiest when he saw your smile. Lately though you've been acting strangely, he was going to talk to you about it today.

"Honey I'm home-" he stopped, it was quiet.

You were never quiet.

He decided you were just out, so he waited.

And waited.

And wait-

"Where are you?"

Kaeya reached for his drink, but he couldn't find it.

"Eh Dilc, wers meh ferkin dernk!?"

Diluc sighed, "sober up."

Kaeya slammed his hands on the bar and grabbed Diluc by the collar, "WAH SHELD AH BEH SURBER!? WAHTS DA FEKEN PEINT IB TAY AIN ERE WID MEH!?"

Kaeya fell backwards and cried, "wad tay lev meh Dilc?"

Diluc sighed and walked around the bar to his brother, "sober up," he picked Kaeya up, "and I'll tell you."

Diluc carried Kaeya to the winery.

Next day

Kaeya woke up with a scream, "(Y/N) WAIT!"

He looked around and saw he was in an unfamiliar bedroom.

Diluc walked in with water and breakfast, "are you sober?"

Kaeya held his head, "I wish I wasn't."

"Well you'll want to be," Diluc set his brother's breakfast down on the nightstand, "I'm going to tell you how to get (y/n) back."

Kaeya jumped at his brother, knocking them both to the ground as he held the red head's throat, "WHERE ARE THEY?!"

Diluc calmly pushed Kaeya off, who was weak as hell right now, "calm down, you need you to understand why they left or they'll just leave you again."

Kaeya just laid there.

"Good. Now listen because this is something it took me a long time to realize too: communication is key to a relationship."

"What?"

"Did you ever tell (y/n) anything about your work? About your dealings in the dark? About your 'off the clock projects'?"

Kaeay didn't speak.

"I thought so. Kaeya you need to talk to them about your life, if you don't you'll just drive them away."

"BUT I ALREADY DID!" Kaeya shouted as he slammed his fist on the ground.

"True, but I can bring you to them. But you have to swear you'll tell them EVERYTHING."

Kaeya nodded.

Diluc and Kaeya took a trip to Liyue, to a remote village you were living in.

"They're in here. Remember Kaeya, no secrets."

You opened the door at Kaeya's knocking, before immediate closing it.

"Go away Kaeya."

"(Y/n) please, I want to make amends."

"How? Batting your eyelashes? A kiss on the cheek? Sex? Well? What have you come up with as a substitute to trust this time?"

"No. No substitute, no lies, none of that. I'm here to tell you the truth (y/n)."

You opened the door, "no more secrets?"

"No, darling, no more secrets."

_____________________________

Childe: you give me strength

_____________________________

Childe met you when you first joined the fatui, and from the first day he was smitten. You always strived to get better, never once did your lack if vision keep you from being powerful nor keep you from getting more powerful. You were his ideal person for him.

But you didn't feel like it.

You always worried, 'what if I lost? What if I can't get stronger? What if I'm weak?' Were constant thoughts going through your head. You knew Childe was greedy for power, how he wanted nothing but power, how he would do anything for it, and as far as you were aware he cut off anything that held him back.

Even you.

You pushed yourself to far everytime you trained, to the point you were getting weaker by how little time you took to recuperate. But you never realized nor did you let anyone know out fear for what Childe would do if he saw you being so insecure in yourself.

You realized you were getting weaker and weaker, and that scared you, scared you to the point you decided to take drastic measures.

You decided you would prove how strong you are.

With Childe

Childe sighed as he wrote yet another debt collection warrant, he was tired from the month long mission he just got back from and now he had to do this. He decided he would indulge himself and pamper you when he got home, after all nothing pleased him more than seeing your constantly stern face blush and smile as he showered you in gifts and affection. And while he wasn't exactly good at reading people in an emotional sense, even he could tell you were insecure about something so he wanted to talk to you about it, maybe even introduce you to his family.

He wad actually getting lost in happy thoughts when a collector ran in, "HARBINGER! I HAVE URGENT NEWS!"

Childe glared at him, "what is it, I was thinking about my snow flower!"

"IT'S ABOUT THEM SIR!"

Childe snapped the pen between his fingers and stoop, "what happened."

"Sir they-"

"WHAT HAPPENED!"

"SIR! (Y/N) HAS GONE OFF TO TRY AND SLAY A GEO REGISVINE!"

Childe immediately bolted over his desk and sped through the bank, out of the harbor, and across the country of Liyue at speeds lost would think belonged to Baal themself.

He got to the regisvine just in time to block an attack that would have killed you.

It took him mere seconds to completely demolish it.

Childe approached your crumpled form, you could barely move and your bones were probably all broken.

"Ch-chi-lde..." you got out before blacking out from pain.

Next day

You woke up, everything below your chin was in a caste and you felt about as bad as you looked.

"Let me through!" You heard the one voice you didn't want to hear right now.

"Sir please they have to r-"

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER!"

A doctor was flung through the door and Childe charges right at you.

'This is it,' you thought, closing your eyes, 'he's going to cast me away, like I always knew-'

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of lips against your own, and a wet feeling against your cheeks.

You opened your eyes in time to see Childe pull away from you, "what were you thinking you idiot?"

You looked at Childe, dumbfounded.

"WHY DID YOU DO SOMETHING THAT STUPID!?"

"W-what?"

"Why did you try and kill a regisvine on your own?!"

You looked away.

"WHY (Y/N)!? WHY!?"

"Because I don't want you to leave me..."

Childe recoiled at that, what did you mean you didn't want him to leave you?

"Why in the world would I want to leave you? Your my snow flower."

"Yes but..." you didn't want to say it.

"Come on, snow flower," Childe put his fingers under your chin and gently made you meet his gaze, "you can tell me anything."

"You...you only care for power...and I could tell I was only getting weaker no matter how much I tried, I was....I was afraid....afraid you would leave me...."

"(Y/n)," Childe said lovingly, yet with obvious sadness, "please, I dont want power just for power's sake.... I'm so sorry that I seemed that way to you."

"But you always seem so...dedicated to getting power..."

"Yes, but power is simply a means to an end," Childe chuckles, "I have a family, with a lot of siblings, and I care about all of them. I do so much for them, and every bit of power: be it with more, status, or pure power they are what drives me to get it. I'll admit though that it has developed into a bit of a....addiction, I guess you could call it, to battle and by extension to getting stronger. I-I didn't realize how much I let that take over-"

"No!" You shout, "no! Don't apologize for that. That's why I love you: your drive for power, your willingness to never settle, everything you do you do for power. I don't care if it's because you like battle or you like your family, because I love it. I love you. And I don't want to hold you back, and because of that I didn't want to be so weak that you had to....dispose of me..."

Childe kneeled besides you, "(y/n). You never have to worry about holding me back. Remember what you said? Even if I do, granted in a much smaller part than I originally stated, want power to protect my family, it is also very true that I want power for nothing more than to have it. But you could never hold me back from that, in fact you give me strength, (y/n)."

You chuckled, "that's so cheesey Childe."

"Well it's true, and the only thing more true is this:" Childe leans towards you, "I. Love. You."

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #albedo x reader #childe x reader #sorry it took this long #and sorry if it's bad #fanfiction #genshin imagines

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hardskz · 4 years

Text

bow down.

pairing — bang chan x genderneutral! reader

genre — modern royalty au, drama-ish, smut; sexual tension-ish, hand kink, brat tamer! chan, degradation, leg humping, humiliation

synopsis — you have eyes. prince bang chan is a whole snack. but you also have too high of an ego and can’t seem to accept that prince chan isn’t full of himself unlike the other dozen members of any royal family you’ve met before. alternatively, this is the disney channel movie ‘princess protection program’ but make it porn only.

note — this fic with a wc of 7k+ does not include any spoilers to the movie and you don’t even have to know what the movie is about you’ll get the gist as you read. ngl half of this is from one of my drafts from like 3 years ago and i never continued it so here i am turning it into filth hahahah (and i needed a fresh idea for brat tamer chan and hence why i think the sfw part is better written than the nsfw lmao) rip also pls accept this as the follower milestone gift and 1 year anniversary special :’)

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a puppy for my birthday — which was three months ago may I add — not for a new roommate?”

You look back and forth between Youngjae and the stranger sitting on the couch who is staring back at you with a curious expression. He looks around your age and you admit, his face isn’t the kind of face that makes you thank your parents that genetics did a decent job on you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

His face is the type of face that makes you ask your parents why genetics didn’t do a better job on yours. Okay, you haven’t reached that stage of visual inferiority yet but that’s mainly because he is dressed in clothes that were trendy in the 15th century or something. The garments clinging to his skin look like a bad fusion of a suit (which college student wears a suit in their free time?) and the ridiculous costume the marching band at your former high school had worn whenever a football game was up. And those weird golden pins clipped on the blazer makes it seem as if he used to be in the marines or comes from a royal bloodline or—

Oh.

“Don’t mind my cousin, your Highness. (y/n)’s humor has always been questionable.” Youngjae sends you a glare before he puts on his sweetest smile — you know, the act he puts on whenever he tries to negotiate a bonus with his boss or woo his date — and opts to ignore your presence. “Anyway, since we are dealing with a more serious issue at hand than originally expected, we need to give you a makeover to—“

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you violently tug him away from the prince and despite Youngjae thrashing around and complaining, you manage to send the guest a forced smile and leave his vision. The moment you let go of Youngjae in the neighboring room, he readjusts his collar. “What? Couldn’t you have waited once I was done? Also, was it necessary to crinkle my collar this much?” he hisses but you get straight to the point.

“What is he doing here?”

“Uh, sitting on the couch?”

“That’s not what I mean.” you grit your teeth and land a punch on his arm. “What is he doing here?”

Youngjae looks over your shoulder, making sure that what he’s about to say next is only heard by you. “Prince Chan is,” he hesitates, unsure how to approach his topic. You know it’s taking up his last nerves to conclude a logical explanation as the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips; a habit he has adapted ever since he stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “The predicament he’s in is worse than we expected. Well, his dad is partially at fault because he forgot to tell us this not-so-small critical detail that—“

“Youngjae, you’re rambling.”

“The point is.” he sighs and gives you a distressed look as if he already knows you’re not going to like the information at all. “We can’t send him to the family in Goyang, the place he was originally going to stay in. He’s one of the more extreme cases and the Board agreed that he had to live with one of the active combatants to ensure his safety.”

Silence engulfs the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for you to count two and two together.

“He’s going to live here,” you deadpan eventually and Youngjae nods in confirmation.

“I know you’re not very happy—“

“Not very happy is underwhelming.” You earn a flick against your forehead and yelp in pain as you over the spot he just hit. “Ow! I was just stating the truth!”

“Will you stop interrupting me? Geez. Yes, I know that you’re not happy at all. I know that you’re not a huge fan of the majority of our family working in this business. But please do me this one favor or so help me God— try to be nice to him for the next year.”

“He’s staying for a year?” you shriek and in the blink of an eye, Youngjae clamps your mouth shut.

“Can you keep it down?!” he whisper-yells, then retreats his hand and reverts to a conversational tone with a frown. “It’s just a year, okay? Y’know, just... say hi to him whenever you see him. Act civilized.”

You grimace as he stresses his last words like you didn’t know what human decency was. The longer you keep the petrified expression on your face, the more it turns into a staring contest between the two of you. Just as if you were each other’s reflection, you mimic his actions and vice versa. When Youngjae squints, you squint. When you shoot him a glare, he returns it. It all boils down to the final blink that Youngjae feints and you’re the first to look away.

“Okay fine! I’ll try to behave,” you mumble in defeat.

A satisfied smile makes its way on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s always nice negotiating with you.”

Being born into a family where the majority works for the royalty protection program (short: RPP or as you like to stylize it: argh-pee-pee), also known as the secret service for people with crowns on their heads, comes with many perks. In your eyes, this privilege comes with many, many downsides that aren’t worth the advantages. Sure, there is the one or other occasion where you can waltz around in fancy evening attire and attend an actual ball, but overall, it’s a pain in the ass.

Even though it’s prohibited to openly declare that you work for the RPP, the news always finds its way out. Usually, it takes approximately a week for pretty much half of the neighborhood to find out. And it certainly isn’t nice hearing whispers about your dad being that guy working for the program whenever you step out of your house, which is ultimately why you moved in with your cousin Youngjae. (Housing in your small town wasn’t really affordable for a dirt poor college student after all!)

Youngjae has always been your favorite cousin out of the... whatever number of cousins you have. But here’s the thing. He also works for the RPP.

However, somehow he managed to — and up to this day it still remains a mystery to you how on earth he did that — keep his job a secret. Especially with his tendency to dish out the worst kinds of secrets when he’s slightly tipsy. Frankly, you once considered printing out the image of a trophy for that remarkable feat.

With your dad and cousin both active in that business (because organization sounds too shady), it’s not the first time you meet a prince, so you already know how the entire thing works. The concept is quite simple; they get sent to a household but before they settle in and take on a fake identity until their circumstances have improved, they undergo a makeover. Most of the time, it ends up in the glow up you secretly crave but in Prince Chan’s case, you suppose he can’t get any more attractive.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

You’re busy slicing bell peppers for the meal you were cooking when both your cousin and the prince enter the kitchen and Youngjae explicitly demands you to pay them attention. You don’t react immediately, but the moment he threatens to swipe the knife away from you, you perk up and set your desire to prepare your fried rice aside.

“(y/n), uh, hi? I’m Bang Chan and I’ll be your new housemate for a year. I hope we can get along.” Chan recites his introduction without any mistakes and earns a way too brotherly pat on the back from Youngjae, considering that they just met this morning. It’s truly amazing how fast Youngjae can get people to warm up to him.

Chan is stripped out of his weird clothes and instead, looks like he threw on the next best thing lying around in his room. Nonetheless, despite the seemingly little effort that was put into the outfit, it looks oddly good. The stylists didn’t seem to do much to his hair and just parted his bangs a little, so one could catch a slight glimpse of his forehead. It’s just a small detail, but you find yourself liking his current appearance much more appealing than before, though you’re pretty sure his clothes played a major part in your previous distaste.

“Remember Jihyo?” Youngjae interrupts your train of thought. “She’s Chan’s relative. And because I’m the genuine friend who loves to help her out, I decided to agree to this after she went down on her knees and begged me to let Chan live with us for a while—“

“I’m not interested in your blown up, fictional background stories, thank you very much.” you backtrack. “Wait. Did you say Jihyo? Seriously? Jihyo is his alibi?” Of course, you remember Jihyo. It’s quite difficult to forget her when Youngjae used to swoon about her at every hour of the day, back when they were a thing. Besides, she still stops by every few months.

“C’mon, you have to admit there is a similar vibe between them!”

You furrow your brows and inspect Chan a second time. Your gaze wanders back to Youngjae and then returns to Chan anew. It’s obvious that the latter is feeling as if he were up for auction and you can’t really blame him for feeling so uncomfortable. You’ve heard from a few friends that if looks could kill, you’d have the highest killing record.

There’s no similar vibe in your view, but for the sake of entertaining Youngjae’s thoughts: “He does seem similar to Jihyo.”

“Told ya. But back to more important matters,” Youngjae coughs and wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, but it somehow seems as if he’s opting to strangle you. “My duties are calling, so I won’t be back until late. You look like you could need some help with cooking, by the way. I’m sure Chan right here is willing to help you!”

“I’m almost done though—“ you choke when he tightens his embrace. By now, his arm is no longer hugging your shoulder, but rather crushing your throat.

“You look like you could need some help,” he repeats, this time with added urgency. “It’d be a great opportunity for you to bond since you’ll also share pretty much all classes at uni. Did you know, he has the same major as you! Besides, it’d be a very useful life experience for him if he helped you with cooking.”

“Of course, how fun!” you hiss, voice going an octave higher from the lack of oxygen. “I already said that I’m painfully delighted about that, so you can let me go now, Youngjae!”

A sneer and a jab in his arm later, Youngjae finally takes his leave. That nasty liar, leaving an hour earlier than his schedule stated. You know that silently cursing at him isn’t going to make your problems dissolve because that’d be a dream come true.

“Listen, let me get things straight.” you sigh, picking up the knife to resume chopping your vegetables. Youngjae may have ordered you to act civilized, but having eye contact with Chan when you’ve been starving for the past hour isn’t your priority. Food doesn’t make itself. “I don’t have any intention of getting close to you and I expect the same from you. Don’t step a foot into my room, don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary, and don’t think I’ll run around and do your chores or cook your meals like one of your little servants. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like one under this roof.”

“We live in the 21st century, not the renaissance. Your idea of royal families is very dated.” Chan chuckles dryly.

“Baron Yoon Jeonghan from the seven islands is a stuck-up prick and out of touch with the world. It took him several visits to the slums, multiple voluntary hours at the kindergarten, and stripping him off his bank card to make him see reason,” you deadpan. Fuck Baron Jeonghan. Just thinking about your first and last encounter with that entitled douchebag almost makes you slice your finger instead of the bell pepper. “Duchess Yoo Shiah threw a hissy fit when she found out her clothes weren’t dry cleaned and bought from Zara instead of fucking Dior. The one who takes the cake when it comes to privilege is Princess Kim Min—”

“Everyone knows they are problematic,” Chan interjects. True, he has a point. There’s nobody out there who doesn’t know about Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah but he’s also missing the entire point.

“And guess who gets stuck under the care of the RPP?” you raise a brow at him. He blanches at the realization as if he got struck with lightning. Perhaps you should give him more credit because he seems to own more brain cells than Baron Jeonghan. “Exactly. Everyone problematic.”

Chan’s jaw is clenched as he racks his brain to come up with a smart comeback. The sight of him stumbling on his words is nothing but pitiful, so you turn back to the cutting board and grab an onion to slice in half. “I’m not interested in your sob story, your Highness. I don’t care why you’re under the protection of the RPP. The only thing I care about is that you stay out of my business.”

“Chan is fine. No need for the title,” he sighs with a strain. “Perhaps I should’ve been more considerate with my first comment. Youngjae already told me about your… negative attitude towards the entire setup. It wasn’t my intention to anger you. Sorry.”

Well, that’s new. Out of the dozens of aristocrats you’ve met (and sadly also shared a house with back when you were 16 years old and still living with your dad), he’s the first to drop his title within five minutes for the sake of the disguise and apologize.

“We live under the same roof so we should get along with each other. If there’s something you need help with, just ask me, (y/n).”

“Thanks for the offer,” you reply nonchalantly because act civilized unless you want to suffer from a late-night sneak attack from Youngjae if he finds out. “But no thanks. I don’t need your help.”

You find yourself in need of help a few weeks later, right before the dreaded exam season.

“No. Forget it, Bam. I’m not going out clubbing with you tonight. In fact, I won’t do that anytime soon.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you try to break down to your friend that you prioritize your grades over his need of getting wasted.

“C’mon!” he whines so loudly that you have to put your phone farther away from your ear. “You’re not in that much stress yet! You have to make the most out of it before you drown in your exams.”

“Things are different for engineering students like, uh, me for example!” you hiss. “I fell behind and need to catch up. Ask Yugyeom or Changbin.”

“First of all, Yugyeom is always at the bar doing his job. And Changbin never picks up his phone. There’s nobody who’d dance with me!”

“You abandoned me at the bar for some chick the last time,” you deadpan. “I’m very sure you’ll find someone.”

Bambam finally gets the gist and gives up. “Fine then. Your loss. Have fun dying in numbers and variables instead of living in the moment. You’re going to regret it—”

You end the call and set your phone on mute before throwing it on the bed. Sometimes you wonder whether you were on drugs when you decided to major in engineering. The longer you stare at the jumble of numbers and letters — some of them in Greek too — the more you think your brain cells are decaying.

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, complaining at Youngjae’s expense and telling him how much you’d rather drown in bleach than subjecting yourself to Algebra II.

“You know there’s someone you can ask for help and he’s right here,” Youngjae drawls before chugging down the rest of his beer. If he’s going to be a victim to your temper tantrum about a major that you chose yourself, he might as well get a drink so he won’t go insane from your monologue about numbers and graphs and formulas he’s forgotten since he graduated from high school.

You gawk at him. “You? Are you hearing yourself? You almost failed maths. Twice!”

“Because I didn’t mean myself, dipshit,” he says blankly and his eyes flit over your shoulder, “Speaking of the devil. There comes the man of honor.”

You whip your head back to the door to see Chan enter confusedly. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No, we were just talking about you!”

You send Youngjae a death glare which he casually shrugs off. “(y/n) here is bitching about her Statistics I class and needs a tutor!”

“It’s actually Algebra II if you bothered to pay attention—”

“(y/n) needs a tutor!” Youngjae exclaims and nearly trips on his feet when he gets up from his chair. “Channie, I heard you’re good with numbers. Didn’t you get accepted into all Ivy Leagues in the States for all engineering programs?”

“You didn’t have to word it like that,” Chan laughs it off and nervously rubs the back of his head. He’s not denying it though.

“Obviously he would. He’s loaded and lives in a castle,” you mutter under your breath, but everyone catches it.

“Hey,” Youngjae warns. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says casually. “I just wanted to get myself a snack. But if you have some questions, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. The offer still stands, y’know.” He digs through the cabinet until he finds two packs of the strawberry flavored Pocky knockoff that is 1) apparently his favorite thing to eat and 2) half the price of the Pocky version. He gives Youngjae a thumbs up before he returns to his room.

The moment Chan is out of sight, Youngjae whips his head to you, nostrils flaring. All that’s missing is steam coming out of his ears and his face running red and then he looks like the impetuous brother in every kids cartoon ever. “Really? He’s been staying with us for how long now? Four weeks? Five? Yet you’re still acting as if he murdered you in your dreams or something.”

“I don’t like him,” you state coldly. Youngjae looks like he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me being active in this field of work, and I get that you have some hatred against the royal families. But you know you signed up for this when you decided to move in with me.” Youngjae pauses to get a breather and pop a new beer bottle open. “Besides, Chan isn’t like Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah. I have eyes, (y/n), and I’ve seen you two avoiding each other as much as possible. And he doesn’t just laze around — he does the fucking chores and cooks dinner too! Chan is good, (y/n).”

The last words make you snap. “Good? Are you fucking serious? Because that’s why the press in his kingdom is depicting him as a tyrant who cares more about building his sick harem instead of helping the poor. And wasn’t he diagnosed for having anger management issues?!”

All the color leaves Youngjae’s face. This is obviously something you shouldn’t know. While he’s scrambling for words, you take the chance to add, “Dunno why you’re protecting him when he’s making headlines as a prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chan isn’t just a prince,” Youngjae says quietly. “He’s the crown prince.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “What? Isn’t that even worse with that reputation he has?”

“It’s all propaganda,” he sighs and takes a swig, “The ministers are doing everything they can to finish him off. You see, Chan is the only child of the current king of the seven islands, and if he’s wiped out, it’ll be utter chaos. Chan’s smart and I admit, he used to have anger issues, but he’s worked on them. Though I guess he’s resorted to bottling up his feelings when push comes to pull. The point is, all the higher-ups don’t want him as their future king because they know that Chan is very much capable of pulling through with his own ideas and that doesn’t sit well with them. And a supposedly impulsive future king is the last thing anyone wants, hence why his people are eating up the news.”

“Oh.” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. However, it’s not the first time you’ve heard such stories.

“Yeah. Oh,” Youngjae mocks, “If that’s the main reason why you don’t want to talk to him, now you know better. He might have power, but he’s not a monster. And for the record, he got into all Ivy Leagues and elite schools all over the world through his intelligence, not his status.”

Although you can see it in his eyes that Youngjae is done with the heated discussion, he’s still waiting for you to say something. You frown. “So… you think he’s a good tutor?”

“He’s your only shot.” Youngjae says nonchalantly, then adds with a warning tone, “But remember: Act. Civilized. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you about his circumstances. It’s supposed to be confidential information.”

You roll your eyes. How the fuck hasn’t Youngjae been busted yet?

Nonetheless, you’re trudging to Chan’s door a few minutes later, your fat binder of incomprehensible math formulas and (Greek) letter heavy in your arm. Chan opens the door with surprise etched on his face after you knocked, but it settles to warmth when you begrudgingly ask him to help you understand Algebra II.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy here,” he chuckles airily once he lets you in. It’s not messy per se, just a few clothes piled up in a corner of the room and some books and messily written notes lying on his bed. Still, it’s by far cleaner than the pig stall that is Youngjae’s room (and yours when you’re having a very bad day).

Chan clears his desk and drags his other chair to the table before plopping down on it. “So, what’s the problem?” Instead of answering, you just shove a sheet of paper up his face. “Y’know, you can talk to me. If this is about earlier, it’s really alright. I’m not mad or anything,” he says with the same friendly tone you’ve been hearing ever since he moved in, yet he still takes the sheet from you. You watch his brows scrunch together the more he reads on, and you can already see the question forming in his mind.

“(y/n), you do know this is the basis to understand—”

“I was absent when the professor covered it and everyone I asked couldn’t quite explain it to me,” you respond before he can finish speaking out his thoughts. “All my friends were like—” you gesture with your hands, “—you just do this and that and then hope your hunch is right. Before you say it, yes I know that I don’t get the material of one entire unit and the exam is two weeks away.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Chan says before grabbing his iPad. You stare at him blankly as he writes something on his tablet. The last thing you expected from him was to accept it and try to hammer as much of missing information as he can into your brain, but then again, you’ve never seen him backtrack whenever Youngjae asks him something. Speaking of Youngjae, perhaps he is right. Chan does seem to know what he’s talking about.

“You have to subtract X first, then replace it with Y,” he explains as he circles said letters in different colors. By now, you’ve leaned closer to him to get a better view on what he’s writing (his handwriting isn’t the worst you’ve ever had to decode; refer to Youngjae who you’ve internally awarded with the worst handwriting of the decade).

Chan is exceptionally good at explaining. You feel like you’ve figured out a secret of the world that not even Pythagoras found out as you slowly understand what on Earth you are supposed to calculate with the formula. Chan is patient, always asking if you got it or if you needed another clarification, and takes the time to draw colorful graphs to visualize the jumble of numbers. His voice is pleasing to the ear too, soft and gentle to the point where you’ve blurred everything out except Chan. Chan’s voice. Chan’s hand.

You didn’t mean to stare, but with him always adding something new every five seconds as he goes on with his monologue, you can’t help but do so. His fingers aren’t long — that’ll always be courtesy of Hyunjin from Subway and yes, his very pretty hands might be the sole reason you only insist on going to that one specific Subway at the intersection next to KFC — but just one glance at Chan’s hand and you know that he’s strong.

He’s barely applying pressure to the pen, but you can see the veins slightly protruding. Chan’s sleeves are pushed back and if you move your head a bit, you’re more than certain that veins are bulging out from his forearms too. However, you don’t muster up the courage to do that because Chan will definitely notice and the last thing you want on your platter is to tell him that you were too busy checking out his arms instead of listening to him talk about Algebra II.

Eventually, Chan sets the pen down to stretch his hand. He says something, but you don’t pick up what exactly. Not that it’d matter much anyway since you’re too busy admiring his hand—

“(y/n), you there? I called out your name several times but you didn’t react.” Chan’s breath hitches and surprise flashes in his eyes for a split second when his gaze meets yours. You don’t understand his hesitation, but then horror bubbles in you once you realize that his hand is firmly gripping your chin and keeping your head pointed at his direction. The very same hand you’ve been staring at for God knows how long.

“I’m good. Just a little tired, but I’m good,” you stutter, though it comes out very breathlessly as if you just finished a marathon.

“Tired?” Chan echoes, concern settling into his features. “You should’ve said so, then I would’ve stopped talking. You need something?”

Now that you think about it, you’ve never got a close look at Chan. Sure, he’s handsome, the countless pictures of Google prove that he’s also too photogenic for his own good (goddamnit, why didn’t your parents make you just as photogenic?) but in person, he’s something else. His lips are plush and look very inviting to kiss, and the lower your eyes wander, the more you see a toned chest hidden underneath that damn shit that hugs him in all the right places.

Fine, his hands aren’t the only attractive thing about him. Then again, he’s a prince.

“I said I’m good.” you snap out of your thoughts and finally gather enough control over your nerves to tear his hand away. “And I caught everything you said.” Of course, you know that’s a blatant lie and he knows so too from the way he’s looking at you. That is until he quirks a brow.

“Okay, then what did I say before I called you?”

Your mouth feels dry. It’s almost as if he knew the reason for your distress. “I caught everything relevant to this,” you mutter, suddenly finding his curtains much more interesting. What an interesting design, maybe you should get yourself new curtains too—

“Then you wouldn’t mind solving these questions, right? Just so I can make sure that you got everything down.”

“Sure,” you reply because that’s the only thing you could say without hurting your ego and straining your vocal cords. Chan doesn’t comment any further and looks for some practice questions before sliding the iPad to you. Already the first question makes your head spin in disdain. Numbers? Variables? Never heard of them.

Chan is watching you like a hawk as you fiddle with the pen, unable to write down anything that makes remote sense. Feeling his eyes on you makes you feel helpless and you shift around in your seat. “What are you staring at?” you glare at him once you give up for good, and you just hope that your look is as intimidating as you pictured in your head.

“You’re definitely exhausted. You’re shaking,” Chan points out. Your eyes widen as you stare down and realize that your thighs are shaking, and it’s then and there when you realize that you’re feeling hot. Seems like Chan doesn’t realize that because the worry written on his face is genuine. “You say the exam’s in two weeks right? We can stop for today and work on this tomorrow. That is if you still want my help.”

You nod and add in a tiny voice, “Yes, please.”

You’re too busy ignoring the heat building between your thighs to notice the borderline feral sound that leaves Chan.

“And here I thought you had quality bonding time.” Youngjae gives a disappointed look. “You’re acting even colder towards him than before your exam meltdown. Your prick level can only stoop down so low.”

You ended up getting tutor lessons from Chan every day before the dreaded day of judgment: the exam in Algebra II. You spent more hours in his room than on your own if you were completely honest, and the results were fruitful. While you did manage to pass the exam with a fairly high score, the price you had to pay was hell.

It’s almost as if Chan caught up on your hand fixation. Sometimes he twirled the pen in his fingers, sometimes it was the simple bracelet dangling on his wrist. Just when you thought he had you figured out, he asks you if you’re alright, visibly oblivious to his effect on you. Such duality in a person should be illegal, you conclude. If you die from whiplash, you know who the perpetrator is.

“You were the one who pretty much pressured me into asking him for help,” you drawl.

“I had good intentions only! You can’t keep up the I-hate-royal-families-blah-blah mentality the entire time!” Youngjae wails before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Watch me.” You internally cringe at the loud crunching sounds he’s making and add vigorously, “And stop chewing so loudly.”

“You’ll get around or so help me God—” he groans when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t spare a glance at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has set his ringtone to the baby shark song specifically for when he’s calling. “I gotta go, Jinyoung’s being a bitch again. Don’t murder somebody. Thanks.” You only watch him shuffle for his bag and grab a handful of chips before he’s out the door. Groaning, you clean up the mess he’s made on the table.

Just as you’re done wiping the crumbs off the surface, Chan pads into the room.

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I established right at the beginning that you should only talk to me when absolutely necessary.” you scowl, trying to walk past him.

“Well, this is important,” he urges and blocks the doorway, effectively stopping you from fleeing. “And I do deserve one conversation with you after I helped you out.”

“You offered on your own. That’s not the same as asking for a favor.” You successfully push your way past him, but in the next moment, he spins you around and pins you against the wall.

“We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” The sudden coldness of his tone has shivers running down your spine. Chan holds your wrist in an iron grip and if he clutched on any tighter, you wouldn’t put it past him to break your bones. Out of options, you comply and give him a curt nod before he lets go and takes a step back.

“I don’t understand you, (y/n). I genuinely thought you would put your prejudices aside but instead, all I get are mixed signals from you.”

It’s your turn to gawk. “Me? Mixed signals? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you keep looking at me as if you want me to fuck your brains out.” If the color hasn’t drained from your face yet, it has now. Chan smiles wickedly at your horrified reaction but doesn’t stop there. “I’m talking about how you talk like you don’t want anything to do with me but act as if you’re begging for my attention.” He takes a step closer to you, and you wish you could morph with the wall. “I’m talking about how you keep staring at my hands and think I don’t notice it.” You wince when he rests his hands against the wall on each side of your face, leaning closer so that you can feel his breath on your lips. “So, you have a thing for my hands?” Bullseye.

“You’re so full of yourself. No wonder your ministers want to get rid of you,” you snap because you’d rather suffer from food poisoning than admitting that you want Chan’s fingers in you.

Something shifts within Chan. He gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to even know about the ministers. His demeanor darkens in a blink of an eye, and you feel like your legs are about to give up on you when you meet his eyes, black and feral.

“You’re playing with fire. Don’t anger me,” he warns, voice low and rough.

“So it’s true that you resorted to bottling up your feelings, your Highness?” you cock your head to the side. Chan clenches his jaw at the mention of his title, struggling to keep his anger in check. You laugh through your nose, then grab one of his hands and force it away from the wall. If he already knows that you’re thirsting after him, might as well go for it. “It’s funny how your ministers aren’t able to string you around like a puppet yet here you are, unable to do anything against a commoner. You know you have nice hands and you know my weakness and yet, you’re not using them on me.” He gulps when you fumble with his fingers.

And then he understands.

“Unless I misread the situation,” he says darkly, though you distinguish the slight tremor his voice carries. “Do you really want this? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Chan is dead serious, judging by the way he’s looking at you expectantly.

“The safe word is petunia.” You don’t take your eyes off him and add in a louder tone, “Now try me, do your worst.”

“You’re going to regret wanting me at my worst,” Chan growls and before you know it, he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is anything but sweet, more of a clash of teeth and tongues and saliva dribbling down your chins, yet it leaves you boiling hot and wobbly on your feet. He presses you up against the wall and forces his leg between yours, the sudden contact making you hunch forward. You moan against his mouth when he tugs harshly on your hair, the sting making your nerves go haywire. In the meantime, your hands roam his upper body, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as you try to buck your hips against his leg. While he doesn’t budge, you manage to elicit a groan out of him.

When you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Chan’s hair is disheveled from the way you’ve been pulling on them, lips pink and glossy. One look in his eyes is enough to make your heart stop beating. They’re dark and animalistic and set ablaze with unfiltered lust. You’re such in a daze from a simple kiss that you nearly stumble when Chan drags you to his room.

He manhandles you on his bed with ease before his lips latch on yours once more. You nearly sob when he rids you off your pants, putting pressure in all the right places to have you losing your mind. As you’re about to gain back some dominance in the kiss, he breaks it off. His fingers that were once ghosting over your underwear are now tracing patterns all over the material, making you spasm. “You’re such a brat, all bark but no bite. All it takes is one kiss and you’ve lost all your fight. Can you get any more pathetic?” he mocks as he focuses his fingertips directly on the wet patch of your underwear. Your eyes roll back as he rubs on the same spot, the broken moans leaving you eerily similar to cries. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come like this. How sensitive are you?”

“Am n-not—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when he lets the waistband snap against your skin.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” he grins and that’s when you break, feeling your high approaching at lightning speed.

“Don’t wanna come like this—”

“But I thought you’re not sensitive?” the satisfied grin just widens with every syllable that leaves his lips. “If you don’t want to come like this, all over your underwear, beg.”

Chan applies even more force to your sensitive spots, and you struggle to have a clear thought. The smirk he delivers is lethal, and you couldn’t be any more convinced that he’s the devil’s incarnate.

“I’ll do anything, please. Don’t let me come like this, that’s all I’m a-aah-asking for,” you weep, your blood nearly boiling at its climax, “I’ll even take a punishment!”

“Say my name,” he orders, fingers still drawing circles.

“Your—”

“My name, not my title.”

Your breath hitches as you finally realize what he’s aiming for. He wants you to remember that it’s him who’s reducing you into this illiterate mess. Him, the one you’ve been despising since before you even met. If you still had any ounce of dignity left, you’d try to fix the power imbalance until you’re left with no choice but to obey, but now you’re so close and the last thing you want to do is come with your pants on.

“Please, Chan,” your voice breaks towards the end and in an instant, he pulls away. As you’re letting you’re basking in the break from his brutal tempo, not too affected by how your upcoming orgasm is fading away, Chan observes you.

And then out of nowhere, he flips you on your stomach and delivers a hard smack to your ass that has you screaming into the pillows.

“You said you’d take any punishment too, right?” You twitch as he rubs the small of your back. You can already imagine the handprints on your ass he continued to slap you with such force that has you moving up the bed. The pain that’s going to haunt you for days. Before you know it, you try to arch your back to lift your ass, but then the bed shifts. “But if you really think I’m going to spank you as a punishment, then you’re really fucking dumb. As if I’ll use my hands on you when we both know you love my hands.”

With that, he drops himself on his chair, spreading his legs that you can see the prominent tent forming in his pants. He orders you over with a flick of his finger, and just as you get up from the bed, a new wave of horror flushes over you.

“Crawl.”

The look you send him is priceless. There’s no fucking way you can do it. It’s just a few meters, nothing you can’t handle, but he’s there sitting on his Ikea swivel chair as if it’s his throne made of gold, watching your every movement like a predator. And then there’s you, only in a shirt and underwear, being forced to go on all fours as if you were his fucking dog—

The difference in power display couldn’t get any more visible. He really is the fucking worst.

“You’d really do anything, huh…” he muses as you drop on your hands and knees and crawl to him, never looking up. It’s only when he beckons you to stand up that you look at him with nothing but rage and shame in your eyes. Chan has always been slightly terrified with your death stare but right now, he can’t take it seriously and it shows. It shows in the way he smiles lopsidedly, in the way his brows quirk in amusement. “Now hump my leg.”

Humiliation runs through your body all over. Your fists are clenched as he waits for you to act, even pats his thigh in case you didn’t get the memo. But oh you do, and his thigh does look inviting.

“Hump my leg like the brainless bitch you are. If you want my hands or my cock, you earn it first. Especially since you treated me like shit ever since I moved in.” The last sentence burns you badly because he has a point. But then there’s the prospect of his hands and dick that’s bulging out of his pants.

Pushing all thoughts away, you settle on his leg. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you tell yourself it’s all good and then you move. The first thrust knocks all air out of your lungs and you grab onto his shoulders for support. You didn’t even move that much, but Chan’s looking at you as if he’s about to fucking devour you and knowing that he is very much capable of moving you around, you’re starting to become overwhelmed.

Eventually, you lose yourself in the feeling of his rough jeans against your drenched underwear, humping on his thigh as your orgasm builds up. It’s silent, save for your pants, and the countless whimpers flying past your lips as your movements gradually become sloppier. You’re almost there and you know it. But so does Chan, and the moment he’s got it figured out, he lunges from your hips and forces you to pick up the pace.

“Oh no, you’re going to come,” he growls, ignoring your pleas and sobs. Adrenaline courses in your blood and you know it isn’t long until you fall apart. You try to make him stop, even put your hands on his, but you don’t have the energy to actively push him away.

“Chan, please— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come? Then fucking come on my thigh, (y/n),” he snaps, and then adds, “You hear that? You’re about to come from humping my thigh.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he’s right, maybe it’s the way he’s worded it. Either way, it’s the last straw to make you spasm as you come, soaking your underwear and even managing to make a mess out of his pants. Chan makes sure you ride through your orgasm, only stopping to move your hips once you’re all spent and resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, vision foggy, but the only thing you can envision clearly is Chan.

Chan jolts when your hand grazes over his bulge. You’re about to undo his pants, but he’s quick to stop you and restrict your hands behind your back.

“You think you deserve my cock? Dream on. As if I would fuck any commoner, especially those who don’t respect me,” he spits, and you flinch at his choice of words, clearly recalling that you used the exact same terms and he’s now using it against you. “You said you’d take any punishment. Well, guess what? This was just punishment number one.”

#yes the ending is rushed oops sue me #may consider part 2 so heads up #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #smut.mine #dom!chan #sub!reader #crispy.txt

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beforeoursunsets · 3 years

Text

Unsilenced Pt. 3 - D.M

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none

summary: it’s finally time to confess, and the stress of it all is completely destroying you. that is until you receive a little help from your roommate...

a/n: once again, we can all thank nia for getting me to write,, the little peer pressure reblog was enough to make me finally finish this series

---

Be rational.

Draco Malfoy--the first person to ever defend you, your number one supporter--could not possibly be interested in you.

It was all in your head, you thought. He was clearly out of your league, and not to mention, was also very well-liked among the other witches. You didn’t have a chance. Ruining everything you two had built was something you could never forgive yourself for.

You simply couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t. A teeny-little-crush on Draco was far different than true feelings, right?

Groaning, you buried your head in your crossed arms, tired of every racing thought.

“What’s the matter?”

Great. You couldn’t even hide in the libraries without the incessant Slytherin finding you. He was only making things harder, the urge to blurt out your top secret feelings unbearable.

“It’s nothing, Draco. Just having some trouble focusing,” The fabricated truth slipped out easily, but by the look on his face, he wasn’t completely convinced.

He slid the textbook out from underneath your head, “You’re lying, I can tell.”

Your head thud against the table, still covered by your arms. “Not today, Draco--not today.”

‘Pansy. That’s who I need right now.’ You thought. Some girl-talk was needed, and soon.

---

You dragged the brunette into your shared dorm, making sure the lock was shut tight.

“I know we aren’t close, but I have a problem. A huge one.” You said, planting face first onto your bed.

Pansy sat beside your feet, throwing a pillow by your side, “Something happen with Malfoy?” She asked, making you flinch.

You sat up immediately, looking at her with suspicious eyes, “How did you know?”

She laughed, pulling her legs under her to sit criss-cross on your bed. “I think everyone knows.”

Feeling the blood rush to your face, you wanted to crawl away and die.

“I’ve never had a crush before! No one told me it was going to be this bloody difficult!” You ranted. These feelings were uncharted territory for you, and quite honestly, it was terrifying. The only thing that scared you more was Draco actually finding out.

“Wait, what?”

You sat up. “Is that not what you meant?”

Your roommate seemed to be excited, an overjoyed smile on display. “No! I meant everyone knows Malfoy has a crush on you!”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“But you are..”

Pansy shook you by the arms, “You like him, you like him!” She said animatedly.

You sat there, trying to make sense of the entire conversation. All this overthinking, and for nothing? Was Pansy telling the truth?

Leaving the comfort of your bed, you paced around the room.

“I can’t tell him, Pansy, because what if you’re wrong? What if he’s just being nice? We’ve been friends for so long now, how could I throw it all away? It’s selfish, and I’m no Gryffindor, maybe I should just keep this to mys--”

This time Pansy chucked the pillow at you, with full force.

“Hey!”

“You’re an idiot.”

You stopped pacing. “You realize that if you are wrong about this, I will murder you, right?” You said, looking directly at her. “I don’t think I can handle rejection.”

---

Three hours later you were in the Great Hall, Pansy by your side. As soon as you entered his line of sight Draco quickly began his approach.

Ansty as ever, you sent your friend a nervous glance. In response, she put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.

“Just follow my lead.” She whispered.

“Y/N? Pansy? Is everything all right?” Almost baffled by the sight of your roommate standing beside you, Draco was ultimately suspicious.

She sent him a fake smile, and you wondered where all this was going.

“Doing just fine, Malfoy. Y/N just needed to talk out some feelings about her new boy-toy.”

You sputtered, coughing, “Pansy, what the hell?” You grit, nudging her hard.

The blond was clearly taken by surprise, his reaction darkening, “What are you talking about?”

“My apologies, boy-toy clearly wasn’t the best explanation. Y/N here has a crush.” She corrected herself, only heightening your embarrassment.

“Oh.”

“Yup!” She quipped, “Well, nice talking to you, but we should probably go.” Without another word, Pansy cut the conversation short, leading you away from the utterly disheartened Draco.

Once out of earshot, you began scolding her, “Are you trying to sabotage this?” You asked, eyes wide.

Laughing yet again, she explained, “I wasn’t sabotaging. If anything, I just helped put things in motion.”

“Huh?” You replied, unsure of Pansy’s twisted agenda.

“Just wait and see, L/N.”

---

The following day you avoided the Great Hall at all costs in spite of Pansy’s wishes. It felt like your heart was constantly up in your throat, choking you with worry.

You’ve heard from many classmates that Draco had been looking for you, asking around to find your whereabouts. By dinnertime, you felt starved, so you searched your room for any snacks you and Pansy had hidden.

Still hungry, you unwillingly left the Slytherin dorms and pulled on a different outfit in hopes that you could sneak off to Hogsmeade and grab a meal at the Three Broomsticks.

Finally outside, the cold air nipped your skin as you walked briskly away from campus. Halfway down the hill, you heard someone call out to you.

“Y/N!” Recognizing his voice, you kept walking, trying to hold off the talk for as long as possible.

The thudding of his feet against the grass grew louder as Draco ran to catch up with your brisk pace. “Y/N,” He called again.

This time you stopped dead in your tracks, but only to be thrown forward as the Slytherin knocked straight into your back. Without a trace of grace, you fell down the last of the hill, wincing as rocks hit your shoulder.

“Ow,” You complained, eyes shut tight.

“I am so sorry,” Draco apologized profusely, attempting to help you get back on your feet.

You ignored his outstretched hand, standing up awkwardly. “Hey, Draco.”

He surveyed you quickly, getting straight to the point, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.”

Sighing, you kept walking, “Moaning Myrtle said you stood her up last night, is this crush seriously bothering you that much?” He continued, matching your speed.

“It’s not bothering me!” Defensively crossing your arms, you refused eye contact.

Draco scoffed, “Then what is? You don’t have to be this bloody secretive, just tell me.”

Trying your hardest to remain calm, you came to a halt yet again. This time, you yanked Draco by the arm, stopping him with you.

“You!” You cried out, poking his chest with your index finger, “You are what’s bothering me!”

He almost looked offended, wondering what he had done wrong.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t even bloody think! I just can’t get your stupid charming smile out of my head, you big fa--”

“Woah, hold on.” Draco interrupted, slowly prying your hand away from him. “I thought Pansy said you fancied someone? What happened to that?”

At this point you could’ve screamed.

“You’re so blind, it hurts.” You responded, calmer, feeling a tension headache arising. “I fancy you, Draco Malfoy. No matter how extraordinarily irritating you may be.”

It took him a moment to fully absorb your last sentence, the gears in his head shifting visibly as his face contorted in thought. But once he finally did, Draco was like a child on Christmas morning. “You aren’t messing with me?” He asked, vulnerability striking you both.

“I’ve never been more serious.” You responded with confidence, ignoring the shaky hands that betrayed your facade.

“Oh thank Merlin,” He breathed, Draco’s arms immediately outstretched as he enveloped you in a warm hug. “I thought I’d never hear you say it.”

---

a/n #2: if i have somehow royally f’ed up the ending to this mini-series, i deeply apologize and i will willingly rewrite the ending if i need to LMAO. sorry for such a long wait, i completely forgot i had this in my drafts

requested tagging: @gwlvr @dracomalfoys-wh0re @macheregrace @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @sycathorn-slush

#draco x fem!reader #draco x slytherin!reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco fic #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x slytherin #draco x female reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco fluff #draco imagines #malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #hp related

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pebblysand · 3 years

Note

It’s me again! You gave such a thorough reply that I wanted to first say thank you and second elaborate on devastating and maybe also expound on why i love castles so much.

So honestly what i most appreciate in post-dh hp fanfics is the exploration of what happens after the war- particularly the trauma and healing process. I’ll be frank in that I’m probably projecting my own mental health issues but that’s neither here nor there.

Castles strikes me as particularly interesting and unique because it delves into Ginny’s trauma from the war as much as Harry’s. Very often in other post-dh fics we see that Ginny is the stable one, she is Harry’s anchor, they show her understanding and forgiving him without question. Which I understand and love but your fic sheds a new light on other possibilities. When I say devastating i mean the internal turmoil, the truth that recovery and healing and growth are agonizing processes. (This is me projecting again, that last three years have been A Lot). And i really appreciate that, personally and narratively. The ordeal of healing and healing alongside people you love and at the same time hurting and being hurt by those same people, and the harsh reality that none of this is linear is something that I just find so compelling in your writing.

Man that’s the most coherent I’ve been in a review in AGES - not just feral screaming. Needless to say, I am very very excited for your update and I will literally wait however long it takes, because you can’t rush genius.

Aw thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad this fic is resonating with you. This is going to be long, so buckle up under the cut.

Thanks again for what you've said, I truly appreciate it. Without blowing my own horn too much, I will say that castles does seem to "speak" in that way to a lot of people in terms of trauma and healing, which as a writer is immensely flattering. I think as authors, all we ever want to do (or at least all I've ever wanted to do) is to write things that are faithful to human emotions and human experiences (as Sally Rooney puts it, we want to write books about "people"). When we get that right that's honestly the most rewarding thing in the world.

To tell you the truth, though, I never really set out to write about that. To give you a little bit of backstory on Castles, it's a story that's been more of less brewing in my head since I was 14 years old, which is when DH came out. I remember sitting there at the end of it and even then I couldn't stop thinking about the 'what now?' question. Obviously there is the epilogue (and I will come back to that in a bit) but I always had a question mark drawn on the direct aftermath of the battle. I think most HP fans have their own little corner of obsession, right? Like, some people are obsessed with Marauders, some with Next-Gen, some with the Death Eater side of the fight. The Post-War world has always been mine.

I believe that the reason for that, as much as I hate to admit it, is that as humans, when something bad happens to us, we have a very easy way out: death. I'm obviously not trying to encourage anyone out here to kill themselves and if anyone who reads this is having thoughts along this line, please seek help, but the truth of the matter is that in the human experience, death is always a possibility. We could choose it, embrace it, and end our own suffering. Yet, like Harry at the end of DH, most of us don't. For the most part, we tend to hang onto to life. Because, truth be told, it's full and wonderful and deserves to be lived, despite the fact that, objectively speaking, it's bloody hard. And, as a writer, that's the space I want to be in. I want to understand and describe why we make that choice, every day, to get up and carry on, rather than giving up. I find that absolutely fascinating. I'm not a writer for the sensational stuff (some people do that much better than me), I want to write the quiet and the silence and the dirt and the blood that's dried and the grief and the powering through and the not giving up. To me, choosing life despite trauma is the epitome of bravery which, as a Gryffindor, is probably the character trait I value most in people.

Obviously, from a narrative perspective, this interest of mine lands itself to a post-war exploration very well. There's an old interview of JKR where she says she insisted on the epilogue being included at the end of book seven (even though she knew it was going to piss people off) because she wanted to show that they made it through. That, as I put it in Castles, 'They lived, for better or for worse.' And, in that interview, she talks more specifically about soldiers and PTSD, and says that 'getting over that kind of war, that's the hard part.' I remember watching that interview and thinking: yes, exactly. And, that's the thing about the epilogue. It's not so much about the content of it, the who-ends-up-with-who rather than the symbolism of it. It's not only about the fact that they fought in a war and won it, it's about the fact that they fought another war afterwards, a quiet one with the world they were trying to rebuild, along with rebuilding themselves, and they won that one, too. It's about showing that bravery isn't always this sparkling, flashy thing. It's also overcoming the silences and the grief and the struggles and making it to the other side.

And, so, yeah, I suppose that leads me to write about trauma. Although that isn't the initial endeavour, it's certainly part of it. And as you pointed out yourself, that road is full of ups and downs because "living" is fucking fantastic, but it's also fucking hard. I find the phrasing you used about Ginny typically being the "stable" one in other fics particularly interesting. I'd never thought about it that way, but I see what you mean. And, the thing with Castles is: none of them (and I mean H & G but also Ron, Hermione - hell even Kingsley) are particularly stable or unstable. To me, they just are. They exist and they live and they try to put one foot in front of the next the best way they can, with very little sense of plan or strategy. They sort of make do, which to me is the only realistic way I can envision the post-war world. They're kids who've just lived through the apocalypse. It's unrealistic to me that any of them would hold all of the answers, or even come close to having their shit together.

To me, it was and is very important to show all sides of that spectrum. Although they likely all wouldn't have suffered from acute PTSD, they would certainly all have struggled with something. Not everyone deals with everything the same way, and I want to show feelings of guilt, and bravery, and confusion, and fear, and determination which are all as unique as the individuals who experience them. I also wanted to show that not everything has a clear-cut explanation for it. For example, when Ginny breaks up with Harry in chap3, she says some truly horrible things. But, what she does say is also the one percent of everything that lies under the surface. She says she breaks up with him for Reason A but it's actually Reason A. 1, A.2, B, C, D, etc. Because, truth be told, that is what happens in life. People rarely give you a neat little list of all the reasons they do something, especially if, again, they've just lived through something huge. Often, you only truly find out the real reasons for people's actions months later, and often, that's because they themselves don't even know, haven't made sense of it in their heads. So, of course, I think it's incredibly important to write all of them as going through something, because to me anything else would be deeply unrealistic.

And, truth be told, I've thought about this extensively every time I've re-read the books in the past. Throughout the years, I started countless drafts on this topic, which I often gave up and left unfinished, until now. I think what motivated me this time is honestly the pandemic. I re-read the books during the first lockdown, then set out to find The Perfect Fanfiction which would deal with all of that. I'd never been in the Potter fandom before and thought to myself: 'there's like a million fics in that fandom, someone must have written this.' And, to this day, I still sort of believe that? Like, I've had a lot of comments in the past year telling me that they like or dislike Castles because it has a unique "tone" and a unique "mood" as well as themes but I'm always like "really? someone else must have written this," haha. But, despite spending a lot of time looking, I never found it so I suppose that's when I decided to write it, haha.

And, here we are, lol.

#am i trying to procrastinate writing by giving long answers?#maybe?

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willow-salix · 3 years

Text

Fluffember prompt : Fond (vaguely, I'm sorry, you get what you get and you will like it)

Day 8 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

I can’t have been the only one to notice it, I really can’t, because it was just so out of character for the big guy that it had taken me a few days to realise that anything was going on at all. I must be losing my touch, usually I have a kind of sixth sense for these guys, that's why I’m their emotional support witch, I’m the one that keeps an eye on them, forces them to sleep when they need to and makes sure they eat.

“Hey,” I said in greeting, coming over to the desk and settling my butt on the corner. That’s how you get Jeff’s attention, you put yourself right in his eyeline and you don’t leave until he notices you.

“Hey yourself,” his eyes flickered to where I was sitting with one butt cheek on his paperwork, but he was too polite to say anything about it so he left me where I was.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead,” he actually took his glasses off and put them down before he looked up at me, showing he was paying full attention.

“Have you noticed that something is a bit off with Virgil?”

“No, I…” he trailed off, pausing as he thought about it.

“He’s seeming a bit grumpy, like his usual morning bear with a sore head is extending further into the day than usual. I mean, we all know not to approach before he’s had his morning bucket of coffee, but this is a bit extreme, even for him.”

“Now that you mention it, he has seemed a little on edge.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement, he actually growled this morning when his toast took too long to pop up.”

“Well, yes, that is a bit unusual.”

“What can I do to help him?”

“He’s always happy when he is doing something, that’s why he hardly ever sits around,” Jeff told me. “He’s like John, he likes to stay busy.”

“What can we do then, find him something to do?”

“That would be my suggestion, yes.”

“Do you have a suggestion for something I can do with him, too?”

“Unfortunately not.”

I nodded, my mind whirling until I hit upon the most obvious solution. “I’ll ask John.”

“Good plan,” Jeff agreed, sliding his glasses back on, a sure sign that he was dismissing you in the most polite way. I took the hint and hopped off the desk and toddled off to find the hubby.

“Babe?” I dropped down on the stool next to him at the kitchen table.

“Hm?” he answered, rather noncommittally, I thought.

“Is there anything that I can do with Virgil?”

He paused in his typing to look at me.

“In what way? What’s the purpose?”

“Just to give him something to do, your dad said that he needs to be kept busy.”

John paused for a second, thinking, then pulled up something on his holotab. “The last time the mail was picked up was more than two weeks ago, you could go with him to do that,” he suggested. “There should be enough by now to be worth the trip. I think Gordon has ordered a few bits and I know you have, plus we almost always have fan mail.”

“That could work, my candle wax should have arrived by now, too.”

“Have fun...” he paused to watch Gordon slide into the room, headphones on, butt shimmying as he danced to the fridge. “Please take him with you.”

“For you, anything,” I promised, dropping a kiss on his nose. “Yo! Squidward, with me!”

Next up, drafting the chonk.

***

Virgil had been mostly back to his usual placid self on the flight to the mainland, obviously happy to have an excuse, no matter how flimsy it was, to take his ‘bird out to stretch her wings. As with all of the boys he was never as content as when he was spending time with his lady. Honestly anyone that gets with a Tracy needs to know from the start that they will be sharing their man with another and she’ll be bigger and prettier than you, sorry, just spitting straight facts.

Gordon assembled the cargo pod and, with Virgil driving it, Gordon and I jumped in the back ready to load up. Apparently the mail room had banned the use of the mechanical arm because there had been an incident with a pile of boxes that had caused an avalanche and now it had to be done by hand.

Gordon tossed everything in to me where I was in charge of arranging it all carefully so nothing would get squished. It was quite a job, there were a lot of packages, mostly fan mail I have to say, we aren't that addicted to shopping that we could fill the pod cage that much. Some of them were very heavy too, one of which, a large packing crate that was addressed to Virgil needed both of us to lift it and slide it into the back.

Eventually we were done and ready to head out. Now, I can’t be sure when it actually started, but I’d noticed that the patience of the chonky one had started wearing thin, he was sounding grumpier by the second, his little grunts of acknowledgement at our endless chatter now turning into something vaguely growl like.

“What’s with him?” I whispered to Gordon. He glanced at his brother then leaned in conspiritally to answer me.

“It’s his coffee.”

I frowned, not understanding. He didn’t have any coffee to be worried about. “I might need an explanation for that, love.”

“Virgil loves his coffee,” Gordon patiently explained, rather like he was telling a dog to sit.

“I’m aware.”

“The fancier the better,” he continued.

I lifted an eyebrow at that. Virgil, from what I’d seen, was a pretty straight coffee drinker. He’d take it however it came as long as it was large, hot and strong enough to wake the dead, which is what he was first thing in the morning. I barely ever saw him add milk or creamer, let alone anything fancy. It just did not compute.

“It’s our secret, but I’d be very surprised if John doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?” I was sooo curious now. How dare they keep secrets from me? I have no life at the moment, I need to live vicariously through them all, I need to know the details, I need to feel special.

“That it’s online, have you never seen the tag?”

“What tag?” Why did I feel like we were actually having two different conversations?

He pulled out his phone and typed something in, turning to show me the screen. The tag said #podspotter and under it was a number of pictures that had obviously been taken at various times in a variety of places but that was the only normal thing about them.

In every one of them there was Virgil on his own or with Gordon and they were either in a pod vehicle, standing beside it or it was on its own. Again, not too strange until you looked closer.

In one the mole was stopped in a drive through Starbucks, in another an elevator car was parked beside a truck in a car park, in another the Helipod was hovering just in shot while Virgil walked towards it with a coffee cup in each hand. The more he scrolled the more there were.

“The fans turned it into a game, which country will the pod be in next.”

“How does no one else know about this?” I asked.

“Know about what?” Virgil asked from behind us, making us both jump.

“Your coffee addiction,” Gordon supplied, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“It’s not an addiction,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks tinged a little pink. “I just have a fondness for good coffee, and if we’re already out or on our way back to the island why not stop off and get one?”

Why not indeed. I supposed he had a point, I mean, most people think nothing of grabbing a cup on the way to and from work, or at lunch or even just when out on a shopping trip or before a journey, why should he be any different.

“Is that why you’ve been grumpy?” I asked.

“Grumpy? I’m never grumpy!”

“Yeah, you are,” Gordon laughed.

“Am not!”

“You are,” I agreed.

“That is insulting and untrue,” he sniffed, crossing his arms, his eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. We didn't say anything, we just looked at him and waited.

“OK, so maybe I’ve been a little tense,” he admitted with a sigh. There it was, the dawning of truth.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offered. The desire to keep my boys happy was one of the main reasons I’d agreed to come back for another round of island grounding. They did so much for the world and often had to adjust their lives to fit in with helping others, they couldn’t do the ‘normal’ things that we take for granted, like jumping in the car and grabbing a loaf of bread or something for dinner without having to plan it days in advance, buy in bulk or have to abandon the trip at a moment’s notice if a call came in. It wasn’t something I really thought about, but it was times like these that brought it home a little bit.

“Not really,” he shrugged. “They are just a little treat thing. Something that feels like a reward at the end of a tough rescue. It’s not something that we do every time, but Squid here might get a brownie or something and I’ll get my coffee and we’ll take five minutes to relax a little before we go home or head out again. You need that time, those little moments of calm and normalcy when you do a job like ours.”

The look on his face couldn’t be described as anything else but pining, like a dog who had lost his favourite toy or was waiting for its owner to come home.

“Shall we grab one now?” I asked, taking pity on him. “I could go for a latte or a hot chocolate.” The outside temperature was a little cold after the island and we’d been in the mail warehouse for over an hour, which had contributed to putting a chill in my bones. The boys were even more sensitive to temperature changes than I was, I’m English, I’m used to damp, chilly weather almost all the time, but that didn’t mean we wouldn't all benefit from a little something to warm us up.

“There’s a place near here that does an amazing white chocolate latte,” he mused, seeming to perk up a little. “You could have the best of both then.”

“Sounds perfect,” I nodded.

“Let’s load this lot up in Two and then we can have a little lunch maybe?” he suggested as an afterthought. One thing I’ve noticed about Virgil is that he never liked to cause a fuss, he didn’t like to put people out or really ask for anything for himself. It was people like him that we’re content to chill in the background until they were needed or spoken to. People always thought that John was the quiet one, but I’d say that he and Virgil were pretty much equal when it came to attention grabbing.

Virgil was more confident and comfortable than John in social situations, he was so laid back and easy going that you knew you could take him anywhere and he’d have a great time. He’d join in with any conversation and would make friends anywhere he went. If he was comfortable and with people that he knew well he’d happily join in with the prank pulling and brother teasing, but his inbuilt need to be the peacemaker and comforter meant that he rarely pushed his way into a situation without an invitation. He was always too worried about annoying someone, hurting their feelings or taking away their chance to talk. He often needed a little encouragement to take charge and decide what to do.

“Food is the best idea you’ve had in the last week,” Gordon agreed.

“You always think food is a good idea,” Virgil laughed as he climbed back into the drivers seat, his bad mood evaporating now that his precious was almost in his grasp.

***

“So, how’d it go?” John asked when we got back. Seeing my arms full he jumped up to help, relieving me of some of my packages, carrying them to the bedroom for me when I started heading in that direction.

“It was fine, we stopped off for food.”

“Food?”

“I got you a grilled chicken sub, extra lettuce and pickles,” I lifted the brown paper bag I carried as proof.

“This is why I married you,” he grinned, dropping our post on the bed and reaching for the bag.

“Well, I must say I had hoped it would be for something a little more meaningful and important than food, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“There are other reasons,” he assured me, sitting down on the edge of the end to unwrap his sandwich. “Did you find out why Virgil was grumpy?”

“Yep,” I flopped down in the squishy reading chair that lived under the window. “Caffeine withdrawal.”

John paused in his chewing, obviously trying to work out how that could be possible since Virgil seemed to have a mug surgically attached to his hand most hours of the day, then the expression cleared, comprehension dawning.

“His post rescue speciality coffees,” he nodded, taking another bite.

“Wait, you know about them? Why did you never tell me?”

“Of course I know. I monitor all the crafts whenever they are off island, for whatever reason that is, it wouldn’t do for something to happen to one of them and for us to not have an accurate and up to date last location. I know when they stop off and I see where they go. Plus EOS found the tag over a year ago.”

“Yet you’ve never said anything?”

He shrugged. “Why would I? He’s always had a fondness for them. It started in university, he said there was something comforting about having a warm drink to sip while he was studying or in class. He didn’t drink them for the caffeine hit, it was just to keep him warm and give him something familiar. I’m not surprised he still does it.”

I shook my head, utterly lost for words. It never ceased to amaze me, the hidden depths that these boys possessed. I loved the way that they all either consciously chose not to mention things like this or just didn’t think to, but it was there all the same, a silent support and respect for each other.

“OH MY GOD, THIS IS AMAZING!”

We both jumped, hearing Virgil’s excited bellow floating up from the lounge. We exchanged a look, then both took off to see what all the fuss was about.

We found him sitting in front of the open crate, straw and packing materials surrounding him on the floor. He had a bottle of syrup in each hand and a large jar of coffee beans on his lap. I glanced in the crate, seeing it full to bursting with more syrups, probably six other types of beans, bags of chocolate drops, tiny marshmallows, stirring sticks, sprinkles and right on top a recipe book.

“We have the best fans in the world! I’m gonna have so much fun with this.”

#virgil tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #jeff tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds in isolation #isolation island

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closer-stars · 4 years

Text

Good Thing - Mingi (Epilogue)

Member: Mingi Genre: Fluff Requested: Sort of? Word Count: ~2k Content: Just Y/N and Mingi in the work life. Good vibes. Note: Yay an epilogue as requested by some of you haha. I didn’t really think i’d be making one but here we are.

Music plays from the speakers in a low lull. The male leans forward as he listens closely to what he and his team have been making over the past few days. So far, they’ve been able to create a handful of rough drafts of what the artist wants, though so far none of them have made Mingi think that it could be it. Two knocks on the door and he lowers the volume, and presses pause on the software. “Yeah?” He calls out, the editing software still present on the screen.

“Can I come in?”

He turns in his chair, relieved to hear your voice come from the door. He’s greeted by your smile. He also notes that you were in your dance attire, which could only mean you were teaching a routine later on. He pulls another chair next to him, patting the empty seat. “Thank god it’s you. If it was anyone from my team, I would’ve lost it.” He jokes, much to your amusement. As you settle yourself down next to him, he steals a kiss on your cheek, getting a whiff of his favorite perfume on you.

Truth be told, both of you didn’t officially become together until a year or two later. Post graduation blues, the stress of looking for a job and overall just trying to get to know the other better being just some of the things that hindered the two of you from doing so. Fortunately for the two of you, it worked out in the end. Even better is that both of you are working under the same company.

Your eyes quickly catch the exhaustion under his eyes, hours of staring at the computer over the smallest beats really did a number on him. You also note his outfit, the only time he’s in a button up is when he’s expecting guests, which could be the artists based on the name of the file. “I brought some food cause we both know you forget to eat now.” You tease lightheartedly. Pork belly and various other side dishes from his favorite restaurant down the street. “I wasn’t able to get your favorite noodles since they ran out for the day.” You explain as you set the bag of food to the side, away from all the technology in front of you.

“Now it’s you taking care of me? Oh how the tables have turned.” Mingi muses, eyeing the food. He pushes himself away from his work table, settling himself in front of the food you bought. “Eat with me?” He knows you can’t say no to that. Even if you now lived together, schedules were so hectic nowadays that the only times both of you could bond were over a meal or in bed. It was great that both of you were under the same company but not so much that both of you could barely see each other unless it was for a meal. “Love, you bought food that’s more than enough for three people.” He notes as he brings each container out of the bag.

You laugh, dragging the wheeled chair towards where he is to help him out in setting up the meal. “That’s the point, love. You eat more than I can and it’s also to make sure you don’t eat less than usual while working.” You learned early in your relationship that he has a tendency to eat less when he’s riding the creative high. You wondered if he got this habit from his colleague, Hongjoong.

Too elated at the sight of his favorites, he steals another kiss, this time on your lips. He was always the more physically affectionate one between the two of you. “I love you.” He says, grateful for this.

You return the kiss before he’s out of reach. “Anything for you. Now eat and tell me how your work has been.”

That’s what happens between the two of you for the next three hours: eating and discussing his work, your work, the artists in the company, the auditionees who look promising, and everything under the sun. “There’s this one trainee who reminds me a lot of you. I’m hoping you get to meet them soon.” You say, tone a little soft and endeared. The young trainee’s vigor reminds you so much of Mingi, his tendency to cheer for his fellow trainees with pats on the back and head pats. Your tone makes Mingi crack up.

“Wait until they meet someone like you.” He teases and before you could shoot a retort at him, he manages to shoot a small pork belly wrap in your mouth. “Three points.” He hums, delighted to take you by surprise like old times. You glower at him as you chew through the food. As you clean up the last of your meal, a few knocks could be heard. While you return you attention to cleaning up the place, Mingi asks who’s by the door.

In comes Hongjoong who manages to smell the pork. “You guys ate without me?” He asks with a pout. It’s crazy how this male managed to make the trainees cower in fear when he’s in front of you whining over food. He’s also partly why you’ve toned down the intimidation factor in you.

His whines make your lover laugh. “Yeah, sorry, hHung. Maybe later for dinner, we can catch a meal together with Seonghwa.” Seonghwa teaches the trainees dance with you, but is in charge as well of the auditionees when he has time. He’s also the reason why you’ve softened up.

“If I finish teaching the trainees early, I can grab coffee for the four of us.” You offer. In two hours, you would be teaching the trainees a piece for their monthly evaluations. Hongjoong notices that you were already by the door.

“Leaving so soon?” He asks and you catch Mingi pouting at you from behind Hongjoong.

You gesture to the door. “I mean, you guys are expecting someone soon. Also don’t you guys have stuff to do now?” It’s not that you wanted to leave immediately, but being part of an industry that relies on creativity, you know firsthand that being distracted can be stressful down the line.

The older man shakes his head. “It’s fine. One, Mingi here would love to have you here a little longer.” He starts, with a gesture to the man behind him. His statement making Mingi’s ears burn bright red. “Two, we want your thoughts on this track. It’s you who’s making the choreography as well.”

As you listen to his explanation, your gaze goes to your lover who was doing his best to avoid your gaze. Still shy as ever. “Sure thing, Hongjoong.” You set the bag by a corner then approach the two, sitting next to Mingi as they start catching you up to date with the progress of one of the finalized songs. As you settle into your seat once more, it’s become a habit that your knees would touch his. No matter what the two of you are doing, if the two of you are next to each other, your knees would graze the other’s. They play the song and you keep quiet, deep in your thoughts. For the next hour, the three of you discuss overlooked details and well thought of verses until everything has become up to standard to the three of you. A rarity since you often butt heads with Hongjoong. You look at the time: one hour until you teach. “I should get ready to teach the kids.” With that, you stand up and stretch your back for a few moments.

“Dinner?” Mingi asks as you set the chair away. You didn’t need him to expound. You know what he means by that. Instead of answering him explicitly, your lips graze lightly against his cheek, much to Hongjoong’s delight at the flustered expression on the male.

You wave goodbye to the two of them, making your way to the dance studio. The time you spent with Mingi giving you the energy you need to last through the next few hours with the trainees. You peek into the studio and you’re already greeted by the trainees helping each other on the piece and you can’t help but hope they make it big in the industry.

“Hey everyone! Should we get started?”

---

It’s already past midnight when the two of you arrive back at your apartment. Both of you dropping your bags in the living room, exhausted sighs and groans slipping from your lips. “I’ll get the shower ready.” Mingi says as he drags his tired legs to the bathroom. You get your used clothes into the washing machine, keeping a note to put them in the dryer when you wake up the following day.

The two of you spend the next few minutes in the shower, washing each other’s body carefully. You carefully knead out the knots on Mingi’s shoulders, a result of being hunched over the computer and instruments for hours at a time. He does the same to your neck as both of you let the hair conditioner set in. In the entire duration of your relationship, you’ve grown to have a habit of pressing a kiss on the base of the other’s neck after cleaning after them in the shower.

Before you know it, the two of you were buried under the blankets, legs tangled against each other. Words didn’t need to be exchanged at this point, both of you spent from today’s hectic schedule. Instead, both of you revel in the silence, taking this opportunity to gaze and study the features of your partner’s face. The way the eyelashes flutter as one tries to stay awake, hoping to catch the other fall asleep first, the way one’s lips shiver as they stifle a yawn, the gentle sigh of comfort of being in your lover’s arms in bed.

Even with the lights off, you could see just how much Mingi adored you, and you hoped he could see how you felt the same way if not more. You feel his cheek lean into your touch and you swear you could feel your heart soar at that moment.

You notice him drifting off to sleep and your lips graze against his eyelids, then lightly on his lips. “Sleep well, babe. You deserve the rest.” You whisper against his skin, snuggling a little closer to him before giving in to the comfort of slumber with him.

#ateez writings #my writings #ateez fanfiction #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez mingi #mingi scenarios #mingi fluff #ateez x reader #any edits to be done when i wake up

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confusednarcissistwrites · 4 years

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Hotsy Totsy Pt. 3 (T.C.)

ahhh the last bit of prewritten work!! thank GOD. reworking my own writing from a few years ago was killing me slowly (who tf let me write). next update will be all fresh 😎 hope you enjoyyyyy. things heating up quickly!

(sexual references)

“Man, this is… crazy,” Nick said, shaking his head. He held his tongue for a moment, his brow furrowed. He knew Timothée was already grasping desperately for something that appeared to be just out of his reach, so he needed to phrase his words carefully. “Look, Tim… she’s a married woman-”

“You think I don’t know that?” he retorted, a wild, grief-stricken look in his eyes. He fell into the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he shouldn’t be frustrated with his friend; it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know the full story.

Nick looked at him expectantly, sitting down on the edge of his bed; he sensed this was going to be a late night.

“We met at an audition for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the college.” Timothée stared at his hands and fidgeted a bit. “She was auditioning for Hermia and I for Lysander, as fate would have it. The connection was instant. Every moment after only confirmed what I’d known the moment I’d met her.” A sad smile graced his lips, melancholic memories of hushed conversations had backstage and through rehearsals. You glowed with life and vigor and enthusiasm; he was snared from day one. “Things quickly grew serious, and I planned to ask her to marry me. But then the draft order came.” His eyes were dark and his hands trembled a bit as he remembered the atrocities of war and the nightmares that still plagued him. He carried on, telling Nick about the day he saw your marriage announcement in the paper and how he, to this day, still believed he was in your heart, that if he could become affluent like her family he would be able to steal you away again. By the time he’d finished his sorry, he had slid to the floor, his back slumped against the door jam. “Before I left, she had promised me she was going to wait for me to return. We’d had our life together planned and names picked out for our future children; I had no reason not to believe her. A couple months at camp turned into two years, and I never heard a word from her. I think I knew then, but I refused to believe it. I kept her on my mind until it became a habit, a coping mechanism, still writing to her every moment I could.”

Nick listened intently to every word, learning every piece of his best friend’s life that had somehow been going on behind the scenes that he hadn’t caught on to; it sickened him a bit. How had he not seen the pain Timothée had been suffering this whole time?

Despite the tragic backstory, he wasn’t sure he could go along with his plan. Married is married. He’d been raised in a home with strong religious values and, though times were changing, he felt he shouldn’t act as an accessory to the two lovers finding their way back to each other.

Seeing his apprehension, Timothée spoke up again. “She doesn’t love him,” he stated earnestly. “She did what she had to so she could get the life she wanted, but she doesn’t love him.”

“How can you be sure?” Nick pressed.

Timothée paused, his eyes closing as if in prayer. “I just… know. I can feel it in my bones.”

Nick looked down at the floor, mulling it over in his mind for a few moments. He couldn’t find it in him to tell him no. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

***

Jordan sat on the vanity as you got dressed for the evening. You wore a rosy-pink, silk shift dress that came down to about mid-thigh with fringe along the hem. Your garters were nearly completely exposed, holding up your black fishnet stockings. You sat down in the chair in front of her, slipping on you Mary Janes and fiddling with the buckles.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she noticed, pulling the cigarette from between her lips and exhaling swirls of smoke as she spoke.

“Just thinkin’” you replied with a shrug, getting up to pick out some jewelry from the many ornate boxes perched on a shelf inside the armoire. Truth was you’d been off ever since your conversation with Nick the night before.

“That’s dangerous,” Jordan chuckled, slipping off of the desk and striding over to peer over your shoulder. She was in a much more revealing outfit for her performance that evening; a gold, glittering, bedazzled leotard with triangle cutouts right at her waist, thigh high stockings, and a black velvet choker resting against her throat that completed her ensemble.

“You figure he’s gonna be here tonight?”

You huffed, wanting to ignore her as you tried to pick out a set of pearls. “I dunno.”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “What's going on in that pretty head of yours, doll? And don’t say it’s nothing because you know I’m gonna keep buggin’ until you give it up, so you might as well just start,” she chided.

“I just-” you began, clearly flustered. “I’m going through some personal things, okay?”

Jordan went a bit wide-eyed at your snappy reply. “Fine, fine,” she submitted.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you adjusted the layered pearls that laid against your chest. Would he be there tonight? Noticeable circles were under your eyes, and you looked less than yourself. You patted on a bit more powder, adding some body glitter here and there.

“I’m sorry, J,” you sighed, shaking your head a bit. You turned to see her as she headed toward the door. “I’m just a little tense is all tonight. I’ll be fine soon.”

“I know you will, doll,” she smiled reassuringly, slipping out of your dressing room.

As she stepped out, the door to the manager's office at the end of the long, narrow hall cracked open. Lola, a new fan dancer from Chicago, came slinking out looking blatantly disheveled, red lips smeared and mascara lines down her cheeks. Jordan’s brow drew together as she tried to get a better look. She stepped behind a stage prop, her back to it and her neck craned to watch as the girl scurried away. Before the door closed completely, Jordan caught a glimpse of James sitting on his desk shirtless and his trousers hanging loose.

She quickly stood, ready to storm in there and demand an explanation, but that’s when she saw you standing in front of your dressing room looking shell-shocked. Your entire body was tense and your face white as a sheet. She hurried over to you, pulling you back into the dressing room and closing the door to avoid making a big scene. She had no idea what to say, her mouth open as she grasped for words.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, your eyes wide and quickly welling up with tears. The fear coiled in your stomach tightened around your guts, your subconscious hissing cruel “I told you so”s. You shook your head almost violently, expelling them. Short gasps left your parted lips as your chest refused to let your lungs expand.

“Y/N, you need to breathe, love. Come on, in and out,” Jordan quaked, gripping your hands tightly in her own.

You watched her with your eyes that burned from unshed tears, shakily following her breathing she modeled for you. Your chest heaved, and your mind fought hard to clear itself from all the horrible conclusions the other part of you wanted to jump to.

Eventually, she managed to calm you down, but your hands continued to tremble. Jordan looked over you worriedly, feeling like she didn’t know what to do for the first time in awhile.

“I’m- I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” you shuddered, pulling away to clean yourself up in the mirror.

Jordan sat looking a bit dumbfounded. “What?” she asked, unsure she’d heard you correctly.

“I’m sure it wasn’t what it looked like.” Even you could hear the slightly hysterical edge to your voice.

“Y/N-“

“No,” you interrupted in a clipped tone. “This will never leave this room.”

While a woman confronting her husband wasn’t something that happened then, Jordan had never had any of it. She also never had believed you to be a woman to be pushed around, and normally you weren’t. Your lifestyle wasn’t one of a typical domestic wife, and, being an educated woman, you’d taken your fair share of guff from conservative men. Yet, you’d never been one for confrontation, especially in your current emotional state.

Jordan shook her head in disbelief. “Y/N, he has no excuse for-”

“If you are my friend,” you choked, “you will pretend nothing happened.” Your voice was broken, but unyielding.

Her face softened slightly, and she stepped back, her hand on the doorknob as she shook her head. “You are upset and don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll see you after the show,” she replied, leaving and closing the door gently behind her.

Nausea washed over you and you bolted for the bin, the contents of your stomach evacuating unceremoniously. Your whole body heaved as you were sick repeatedly, the brief glimpse of your disarranged husband playing over and over in your mind. Denial was a hell of a drug, but your body was beginning to reject it. A quick knock at your door informed you that you were expected on stage in ten. You quickly began to clean yourself up, knowing that once you left that room, you were Daisy: the beautiful, the talented, the flawless. Hotsy Totsy would never know you as anything different if you had any say.

***

“I need a drink,” Nick grunted, hoisting himself from the desk chair he’d been sitting for the past hour, writing intensively.

Timothée hung his coat up on the hook and dropped his briefcase carelessly, just glad to be home. “I’ll pull something down,” he replied, heading over to the liquor cabinet.

“No, no, Tim. Don’t be a bluenose. I want to go out. I could go put in word with Cousin...” He raised his brows, knowing how to convince Timothée into doing what he wanted tonight.

He turned to him disdainfully. “Nick, I’m pretty tired. I don’t think I can handle that all tonight..”

“We are going. Go get dressed,” he insisted, grabbing Timothée by the shoulders and turning him to go upstairs to change.

He huffed but complied anyways. Subconsciously, he was eager to see you again, no matter how many nerves and feelings it stirred up inside of him. He changed into more casual wear: slacks, a white button up cuffed up to his elbows, and his favorite suspenders.He peered into the mirror, mussing his hair a bit before hurrying downstairs.

Nick was in similar attire, but with a striped shirt and a bowtie. “You ready, man?” he asked, slapping a newsboy cap on his head.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go before I change my mind,” he chuckled.

***

The high-end club was busy and bustling as always that Friday night. Cigarette smoke plumes hung heavy in the hot air, and every person had the Devil’s brew gripped tightly in their fists. A swing group played on the stage while a small group danced the Charleston below them. Timothée couldn’t help but smile as they came in: it really was soothing to his soul to be in such a carefree setting filled with so much life.

As the band’s song came to a close, an announcer came bouncing out and up to the mic. “Ladies and gents, please put your hands together for the lovely and exotic Ladies of Godiva!”

A flock of feathers came shuffling out onto the stage, three pairs of feminine legs peeking from below the large fans. The band began to play a soft and slow ballad beat. One by one, the women began to reveal themselves from behind their ivory plumes, but only in teasing glimpses that fell in time with the music. Eventually, three, jaw-dropping, dark haired women stood on the stage. Their fans were discarded to the floor to reveal bejewelled, scanty bodysuits and long, stocking-covered legs. They all huddled around the microphone and hummed sweet harmonies along with the saxophones and trumpets. Both Timothée and Nick, and every other man in the joint, were held captive. However, it was Nick who was truly in awe. In fact, he was particularly enamored as he took in the sight of the daring girl he’d met a few days before looking absolutely sinful on stage.

Timothée caught him gaping and planted his elbow between his ribs with a smirk. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, dude,” he snickered, leading him over to the bar.

Meanwhile, you stood backstage listening to Jordan and her girls, feeling guilty for snapping at her earlier. James brushed by you, catching your hand and giving you a wink on his way by, on his way to do god knows what with god knows who. He didn’t even notice when your hand quickly pulled out of his as though it were a hot flame. You wanted everything to be okay, but it was still too fresh in your brain. Before you knew it, Jordan was brushing past you with the other girls, giving you a soft smile. You smiled back, feeling a bit of relief that she wasn’t too upset with you for your outburst.

“Next up, our Lady of the Night: Miss Daisy!”

You quickly slipped into your role, a pout on your lips as you strutted on stage. The feeling of hungry eyes didn’t even phase you anymore. However, your heartbeat quickened slightly as you imagined one certain pair of eyes. You pushed that to the back of your mind and focused on the feelings bubbling in your chest. A thought came to you suddenly, and you turned on your heel to bend down to whisper into the drummer’s ear. He then, in turn, murmured down to the rest of the band while you returned to the mic. “Good evening, how is everyone doing so far? Everyone have a drink?” Your voice was low and sexy, the crowd curled into the palm of your hand as they cheered and whistled for you. “Well, I have a little something special I think you all are gonna like tonight alright?” You looked to the drummer, and he gave you a nod of confirmation that you returned.

Timothée leaned against a wall in a more secluded part of the club, eating up the swagger that poured off of you. His imaginings of what you’d become after all those years had far from given you justice. You were not at all shy; you never had been, but seeing you right where you had told him you wanted to be made him bubble with contagious pride. His eyes widened when you growled out the first note over the nearly silent club. Once everyone recognized the tune, cheers and hollars joined your voice, many girls hopping up and pulling their dates over to dance. All he could see was you.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog snoopin’ round the door..” Your body rocked to the percussive beat, your face scrunched up in emotion. “You told me you was high class, but I can see through that..”

You dug up the rage bubbling in you and growled it into the microphone, feeding off of the audience’s shouts and howls. Your hips snapped to the beat as you danced and sang your heart out.

Timothée watched you with a nearly predatory gaze. Hunger bubbled up in him; he was greedy and desperately wanted to pull you away from all the lustful men in the audience to be his and his alone. He wanted to feel you up against him again like the many escapades you two had had in college.

Your last note rang out over the crowd of cheers and catcalls, your chest heaving from not only the exertion of your performance, but also the emotions rushing around your mind. You stayed in character despite it all, but found your eyes searching the audience.

Suddenly, there he was, his eyes already on yours.

Timothée was deafened by his heartbeat in his ears as his eyes met yours. Somehow, he managed a small smile.

You quickly came to, realizing you were staring on stage. Your eyes flitted away, but you were clearly distracted as you waved and slipped off stage. You easily let Jordan pull you out and down the stairs and into the alley outside to get a little break. Everything felt like a blur.

Nick, who had been mingling around the club, watched as you two bolted outside; he knew this was his opportunity. He looked around for Timothée but couldn’t seem to spot him. He figured he was probably drinking somewhere and headed the direction you had left, weaving between the dancing bodies. He was met with a big man in a bowler hat blocking his path.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going punk?” he questioned, his thick New York accent making him almost unintelligible.

“My name is Nick Carraway. I’m a cousin of Y/N’s, Miss Daisy,” he explained, trying not to cringe at the brute’s horrid smell.

After a moment of contemplation, he stepped aside. “You best keep your hands off the ladies or I’ll bash your little head in, ya hear me?”

Nick nodded quickly, hurrying past him and out into the alley. Girls in skimpy feathers, jewels, velvet, and silk stood about in little groups, gossiping and sucking on cigarettes or cocktails. It was a lot of the young bachelor to have to take in, but eventually he spotted you. Girls shot him dirty looks and muttered things from “whatcha you lookin’ for? your ma?” and “who is this little peeping Tom!’ to “Hey, sugar. Wanna ride?” and many other crude things that made him blush hotly.

“Cousin Nicky? What are you doing back here?” you said, spotting the tall boy weaving through all the girls and looking incredibly uncomfortable. You heard Jordan laugh softly behind you, clearly amused by how flustered he was.

“Y/N! You were fantastic as always!” he smiled, giving you a small side hug. “You and Jordan were both uh, stunning! Yes, you were stunning.” He flushed, shaking his head as he stumbled over his words helplessly.

Both you and Jordan just laughed and thanked him. However, you could tell there was more to what he had to say.

“Anyways, Y/N. I wanted to ask you something, um, privately,” he stammered.

You gave Jordan a little look and she politely excused herself, brushing by Nick and making him blush again.

“Go ahead,” you ushered, curious as to what was so important.

“Well, I was hoping you’d join me for tea and luncheon tomorrow,” he said.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing a bit. Did he know? “And you needed to ask me this in confidentiality because..?”

“Oh well, I um, have a… male house guest currently. I wouldn’t want to start any sort of rumours or anything.” It was a lame cover up and you both knew it.

“Will this ‘house guest’ be joining us?” you asked, trying not to be too conspicuous.

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to just wait and see,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“Alright, Nicky. What time?”

#timothée chalamet series #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée fanfic #timothee chalamet series #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #1920s #hotsy totsy #confusednarcissistwrites

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stormhawksplanb · 3 years

Text

Plan B: A Storm Hawks Fanfic

Chapter 8

https://myhushhushdarling.tumblr.com/PlanB

(The link above is the master list of the Chapters, but you can also check out the 3planb for mobile users <3) I gave a big sigh as I followed Piper and Aerrow to the ship. Silently thanking the Ancient Mages of Atmosia that Aerrow didn't tell me to stay behind on the Terra. Instead, I got to listened in on their conversation.

"The Rex Guardians had called us up for a mission. The whole terra has been experiencing tremors at an unnatural rate."

Piper nodded at him, understanding more than I could.

"Terra Rex isn't sitting anywhere near the edge of a tectonic plate, so that's not a good sign. Do you think it's possible that this is where she was heading?"

"Yes."

My heart fluttered in my chest. I wasn't scared, but not exactly excited. Maybe this was my chance to prove to the Storm Hawks my worth. That I was more than capable of joining them on their mission to stop Ravess.

On our way to the cockpit all we could hear was the sounds of Crashing Boxes and clinking Metal. The three of us looked at each other nervously and rushed to open the door.

The scene that was playing out in front of us earned a quick giggle from both me and Piper.

Stork and Finn was currently chasing Raddar and Gear around the room. The two small furry friends were playing keep away with a crtustal. Soon enough they realized we had eventually walked in, and they froze in place. Piper was the first to break the ice.

"What's going on here you guys?"

Stork stood up straight, clearing his throat. Acting like nothing happened.

"Uh- Nothing just... You know..."

"Isn't that Nova's... Nova Crystal?"

Piper seemed just as dissapointed in the situation as I was. It's nice to know that she at least listened to me when I told them not to touch my Crystal.

Finn was quick to defend himself as all eyes landed on him.

"What!? It started to make this really weird ringing sound, then it started to hiss and I thought it was going to explode!"

Piper turned her head at me, concern in her eyes. I shook my head at them, and Quickly took the Crystal from Raddar.

"Well for starters no one here should be touching this crystal with bare hands. You're lucky I treat the Nova Crystal with a water bath to dampen the effects."

Piper's hand shot back into her chest as it started to glow again. Burning my hand in return.

"OW! DAMMIT!"

Doubling over to my knees, I held my heated hand to my stomach. The high pitched hissing got louder, and everyone watched as the crystal started slowly sinking through the floor.

After I adjusted the red gauntlet on my burned hand, metal prongs extended from the fingers. Acting like a claw that let me pick up the crystal. The hissing seizing.

"Like I said... Shouldn't be touched with bare hands..."

After that everyone just kind of looked at me in bewilderment. Piper seemed the most astounded as she kept her eyes glued on the crystal.

"I didn't know the crystal could do that. I thought all it did was make clouds of colorful mist!"

I chortled at her.

"Actually, the Nova Crystal had a lot of similar properties of Leech Crystals. It developed on my Home terra, Argonia-"

I took a quick break in my explanation to store the Crystal back in its metal box.

"For a few hundred years no one knew it even existed. It was my own family line that discovered it, and ho dangerous it could be. The day they did was the day they decided to join the rest of Atmosia, and take on a Sky Knight. All while keeping knowledge of the Nova Crystal a secret."

Piper nodded at me, seemingly satisfied. Meanwhile Finn was scratching his head.

"So you really are a Sky Knight then?"

Stork scoffed at him.

"Wait, your telling me none of you realized it yet? The Nova Crystal? Her name being 'Nova'. The Name of her home Terra being Argonia?"

Collectively they all shook their heads at stork. He rubbed his temple.

"Then that means no one on this ship ever heard of 'The Raving Vultures'?"

I was impressed that Stork figured out that much.

But before anyone could ask any other questions the alert system on the ship went off, and Aerrow started to bark commands

"Stork, get the Condor moving again. Piper Identify where that alert is coming from!"

All at once they were at their stations. It was a stress signal coming from Terra Rex, only a few Klicks away from where we were.

And as if on cue Ravess was there as well. Along with a couple of her battle ships. And honestly with the size of the Condor, I'd rather be on her battle ship if a dog fight broke out.

The communication system turned on, and Ravess' voice came out from the speakers.

"Attention Terra Rex, and it's soon to be defeated Rex Guardians, Your Terra has something of great importance to me. So If you follow my instructions to the 'T' I might let you live. If not, I will most certainly obliterate your pathetic little Terra..."

Instead of any sort of compliance from the Terra there was a retaliation. Cannons shot out from somewhere on the ground. And a small group of fleet ships (Battle ships that are smaller, but built for speed and design) came out from behind us. It seemed like there was gonna be a fight one way or another.

"Fine, prepare yourselves, and your terra for it's doom!"

Just like that the Condor jerked forward, and we started taking puck shots at their battle ship with our energy cannons (As if it was going to do anything). My heart raced in my chest, and I can't lie. Images of my nearing death flashed in front of me.

We weaved in and out of the crossfir, barely missing the onslaught ammunition. Soon enough I heard Aerrow yelling toward stork to "perform 'Plan B'. Despite the panic I felt, I was already awaiting instructions from him as he turned to look at me.

"And by the way Nova. You're Plan B- Let's go".

My throat went numb, but I followed him to the hanger regardless. When I reached the doors he was already seated on his skimmer, and pointed at Finn's ride.

"Don't worry about trashing it. We have plenty of spare parts for it-"

It was time to tell the truth.

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FLY!"

I covered my mouth just as quickly as I could. Aerrow seemed amused.

"I know..." Then he started up his skimmer and flew off. It took me a few seconds to realize what he just did to me. It was either fly, or stay behind on a rocky ship. Naturally I chose the WRONG option, and decided to fly.

Turning the key on Finn's ride, and taking lessons from my previous crash, I took off swerving from the landing strip.

As the ground below me was getting closer, I heard the familiar humming of Aerrow's Skimmer. Looking to my side I was met with a very entertained face. Aerrow was still actually flying, but yet falling beside me. That is until he flipped a switch on the dashboard of my current ride. I screeches as the wings unfolded, and caught a draft forcing the skimmer to fly horizontal.

From then on out it was relatively easy to maneuver. My only problem was when the storm hawks precious leader told me exactly what Plan B was.

"So you want to prove that your a sky knight, huh?"

I nodded at him, and he pointed at the lower entrance of the ship, and I watched as a handful of "Cyclonians" dropped out on their own skimmers.

"I'm going to sneak aboard the ship. And you're gonna distract the Cyclonians..."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, I figured your lack of experience riding a skimmer will make it harder for them to hit you. Good luck!"

I shook my head at him, hoping he'd change his mind. It was obvious he wasn't as he zipped past me and into the red ship.

Shaking off the growing fear I hit the throttle. I sped past in front of the group of enemies, successfully getting their attention.

I was being chased, and I was calculating the likelihood of my death. I felt my backpack shuffle around, and I saw gear crawl over my shoulder. Her claws digging in my shoulder as she tried to cling to me. We were going to need new gear if we plan on bobbing and weaving through the clouds like this more often.

Taking coverage in a thick and fluffy cumulus, I took out my Nova Crystal and attached it to the open space in my gauntlet. Then I took from gear a small, sanded down Blocking Crystal and equipped that into a deposit spot right above the Nova Crystal. The gauntlet came to life as the wired fingers reached out and locked themselves into the tips of the gauntlet rings. Giving me a different type of claw. After turning around the skimmer, I hit the throttle full force. Deciding to go head to head with the Talons.

I never had a dog fight before. And there was something about the current atmosphere, and the danger that made me feel almost free. My body felt warm against the wind, and I aimed my fingers at my opponents. My thumb was ready to pull the trigger attached to the gaunlet.

As soon as I pulled my thumb away the recoil from the energy blast jerked my whole arm back. I regained my senses in time to see the green ball of light collide, causing the guns on their skimmers to backfire, and explode. Before I knew it, the battle seemed to be heading in our favor.

"Gear, I need a reload!"

Like I said earlier, the Nova Crystal acts like a leech crystal. That means the smaller the fragment, the less shots it has. Sadly all I had on me was small shards of blocking crystals. Though it was more effective than I thought it would be.

My fighting continued as gear and I swindle down the supplies of ammo. Looking around me I could tell we were pushing back Ravess' forces, and I even watched one of her Battle ships fall from the sky. Soon enough we won the battle, and I was lead back onto the condor.

#storm hawks #stormhawks #planb

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kyloathing · 4 years

Text

Aching Soul

KYLO REN X READER GREAT GATSBY AU | CHAPTER 2 Tea & Thorns

warnings: swearing, ns/fw

words: 3.5k

Kylo wants any excuse to see you again, so he convinces Rey to bring you over for afternoon tea.

For three days Kylo told himself you were unattainable. Your heart was already promised to another. He wouldn’t get to kiss you the way he wanted. To touch you. To feel you.

Even so, you were all that plagued is mind.

For three long days, seventy-two agonizing hours, he had thought about taking Poe’s place. Keeping you all to himself.

What was he even saying? You had only had one conversation in the last almost two decades. He needed to see you again and he knew just who would orchestrate that for him.

“Hello?” Rey spoke, voice gritty from having been abruptly woken.

Kylo cleared his throat and immediately Rey knew who it was. Her eyes rolled yet somehow it was a palpable action on the other side of the phone. Opting to skip small talk, Kylo jumps right into his proposition. “How do you feel about lunch this afternoon?”

The line was silent and then a bit of shuffling was heard. “Kylo, it’s 7 AM.”

“I rise early.” Was the only explanation he gave. Truthfully, he couldn’t hold in his anticipation any longer. The faster he brown nosed Rey, the faster he could get to you.

She sighed, but ultimately relented. “Fine. As long as you never call me this early ever again.” The phone clinked down onto the cradle.

Just like that, Kylo and Rey were out on the highway on the sunny early Fall day. It was just warm enough to leave the top down on the Rolls Royce and the pair drove in comfortable silence, wind whipping past their faces. It wasn’t until the car was stopped at a stoplight did Rey speak up. “So...” Her mouth twists in thought, as if she were carefully plotting her next words. “When are you going back home to visit the family?”

Family. He could’ve scoffed at the word. Family loved each other. They loved him enough to ship him off to Oxford with his uncle. No calls, no letters. He was only home a week when he got summoned by the draft. That was the only time they seemed to care. It didn’t matter. By the time he was discharged, he had changed his name. He had become someone new.

“This whole Kylo Ren charade has to be getting old. How many of the people you surround yourself with even know your real name?” She asked.

It was just like Rey to say something like that. She was an orphaned teenage girl when Leia practically latched her onto her bosom. The only reason she had left the nest was to get one of those clerical jobs only women in the city could get. Rey was their prized child. They were proud of her. Of course she could boast their love. Of course she wanted to carry their name. Solo.

“I’m not that person anymore.”

The wind increased in volume as the car increased in speed. Silence once again crept up on them, but this time more tension filled. Luckily for them both, they were soon pulling up in the restaurants parking lot.

It was a swanky little place, often occupied by Kylo’s associates and other shady characters. The only reason he had picked the place was because the owners gave the people in the business a fifty percent discount and they made a damn good steak.

Food was ordered and they edged into that small talk Kylo hated. Rey told of her office gossip and the like. He feigned interest to the best of his ability.

“So really,” Rey asked between a bite of potato salad. “Why did you invite me out? You aren’t the ‘let’s get together and catch up’ type.”

He was very transparent and he hated it. Rey knew him too well. Probably all that time she spent with his mother.

“That girl from the party, you’re friends, yes? What do you know about her?”

For only a second Rey is puzzled. The night was admittedly a blur. There were so many people, so many names being passed around. Then, she remembered how you had droned on about your conversation with Kylo and how fascinating you thought he was. “What in particular?”

The question tripped him up. What was an articulate way to say any and everything? He wanted to know what designer you liked most. What perfume you wore. What he could do to make you happy.

“She’s engaged.” He says simply.

Rey hums in understanding. That’s what the hoopla was about. He’d taken interest in you, maybe even beyond friendship. What he didn’t know was Leia had often spoke of her disappointment in your moving. The woman had hoped once Kylo returned from his studies the two of you would be wed. Knowing this, against her better judgement she decides to give him the full details of your relationship. “They’re to be married soon. No date yet. Poe doesn’t want press storming the venue.”

Oh how Kylo couldn’t stand that pompous asshole. He’s just some hot shot pilot that’s fronting the new airplane manufacturing company, The Resistance. Snoke hated them because he feared if air travel became recreational, it would bite into business. Kylo hated him because he walked around and spoke like he owned the city.

“But — and this conversation does not leave this table, you understand? — Her husband steps out on her. She knows, of course. She won’t tell me who it is, but I’ve seen love letters addressed to him from a mysterious ‘F’. Maybe a Felicity? Francesca? Anyways, she’s alright with it. It was always a marriage to keep up appearances. They’d been together for a few years, it only made sense.” Rey explained.

He was stepping out on you? Why in the world would you stand for that? You deserved so so much better! He’d love you with all his heart, cherish you even. Why did that asshole have to place a ring on your finger first?

“What of it?” She could tell he was plotting something, but what exactly?

“I thought she was interesting. I’d like to have tea with her. Friday afternoon.” His question sounded more like a demand, as was his nature. The Kylo Ren didn’t ask for things. Rey was clearly wrestling with the idea in her mind. Unsure whether she should open up the door for him to reenter her life. “Rey, I pay your fucking rent! You won’t do one little fucking — “

“Calm down.” She cut him off before he could transition into a full temper tantrum. “We’ll be at your house at 3 PM.” He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Rey spoke again. “On the one condition that you’re completely honest with her.” Her voice lowers. “ None of this Kylo Ren bullshit. Use your real name.”

The truth? That terrified him. What if you didn’t feel the same about Ben Solo? Even worse, what if you shun him for lying to you? It was only a small lie. A one time lie. He would make it up. He —

“Alright.” He said in spite of his inner monologue.

Maybe we can finally make use of that porcelain tea set you own.”

The work week came and went and somehow the fear in the pit of his stomach hadn’t relented. That Friday afternoon reluctantly Snoke let him leave early because he expressed he had ‘prior engagements’.

So, here he was running around his home ensuring everything was in pristine condition for you. His wait staff had already prepared the tea cakes and laid them out on ornate doilies as well as polishing the tea set so one’s reflection could be seen.

He nearly jumped when he heard the gate buzz. He sat at the small circular mahogany table in the sun room and cleared his mind. All trace of worry washed from his face. He called for the sugar and cream to be brought in alongside the tea as the two women waltzed into the sun room, accompanied by a sweet older butler.

His eyes were immediately drawn to you. The shape of your jaw, down to the pearls that hung at your neck, down further to the peach ruffled tea dress you dawned, and finally resting on the simple brown heels you wore. Rey saw how closely he eyed you, but you were none the wiser.

“Oh, Mister Ren thank you so much for allowing Rey to bring me along for tea.” You smiled with delight. “Hopefully, I don’t just talk your ear off this meeting as well.”

Kylo smiled softly. “It’s wonderful to have you. Please, sit.” He moved quickly to pull out both your and Rey’s chair.

“Cream and sugar?”

Two full hours after your arrival and everyone was chatting and laughing. Even broody Kylo managed a chuckle here and there. However, Rey’s patience was growing thin. He had agreed to be truthful with you. Still, he had yet to explain his circumstances to you.

Rey kicked him under the table, which fills Kylo with rage. “My apologies.” She squinted at him, trying to convey her threat.

Kylo rubbed his sweaty palms on his slacks. Above all he just didn’t want to disappoint you. He downed the rest of his cup of tea, before lowly saying your name. Your eyes lit up as you took in his expression. He appeared as cool as ever. “I haven’t been — ”

He was cut off by one of his servant’s peeking their head in. “Miss Solo, phone for you.” Rey nods, and strides off toward the rotary phone in the next room over.

You seemed to entirely forget he had spoken before and marveled at the garden visible through the window to the left of the table. All bushes of blood red roses looked after meticulously. “You certainly keep a beautiful home Mister Ren.” You beamed.

He winced as you continued to address him with an honorific. It felt too impartial. He would tear up the entire garden of roses for you if it meant you’d call him darling like you used to when you were younger. When he was still Ben.

“Thank you.” A hint of a smile tugged at his plush lips, but nothing you’d notice without staring and you certainly couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. “I hope your fiancé has no problem with me keeping your company.”

Your head cocked to the side in confusion, as if you couldn’t fathom why your husband would be concerned. In an instant your smile was back, but much more forced this time. “Oh no, Poe is off gallivanting with some colleagues. He’s glad I’m getting out these days.” Colleagues. You knew exactly where he was. With his secret lover somewhere outside of town. Finn, you believed his name was. You were happy for him and didn’t want him to be forced to reveal his carefully guarded secret to an unforgiving, intolerant world. Nonetheless, knowing he would never love you left a pit in your stomach. You were a pretty thing meant to make him look full. Like an umbrella in a Mai Tai. Like flowers in a vase. Easily replaceable.

Kylo Ren was so beautiful. His messy, yet effortlessly beautiful shoulder length coal colored hair. Those honey brown pools in his eyes that you wish you had the gall to meet. The moles and freckles that dotted his skin were like constellations you desperately wanted to map. You wondered if he had any in spots you couldn’t see with this much clothing covering his body. More importantly, he held no binds to any woman, or man for that matter, and he was here. He was here and he felt so familiar.

“You seem to be awful interested in my husband.” You began, hoping to steer the conversation away from Poe and bait Kylo into spilling about his romantic life. “You have a lady, Mister Ren?” You batted your eyelashes and leaned across the table, appearing far more interested now.

He couldn’t help but scoff at your words. Women threw themselves at him. Sure he may have entertained a few with drinks and sweet talk, maybe even gave them some late night loving, but nothing had ever gotten farther than that. “Haven’t had the pleasure of meeting someone as sweet as yourself.” He modestly flirted, his ears becoming dotted with color. “And Kylo is just fine, doll.”

You nodded eagerly, letting his name dance along your tongue to test it. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything further. At least it seemed you didn’t take offense to his comment.

Then, Rey was walking back into the room. She sighed loudly, to draw both of your attention and began to gather her coat. “My boss needs me at work. Someone misfiled something or other and now I have to dig them out of their mess.” She pushed a few messy brown hairs back into place, expecting you to stand and join her.

“Kylo can drive me home, right?” You had seen the black Rolls Royce out front. Might as well put it to good use, right.

Rey shook her head. “Come on, we don’t want to impose on Kylo.”

However, he quickly interjected. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind having some more time for conversation.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed at him for a long while, but once she saw your pleading eyes she sighed in defeat. “If that’s what you would like to do. Call me when you get home, then.” You nodded. After goodbye hugs were given, Rey was out the door.

“Would you mind if we walked out to the garden? The roses are positively divine and I’d love to see them up close.”

Anything for you, was his immediate thought. Instead, he was nodded and standing to usher you beyond the sun room to the grand patio doors. Light poured in through the glass panes and gave a delicate warmth to your skin. You glanced over at Kylo, watching as the sun caught his beautiful brown eyes making the brown and green flecks more obvious. As he swung the patio door open, the gust of outside air had you breathing deep.

You rushed over towards the red roses you had admired from the other side of the window, bending over to take a whiff. Your hand darted out to pick one, only to make you jump back and cry out in pain. A thorn had pricked your thumb.

“Oh!” He was rushing to your side and taking your hand to inspect. It wasn’t an injury worth noting, but it had his heart racing nonetheless. “I should have warned you of the thorns.”

You shook your head. “It’s alright.” His hand was still holding yours and neither of you had any intention of breaking away.

Guilt was once again compressing his lungs while he looked over your face once more. He needed to tell you the truth. Deciding to make his move, he breathed your name out and the dreamy look in your eyes dissipated.

Your shoulders slouched as worry crept onto your sweet smiling face. He couldn’t stand it.

“When I asked if we had met before, I already knew the answer.” His words seemed to catch in his throat. It was awkward explaining that everything about yourself you’ve mentioned thus far is a lie. He just didn’t want to hurt you. “We did meet. Nearly two decades ago. Then, you knew me as Ben.” He surveyed your face for a response, but your expression gave no indication of your thoughts. “I guess, I’m still Ben. I don’t know. Things just aren’t the same.” He began to hurriedly explain.

Then, you began to laugh. Chest barreling laughter that echoed throughout the courtyard. Were you laughing at his cowardice? Were you mad? He couldn’t tell. As soon as hurt flashed in his eyes, you were quick to pull him in a close embrace.

“I knew there was something so familiar about you!” You exclaimed, making his heartbeat slow its rapid pace. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Your eyes had filled with tears and you looked up at him with a grin.

The question had no right answer. At least, not one that came easy to him. “It’s complicated.” Was all he offered. “Have to keep up appearances.”

You released him from your embrace, and again turned back to the flowers. This time, careful of the thorns, you picked one. “Well, Ben — or Kylo? I’m not sure which you prefer — I’ll tell you a secret in exchange.” You plucked a petal and crushed it in your fingers. “I was devastated when I moved. Fifteen year old me was head over heels for you, but daddy got transferred to a new station and...” You trailed off, smiling wistfully. You tucked the freshly picked flower behind his ear. “I would’ve married you if you had asked. Would’ve done anything for you.”

In an instant, his lips were crushing against yours. He kissed you long and hard, as if he would be eighteen all over again and have you slip away from him. His tongue eagerly moved to explore your mouth, and you let him. The soft moan you made against his lips had his pants tightening.

The kiss was broken so he could look at you, flushed and disheveled. Unsure of the words to say next. “Do you want to...come upstairs?” He spoke them for you. You nodded eagerly, internally kicking yourself for seeming too excited.

Taking you by the hand, he ushered you up the large winding staircase leaving you no time to admire the marble flooring. You shrunk seeing a servant’s eyes linger on your entwined fingers, but Kylo snarled at them causing them to scurry off to make busy somewhere else.

His bed was a California king, fitted with grey thousand thread count sheets and a beautiful black silk duvet on top of it all. The windows were fitted with blackout curtains, leaving the room rather dark. Even in the tiny bit of light you had, Kylo was wrapping his hand around your right breast. You squeaked from the surprise of the action, but leaned into it. He recaptured your lips, tasting you once more. He backed you towards the foot of the bed, making you collapse back onto it once your thighs hit the edge. You looked up at him, watching his chest rise and fall with his lips red and swollen. He admired your body against the backdrop of his duvet for only a minute, before pulling your dress up and over your head.

He was shocked to see you had come to his home wearing no bra. You had practically prepared for this moment. Tossing the thought to the back of his mind, he moved to allow his mouth to explore the expanse of skin between your breasts, sucking and nipping at the spot against your sternum. You couldn’t help but squirm, forcing him to hold your hips in place with his big hands.

“Fuck,” He swore against your collarbone. “I’ve thought about this so many times.” The admittance was an absentminded one. He was so caught up in his lust and the thought of being inside you, he couldn’t contain himself.

Your eyes followed as his fingers deftly dipped inside your panties to collect the slick that had built up. Kylo’s heart practically skipped a beat when he felt how wet you were for him. After slipping your panties down your hips, his index finger slipped into your entrance and his thumb began to work over your clit. You gasped in surprise and jutted your hips up to grind against the digit.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ve gotta get that pretty cunt all ready for me to fuck. I bet you’d love that, huh?”

Gasping, you choked out a “Yes!” making him dig his thumb into your precious clit even harder.

“You’re such a little slut.” His middle finger slid into you, craning upwards in search of that little spot that would make you see stars. “You’re cunt is so needy, as if it hasn’t been filled in so long. Practically begging me to fill you.” With a rough thrust of his fingers, he hit your g-spot and made you shout. His pace was unrelenting and rather forceful. You could feel yourself nearing that overflow of bliss and attempted to convey that to Kylo amongst your moans and gasps. Even so, he didn’t need your words. He could tell by the way you clenched around his fingers.

“Cum for me.” He breathed into your ear and you fell undone. You gushed around his fingers, hips rolling into his hand to get everything out of the orgasm that you could. His fingers fucked you through the waves of bliss and tears welled in your eyes. He was right, it had been quite some time.

Once it appeared you had caught your breath, his fingers slid out from between your thighs and slipped into his mouth. He sucked your juices from his fingertips as if they were the finest wine he had ever tasted. Then, removing them with a pop, he spoke up. “We’re not done yet.”

Kneeling down, he pulled your legs over his shoulders and shoved his nose in your pussy. He inhaled deeply, committing the scent to memory.

You two certainly were not done.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #sin bin #great gatsby au #aching soul #kyloathing writes

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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years

Text

On Foreign Ground. Part 3.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: Hi! Will there be any more On Foreign Ground? Thanks!

I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, Anon, but only just had chance to finish it. Enjoy.

Parts One and Two found HERE.

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

Standing against the cold stone wall, Claire held her breath and waited for her stomach to stop rolling. She’d told her mother that she would ride home alone and her face, paler than usual, had said enough that she didn’t argue with her on the matter. Being able to return home without an escort meant that she could take a slight detour.

The sound of the wind rushing through the trees brought her back to the present and urged her onwards. The light was fading rapidly and she still had no real clue as to where she was going - though the ground beneath her feet was evening out. If all else failed, she’d find herself a comfy place to set up camp for the night. No stranger to sleeping in the open air; Claire had a good grasp of the land and (although her parents knew little of her nocturnal habits) had spent a fair few nights hunkered in the forest close to the edge of Grant clan lands.

A spark of light on the horizon caught her eye just as she was hunting for the perfect place to rest and she dismounted silently. Tying her horse to the closest tree, she peaked beyond the treeline. She heard the cock of the gun before the crackle of fallen leaves signalled that she had company. Turning slowly, she bit her bottom lip, her heart beating a firm erratic pattern beneath her ribs.

“Who are ye?” The young man whispered lowly, the rifle professionally held close to his cheek. She knew in that moment that she’d inadvertently located the correct family from the simple cock of his brow - the resemblance between the wee lad in front of her and Jamie was unmistakable. “And be honest, aye? I’ll ken if yer lying to me.”

“Claire,” she replied slowly, her eye catching his as she stopped - only half turned towards him, “Claire Grant and I mean you no harm.”

“Then ye willna mind coming down to the house to explain yerself to my father.”

The situation suddenly seemed less dire - surely Jamie would be inside and she’d be able to at least catch his eye as she was being interrogated by his father. Nodding, she elected to ignore the braying of her horse as she was led from the wooded area and down behind a rather large farmhouse that she assumed to be the Fraser family home. It was clear some event was happening as they rounded the side of property and up towards the front door. The sound of bagpipes flowed the moment the door was opened and she was greeted by the heady aroma of freshly baked bread.

“Straight to the kitchen, aye?” The young man behind her whispered, clearly trying to skirt her away from the festivities happening within.

He sat her down at the table before closing the door, leaving her alone in the cold room. There were mountains of cooked food lining the countertops, the scent of it making her tummy rumble and she realised that she hadn’t eaten in a number of hours. Unwilling to disturb the dinner of her unwitting hosts, she tampered -as much as she was able- the urge to fill her stomach and clasped her hands in her lap nervously.

She hoped the Frasers would give her the opportunity to speak. If they didn’t allow her to see Jamie, though, she didn’t know what the outcome of the impromptu meeting would be.

The sound of raised voices brought her out of her thoughts, the door slamming open to reveal a party whose eyes all fell immediately onto her as she sat, her curls falling out of her wonky cap.

“Mistress Grant.” Mr Fraser senior spoke with an air of anticipation, the look on his face leaving Claire with no doubt that he was in full patriarch mode. She was an outsider, an interloper from another clan who had no permission to be loitering on his lands and she could tell he was ready to deal with whatever issue arose from her shock arrival.

“Sir, Mr Fraser…” she stuttered, not really knowing how to address him or where to begin.

“Does yer father ken you’re here?” He asked, with some trepidation in his tone.

Claire shook her head, more of her curls tumbling from beneath the flimsy fabric.

The youngest man, the one who’d brought her down here, scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes in disbelief.

“Rabbie, hold yer tongue, aye?” His father cut in, stopping the lad dead in his tracks, leaving no room for argument. “Then, mistress, if ye dinna mind me asking,” though he clearly wanted an honest answer, “have ye a reason for trespassing on Fraser lands?”

“Jamie.” She said without any preamble. “I w-was looking for Jamie Fraser. It was an accident, actually finding you. Is he here?” She sounded more confident than she felt and she could see the colour drain from his father’s face - as well as the shocked and horrified glances from the rest of the clan who’d gathered in the kitchen alongside Mr Fraser.

“How do ye ken my brother?” An elder lad interjected, the fire in his gaze causing her to sit back in her chair. The wood beneath her suddenly felt unpleasant.

Swallowing back her nerves, she licked her dry lips and laid her shaky hands flat against the tabletop in front of her. The words fled her mind and she was left struggling to respond coherently in a way that wouldn’t sully Jamie’s reputation.

“William!” His father castigated, but she could already see the rebellion alight in the Fraser siblings, both now stood shoulder to shoulder.

“No father. She’s interrupted our handfast, and now she comes to our kitchen - wi’ Jamie’s name on her lips and no possible explanation of how and why she should be searching for him? We need answers, aye, afore the whole Grant clan comes marching down here searching for her and us left wi’ no reason she should be here. Come, lass, how do ye ken my brother?”

“Is he promised?” She asked, ignoring the question and the threat completely in favour of knowing whether she’d turned up in the middle of his handfast celebrations. Her heart was in her throat as she turned fully to face the family who were all still stood solemnly in the doorway though she knew it was completely selfish and hypocritical.

“Where did ye meet him before, mistress?” The only woman present, and clearly his mother was the swath of bright red hair that sat perfectly curled on top of her head, said diverting her away from her original question. Her posture was the only one to seem open and welcoming. She had cut to the quick. Her bright blue eyes trained on Claire’s as she virtually read her mind.

The men all turned to look at their matriarch as Claire tried to recall precise dates.

“The first time? A year or so ago - before he went to study in France. And again? A few weeks ago, in the woods close to our clan border. It was chance, when I came upon him initially but after that, I went to that spot a lot hoping to meet with him again…” She trailed off when the silence surrounding her erased her sudden burst of confidence.

“Did ye ken he had a secret lassie?” William asked, turning to face Rabbie. “Since ye and Jamie arena apart frequently these days?”

“I kent nothing!” Rabbie returned, the siblings both trying to find reason in her statement.

“Hush boys,” their mother and father both broke in simultaneously, “ye love him?” Mrs Fraser continued, her expression softening even more as she took one meaningful step towards Claire.

She looked away, closing her eyes as she brought to mind the image of her and Jamie the last time she’d seen him. “Yes, I suppose...in as much as I loved him in that moment and then longed for him the moment I had to leave.” The feel of him against her inner thighs made her flesh burn, the hairs on her arms standing on end as the pleasant memory surfaced before leaving the truth hanging on her tongue. “I took advantage of him,” she confessed, unable to look at her hosts as she spoke, “we fell asleep together and as dawn broke and I began to wake…”

“No,” the abrupt interruption made her turn quickly, her eyes opening to catch his gaze as he appeared behind his father, “I wanted you as much as you wanted me. I didna tell ye because we didna get the time, but I was pining for ye just as much. I dreamed of you, as ye did me. We woke, slowly, together and I didna stop ye because I was desperate for yer touch.”

The room seemed to disappear all at once and she forgot that she was sitting in a room filled with his family as the remained enraptured by one another.

“Christ, Jamie,” William hissed, anger lacing his tone, “ye lay with her?”

“It was my fault.” Claire corrected. “I --wait,” stopping herself, she suddenly recalled the party going on in the lounge beyond, the Frasers guests all blissfully unaware of the stramash currently escalating in the kitchen, “is this your handfast, Jamie?”

“No, thank Jesus!” Rabbie cursed, his cheeks flaming red at the previous announcement.

With the tension in the room easing, Claire felt the lead weight lift from her chest at the news. Though her comfort was short lived when she remembered the reason she’d found herself here in the first place. “I know this is presumptuous, but I can’t go back home, I didn’t know whether I would be able to find you, but it was the only place I could think to come for refuge.”

“So ye mean to bring Malcolm Grant down on us all?” Disbelief radiated from Jamie’s brothers who clearly didn’t approve of the suggestion. Rabbie simply stood with his mouth gaping open whilst William openly voiced his disagreement. The adults said nothing, but Claire sensed something more positive from their less aggressive countenance.

“Rabbie!” Their father hissed again making even Claire flinch. “Ye willna make such wild statements until ye ken the full truth of the matter. Now,” he continued, looking pointedly at Claire, “it’s clear we have some business to discuss but I dinna think Jenny and Ian’s handfast is the place to continue it. Jamie, ye take Claire to yer room and make sure she’s comfortable. Now is no’ the time to introduce her to the rest of the clan, aye? And she needs to rest. Boys, back to yer sister. And I’ll hear no more about it!”

With the brothers absent, Claire took a jagged breath and let the tension drain from her rigid spine. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, her body shaking as she rubbed the stray tears from her eyes, “for disturbing your celebration, Mr and Mrs Fraser.”

“Dinna be daft!” His mother soothed, coming to stand by her side as she gathered Claire against her chest. “I ken yer father and I ken yer struggle. I’m glad ye were strong enough to get yourself here, that ye didna feel it necessary to suffer alone wi’ this. Now, get yerself something to eat - ye must be half starved - and rest, we’ll look after you both, lass.”

— —— —

They left via a quiet set of stairs away from the celebrations, Jamie holding tightly onto Claire’s hand as they tried to escape without drawing attention to themselves. HIs father had made it clear on their exit that, though he was happy for them to share the room, they must not advertise the fact until it was obvious that they were settled as man and wife - something that Claire was content to do. She could lie low, hiding from her father was preferable to facing his wrath.

Away from the party still raging below, Jamie wrapped her in one of his cleanest tartan shawls, watching as the fatigue played across her face in the candlelight. As much as it had been a taxing evening he was grateful that she had managed to unwittingly stumble close enough to the big house that Rabbie had found her. He’d only heard half the tale, but he knew something big must have happened for her to rush away from the Macpherson’s with the aim of seeking him out so late.

“I’m simply a vessel to him. If I go home, you’ll never see me again. If we were to be married, he would lock me away, that’s why I had to come.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears and he could see the truth of it floating in her watery irises. Searching her gaze, as quickly as he could, he twisted her hands in his searching her wrists and neck for any visible signs of damage. Finding none he looked back into her eyes and swallowed the enormous lump in his throat. “Did he hurt ye?” Knowing little of the Macphersons, Jamie bit the inside of his cheek. The man she was betrothed to was old enough to be her father and then some and it was entirely possible that he wasn’t the sort to treat a young lady well. “No,” she replied, taking his palm against hers, “but the look on his face said he wasn’t above it should the need arise.” All at once the nightmare reappeared in her mind - of what her life would be like should she have to wed Macpherson, sending tingles down her spine. “I cried the day I got my courses. I had wished so hard for our child so you’d have a reason to steal me away that when it didn’t come to pass my heart broke. I thought then that it was over, any chance of escaping the fate my father had set for me.” “Do ye think ye need to be wi’ child for me to whisk ye away, Claire?” Jamie asked, shocked, his eyebrows drawn together and his eyes clouding with an all too serious gaze.

“I--” she began, taking a large gulp of air before continuing, “I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to believe we could be together, you and I, no matter the circumstances. But since my father banned your name from our house I guessed there was something deeper buried in our family history which might prevent it.”

“And since when has that ever stopped a couple in love?” He enquired, a quirk to his brow as he delicately leaned his forehead against her own. “I think the fact that yer here wi’ me now and not riding home behind yer parents answers that question quite neatly, aye?”

“So what do we do now?” The blush that had settled across Claire’s cheeks subsided a little as she curled tidily against Jamie’s chest. He was warm, hot enough to relieve the chill from her as she began to rest her sore eyes.

“Dinna worry about that now, sleep first. Tomorrow we’ll eat and I’ll show ye Lallybroch. Mam and Da will help us in the morning.”

— —— — A dark corridor stretched out before her, the black curtains lining the barred windows as the rain lashed violently against the panes of glass. Though she knew it was just a dream (feeling the wisp of Jamie’s arms around her even through the heavy haze of the nightmare) she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of foreboding. It was the room she’d been shown, her would-be quarters in the Macpherson castle, complete with its own draughty living space. The four poster bed called to her, the grey silk sheets wafting in the breeze as the lace draped from the posts flared in the wind.

“No…” she called out, unaware of whether she was actually talking in her sleep or not, “Jamie!” The feeling of cold was beginning to seep into her bones, her flesh crawling as the walls seemed to close in around you. “H-hold me...please…”

She was crying and shaking, but he held her as she’d asked, cuddling her shuddering shoulders against him as she sobbed into his neck. Since they’d fallen asleep in one another's arms she had woken like this frequently, her mind clearly elsewhere in her dreams. Without prompting further, Jamie had held her as she calmed, whispering endearments into her ears which seemed to be working as the night wore on.

“They’re going to come for me.” She whispered when she’d finally woken fully. “Your mother knows, I saw it written all over her face when she was looking at me. Somehow she knows my fathers’ voracity. He’s going to be so angry and that will only exacerbate his need to track me down and bring me home - no matter the consequences. I love you,” choking out the words she took a deep breath, “it’s important that you know that. That I’m here for you, not just because I’ve been pushed to it.”

“They were promised, or that was the intention. Mam used to tell us the story as bairns but I didna tell ye when I first kent who ye were - I thought ye’d think me daft.” Chuckling, he shifted himself closer. He felt her calm for the first time since they’d hidden beneath his clean sheets. “It felt like history repeating, falling in love with ye - and you wi’ me.”

“Your mother...and my father?”

“Oh aye. She’d already met and fallen for my father, though, and instead of courting wi’ Mr Grant,” he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead as he retold the story, redirecting her moudline thoughts, “they eloped. The next time anyone came upon them they were handfast and mam was pregnant wi’ William.”

“Is that what we have to do…?” Sighing contentedly, Claire allowed her fears to slip away as dawn approached.

Jamie let his hand glide over her hip, feeling her skin shudder beneath her cotton shift at the same time as she reached up to run a single finger over the outside of his bare thigh. Hitching her leg up and over his hip, it wasn’t long before they were silently nose to nose, Claire beneath him now as she slowly untied the string holding her shift together and gently shimmied it up and over her head. It took a little work, she had to allow Jamie to lift one hand each time to free her of the material, but the moment their flesh touched she knew it was worth it.

“Christ yer beautiful.” He gasped, his head tilting to get a glimpse of her in the moonlight. “All I could think of after ye left me the second time is whether I’d get to lay wi’ you again. Whether I’d get to see you properly. I hoped...and prayed...that it wouldna be the last as well as the first time.”

“And it wasn’t.” She whispered in return.

Without further preamble he shifted himself, his lips caressing her until he felt the arc of her breast. He could feel the warmth of her already encasing him as he shifted his hips further and it wasn’t long before desire rushed around them, the air in the room growing heated as they moved together, as one.

Deep pants filled the room, their ragged breathing disguising the creeks of the bed as they met, quietly, over and over again. Neither being experienced, Jamie didn’t recognise the signs (nor did Claire at first) until her fingers began to dig painfully into the skin just above his elbows, her breath coming thick and fast as she tried to inhale as much oxygen as possible before throwing her head back and biting her lip. Her felt her then, the inside of her gripping him so very tightly as he followed her into the abyss,

Jamie awoke from his self-contained bliss after a brief moment, his whole body delightfully drained of energy as he blinked sleepily up at Claire. She seemed in a similar state, her moist hands cupping his arse as he pulled her against his chest.

“That willna be, either. No’ if I have anything to do with it.” He sighed, drawing the covers up once more as he closed his eyes, their hearts beating directly next to one another as they fell back into a dreamless sleep.

#;Mod MBD #On Foreign Ground #jamie x claire #ficlet

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atinyfeels · 5 years

Text

All In My Head | 3

Pairing: Reader x Jaehyun Genre: angst masterlist | part one | part two

a/n: this is a rough draft that needs to be fixed and edited

“Yuna, wait!” You called, ignoring the looks of others as you rushed out of the theatre towards her. “Yuna!”

Yuna stopped her tracks before she reached the crosswalk and turned toward you. “What? What could you possibly want from me? You think I’m just going to hang out and pretend I didn’t just see you making out with my boyfriend?”

“I can explain,” you say, breathing heavily after chasing her.

“What’s there to explain? I’ve seen it all!” She shouted her eyes filling with tears once again. People walking past stared and whispered but neither of you paid attention to them. “How long has this been going on, Y/N? Is this even the first time?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears build up in your eyes as well. You hated seeing her like this, but what you hated more was the fact that you were the cause of it. How were you supposed to explain everything when you knew it was going to hurt her more?

“You’re such a slut,” her words cut off your thoughts, making you look up at her surprised. “You’ve been hooking up with my boyfriend since we started dating, haven’t you? You just couldn’t accept the fact that no one wants you. You were jealous that someone like him wanted someone like me and not someone like you. You’re fucking pathetic.”

You didn’t want her words to hurt, but they did. And you knew that you deserved every word that was said. “I can explain.” Your voice was lower and weaker but that didn’t stop you.

“I don’t want your explanation! I can put two and two together,” she spat, her teary eyes sending you a sharp glare. “Stay away from me and stay the hell away from Jaehyun.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you watched her turn away and walk the opposite direction of the theatre. The sound of thunder surrounded the city just before it began to downpour. Sighing, you turned around only to become face to face with Mark. He didn’t look angry or upset, only concerned.

“Mark, I—“ he quickly cut you off, “are you okay?”

You were surprised by his question, but instead of saying anything you broke down. Tears falling controllably with sobs leaving your mouth. You weren’t okay, your best friend wasn’t your friend anymore. She didn’t trust you, and she had every right not to. Arms wrapped around you before you were pulled into a hug, making you sob even more.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Mark said softly before pulling away and waving for a cab.

You kept your eyes on the concrete as you heard a car pull up in front of you. Mark grabbed a hold of your wrist before helping you inside. You expected him to close the door behind you, but instead, he got in beside you and told the driver your address.

Mark turned towards you and sent you soft smile, “you can rest, we’ll be at your apartment shortly.”

You only nodded and turned toward the window, watching the rainfall. Sighing, you closed your eyes and felt yourself escape reality.

The brightness of the sun, made you open your eyes. Squinting, you looked around and found yourself in your bedroom. You furrowed your eyebrows and sat up before looking over and finding Mark asleep in the lounge chair in the corner. You couldn’t remember getting out of bed and going to your apartment. Your eyes moved down to your clothes. They weren’t the same from last night, instead, you were wearing a large sweater and shorts.

“You’re awake.” Mark’s voice startled you, making you look over at him. You weren’t sure what you wanted to ask first; did he wake you up when you reached your apartment building or did he change your clothes for you? “You were passed out in the car but you managed to walk to your apartment half-asleep. The second you reached your bed you fell asleep, so I ended up changing your clothes. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You quickly shook your head, “no, it’s okay. I trust you. But I have to ask, aren’t you disappointed in me? You know, with what Jaehyun and I did?”

Mark sighed and leaned forward in the seat a little. “I tried my best to pretend that I didn’t know what was going on between you two. I wanted to believe that you were over him and into me. But when I saw you two kiss in the hallway, I knew the two of you weren’t finished.”

“You saw us?” You asked, surprised. Mark nodded as you ran your fingers through your hair. “Why...why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged, “like I said, I tried my best to pretend that I didn’t know what was going on between you too.”

You frowned, staring at the sight in front of you. Climbing out of bed, you made your way over to him before pulling him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Mark.”

After what happened at the theatre school was different. By now, everyone knew what had happened. Yuna went around telling people she knew would tell others. You could feel people stare at you as you made your way to your classes. Jaehyun didn’t show up for a full week and Mark continued to stick by your side. You didn’t expect him to after you told him everything, but he did.

“That girl was hooking up with her friends boyfriend. The girl found out after catching them making out.” you heard one girl whisper to her friend as you made your way to the courtyard.

“What a slut,” her friend said.

You ignored their words and scanned the opened space. It didn’t take long for your eyes to land on Mark, who was smiling and waving you over. You returned the smile and walked over to him. For once he wasn’t sitting alone, instead he was seated with two other boys who were too focused on shoving their food in their mouths. You sat down beside him and opened your water before taking a drink.

“Guys,” Mark said, getting the attention of the two boys. You weren’t going to lie and say they weren’t attractive. They were, very. “This is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends Johnny & Haechan.”

“Hi,” you say, sending them both a smile.

They both greeted you, saying hi and returning the smile. Johnny went back to eating but Haechan looked over at Mark. “Is she the one–“ Johnny stopped him by reaching up and pinching his arm.

Your smile turned into a frown as you opened your paperback and began reading. So Mark either told them or they overheard the rumors going around. You wouldn’t believe it if someone told you that Mark told them. But you hated the fact that everyone knew. Ever since the incident you continuously beat yourself up over it. You’ve tried talking to Yuna, but instead, she either pretended you didn’t exist or she scoffed at your existence. You had hoped the situation would’ve died down, but you knew it wouldn’t.

When school ended you decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. Being in crowded areas all day, made you want to do nothing but crawl into a hole and hide. You put your headphones in and pressed shuffle. The sound of ‘The Truth Untold’ filled your ears, making you stop your tracks and take deep a breath.

All you could think about Jaehyun. All the pain and hurt that you had gone through while being with him. Even when you weren’t with him, you still felt the pain. The pain that Yuna had felt and is still feeling after both of your actions. You sighed and cleared your thoughts of all the negativity. You barely walked a couple of steps before you noticed someone sitting on the bench a few feet away. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped together and his head down.

“Jae?” You asked, making him look up and meet your eyes. He didn’t look like he felt as exhausted or as defeated as you did. Instead, he looked as if nothing that was going affected him whatsoever. You took your headphones out and made your way over to him. “What are you doing here?”

At first, he didn’t respond to you, he only stared. But after a minute he spoke. “I wanted to see you.”

You frowned at his words and cursed at yourself for allowing his words make your heart skip a beat. “Jaehyun, this has to stop. All of it. You and me, whatever it is. It needs to stop. All we did was hurt people. Yuna, Mark, each other. This isn’t going to continue anymore. Besides that, Yuna doesn’t want me in her life anymore because of what we did. And neither of us should be involved with each other anymore.”

He stood up and looked down at you, “I don’t regret anything we did. Do I regret hurting Yuna? Yes, that was wrong. But I don’t regret our actions. Being with you made me happier than whenever I was with her. I was as comfortable with her then when I was with you.“

“Then why stay with her?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why did you start dating her if you were comfortable with what you and I had before? Why didn’t you just break up with her when you kissed me? Why did you treat me like trash when you started dating her? I’m so confused by your actions that I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Jaehyun ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I was scared of falling in love with you. I’ve never felt this way about someone before and I was scared I’d hurt you. So i pushed you away. I knew Yuna would be the easiest way to get you to stop having feelings for me so I agreed to date her.”

“So,” you took a deep breath and ran your fingers through your hair. “You decided to use my best friend, to push me away because you were scared of hurting me. Look at the results, Jaehyun! You did the one thing you didn’t want to do. You hurt me along with two other people.” It was silent for a moment before you spoke again, “I can’t do this anymore. Whatever we were doing is done. Along with any chance of us being friends. I want nothing to do with you anymore, Jaehyun.”

He stayed silent before nodding, “I understand.”

“Goodbye, Jaehyun.” You tell him.

You stared at him for one last second before moving past him and heading down the sidewalk. You were officially done with him. Neither of you were going to have anything to do with each other and you were going to make sure of that. This was the end, and now all you wanted to do was finish college and leave

#jung jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #jaehyun #mark lee #johnny #haechan #winwin #moon taeil #taeyong #doyoung #jungwoo #yuta

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juleswolverton-hyde · 4 years

Text

Bruised | 01 (JB x OC)

Genre: Smut, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slice of Life

Pairing: Jaebeom x photographer!OC

Warnings: Allusions to domestic violence, self-harm and depression, inferiority complex, low self-esteem

Summary: After years of not speaking to him, Alistaire is surprised when her childhood friend, Jaebeom, contacts her about the rumour of her returning to Korea. The rumour proves to be true and for a moment everything feels like the good old days.

Yet something has changed in the both of them, but mostly in him. He is not the kid Ali once knew, but someone completely new and with a past. What has happened in the years she was away? What made him turn out like this?

But most of all, can they survive the toxicity unconsciously influencing them both?

Author’s Note: This was originally a Taehyung fic, but I thought I would rewrite and prep it for actual publishing while simultaneously replacing Tae with JB. This is because, otherwise, I will have no connection to (essentially) his character in the tale. Lastly, it is also a splendid opportunity to share the second draft of the novel with you.

Masterlist

Next Chapter

Chapter 1 Alistair

April 7th Year 1

Every face in the extensive swallowing crowd is a blur, nothing distinguishing one person from the next. Meaningless chatter fills the buzzing air lightly scented by the aroma of the sea despite the actual destination being a few miles from the airport where the plane has just landed in a country formerly called ''home''. Truth be told, it has always been called so regardless of the many years spent away from it.

And in that time nothing has remained as it once was, that much is already clear from merely standing here at border control among hundreds of suitcases like the one held firmly on the right side, fingers wrapped around the British travel documents that have formed an escape from a place which is gladly left behind. Happily, a piece of Hell is traded for a slice of the past that is inherently different from what can be remembered, even though this is logical since this city is alien territory.

Nevertheless, there is one thing from the past that has apparently been continuous: him, the childhood friend that has unsuspectedly been found in a place of old.

One step further towards passing customs, towards getting the Visa checked and that stamp of allowance in the brand new passport containing a name that has been greatly discussed in the news in Korea and in the social circles of Britain, though it shall soon mean as much as the next one.

More waiting, thoughts wandering off to the Siheung mochi shop boy with the slight overbite when smiling and who had been the sole friend during the youth spent carelessly, free of the burdens that would come upon the return to the land of origin.

To the roots of a hellish life.

I wonder if he is still the same or would that be an idle wish?

Years have gone by and in all honesty, it is not to be expected for the lad with caramel skin to be the same because how can he be when both of us have grown up? The answer to the question would not be unknown if only the probably biggest regret in the entire twenty-one years of living did not exist, if only contact was maintained after the move to the United Kingdom.

The one digital conversation that surprisingly happened did not give any clues to go on to use in creating an image of the contemporary version of the companion unwillingly abandoned, so there is next to nothing known about how time and life has treated a best friend turned stranger. How the silent period apart has shaped character and shall influence the reunion on the horizon.

Another advance temporarily breaks the reverie to step in the direction of the birch counter behind which sits a stern-looking customs authority, blank yet overtly bored expression unwavering while checking the presented papers and finally putting a stamp in the little booklet, parting our ways with a stern nod.

The reminiscence begins again on the way to the hall of arrivals where a familiar comrade is supposedly waiting among the many shops and eateries. The thought that has been gnawing away at common sense continues to feed the sense of guilt which has grown immense due to the days spent apart without any indication as to well-being. Not that it was necessary to talk about since the personal problems would only be a burden to the other party and there was no solution to them until this opportunity arose.

Even a simple greeting was apparently too great a grace.

Mayhaps, if contact had been maintained, disgraced sneakers would not have committed the mistakes they have.

Have been safe from harm.

From lonely pain.

The effects of which were unconsciously pressed upon an absent supporting pillar.

Why did I leave you alone?

A couple of days ago, an extraordinary contact was established by the adult version of a forgotten childish soul by email. The moment weary eyes wandered to the newly arrived message after having answered a few job-related ones, a sharp intake of breath accompanied by a sudden giddiness guided the fingers rapidly sliding over the keyboard to the mousepad to click on the notification, having to make sure it was truly him and confirming it. It was astonishing to learn that the five years older chap still had the personal email address turned into a professional point of contact after all this time.

It meant he still had not forgotten about the one who was forced to go.

The rapid exchange, replying a few moments after one another and hence keeping the conversation flowing, consisted mostly of small talk and a little bit of catching up. The topics were pretty haphazard thanks to the attempt to try and cover as many subjects as possible within what felt like little time. Notwithstanding, it felt as if the childhood friend from Siheung was beating around the bush.

The text in the correspondence from his side contained hints to something bigger, continuously referring to it by words concealing the true intention without ever explicitly saying what wanted to be said. At a certain point, though it could also have been due to the throbbing of the right cheek and the echo of fighting parents downstairs in the salon of the country mansion, impatience overpowered a formerly ecstatic yet calm attitude and the confrontation was met head-on. ‘Beom, is there something you want to say?’

‘Huh? What do you mean?’ Even though the lad’s presence was only felt in the bedroom through the screen, the wondering look that would have appeared on a tanned face could almost be seen. Well, sight perceived the mental picture of Jaebeom as the kid that could look so questioning, so puzzled yet astonished by the world.

When not looking like a big grumpy cat.

It looked like some things still needed to be spelled out, although that tends to happen when it comes to men because some evidently need clarity. Withal, this does not mean that more explicit explanations always lead to positive outcomes. 'It’s just a hunch, but it feels like you have something to say.'

For a solid ten minutes, there was no answer. Henceforth, defeated by the radio hush likely signifying a chance of reconnecting was already lost, the bedchamber also functioning as an office was left in favour of acquiring a warm cup of coffee. Sneakily, to avoid the unworthy bastards roaming the lower floors. Luckily, the mission leading to the kitchen was successful, going back and forth without bumping into anybody.

A moment devoid of unjustified harm.

The relief felt at the fact of having avoided additional damage and the sensation of warmed fingers clamping a steaming mug of caffeine, returning to the room unscathed to a response from halfway across the globe, knows no likeness. It was the smallest yet sole piece of positivity gained in a long while.

Sighing with a hint of delight, a seat on the grey desk chair was once again taken, nipping at the hot drink before reading the received answer. An answer that made the liquid gold almost spill all over the keyboard. 'I heard this rumour about you coming back, so I thought I would pick up contact again. After all, how could I not if my friend will return to Korea? I mean, if it's true of course.'

That word, ''friend'', gave a sliver of hope when regarding it among the rest of the text. After the extended period of not hearing anything from the wrongful side, Jaebeom still considered the friendship established in the mochi shop and strengthened on the streets a long time ago as having survived the often destructive influence of being separated. Even though there was every right to be mad because contact was cut off after the departure.

To leave a worthless girl behind as she had him.

Notwithstanding, that was then and this was the present.

We were still partners in crime, weird as it might have sounded when pondering this thought later on the plane. 'Yes, I am.'

Over the course of the past few months leading to the email, enough money was gathered to be able to afford an own place overseas in South-Korea, in the country where the tale of two estranged saviours began, far from this disgusting house carrying the title of ''home''. Too much hurt had been had here and no more could be tolerated because, if it had not known an end, perchance the razor would have been pulled over the tender skin of the wrists a long time ago. Nonetheless, each day formed a new battle to fight, a new test to see whether the miserable faith in something better waiting in the future was true.

And it was, the long-awaited chance of escape presenting itself after hard work, pulling all-nighters editing photos and long hours contacting people in relation to jobs.

'Going back to Siheung?' Memories of the days our parents would go to the city together and take us with them to walk along the harbour and have a picnic in the Siheung Lotus Theme Park resurfaced, sight obscured by the phantom of lush blooming flowers and genuine laughter filling ears that had heard nothing but spite once the apartment next to Beom's was left behind.

A plausible assumption were it not for the fact it was not the planned destination of return because of the need for new experiences. Besides, a drastic change of life would perhaps keep the demons at bay long enough to figure it all out and find a definitive flight from them. 'No, I’m actually moving to Busan. The sea might do me some good.'

Despite living on a big island, never had the pleasure of living by the sea or any kind of water been experienced. Furthermore, due to the love of the child for the ocean forming part of today's persona, it was rather quickly decided to move to the harbour city of South-Korea.

'Really? I do so happen to live there too.' It was an odd thing to read and had to be reread word by word twice before the meaning of it became clear.

A reunion.

We could see each other again.

The anticipation accompanying the realization made the corners of the mouth curl up into an uncharacteristic delighted smile, the most sincere grin that had been formed in a long time. For all that was known, the boy with skin like honey still lived in the town that held shared memories yet now we had the chance of creating novel ones together as we would begin anew in a foreign place.

We would try again.

Together.

A fresh start with you will hopefully make me forget this hell. You always managed to take the pain away.

'You moved?' Eagerly, the rest of the story behind this sudden revelation was awaited, sipping on the caffeinated beverage of the gods that, naturally, had the opposite effect of the intended goal of bringing calmness to the enthusiastic composure.

'After grandmother passed away we moved to Busan because the south is cheaper. Dad found work there after he was fired.' The tranquillity nullifying the excitement set in, albeit it not thanks to the drink but by means of the curious absent sign of news about the city boy's mother, which struck as rather odd since the cheery lad used to talk about the lovely, according to the brightly told stories, woman all the time. The same went for the grandmother who basically raised Jaebeom, so seeing such a short notice about the dear old lady who always brought handmade mochis to us and made extra ones while we ran around town felt weird as well.

Putting the half-empty ceramic cup aside and with a sense of oppressing hollowness, the part that felt alive ignited the ideas of being to blame for not being there when a friend was obviously needed to help deal with the sorrow. Digits hovered above the keys, doubtful of what to write in response since nothing could be deemed sufficient in conveying the sincere apologetic feelings.

Eventually, they settled on typing out the idea that seemed to be the best of them all in that regard. 'I know it is too late, but I'm sorry for your loss. How is your mother?'

'I don't want to talk about it. I can pick you up from Gimhae if you want. You don't want to get lost, do you?' A dark thought occurred and directly it was understood why there was no elaboration on the situation concerning the two women.

They abandoned him as well.

Forced by Death.

A grim repeat of the goodbye nine years ago.

I should have been there for you and I wasn’t. Jaebeom, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But maybe I can make it up to you. I have to.

Maybe over time, there will come a moment to open up to willingly talk about it, but until then there will be no questions for they also have the potential of ruining the chances of righting the unintentional wrongs of the past.

The heavy topic was disregarded in favour of something positive. Skimming over it felt selfish in spite of silently agreeing to do so, especially because of the urge to stay afloat a bit longer. Swim a bit longer in an amiable reality before sinking down the dark spiral again come morn after a night of , hopefully a few hours of nightmare-filled sleep. 'That is much appreciated. Maybe you can show me around the city a bit?'

'I am already looking forward to it. I have to go now, but I'll certainly talk to you later.'

In the days after that digital re-encounter despite the abyss of separating miles, we almost spoke on a daily basis to talk the details of the future journey through, Jaebeom inquiring by mail multiple times like Mother Goose if all the essentials had been packed and at least double checked. Still as caring as always beneath the tough exterior, so it would seem. It felt just like the good old days, as if nothing had changed aside from having grown older.

That was at least already one thing that made it feel like the right decision had been made and gave cause for hoping that many of those tender moments would come to pass.

A correct assumption.

Partially.

Now that work has been taken up as a photographer, there is the freedom of going wherever is desirable. It is unlimited, empowering. And, as it would seem, the road that preluded a return to the only place in the world that could truly be called ''home'', in spite of being the daughter of a British-Irish couple.

Father is an ambassador for the Crown who was stationed in Siheung, where he and his wife bought an apartment in a quiet street filled with independent shops among which was a little rice cake shop run by an old lady. The place where Mother gave birth to a daughter.

It so happened to be close to where Beom lived with his parents and grandmother. Next door, in fact. The tall tough-looking boy with the goofy smile and slight overbite obviously showing when aggravated was the first friend ever made and most likely the only one. Nobody across the seas has ever been deemed worthy to be called thus nor has stayed long enough to even pass the unconscious assessment.

Just before high school would start, Father was called back to England and since his daughter was done with primary school, it was insisted upon a return to the island nation was made. The days in anticipation of the change of scenery were filled with protest, none of them to any avail, because what could a little girl truly accomplish alone? Henceforth, the United Kingdom was travelled back to and ordained the vicious punishment of having to spend the rest of a life that would soon turn miserable there. All the while dreaming of going back someday and escaping the aristocratic hell.

Thanks to an education at home and the embassy, where a private teacher was hired to provide lessons, it was possible to skip a year in high school since the mind was ahead of everyone else’s. Because of this, a bachelor in English could be achieved early at London University, completely according to the wishes of the gruesome puppeteers.

Such was the plan in any case, until the passion for photography was found and it was decided to pursue a career in that, spiting all the expectations of a future that had never been created at one's own hand.

Finding a good and trustworthy agency to work under proved somewhat difficult, but after putting multiple hours fuelled by coffee into online research one that was looking for freelancers was found and applied to. After sending in a barely existent résumé and visiting the agency for a second interview, it lead to being hired so that now the job of a freelance lensman is proudly added to a fairly short curriculum vitae.

Nevertheless, thanks to some well-paid assignments, and a little bit of help from the man and woman who once served as legal guardians, it was possible to leave the native country and depart for the second home in the world.

The only shelter from the ever-lasting storm of reality.

At long last, it was finally possible to return to the grumpy though sweet-hearted Siheung boy.

#GOT7 #GOT7 fanfiction #JB #Jaebeom #Im Jaebeom #GOT7 x OC

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shadowphoenixrider · 4 years

Text

Continuation to this, as my mind chewed it over a couple of days ago.

Katla stared glumly into the steaming waters of Circhester’s hot springs. It had been a week since her argument with Kabu in Hammerlocke, and it was still weighing on her mind and heart.

She’d managed to push thoughts of the gym leader aside during her training for Gordie’s challenge, but Kabu always returned to her mind in the quiet moments, like now. She’d not left his company pleasantly - she’d not even said goodbye, with how bitter and angry she’d been at his words and assumptions.

The bitterness had boiled down into guilt as she’d considered his words, playing them over and over in her mind. Kabu had only been trying to help, trying not to let her potential slip through her fingers. That he admired and regarded her enough to tell her that was...a lot, honestly. Yet she’d pushed him away, and with little option for recourse. She wanted to apologise to him, but she wasn’t even sure he’d want to see her again - that, she had no other way to contact him. The thought that he might not even watch her upcoming match due to this hurt enough to prick tears in her eyes.

In truth, it was more than just that.

She was so absorbed in her internal dialogue that she didn’t notice the figure that came to stand beside her. It was only when they spoke did she snap back to reality:

“Katla?”

The trainer blinked widely, turning quickly to see Kabu, bundled up in a large black bench coat, with a strange segmented scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Whilst his expression was a careful neutral, his silver eyes were not - they were anxious, strangely fragile, like glass.

“K...Kabu?” Katla croaked out, her voice thick from lack of use.

“I apologise for disturbing you.” Kabu spoke softly, yet quickly. “I’m aware you probably don’t wish to see me again, but please, at least do me one favour.”

He handed her an envelope, her name written in his scrawly handwriting. “Read this letter.” He paused for a moment, and forced a sad smile across his lips. “Best of luck for your upcoming Challenge, Katla.”

With that, he began to walk away. Katla opened her mouth to call for him to wait, but his name got caught in her throat, and she could only watch him melt into a crowd of people.

She glanced down at the envelope in her hands, turning it over in her hands before she decided there were better places to read it.

---

Sequestered in her much warmer hotel room, Katla broke the weak glue seal and pulled out the letter. It was neatly folded, and though Kabu’s handwriting reminded her of a doctor’s, it was much more legible. And pristine, without a crossing-out to be seen - she wondered how many drafts preceded this one.

Katla,

I do not know if you will read this letter after our disagreement in Hammerlocke, but I write in the hope you will.

I’m sorry for insinuating that the reason why you’d not attained Championship status in the other Leagues was because you were deliberately holding yourself back. It was incredibly thoughtless of me, especially since you had confessed that you had given up your title due to the stresses it had imposed upon you. I have never known these stresses, and though I can extrapolate from the duties Leon undertakes, I can never truly know. Thus to assume I know what you felt is at best foolish, and at worst, offensive. I ask for your forgiveness.

I do not know the challenges of other regional Leagues - any knowledge I had of Hoenn’s League is woefully out of date now - and thus to assume that you lost to them because you sabotaged your own match is not only an an insult to you, but an insult to your opponents too. I ask forgiveness for this transgression too.

Yet my views on your potential are unchanged. I truly believe you could defeat Leon. I am certain that you will make it to the Finals. I can see the spark in your eyes, the fire that burns when you’re in the midst of a battle. I was honoured to experience it first-hand. Your love for your Pokemon binds you together and makes you strong.

Katla, it is difficult for me to articulate my feelings regarding you, but I feel I must try. I was curious about you from the very moment you appeared on the roster. All the gym leaders were - it is rare indeed that Leon endorses anyone, especially two challengers at once. My curiosity deepened over the course of your Gym Challenge, and deepened into admiration after our own battle. Whilst I am thankful that they are all recorded for posterity, I will not forget the experience for a long, long time.

I have found myself caring for you. I want only for you to succeed, and for you to get up from the falls you will no doubt experience. I said my foolish words not out of a place of unkindness. That does not excuse their pain and hurtfulness, but I want to assure you that my deeper feelings are unchanged.

No matter what you may think of me now, and how justified you will be for thinking it, I will continue to support you. It will hurt to know that I have caused this rift between us through my own fault, but that is my burden to bear. I only hope it has not burdened you as well.

I wish you all the best in your future endeavours, and I look forward to seeing your future gym matches. I will leave my number at the bottom of this letter in case you need to contact me for any reason. No matter what has happened between us, I will help you in any way I can.

Kind regards,

Kabu

Katla read his letter several times, making sure she didn’t miss a single word. The guilt curled tighter around her heart - he’d made a good point with his hypothesis. She’d been ruminating on it for a while and wondering whether it was true. She’d only been eleven when the mantle of Champion had fallen heavy on her shoulders, and Katla couldn’t completely dismiss that the bad experience still cast a long shadow. But she was twenty six now; older, and hopefully wiser. Wasn’t it worth trying again? She cast her mind back to the Elite 4 challenges she’d failed at - she’d bailed out straight afterwards, and she wondered if she would have dug her heels in and kept going, if not afraid of the thought of actually succeeding.

Yet Kabu was apologising, thinking it was him who had caused the hurt, when it was her, lashing out in pain and guilt and shame as he exposed the festering wound to daylight. Just as effortlessly as he had done in the Wild Area, asking her when she was going to tell Hop her secret. And she’d prickled much the same way, only this time she’d driven off one of the kindest men she knew. And it hurt more seeing that he still cared for her, still wished the best for her, was still going to watch her matches and put himself at the end of the line in case she needed anything.

A part of her wished he’d just slammed the door in her face - that would have been kinder than this.

Tears burned at her eyes, but she held back her sob. She wanted to find Kabu and make it right, somehow. The numerals stood out starkly on the paper, an imposing invitation that Katla felt too nervous to use. In honesty, she felt so emotionally tied up, she had no idea what to do.

At that moment, her phone buzzed, and she took a look. It was Hop, asking how she was doing, as he was having to get used to the snowy conditions his Pokemon now found themselves in.

Katla: I've been better. Hey Hop, I dunno if this is the right time, but do you have time to talk?

It only took a couple of seconds passed after her message before a video call request came through. Hop's cheeks were reddened against the cold, his bright gold eyes full of concern.

“Katla, mate. What’s up?” He said, brows furrowing when he got sight of her.

Katla sighed, pulling a smile and not hiding the tears blurring her vision.

“A couple of things. You know me and Kabu had a fight in Hammerlocke, yeah?”

“What’s happened?” Hop asked, an edge to his voice that she’d never heard before.

“Nothing, nothing bad. He gave me a letter, a-and I just wondered if I could talk things through with you.”

“Nah, I’m gonna do better than that.” Hop shook his head. “What room are you staying in, 448? I’ll be right there, don’t go anywhere.”

She could barely take in a breath to protest before the call ended, and she sighed. Not what I had in mind, but I’ll take it.

It wasn’t long before he knocked on the door, and would have bounded in if he wasn’t holding two cups with steaming hot liquid.

“I got you a pick-me-up.” Hop grinned. “You might not be freezing, but I think you’d appreciate a cuppa.”

“Shit Hop, you didn’t need to.” Katla took the proffered cup carefully, cradling its heat in her hands. “How much do I owe you for this?”

“You owe me an explanation of what the hell’s going on with you, mate.” Hop replied, taking a chair and sitting on it backwards next to her. “Where’s that letter Kabu gave you?”

Katla took a deep breath, her heart beginning to pound. Here we go.

“It’s here, but I need to give you context for it to all make sense,” she began. “That means I’ve got to tell you some things...some things I probably should have told you earlier.”

And so Katla spilled the beans, revealing her past experiences as a Pokemon trainer, as well as the fact she’d become Hoenn’s Champion for a brief period of time, stepping down when the stress became too much for her. She elaborated on the argument she’d had with Kabu, the whats and whys and how they’d parted company unhappily.

She paused, letting Hop take this all in, and waited nervously for his response, trying to resist the urge to fiddle with the cup of boiling liquid in her hands.

“That...That makes so much more sense now.” Hop said, leaning back. “Why Lee endorsed you, why I just can’t seem to beat you. Why you always get so mad when I say I’m gonna be the next Champion.” He frowned. “Hey, wait a minute. I’ve never seen it mentioned anywhere that you were Hoenn’s Champion.”

“It’s not something I like to advertise.” Katla explained. “Also news of my ‘ascension’ was kinda pushed aside by the legendary Pokemon shit that was going on at the same time. Kyogre awakening and attempting to flood the entire world was a much bigger deal than an eleven year old becoming Champion. Even if I was involved in that too.”

“I dunno, it seems a pretty big deal to me.” He trained his eyes on her. “So you don’t tell anyone about it?”

“No-one. Put it this way, Hop; you and Kabu are the only people outside my family in Galar that know I was once Champion, and I wanna keep it that way.“

“Were you...ever gonna tell me?”

Katla cringed, hanging her head.

“If I could have helped it? No.” She admitted. “You’re a good kid, Hop. I didn’t want to crush your spirit - you want your rival to be on the same level, not to learn that they were a Champion once.” She sighed. “I was going to tell you after you came back that battle you had with Bede in the Wild Area...” She didn’t need to look at the younger trainer to know he was shifting uncomfortably. “But you looked and acted so broken I...I couldn’t.” She shook her head, and a snarl curled her lips. “I could have ripped that sucker a new one, treating you like that. He got his comeuppance in the end, but still...”

Katla risked a glance at Hop, and saw he was still looking at her, his face earnest and listening intently.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, Hop. I’m sorry to have led you on. If you wanna stop being my friend and just walk out of here, then that’s perfectly fine. I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest.”

Hop folded his arms over the back of the chair, resting his chin on them.

“Whilst it’d been nice to know my rival was a Champ in another region, I don’t blame you for keeping it secret. The media would never leave you alone if they found out. Speaking of which,” he stuck out a hand, dropping it on Katla’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving you, mate. You asked me here for help, and I’m not gonna leave until I’ve helped you.”

Katla managed a smile, even as her heart swelled and eyes burned.

“Shit. Thanks, Hop. You’re a good friend, more than I deserve.”

“Aw, don’t say that.” He playfully punched her arm. “We’re buddies. That’s all that matters. Now, gimme that letter.”

He all but snatched it off her, yet he took his time reading it, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Kabu uses a lot of big words, doesn’t he?” Hop commented. “Bet he’s good at essays.”

Katla arched her eyebrow at him, but said nothing, giving the younger trainer time to formulate his opinion.

”Wow...” Hop finally said. “He’s got it bad for you, hasn’t he?”

The older trainer felt her face begin to burn up.

“You...you think so?”

Hop gave her a look that was halfway between disbelieving and annoyed.

“Seriously? You read this and didn’t pick up on the fact he might be into you?”

“Well, I can tell he cares about me, that’s clear enough!” Katla retorted. “But more than that?” She glanced away. “I...I didn’t think it’d be a thing. I mean, he’s a Gym leader, I’m just a Challenger. Not to mention he’s like...fifty odd.”

“Sure.” Hop nodded. “But you like him back, don’t you? I mean, you’ve been crushing on him since we saw him in in Galar Mine Two.”

“I do.” Katla stared pensively at her drink. “He looks so cold and closed off, but he’s not. He’s warm and gentle and kind, and...I feel awful that I hurt him with our fight. And he’s blaming himself for everything, when he’s got nothing to be sorry for!”

Hop glanced back to the letter and then back at her.

“Wait. When you say he’s got nothing to be sorry for, does that mean...” He spoke slowly. “Does that mean you were throwing those matches...?”

“No!” Katla snapped, then cringed, shaking her head. “No, I...I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t deliberately sabotage myself, but never tried again after I lost; I just walked away and never came back. Maybe I was shying away from it. I dunno.” She sighed. “I can’t be certain I was at my peak in those fights, or that I was doing my all to win, if I’m honest. So, yeah, it was possible the thought of becoming Champion again was scaring me off. Kabu’s been the first person to really challenge me on it, and as you can tell,” she gestured to the letter, “I took it badly. It looks like he’s backpedalling, when he might actually be right about it.”

“Then I think you should tell him that.” Hop said. Katla’s heart forgot its next beat.

“W...What?”

“You should tell Kabu that he doesn’t need to apologise.” Hop said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “He sent you this letter as a way to smooth things over with you, right? Well, now you gotta smooth things over with him. And the only way to do that is to talk to him. It shouldn’t be too hard - you got his number!” He thrust the letter at her. “Text him or give him a call, and talk it out. You’ll both feel so much better afterwards.” He smiled brightly at her. “Then you can stop worrying about Kabu, and go back to focusing on beating Gordie!”

She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You make it sound so simple when you put it that way, Hop.”

“It looks simple to me!” He replied, before he leaned over, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Kat, listen. From what I know about you, and what I’ve seen in that letter, I think you’ll be fine. I think you both feel the same towards each other, actually. If you go talk to him, I bet my badges only good things’ll come from it.”

“Bet your badges, eh?” Katla arched an eyebrow. “Those are some confident words, there.”

“‘Cos I am.” Hop grinned toothily. “Honestly, mate, you’ll be fine. You’ll feel tons better talking it through with him anyway.”

He pulled away, and his face then became serious.

“Kat...you’re gonna give your all in the Semifinals, right?” He asked. “It won’t be right if you’re not at your best. If I win, I want it to be because I was better, not ‘cos you don’t want to face Lee just in case you win.”

“Yes.” Katla made sure he could see the sincerity in her blue eyes. “I’m going to give you the match you deserve, Hop. I’ve never held back in any of my matches against you, and I won’t start to. I promise.”

“Good.” He nodded, looking content.

“You are assuming that I’ll actually get to the Semifinals, though. There’s three Gym Leaders to get through before then, and any of them could halt me in my tracks.” She pointed out.

“That’s what you said about Kabu, and look what happened there.” Hop grinned. “Speaking of which, you should clear the air with him before you go face Gordie, or you’re gonna be too distracted to beat him. And I don’t want my rival falling too far behind!”

“Oh come off it!” She swatted at him. “I’ll...I’ll think about it. About texting him, I mean. I just...”

“Hey,” Hop leaned over again, putting an arm around her this time. “He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to use it. Just...be you. You’ll be fine.”

“I guess.” Katla smiled. “Thanks, Hop. I really mean it - you’ve been...more than I deserve, honestly.”

“Aw come on, we’re friends!” He grinned, a slight blush on his cheeks. “It’s what friends do. I know you’d do the same for me. Right?”

“Yeah, of course.” She nodded. “But I might beat up the person who upset you too.”

Hop barked out a laugh.

“What, really?”

“I’m serious! The only thing that saved Bede from an ass-whooping was witnesses.” Katla grinned. “Still might punch him in the face when I see him again.”

Hop chuckled bashfully, his blush slightly brighter.

“Hehe, thanks Kat.”

“You’re welcome, Hop. Least I can do.”

---

Katla: Hey Kabu, it’s Katla. Do you have some time to talk?

Kabu: Yes. I have as much time as you need.

Katla: I was thinking maybe we could meet up to talk, if you’re still in Circhester?

Kabu: I am. There is cafe on the east side of the city, towards Route Nine, that is known for being discreet. We will be able to meet there in privacy.

Katla: That sounds perfect. What time? I have nothing going on so any time today is good for me.

Kabu: Fortunately I have that luxury too. If I send you the location, we could meet in a couple of minutes. Is this okay?

Katla: Yeah, that’s fine, thanks.

#SPR writes #pokemon sword/shield #pokemon trainer oc #kabu #hop #kabu pokemon #hop pokemon #self insert #kabu/oc #katla/kabu #angst #yes there will be another part #looks like that previous part did awaken something in me #*sigh*#also hop is adorable and I will die for that boy #sprs writing #pokemon oc: katla

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