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dimdiamond · 3 years

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Bagginshield fic list

Yeah, I decided to make one too because there are enough to cause me headaches and I'd like to have them somewhere organized. Please look at the tags before reading them!

Fix-it fics

Desperate magic by BeautifulFiction: Bilbo is left to tend Thorin as he hovers on the brink of death after the Battle of the Five Armies. Is love enough to save Erebor's king, or is this the last farewell?

Lay your troubles down by Avelera: An extended version of "the acorn scene." Bilbo sees his chance to snap Thorin out of his madness, and takes it.

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction: The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Color of Possibility by lindoreda: When Bilbo puts himself between Thorin and Azog's blade, his mithril shirt protecting them both, it isn't long before some dwarves whisper that 'Oakenshield' might not be the best epithet for their king anymore. But for Bilbo, barred from Thorin's sight since the battle, this new epithet only adds to the sting. Spending his days caring for the recovering princes, Bilbo wonders how much more of this he can take, not suspecting his place at the center of a silent divide in the company.

Homesick by Margo_Kim: Five years after they've reclaimed Erebor, Thorin is sick of home, Bilbo is just sick, and neither is handling the situation ideally.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe: In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

Notices in the Paper by YamBits: Bilbo returns to the Shire after his adventure, newly married, and newly homeless, after his two year absence allowed the Sackville-Bagginses to obtain Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin go to the Tooks for help, and find newly orphaned Frodo Baggins, also looking for a home.

A Royal Guardianship by ladyoakenshields: When Bilbo and Thorin return to the Shire for a sabbatical during Yuletide, they find a reason to retire the throne in Erebor sooner than expected.

The Shire's gems by awkwarng3: Thorin, Bilbo, and Frodo move to the Shire after raising Frodo in Erebor, and Frodo makes a friend.

Time travel fix-it fics

An expected journey by MarieJacquelyn: For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right? Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Bilbo Baggins, warrior of the Valar by Pallalalo: Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve come to the Shire to look for this someone? My, Gandalf, I wonder if you know Hobbits at all. They would tell you that adventures are nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. That they would make you late for dinner.” Bilbo recalled his own words perfectly. It had been something he and Gandalf had looked back on with bittersweet laughter. This Gandalf however noticed his exact words. “Would they now? And what about you, mhm? What would you tell me about adventures?” #The Valar send Bilbo back in time, to the day where Gandalf asks him to join in an adventure. After living a lifetime of regret and suffering, he vows to change things for the better. For Thorin. For Frodo. But will he succeed?

I'll die to care for you by thehufflepuffhobbit: His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try." "Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning. Or:Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Darker times ahead by Reach4theSky: Bilbo is sailing to the Undying Lands but wary of letting go of the guilt that has been with him for many decade. His most sincerest wish is to go back and change what was done. Before reaching the lands of peace and healing, he dies aboard the ship and finds that his wish is being granted, not because he is the one to wish it but because this is the dwarves last chance to escape a fate of eternal waiting. He finds that not only is he going to be sent back to his younger body, but so is the entire Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Time is a fickle thing and not all the members have their memories returned to them at the same time. The journey on becomes interesting as the dwarves slowly remember and fight for themselves and their kin, yet new hurdles are thrown at them when they realize that more people remember than expected...

Of an arcane binding by Salvia_G: An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor.

Legends by DomesticGoddess: The fellowship has set out on its noble quest to destroy the ring and put an end to the threat that is Sauron! Just set out really, barely left the gates of Imladris, but things are going smoothly enough so far. That is until the two most unlikely party crashers fall upon their little fellowship. Uncle Bilbo and the Legendary Thorin Oakenshield?! Frodo just wants to know what's going on but the two of them won't stop hollering at each other long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Suddenly, their little group is joined by Frodo's two biggest heroes and he discovers there was a lot more to Uncle Bilbo's stories than he realized.

Beside myself by bliboboggins: "What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

Erebor never fell au fics

The hearth doesn't make the home by Moonrose91: For things Bilbo could not change, he was condemned to a life of isolation, with the belief that none could love him. And then a Dwarf came to Hobbiton.

Clarity of vision by Mithen: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.

Ghivashel by mdseiran: The last thing Bilbo expects when he stays up late one night is company. The strange dwarf and his companion crash into his life and prove unexpected saviours. But the dwarf seems to think he will be joining them on their travels, and Bilbo has no such intentions.

The Song of My Heart by DomesticGoddess: After a failed attempt of trying to carve out a new home in the Blue Mountains for his people, Thorin finds himself beseeching the Hobbit Thain and his council for a place for his people in their bountiful land. An agreement is struck and plans in the works for integrating his people into their land. The only condition being an arranged marriage between himself and one of their family heads. A small price to pay to see his people safe and well fed. Unfortunately, he’s to marry the most disagreeable hobbit in all the Shire who also seems to hold a personal grudge against him. If only he could figure out why his new betrothed hates him so much.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ: After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Karkûn shukula - A Cinderella AU by harrypanther: When the Prince of the Shire visits the Kingdom of Erebor, there is great excitement. There are hopes he will choose to marry one of the Royal Family, cementing an alliance that would secure food supplies for the dwarven Kingdom and gain new allies. All eligible dwarves are expected to attend a series of Balls. Unknown to the guests, there is a third royal child, manoeuvred out by his ambitious stepmother, for whom this may be his last chance of restoring his fortunes and escaping his fate…

Alone this Yuletide by Emsiecat: 'Alone this Yuletide? Irritated with prying and nosey family members? I am an out of work blacksmith currently trying to make my way by any means necessary that does not involve my resorting to thievery (prisons are most uncomfortable, I've unfortunate first hand experience). However, if you would like me to be your strictly platonic companion for any social function, but have me pretend that we are in a serious courtship, so as to torment your family and ward off unwanted suitors then I am more than obliging...' After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods. It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

Modern au fics

Nothing gold can stay by perkynurples: Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples: Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Candid by northerntrash: Thorin wasn't entirely sure why there was a six-foot candid photograph of him hanging in this exhibition, but he was going to wring the neck of whoever had put it there. In which Bilbo is a photographer, Thorin an accidental model, and Gandalf just likes to make trouble for everyone.

How the west was won and where it got us by stickman: Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands. Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up. Except one morning, someone does. [graduate school AU]

Butterfly effect by eyra: Yoga wasn’t for him. Yoga was for interesting people. Luminous people; people who took gap years and spoke a foreign language. People who ate lentils and burned incense and had fantastic, colourful friends with fantastic, colourful lives full of travel and silent retreats and those baggy trousers with elephants on them. Yoga was decidedly not for people like Bilbo, who wore cardigans and ate beans on toast and whose linguistic capabilities stretched only as far as a rusty Spanish A-Level. Just your regular story of boy meets yoga instructor.

Remover of the obstacles by MistakenMagic: "Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Color outside the lines by andquitefrankly: Kindergarten has just gotten significantly better. Just ask Thorin, who's got the biggest crush on the new kid in class, Bilbo Baggins. With the help of his friends, Thorin knows that he can take back the swings from the 1st graders, show up the K-1 class in the school pageant, and win the heart of one curly haired boy. Yup. Kindergarten is going to be a year to remember.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog): Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

Different species au fics

I've grown a hedge around my heart by pibroch (littleblackdog): "Thorin was the essence of so many Buckland oddities, distilled into one misfortunate young hobbit, much to his infinite embarrassment. Built like a stork, his father had said once, in an example of Thrain Brandybuck’s usual tactless humour. All beak and legs." Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood. It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him. Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

In which the dwarves are satyrs for reasons by HiddenKitty What the title says basically.

Bride of the demon king by DomesticGoddess: Thorin is King of the demons, a beast-like race feared by humans. Ever since the demons and humans formed a truce years ago, the humans have sent a young human every year as a tribute to the King of demons. Thorin is tired of having to deal with the tribute that has long since lost its meaning. The only tribute he'd be interested in is the boy he met fifteen years ago on the border of the demon and human realms. Despite his fantasies, Thorin knows the chances of ever seeing the boy again are slim to none, until they're not.

Lost He Wandered Under Leaves by serenbach: Thorin son of Thrain is a struggling blacksmith descended from a fallen line of kings. In an attempt to provide for his family over the winter, he reluctantly accepts an impossible sounding task - to hunt down an enchanted deer that lives in the Old Forest that borders the Shire, and make armour and weapons from its hide and antlers. He never expected to succeed. And he certainly never expected what he found to change his life so completely.

A Dryad's Tale by Bilbo Baggins by Moongazer12: Bilbo is a dryad (think little sibling to ents). Long ago a curse was placed upon him from destroying one of the rings of power. Whenever he touches someone with his bare skin he will make them insane. But despite this, he and Gandalf have gone on many adventures to help protect Middle Earth (What was the point to destroying the ring if something else destroyed it instead?) Gandalf has called on him once again to help on a quest, Bilbo just hopes that they read his amendments to the contract.

The quest but with a twist au fics

King, come at the red morning by Tawabids: Bilbo has heard fairytales of the lost prince of the dwarves, Thorin son of Thrain, who disappeared the day Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain. But he does not believe in fairytales until he comes across the dwarf sleeping in the depths of Erebor, and kisses him back to life. Now Thorin - a hundred and fifty years out of his time - has to confront a world in which his city is empty, his people scattered, his baby brother Frerin is king, two nephews he's never met are missing in action, and a war is brewing right on his doorstep. And as if that wasn't complicated enough he's trapped in the body of an old man and falling stupidly in love with a gossipy, grudging little hobbit.

When the sun rises by Harry1981: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was not a very respectable Hobbit. No respectable Hobbit had a sword and crossbow hanging in their home, nor did they have Dwarves as family. But Bilbo Baggins did, and all of Shire knew of his husband, blacksmith Thorin Oakenshield. When Bilbo comes home to find his Husband earlier than expected, he learns of a quest to reclaim Erebor. It is a death mission. Bilbo knows that Dwarves are stubborn creatures, and none more than Thorin himself. But nobody said that Bilbo himself was any less stubborn. So he will follow his dearest husband across all of Middle Earth, through plains and mountains and forests, all while hiding the true nature of their relationship (Dwarven politics never helped anyone), brushing off some old wounds (and getting new ones) and finding out new things about the dwarf Bilbo calls husband (and his extended family). Nobody ever said love was easy, after all.

Small, but fierce by DomesticGoddess: As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about anything in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk that for all it's worth).

Your song like a home in my heart by Nennvial: In Middle Earth, all creatures have a soulmate. Not all have some, but if they do, it is a bond nothing can break, not even death. The more famous story of such a bound was the story of Bren and Luthien, who even defied detath. The way someone can find out that the other is one’s soulmate is through song: when they meet and hear the voice of the other, a song sings in their heart, which feels like home and makes them complete. They may refuse it if they wish to do so, but they hence risk a life of bitter looniness. Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins are soulmates, but they must admit it to themselves throughout their journey to Erebor.

To Dungeons Deep (And Caverns Old) by KingUndertheMountain: Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits. He was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.

Chocolate candy one-shots

The world is sleeping (my world is you) by katheneverwrites (mandolinearts): I asked Persephone, “How could you grow to love him? He took you from flowers to a kingdom where not a single living thing can grow.” Persephone smiled, “My darling, every flower on your earth withers. What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.” - Nikita Gill ---“What do you mean, my friend?” There is a line of thought that surfaces in Gandalf’s mind, but he drowns it before it can take root. Surely not. But Bilbo’s chuckle sets him on edge. The small, gentle god of harvest, nature, and flowers sits up straighter, and in his crown of flowers there is a wire of strong metal, his cloak is suddenly not colorful anymore but the deepest black and he is terrifying, horrific, powerful - “I married Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the World.”

Of seasons by northerntrash: As far as he could tell, he had been kidnapped, which in itself made this week more than a little unusual. In which Bilbo steals away the Lord of Death, and Thorin can't quite bring himself to stay angry about it.

Warm up by paranoid_fridge: On one of their walks, Bilbo tumbles into a stream. They make it back to Bag End and Bilbo demands Thorin warm him up.

Royal Blue And Crimson Red by Mistofstars: Here's what happened before and after Bilbo accidentally eavesdrops on Gandalf and Elrond at night in Rivendell, as they discuss Thorin's quest and his family's history. Oh, and Thorin and Bilbo share a room, of course ;)

I was young when I left home by Margo_Kim: There was a pity clapper somewhere in the third row. Thorin finished his fourth song to polite applause from the people who noticed that the song was finished, but within the smattering of claps was someone beating his hands together like he was trying to rhythmically kill a fly. There was usually one of those, the kind who notices that no one else is paying attention and so is determined to compensate for that regardless of how they feel about the actual music. Thorin ignored him. It was easy to do so—he'd always hated looking at the audience when the singing was done.

A matter of buttons by StupidFatPenguin: “Your shirt,” says Thorin, quite out of the blue, and Bilbo looks down his front to see if there is a spot of tea or jam or anything equally embarrassing spilled on it. He is relieved to find nothing of the sort and looks up at the dwarf with an eyebrow raised in question. Thorin sits mute, his still-smoking pipe forgotten in his hand. He looks on for long moments still, seems almost lost to a thought before he shifts and lifts his gaze to meet Bilbo’s inquiring face. “It is familiar to me. Did you not wear this on the eve we met?” In which Bilbo and Thorin re-enact the evening they met.

The ladder by Milliethekitty27: Inspired from a post made by wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Tired of his lonely kitchen in Yavanna's Garden, Bilbo Baggins wonders if the dwarven love of being underground is true in death. If so, maybe his dwarves are living (ha ha) under the very land Bilbo is weeding. With that thought, Bilbo goes and asks Hamfast for a shovel.

Love hobbit by HybridOwl: Bilbo Baggins considers himself a bit of a cock up, all things considered. He never made it out of his small highway adjacent town, can't seem to stop chain-smoking, and overall has more to talk about with the plants in his shop than 90% of all the rest of Middle Earth. So when he's reading the morning paper and a love note that can't be for anyone but him pops up, he's pretty sure - almost positive, really - that he's being made fun of. "TO the chain-smoking little stud who collects two metros from Gamgee's Goods every morning, will you be my love hobbit? - Bearded Biker." (heavily inspired by tumblr posts)

Fusion with other fandoms au fics

The Second Time by authoressjean; Sebastian Moran can't pull the trigger on John Watson to save his own hide, and what the hell is it with the doctor, anyway? Then Gandalf shows up, meddlesome wizard, and reminds him none too gently of his past life: as Thorin Oakenshield, leader of a company that had once included a small hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. One that looked decidedly like John Watson. And this would be the perfect chance to make things right with Bilbo the way he really hadn't been able to before he died, and that's when Gandalf tells him John doesn't remember being Bilbo, and to leave him alone. Right. Like that's going to happen.

And sow a star divided in us by MistakenMagic: Short summary: Gays in space! Longer summary: After his first successful solo mission, Jedi Knight Bilbo Baggins, trained by High Council member and full-time nuisance, Master Gandalf, returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. During an excursion to the sparring arena, he meets a group of Dwarven Jedi from Ered Luin, a mountainous planet located in the Outer Rim. Young padawans, Fili and Kili, are full of curiosity at this strange, barefoot Jedi, but Master Thorin, who appears to have the personality of a rancor and mental shields like blast doors, is less than impressed.

Comics you should definitely check

Every work by rutobuka, seriously they're criminally cute and they're not still favored by everyone without reason.

Retelling the Hobbit by Mellow_Comics: Bilbo has never been good at telling the "true" story of what happened on his journey to the Lonely Mountain. Now he's trying to turn the tale of his quest into a lighthearted children's book-- a bedtime story for his young nephew Frodo. But what really happened on his journey? And how did it actually affect him? This is a comic adaptation/retelling of the Hobbit! It's framed as a bedtime story that Bilbo is telling a younger Frodo.

For now these are some of my personal favourites! However, I'm sure my list will grow since my reading list has some gems still waiting for me to read, so be certain that there will be a part 2 of this list!

#bagginshield #fic list #bagginshield fic #they're a LOT #they're all great #thank you fic writers #thank you artists

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troubatrain · 3 years

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good for you - t. jost

a/n: one day it dawned at me that tyson jost really had just been hitting different lately, and so i just needed to write some filth about it. i'm thinking of making this a smut based mini series so let me know what you guys think :)

part two

warnings: it's smush time (smut)

I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this.

Mat Barzal was pouting, laying across your bedroom in your apartment whining about how you were heading off to Colorado and leaving him. It wasn’t by choice, you’d gotten into a grad program that was an amazing opportunity, separating you and your childhood best friend for the first time in ages. Mat was your friend by accident, a kid was picking on him and you got mad because only you’re allowed to do that and punched that kid square in the nose. Mat covered for you so you wouldn’t get suspended and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“This place is going to be too quiet without you,” Mat whines, dodging the book you’d thrown in his direction, “And not that I keep you to clean up after me but I do need you to teach me how to use the dishwasher.”

“How about you help me pack then?” You suggest, rolling your eyes at his inability to take care of himself. He’d always been like that, his own mother relieved when you moved in because it eased her worries about Mat burning his place down.

“You should give Tyson a call,” Mat hops up, grabbing a box and some stuff off your shelf, “Sure he’d be able to show you around.”

“Tyson Jost?” You furrow your brows, trying to clarify exactly who Mat was talking about. There wasn’t anything wrong with Tyson, that was the problem. Tyson was like sunshine in the summer and in another life, he’d be your dream man. He was kind and the way he talked about his mother made every one of your girlfriends swoon. Tyson had the kind of drive you respected and he just seemed so steady, “I thought we agreed I’d break him.”

“You agreed with yourself on that one not me,” Mat chuckles, shaking his head at your response. Mat couldn’t think of any one of his friends that he’d let date you besides Tyson. Tyson was an astronomically better person than Mat was, always the kind of kid his parents encouraged him to hang out with, “What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot?”

“I’m not sleeping with Tyson, he’s too innocent,” It wasn’t an excuse, it was the truth. Everything about Tyson screamed that he’d get you off but it wouldn’t be all that exciting. Tyson was a relationship type, and you weren’t and aside from the obvious sexual incompatibility - he was Mat’s friend. Despite his efforts, you always swore that was a line you’d never cross. Besides, as kind and endearing as Tyson was, he was still a hockey player, he just got away with it better than most.

“Just promise me you’ll call him? Especially if something’s wrong,” Mat pleads, a soft expression on his face even if it was just for a second before you had a t-shirt tossed in your direction, “You can’t let him replace me though, I’m number one around here.”

“I cannot wait to live alone,” You tease, laughing when Mat’s middle finger is thrown in your direction. It was bittersweet, leaving the comfort of having Mat around to buy you ice cream when you were sad and to take care of his best friend duties and onto a new adventure.

“You won’t be alone Josty will be there,” Mat jokes, his laugh bouncing off the now barren walls of your bedroom, “I swear I’m done now.”

“You better be.”

“I give it two weeks before you fuck Josty though.”

***

Just swing by her place, please.

Mat was like a mother who just sent their first kid away for college, and he was panicking. So, yes, he was begging Tyson to just drop in on to make sure your move was going as smoothly as you made it sound on the phone. Tyson could have been doing anything else on a Friday night with no game, but he was getting closer and closer to giving in by the second.

Tyson could admit, he wanted to see you, and he was excited when Mat shared the news you were moving to Denver. He looked forward to seeing you in the summer, carefree and light and so far out of his league he’d never even try. You made Tyson fumble his words, and every time he saw you he would think with his dick and he couldn’t focus on anything else. Above all else, Tyson wanted you to know he was a phone call away, a promise he made to Mat that he’d be there if you needed anything that he was going to keep for his own selfish reasons.

So Tyson was off to your apartment, a bottle of wine in one hand and a case of Coors Light in the other. He lifted his hand to knock, taking a deep breath and just thinking to himself, don’t fuck this up.

You knew that familiar tuft of curls in your peephole anywhere, summers spent watching the way Tyson’s curls bounced against his forehead whenever he spoke. This had Mat written all over it, no doubt your best friend put Tyson up to his welcoming committee bit. You turn around, boxes piled everywhere with nothing set up in your place aside from your mattress in the middle of the floor and your tv in your living room. Unpacking had been a bit overwhelming, and you may have lied on the phone to Mat that you were doing just fine. You take one deep breath, holding your head up high and pretending like your place wasn’t a mess.

“Hi,” You smile, leaning against your doorframe and taking in the man in front of you. Did he get bigger? Maybe it’s the hair, it’s longer. No, the scruff. Whatever it was, your feet were glued to the floor because you were stunned by the fact that Tyson Jost had gotten hot.

“Welcome,” Tyson cheeses, holding up the beer and wine in his hands and shrugging his shoulders, “I hope it’s fine I stopped by, Mat called and-”

“Told you to come?” You finished his sentence, Tyson nodding at your question, “Well, I have no furniture because it won’t be here until tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to come join in my sad empty apartment.”

“I’d love to,” Tyson chuckles, bumping his shoulder with yours when he walked into your place. It was definitely empty, Tyson wishing he’d known sooner you’d be without most of your stuff for another day so he could offer up his guest room. It didn’t matter to him, his mind focused more on the fact that you looked incredible, a too big Islanders shirt and a pair of shorts that were leaving little to the eye. You were digging through a box, a small aha leaving your mouth when you pulled out a mug, “Wine in a mug?”

“That’s how Mat used to pour me glasses when we first moved in together,” You admit, gripping the mug in your hand tightly. You may have stolen it from your former kitchen, but it was a memory you wanted to remember, “You can sit, I mean the only place is on my mattress but-”

“Sounds like a tradition then,” Tyson hums, sitting down and leaning against your pillows, taking a sip of his beer. You sat cross legged next to him, pouring yourself some of the wine he’d brought over in that silly I <3 New York mug Mat bought for your first place. You settled on a movie, thankful you at least had wi-fi and didn’t have to make awkward conversation with Tyson.

It’s only awkward because you’re making it awkward, you thought to yourself. Maybe Tyson was doing it on purpose, peacocking around your apartment because Mat told him he had this weird thing about you sleeping with him. He wouldn’t do that, remembering every other time Tyson’s ignored one of Mat’s grand schemes because they were bad ideas, “Excited for the season to start? A few more weeks right?”

“I’m excited for camp to be over,” Tyson groans, snuggling himself into

your mattress, “My entire body’s on fire.”

Yeah mine too. You watched the way Tyson rolled his shoulders, clear pain across his face, “Ty’s let me-”

You were usually bold, confident enough to make the first move without the fear of rejection. It could be from years of watching Mat, a true master at his craft of picking up women, and constantly encouraging you to do the same. That’s how a player plays the game Y/N. Tyson’s brows were raised at you, a blush on his neck while he let himself sit a bit. You slipped your fingers under the soft cotton of his t-shirt, digging them into the knots in his shoulder. Tyson let his eyes rest, embracing the relief you were giving him.

Of course your fingers felt like magic. Tyson was doing everything in his power to keep his cool, and not blow this one chance he’s had with you without Mat’s stupid antics in the middle of it. Just ask her out, she’ll probably reject you, but at least you’ll get laid. Mat was right, he had to be because he knew you better than anyone. It wasn’t just some claim he made either, you didn’t do relationships, never giving your heart to someone else, “How are you good at this?”

“Tito used to tell me I had a career in deep tissue massages in my future,” You joke, Tyson’s head falling back to look at you while he let out a laugh, “Sometimes I think he just wanted to save a trip to the rink…do you mind if I-?”

You were tugging at Tyson’s shirt, waiting for him to nod in response and grab it from the back and toss it off. You never took the time to look at Tyson like this, eyes scanning over his skin and taking him in. Scars on his skin, no doubt from his choice in sport and one from that time Mat took roughhousing too far over the summer. Your finger curled around a loose curl at the base of his neck, Tyson letting out a hum, “I like the curls grown out Tys.”

“Keep pulling on them,” Tyson grunts, the words falling through his lips before he could stop them. You let out a small giggle, Tyson thanking his lucky stars you didn’t just hit him. He turned around, a glimmer in his eyes that you’d seen dozens of times before. Your hand stayed in his hair, gripping his hair softly when Tyson’s lips finally landed on yours. It was slow at first, testing out the waters and Tyson waiting for the blow of rejection. His hand was on your waist, hand slipping under your shirt and rubbing your skin softly. His lips moved down your neck, scruff tickling your skin, “Been wanting this for a while…”

“Yeah?” You muse, tilting your head back while Tyson’s teeth sunk into them. His grip got tighter, your breath hitching in your throat.

“If you don’t count the years I spent wondering what the fuck you and Mat were, then every summer for the past four years,” Tyson’s eyes had gotten a shade darker, flipping you over so you were underneath him, “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot, or that I’ve been mentally undressing you for years.”

“Now’s your chance Tys, don’t blow it,” You chirp, waiting for Tyson’s laugh to follow, except it didn’t. Tyson’s hands pulled yours over your head, grip tight on your wrists. What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot. Mat’s words were spinning your head, taunting you because there was a chance he was actually right.

“Don’t move them,” Tyson grits, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands pulled your shirt off slowly, stifling a groan when his suspicions about your lack of bra were true, “Be a good girl-”

“Or what?” You smirk, wondering how many buttons you could press before Tyson just railed you. This was new, welcome, and maybe you shouldn’t have assumed Tyson was the boring type behind closed doors.

“Or I’ll fuck you until you’re begging to cum, but I still won’t let you,” Tyson mutters, his lips pressed against your skin while his fingers hooked under your shorts, “So are you going to be good for me?”

Tyson waited for your answer, gaining himself a plus one in your book on consent and when you nodded, your shorts and panties came clean off. Tyson hooked your thighs over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to your clit lightly, “Don’t tease Tys.”

“Am I the first person who gets you like this?” Tyson groans, watching the way your hips were squirming every light kiss he pressed around your pussy. You were an alpha female, Mat’s words, never Tyson’s, and that meant that under most circumstances you were in charge.

“Yes,” You whimper, desperate for some sort of relief. Tyson had you wound up, in a position you were used to being in and you were eating up every bit of it. He finally gave in, Tyson’s well skilled tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a moan out of you that echoed through your empty apartment. You clasped your hands together, taking every bit of strength you had not to tug on Tyson’s curls, “Fuck, Tyson let me touch you.”

“Not what we agreed to, princess,” Tyson reminds you, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit. His tongue slid up your folds, Tyson climbing back up your body and letting his spit slide down his tongue and into your mouth, “Taste yourself babe.”

You nod, obliging happily with Tyson, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head at how fucking hot this was. His lips landed on yours, reminding you just how good you were being against your mouth. Tyson’s hand grabbed one of yours, intertwining your fingers with his, “Tyson, please I wanna cum so badly.”

“Where?” Tyson hums, sucking at your skin, undoubtedly leaving you a little gift to cover up for your first day of class.

“On your cock,” You bat your eyelashes, playing into Tyson’s game because you needed some release, “All over it, please-”

Tyson kicked off his boxers, taking his own cock in his hand and pumping it a few times. He tapped your clit the head, smirking when you moaned underneath him. This was better than he imagined, all of those unwanted dirty dreams about you that seemed to be more frequent over the summer. You let your free hand move, Tyson’s head thrown back when you lined his dick up your core, guiding him inside of you, “God, you feel so fucking good.”

Tyson dropped your hand, both of his large hands gripped your hips tightly while he slammed into you. Your legs with shaking from pleasure, “Fuck, right there, please I’m so close-”

Tyson wrapped one of your legs around his waist, hitting you deeper. His arms were on both sides of your head, his lips pressed up against your ears when he spoke, “Cum for me princess.”

Tyson’s deep groans sent you over the edge, your pussy fluttering around his cock while he fucked you through your orgasm. His lips parted, hips sputtering when he pulled out and came all over your stomach with a loud fuck. You both fell silent, the realization that you broke your own rule about Mat’s stupid friends washing over you. It wasn’t regret, it was something you couldn’t quite explain. Tyson finally fell next to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, letting his light kisses trail down your shoulder, “Let me get the shower ready for you.”

You nod, letting your eyes follow Tyson’s ass as he wandered through your place in search of your bathroom. An aftercare king too? Maybe you were biting off more than even you could chew with this one. You grab your phone, rolling your eyes at Mat’s unanswered texts complaining that you’d already replaced him with Tyson. Your fingers dance across the screen, typing up the text you’d been meaning to send since Tyson was at your front door.

You could’ve warned me Tyson got hot, you know?

You didn’t even last two weeks did you?

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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rafael-silva · 3 years

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in the warmth of your embrace: a tarlos fic

TK goes home to Carlos after a hectic shift, and Carlos takes care of TK in the way the paramedic needs, which partly comes in the form of TK cuddling Carlos and running his fingers through the officer’s soft curls.

for good things happen bingo: tarlos + playing with the other’s hair

emotional hurt/comfort, softness, cuddles, kisses, soft boyfriends, tk and carlos are so in love

2.5k | rated T | on ao3

*****

TK stumbles through the door, dropping his keys into the nearby bowl and lowers his duffel bag to the floor. He toes off his shoes near the entrance, stifling a yawn as he makes his way into the kitchen.

It had been a long, hectic shift, especially for the paramedics. Call after call kept them out of the firehouse for hours, barely even giving them enough time to grab a quick bite in between the radio coming to life with a new call.

He downs half of the cold water he pours into a glass, relishing in the cool liquid running down his dry throat. He loved saving lives, had truly found himself in it, but after exhausting shifts as this one, his knees barely able to carry him anymore, he longed for the moment he gets home to the comfort of his bed, to crawl into the loving and warm arms of his boyfriend.

It was Carlos’s day off, and the officer had spent it running errands and then had lunch at his parents’. Days when both of them aren’t working were a little difficult for them, being apart for many hours. Plus, their schedules haven’t been lining up well lately, making the time apart even harder.

At least when they were both working, Carlos would drop TK off at the firehouse, giving him a chaste kiss and a smile, promising to see him at home. TK returns the smile, reciprocating the promise and with one more echoed between them of please stay safe, they part ways, the knowledge that there are chances of them seeing either other sooner than that on calls bubbling in their stomachs.

But on days when one of them is off work, they try to spend as much lazy time in bed before one of them has to get ready to leave, exchanging sleepy smiles and kisses, mumbled good mornings and stealing some more cuddles under the soft sun rays shinning in through the curtains.

Eventually, though, the love spell has to inevitably be broken when the snoozed alarm rings. With a heavy sigh, one of them gets up, the other watching him with half lidded eyes, still sleepy around the edges. With a series of kisses from the forehead down to the lips, a goodbye is said, both already longing for each other after the first moment of separation.

The excitement at seeing Carlos simmers under TK’s skin, overriding his exhaustion as he climbs the stairs to their bedroom. The house is quiet, and he momentarily thinks Carlos might have fallen asleep, but he soon spots the soft yellow glow originating from the room and knows the officer is most likely still awake.

His gut is proven right when he stops in the doorframe, his eyes landing on Carlos. Carlos is sitting up in their bed, back against the headboard, wearing sweats and one of his old police academy t-shirts. His knee is pulled up towards his chest, an open book resting on his thigh, one TK recognizes is always on Carlos’s nightstand.

But that’s not what really captures TK’s attention, it’s Carlos’s eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his loose curls hanging over his forehead that catch the paramedic’s eyes and they linger there.

He leans against the doorframe, arms going to cross over his chest as he watches his boyfriend, a smile spreading on his face. And by the way his curls run wild and free, TK can tell Carlos had just gotten out of the shower.

Carlos is so immersed in the reading material, TK can tell by the slight crease in his eyebrows, but he immediately senses TK’s arrival and presence by the door. There’s always been a tug between them, an invisible string connecting them. They always gravitate towards each other, even in their sleep, their connection cosmic and powerful.

Carlos looks up from his book and a blinding smile takes over his face, reaching his glittering brown eyes.

“Hey, babe,” Carlos greets. “How long have you been standing there?”

“A minute or so,” TK replies as he steps into the bedroom, walking over to Carlos. “I love watching you read, you know that.”

“Mhm,” Carlos nods, a light blush painting his cheeks as he gently cups TK’s face and returns the kiss TK leans in for.

TK sighs happily, allowing himself to feel all of Carlos and to melt against him.

“Welcome home,” Carlos whispers into the small space between them when they separate.

“It’s good to be home,” TK whispers back, leaning into Carlos’s touch and goes in for another soft kiss, resting his hands against the mattress on either side of Carlos to balance himself.

“How was your day?” Carlos asks, watching TK move over to the closet to get changed out of his uniform.

“It was alright, hectic and super busy though,” TK replies as he tugs his shirt out of his pants and starts to unbutton it.

Carlos marks the page and closes the book, returning it to the nightstand. He then goes to remove his round eyeglasses but stops when TK speaks.

“Oh, no, that stays on,” TK smirks.

An eyebrow travels up Carlos’s forehead behind his glasses. “Oh?”

TK shrugs and bites down on his lower lip, his cheeks turning pink. “I like it, you should wear it more often.”

Carlos adjusts the transparent frame as he chuckles.

TK gets on the bed, a knee supporting his body as he leans over to plant a kiss to Carlos’s cheek. “It’s sexy,” he whispers. “And cute.”

“As long as it ticks both those boxes,” Carlos winks.

“Oh, it definitely does,” TK confirms with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he continues to change into something more comfortable. “And I see you’ve finally gotten around to continue it,” he gestures to the now closed book.

Carlos nods. “I had to reread a couple of chapters to get back on track but it’s good, and there was some free time after coming home from my parents’ to really get back into it.”

“Yeah, I would imagine you’d have to do that after months of not having time to read. And how was lunch?” TK asks, slipping an old NYFD t-shirt on and then sweats.

“It was lovely,” Carlos smiles. “Mom and dad really missed you there, though. Made me promise to bring you over for another lunch as soon as possible.”

“I really wish I could have been there,” TK sighs, plugging his phone into the charger. “And here’s hoping our schedules line up better next week so we can do that.”

“Amen,” Carlos agrees. “Come here,” he lifts and opens his arm in TK’s direction. “You’re exhausted,” he adds, noticing his boyfriend is mere seconds away from toppling over.

TK nods, going to remove the duvet on his side and flicking it near the foot of the bed and gets in. The feeling of the soft mattress underneath his spent body is heavenly, but it’s nothing compared to the true comfort he feels as he rests in Carlos’s arm and tucks his face into the officer’s neck.

“I got you,” Carlos reassures, his arm going around TK’s shoulder and pulling him against him even more.

“You always do,” TK replies, brushing a kiss to the exposed skin of Carlos’s neck. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you, too, baby,” Carlos responds and presses a kiss to the top of TK’s head. “Texting will never be the same as seeing you on one of those calls.”

“Yeah,” TK agrees. “And we didn’t do much of that either thanks to the never-ending calls we got.”

“You saved lives, and I’m so proud of you, babe,” Carlos expresses, his voice coated with so much love and admiration for the younger man.

TK replies with another kiss to Carlos’s neck. “I never would have been able to make the change to paramedic without you. You guided me and supported me, your words gave me the final push I needed and your encouragement every day means more than words can express.”

“I’ve got your back, Ty, always,” Carlos vows.

“And I’ve got yours,” TK vows back.

“Is there anything you need?” Carlos asks, his hand moving up and down TK’s arms in the way he knows calms TK.

“Just this. Just you, ‘Los, you’re all I need,” TK replies with a smile.

“You’ve got me,” Carlos says and the kiss he gives TK this time is brushed against his temple.

TK nuzzles closer to Carlos, almost like he wants to disappear into his boyfriend and Carlos understands. On days like these, days that take a big toll on TK, TK is often in need of anchoring and grounding, and Carlos has learned over the months of their relationship that taking care of TK in the aftermath of said days takes on many forms. The officer has also gotten pretty good at knowing how to offer the comfort TK needs without TK having to ask for it.

He would have run a bath for TK and guided him to the bathroom when he returned home, knowing that the warm water and feeling Carlos’s touch would help TK, but after seeing just how tired TK was and how TK so eagerly gravitates towards him, Carlos knows exactly what TK needs.

TK needs to feel Carlos under his touch, to hold him close, to melt into him.

Knowing this in his heart, Carlos shifts, and TK lets out a disapproving noise at the movement.

“Trust me,” Carlos says, slightly pulling back from TK.

TK frowns as they separate, not yet catching up to what Carlos is doing. He realizes Carlos’s plan when the cop positions his body in front of TK’s, his back now to TK’s chest and TK wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Carlos and pulling him close. It’s almost an automatic response, TK needing to be close to his boyfriend.

TK, now holding Carlos, drops a kiss to the back of the officer’s head while running the pads of his fingers over Carlos’s clothed stomach.

Their breathing syncs, slow and steady as Carlos’s hand goes to cover TK’s and he intertwines their fingers together.

TK’s other hand then moves to Carlos’s head and he begins carding his fingers through the soft curls there, Carlos humming in approval as TK weaves through the strands.

TK smiles when Carlos leans into his touch, knowing how much Carlos loves this and how it relaxes him. More than once, Carlos had fallen asleep while TK ran his fingers through his hair as they cuddled in front of the television.

“I love your curls like this,” TK’s voice breaks the comfortable silence that had fallen over them.

He twirls a curl around his finger, watching it scrunch back into place when he lets it go.

“I appreciate your days off because you don’t gel up your hair,” TK continues.

“Oh, is that the only reason you appreciate my days off?” Carlos asks, and TK can pretty much hear the smirk in his voice.

TK chuckles, the vibrations reaching Carlos’s body through their connection, making him smile.

“Not the only reason,” TK replies. “Your cooking is another reason I highly appreciate your days off.”

It’s Carlos’s turn to chuckle, nodding.

“But it doesn’t compare to our mutual days off and all the free time we get…” TK trails off, his voice suggestive and low against Carlos’s ear.

“Mhm,” Carlos agrees in a heartbeat. “Can’t wait for more days off together.”

Carlos lifts their connected hands and brushes a kiss to TK’s knuckles, TK squeezing Carlos’s hand in response. The tension eases and seeps from TK’s body and peace falls upon the couple.

“Feeling better, baby?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah,” TK nods, further anchoring himself through holding Carlos.

Carlos smiles and leans back against TK some more, knowing it’s helping TK.

He doesn’t exactly know what had happened during TK’s shift, if he had a rough call or something of the sort, but Carlos doesn’t push, also knowing that TK might shut down if he isn’t ready to talk about it yet.

Over the course of their relationship, Carlos had learned to give TK some space, that that was the best way to get TK to open up. The months of their relationship have helped Carlos know the difference between TK’s silences, being able to differentiate between those moments when TK is spiraling and needs a hand, and the ones where he’s composing his thoughts and processing his emotions.

There’s subtle differences between those silences, in TK’s demeanor and even engraved in his expressions. And Carlos has learned to tell the difference.

It wasn’t easy at first, his instinct to help TK and to be there for him overriding what he knew was true. Time had proven fruitful, though, and TK started to open up to Carlos more easily and more frequently. Of course, Carlos knew it was also thanks to their developing relationship and the trust built between them, but he also knew not pushing TK to talk had something to do with it, too.

So as TK runs his fingers through Carlos’s hair, gently massaging his scalp as he goes, Carlos knows TK is collecting his thoughts, figuring out his feelings, before talking to Carlos about it.

TK’s process happens in one of two ways, either he goes on a full rant, letting everything sink in as he speaks, usually while pacing back and forth or in moments like these, quiet moments, where it all happens inside his head and it’s those moments he needs something or someone to hold on to.

And Carlos trusts that TK will come to him when he’s ready.

“Wanna sleep, babe?” Carlos whispers.

“In a bit,” TK replies. “Just wanna stay like this for a little longer.”

Carlos nods as TK’s arm tightens around him and he wiggles against TK’s chest, getting more comfortable.

Carlos can tell TK also needs some more time for his mind to calm, for the racing thoughts to quiet down and he’s willing to stay like this for as long as TK needs.

“Thank you for this, ‘Los,” TK whispers, fingers still combing through Carlos’s curls, grounding them both.

“Always, baby.”

Eventually, TK’s heart rate starts to decrease, Carlos feeling the tranquility against his back and he knows TK will soon fall asleep.

“Come on,” Carlos says as he begins to shift, realizing how tired TK is at the lack of response from the paramedic at the officer’s movement.

TK nods and lets Carlos maneuver him, but he pauses, looking at TK.

“Okay if I take them off now?” Carlos asks, his tone a little teasing as he takes hold of his glasses.

TK nods. “I’d hate for them to break. But keep them close,” he winks.

Carlos chuckles, taking off his glasses and folding the handles, gently placing them on the nightstand near his phone.

Carlos switches off the light and the soft moonlight glow immediately shines into their bedroom. They shuffle in bed for a few moments before settling down, Carlos now holding TK, the gesture offering wordless comfort.

Carlos drapes his arm over TK’s middle, pulling him closer into his chest and then brushes a soft kiss to the side of TK’s neck.

“Get some rest, baby, we’ll deal with everything tomorrow,” Carlos murmurs.

TK lets out a content sigh and in the safety of Carlos’s hold, engulfed in Carlos’s scent and everything that is Carlos, he drifts off.

And wrapped in Carlos’s arms, TK is truly home.

(Carlos wearing eyeglasses was inspired by the photo Rafa posted on his Instagram story a while back!)

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 6,377 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, violence, gore, death, sexuality, nudity, typical TWD A/N: I didn't do nearly as many read-throughs with this one so there are probably typos. And this part was getting HELLA long, so I ended up cutting it in a different place buuuuut that means you'll probably get the next chapter a little sooner! A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: The communities strike at The Saviors.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Everybody knows what they’re supposed to do?” Rick glanced around one final time at all of you gathered together. The air was tense and silent. He nodded. “Alright. Then let’s get this done.”

The crowd broke up a little chaotically as everyone headed to their positions. You watched with some apprehension, wondering just who was leaving now and wouldn’t return… Your reverie was broken by Aaron who ran up and grabbed you into a tight hug. Eric appeared shortly after.

“You be safe,” Aaron said, squeezing you tight. You wrapped your arms around him and returned it, shutting your eyes and hugging him back extra tight.

“You too. Both of you.”

Eric grabbed you next and seemed to give you an extra-long squeeze. “Go be your badass self, okay?” he said as he finally broke apart from you. “And we’ll see you back at home.” You nodded and gave his shoulder one last affectionate pat.

“Take care of each other,” you said, drinking in the sight of the two of them, your brow furrowed with worry.

They nodded earnestly and you exchanged a few more words of parting before they headed to their assigned cars. You watched them climb in, your stomach turning with anxiety.

You felt gentle fingers on your lower back and knew immediately that it was Daryl. You spun to face him and your worried expression was reflected on his face. “This is it,” he drawled.

“Yep,” you agreed with a nod.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip. “Wish we didn’t have to be apart for it,” he said quietly.

“I know. Me too. But we both have to play our roles, right? We’ve got jobs to do.”

He nodded before glancing around briefly and grabbing your hand. “C’mere,” he said, tugging you a little way away from the crowd to a more secluded spot. When he spun around again to look at you, you could truly see in his blue eyes how uneasy he was. He clasped your face and drank in the sight of you, trying to draw strength from the way you were looking up at him. He pulled you in against him with the other hand, light on your lower back. He gave you a pointed look. “I’ll see ya after,” he said vehemently.

You nodded again, gulping at the tightness in your throat. “After.”

Daryl leaned down and heatedly pressed his lips to yours, setting you ablaze. His tongue flicked across your lower lip and you parted yours to allow entrance for him, kissing him back feverishly, your arms looped around his neck as you arched into him. When Daryl’s lips finally softened, he didn’t pull away completely. You both were out of breath and off-balance from that kiss and he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes shut, just breathing you in for a moment longer, feeling you solid beneath his hands.

His blue eyes finally opened and met yours again and now he felt braver, stronger.

“Daryl,” you said, not meaning for it to come out in a whisper but it did. “I love you.” Your eyes flickered between his.

He couldn’t help how his lips curved into a small smile when you said that, every time. He clasped your face again in both hands, looking deeply into your eyes, memorizing the flecks of color. “I love ya, too.” He’d gotten better at hearing it and at saying it. He pressed one more urgent kiss to your lips and then laced his fingers with yours. The two of you headed back out to depart for battle.

Rosita strode over and held her hand out to you for a fist bump. “Ready, chica?” she asked.

You nodded and gave her a small smile as you bumped her fist with yours. You had your game face on now. Any trace of worry or fear in your expression was gone. “Let’s do it.”

“Hey—ya watch out for each other, alright?” Daryl said to both of you.

“We’ve got this,” Rosita said. “Don’t worry.”

Daryl nodded and gave you one last look before heading to his bike.

You caught Rosita’s eyes. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Soon you were behind the wheel in the vehicle with Rosita riding shotgun and all the supplies loaded in back.

“Alright, let’s run through it again,” you said, clutching the steering wheel much harder than necessary.

Rosita laughed a little dryly. “We’ve been through it a hundred times!”

“I know, but—it calms me down,” you muttered, glancing over at her.

She gave you a knowing look and nodded. “I know. Okay. We set the charges—all ten—main highway and the side roads that would lead to Alexandria. Then, we get the hell out of Dodge before any potential Saviors come our way and hopefully get blown to pieces... You drop me to rendezvous with Carol and you head for clean-up duty and assistance at the outpost. After, everyone meets back at Hilltop.”

You let out a forced exhale. “Okay. Okay. We’ve got this.”

You pulled over as you arrived at the first spot you were going to wire up and both of you hopped out to grab the devices you’d built. They’d trigger if something heavy enough, like a vehicle, tripped the pressure hose you laid across the road. By the time you had them assembled and armed you were already dripping with sweat. Rosita looked about the same as you climbed back into the SUV.

You wiped a hand across your brow and glanced over at her. “One down,” you said.

“Nine to go,” she said, clicking her seatbelt and let out a nervous breath. She glanced back at the supplies stacked in the back. “Can’t believe we’re finally doing this. About damn time,” she said. “That bastard and all his assholes deserve to pay for everything they’ve done.”

You felt her eyes on your face and glanced over.

“I just want you to know that you’re one of us. Family. Totally and completely,” she said.

Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but smile at her. “Thanks. Feel like we won the lottery with Aaron finding all of you,” you replied.

“Especially, Daryl, right?” she said knowingly, laughing at your expression.

You could feel your cheeks burning with a blush. “Shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes at her and turned them back to the road.

“You’re really good for him though, you know. In all seriousness.” Rosita watched as you just chewed on your bottom lip a bit nervously. “I’ve never seen him so happy. And that’s even with us all being right in the middle of this goddamn shitstorm.”

“Well… I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy either,” you said, feeling your cheeks redden again. You cleared your throat and laughed a little bashfully. “Alright, enough distracting me. I’m trying to keep my game face on. We’re almost at the next point,” you said, slowing the vehicle. You and Rosita repeated your set-up at all the assigned locations. At the last one she extended a fist to you again and you happily bumped it.

“See you back home,” she said. “Be careful.”

“I will.” You waved and were turning away to move your gun onto the center console when you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Carol behind you. “Everything alright?” you asked her. Rosita was waiting by Carol’s vehicle.

Carol grabbed you into a hug and you let out a small surprised noise. “Oh—th—thanks,” you said, managing to hug her back.

She gave you a fond look when she pulled back. “Come back in one piece, alright? If something happens to you—Daryl—”

“Hey. You, too,” you said seriously. “But nothing is happening to any of us, Right?”

Carol simply nodded, still looking apprehensive, and rushed back to Rosita and her vehicle to take off to their next position. You forced out an exhale as they sped off and climbed back into the SUV. Alone.

You were feeling extra anxious now. It was agonizing without any way to keep contact with everyone and you kept having flashes of almost overwhelming worry. Enough time had passed that everyone would be in the thick of things and if things were going to go sideways, they almost certainly had by now… But the revving and hum of the engine was somehow comforting as you sped toward your next location. Your plan was to a help at the spot where Aaron and Eric would be with a big group, clearing out an outpost. You had some other homemade IEDs in the back in case they were needed, but mostly you just wanted to be another gun and set of eyes.

You pushed the gas pedal down to the floor as you cruised down the highway. You were making good time when you suddenly felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You squinted up ahead and could see some obstacle in the road. You pressed your foot to the brake to slow a little, and eventually you could finally make out that it was an unfamiliar vehicle almost completely blocking both lanes. you noticed there were a few people standing on the side of the road with weapons. Saviors.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. Your mind was racing as you tried to figure out what to do. You thought you could scrape through on the edge of the lane if you were going fast enough to make yourself a hard target to shoot at or stop. But if they shot out your tire or something… “Fuck it,” you said out loud, and you moved your foot back to the gas pedal and depressed it to the floor again. The SUV leaped over the concrete, the engine roaring to life. “Come on. Come on…”

You were almost to the group of Saviors when you registered some object flying through the air, hurled by one of the men on the side of the road. You watched it as if in slow motion and by the time you realized what it likely was it was too late. All you could do was brace yourself as the grenade exploded just in front of the hood of your vehicle. The shockwave from the fireball was strong enough to blow and roll your vehicle back and on its side into the ditch in the middle of the highway. You vaguely registered the sound of screaming metal tearing against concrete, deafening cracks and crunches, and shattering glass as the SUV rolled over and over before the vehicle came to rest in the grassy ditch on the driver’s side.

Move. You have to move. Move. You couldn’t hear anything but a high-pitched ringing in your ears and your vision was splotchy and blurred with dark and red spots as you tried to keep your eyes open. Your vision seemed to go in and out, blurred and then sharpening, and then blurring again. Somehow you managed to get your bearings and struggled until you could undo your seatbelt. You registered that the windshield was completely busted and you maneuvered until you could kick it out. There was so much adrenaline coursing through you that you didn’t feel any pain, even though you were vaguely aware of a decent amount of blood on your body and hands. You saw your rifle laying down by the pedals and felt for your pistol with the other hand, making sure it was still in its holster on your leg. It was.

You vaguely heard shouting coming from the direction you assumed The Saviors were in. And it was then that you suddenly remembered the IEDs in the back of the vehicle. “Oh, fuck. Fuck!” You scrambled to climb out through the kicked-out windshield. “Shit, shit, shit!” The devices hadn’t been completely assembled or armed, but a violent car crash like the one you had just experienced definitely was enough to fuck them up and make them unstable. You let out a groan as you climbed to your feet, keeping bent over low and trying to shelter behind the turned over vehicle even as you struggled to put as much distance as possible between yourself and it. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

The crack of a gun was shortly followed by a bullet whizzing past you and you threw yourself flat to the ground and rolled over on your back so you could look back in the direction of your attackers. The tall grass in the ditch concealed you fairly well, but it also prevented you from being able to see how close they were. You were panting from exertion and the growing trickle of pain that was coming back to you now that the initial wave of adrenaline was waning made it hard to think straight. You sat up and barely peered over the tall grass, the stock of your rifle pressed into your shoulder, ready to be raised completely.

The Saviors were moving cautiously toward the vehicle, all doing their signature whistling which still sent chills through you. One was out ahead and moving in your direction. Where a moment before you had been rushing away and hoping that the explosives in the back of the SUV would remain stable, now you started wishing for the opposite. “Come on, you piece of shit. Blow the fuck up,” you muttered under your breath. You raised the rifle to your shoulder and took aim at the leader moving toward you as best you could without revealing yourself. It was still hard to see from your low vantage point on the ground, but you weren’t about to stand up and draw fire from all of them at once if you could help it.

You didn’t think they knew who you were yet, because they had shot at you seemingly to kill. Negan’s ominous words rang in your mind again, about wanting you alive.

“Why don’t you come on out?” the leader yelled, sweeping his gaze side to side as he slowly moved away from the SUV. “You’re all alone out here and you’ve got no way to get anywhere! You’re probably hurt! If you surrender now we’ll treat you reeeeeal nice. Promise!”

You heard faint laughter from the other men hanging back by the vehicle, apparently still trying to pry a door or something open to more closely inspect what was inside.

“Run, run, little rabbit! Come on!” The leader shouted again.

You were just about to shout something back, getting ready to squeeze off a rifle round, when there was another tremendous explosion and you felt the shockwave run right through you, throwing you back flat to the ground as the hot air and concussive blast rushed past. Smoke drifted over you as you stared up at the blue sky and you could hear the raining of some debris falling back to the ground.

You knelt in the tall grass and cautiously looked over at the blackened skeletal remains of your vehicle, flames still licking out from the interior. The bodies of the Saviors that had been closest to the explosion were still and maimed on the ground. You paced cautiously closer, looking for the leader, and you finally found him on the ground, flat on his stomach, apparently still disoriented from the blast, but largely unhurt.

He tried to get up as he suddenly registered your presence but you pushed the muzzle of your rifle into his back. “Where are the fucking keys to your truck?” you demanded. “Hands up! Where I can see them!”

He complied.

“Keys!” you demanded again.

“My back pocket!” he said.

“Don’t fucking move,” you growled again. You bent down and patted his pants pockets, feeling something in the left one and reaching in to pull out the keys. Just then the Savior made a quick move and pushed himself up off the ground onto his hands and knees. The movement knocked you slightly back as he bumped into your rifle. He was spinning around and reaching for a pistol at his hip when you instinctively shouldered your gun and fired. The round struck him squarely in the chest and he fell back to the ground, landing hard and lying still after a brief moment. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. You bent down again and grabbed the keys you had dropped.

You stood over the dead Savior’s body and unsheathed your knife, cringing as you plunged it into his temple so he wouldn’t turn. You went to do the same to the others killed in the explosion. As you moved, you started to register that your entire body felt bruised but you stopped yourself from really looking for injuries yet. Not here. Time to go.

You rushed over to the Savior’s truck and peered in the bed, looking underneath a heavy tarp. There were boxes and boxes of ammo and a couple crates of automatic weapons. Obviously, these guys were moving merchandise to a new place when shit started to hit the fan. They’d probably just been told to watch the main road when you came along. You breathed a sigh of relief and tried to get your heart rate and breathing to return to normal. “Okay… I’m okay…”

Climbing hastily into the driver’s seat, you inserted the key and the truck rumbled to life. You turned and headed in the direction of the outpost, again pressing your foot almost to the floor.

By the time you arrived, you could tell that things were apparently over. There was no active shooting and you could see your people moving around methodically, dealing with the casualties so you weren’t adding any more walking dead to the world. You immediately shut off the engine and forced the truck into park even before it had really stopped moving. You rushed out into the maze of barricades, searching desperately for anyone you recognized. You felt people’s eyes on you as you passed them and had a sense from their expressions that you looked pretty rough. “Aaron!” you yelled. “Aaron! Eric!”

You couldn’t explain it but you felt suddenly frantic and your stomach rolled with nausea. “AARON!? ERIC?” You rushed through the debris and searched urgently. You rounded barricade after barricade but weren’t finding them and the hard pit that formed in your stomach just got heavier and heavier, until finally you rounded one last truck and saw them. You stalled and the air was ripped from your lungs.

Aaron was on the groun and hunched over Eric who was leaning up against a tree. With even a brief glance it was easy to tell that Eric was already gone. He was dead. Gone. Just like that. “No. No… No, no, no. No!” Your feet propelled you forward but you fell to your knees still a short distance away, your legs suddenly giving out. You crawled the last few feet to Aaron’s side. You didn’t want to look at Eric’s vacant expression and the paleness of the skin on his face but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it for a long time. You could feel hot tears streaming down your face and the saltiness stung. You gathered yourself enough to glance over at Aaron who was just hunched over and sobbing in agony, clutching to Eric’s hand like it was a lifeline, like maybe if he just didn’t let go then this wasn’t real. You gently pressed a hand to his back and he startled a little at the contact, apparently realizing you were there now for the first time. He straightened up slightly and the questioning look and disbelief on his face were the same you were feeling. “Aaron,” you managed to croak out. “Aaron, I’m—I’m sorry.” You could barely get the words out. You shook your head, whirling from the ramifications of Eric’s silent and still form lying there heavily. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered again, now completely breaking down like he was. Tears streamed faster down your face and you felt your throat constrict with emotion. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Aaron—”

Aaron’s crying began again as he looked at you and you grabbed him and pulled his head to your shoulder. The two of you were clinging onto each other and you did your best to pull yourself back together as he went to pieces. There was nothing you could tell him… You couldn’t tell him it would be okay. You didn’t know that. What could you possibly say? The love of his life was laying dead beside you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl arrived back at Hilltop and hurriedly parked his bike. The community was in chaos with the wounded being rushed for care, people searching for their friends and loved ones, and many just standing around in a daze. Daryl spotted Rosita and Carol and stalked hurriedly over to them. He accepted a relieved hug from Carol before turning to look at Rosita. “How’d it go? Any problems?” he drawled.

Rosita shook her head. “No. No problems. We got everything set up like clockwork. Only—”

Daryl’s stomach twisted. “Only what?”

Carol stepped forward again. “Y/N isn’t back yet and we were expecting her by now. And we haven’t seen Aaron or Eric either.”

Daryl felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Well, is anybody from that outpost back yet? Maybe we need to send another group up there.”

“Some of them are back already,” Rosita said. “But nobody seems to know—”

“I’m goin’,” Daryl growled, immediately turning on his heel and heading straight back for his bike.

“I’ll come with you,” Carol said, starting after him.

“No! Ya stay here and help! And if ya see Rick tell him where I went!” he roared over his shoulder.

Daryl pushed his limits on his bike, racing to follow the path you would have driven after Rosita split off from you. He spotted a column of dark smoke rising up into the air ahead and felt like a knife had twisted in his heart again. He urged his himself on even as terror about what he could find made it hard to breathe.

All he saw when he first arrived was what was left of a vehicle he knew to be yours on its side, smoldering in the ditch. Daryl gulped and tried to stop bile from rising into his throat. He climbed off his bike and grabbed his gun, cautiously and fearfully moving toward the vehicle. He stopped a short distance away, his heart pounding, and had to pace a few times, reeling, steeling himself, before he had the courage to move closer. He felt shaky as he approached the bashed-out windshield and peered inside.

He heaved a momentary sigh of relief when he saw no body inside. You weren’t in there.

But where were you?

Daryl began to look around and found some trails in the tall grass. He followed them and discovered the bodies of four men. Each of them had a stab wound in their temple, obviously to prevent them from turning.

Okay. This looked like your handiwork. The archer breathed another sigh of relief. However, he knew you’d likely been in your vehicle when it had crashed and he had no way of knowing where you were and whether or not you were badly injured. There was also still the possibility that more Saviors had arrived and grabbed you. He headed back to his bike and climbed on, deciding to drive the rest of the way to the outpost you were supposed to be heading to, keeping his eyes open for any sign of you.

He rode in strenuous anxiety the rest of the way, searching the road ahead and each side as he went, but seeing nothing that pointed to your whereabouts. When he finally made it to the outpost and parked his bike, he was relieved to see that the battle was over and clearly the Saviors had lost. There were still a few of Alexandria and Hilltop’s people milling around and Daryl started his search for you, his stomach twisting every time he came upon a body, worried he would look down and see that it was you.

He finally rounded one of the armored trucks and froze. His heart sank back into his stomach. You and Aaron were on the ground. You had your arm around Aaron and Daryl could tell he was sobbing against you by the hitched, uneven breaths he was gasping in and the way his shoulders were shaking. The reason why was perfectly clear. Eric’s pale and still form was leaned up against the tree and there was a shockingly large stain of deep crimson on his stomach.

Daryl forced himself to move closer to the scene and lightly touched your other shoulder. You straightened up and looked up at him, your expression one of pure agony and your wide eyes filled with tears.

You were battered, bloody, and bruised, and Daryl was pretty sure there was glass in some of the flecked wounds on your face. Your arms were cut and bleeding, but Daryl knew you weren’t feeling any of those injuries right now.

There was nothing to say, so Daryl just stood there silently looking at you for a long moment, feeling a sharp ache between his lungs that seemed to grow the longer he stood there.

You sniffled and cleared your throat, turning back to Aaron and clasping his face in both hands, making him look at you. His eyes were red and puffy and there was a constant flow of tears down his cheeks. “Go with Daryl,” you murmured to him. “Aaron. Listen to me. Go with Daryl, okay?”

Aaron’s eyes frantically moved back to Eric’s body and his expression was desperate.

“Come on,” you said, climbing gingerly to your feet and pulling Aaron up with you, even while he refused to tear his eyes away from Eric. “Go with Daryl,” you said again. You nudged him away and he finally complied, stepping back. Aaron wandered away toward the nearest vehicle in a daze.

You stared down at Eric’s body, feeling suddenly numb, and Daryl watched as you unsnapped the loop of the sheath that covered the hilt of your knife.

Daryl stepped forward again. “Y/N. Ya ain’t gotta—I can—I can take care of it,” he said gently.

“No. I need to.” You turned and looked at Daryl again and renewed tears flowing down your cheeks. “I need to. I—I want to. I can do it.”

Daryl nodded, his chest aching, and he slowly retreated to stand with Aaron.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Later that night, once you had finally returned to Hilltop with Aaron and Daryl, you insisted on digging a grave and burying Eric yourself. A small group of Alexandrians who had known him gathered to pay their respects, but they finally all drifted away. Maggie was able to convince Aaron to come away to be looked over by the doctor. The archer found you alone, sitting in a cloudy daze on the ground, staring at the newly erected grave marker. Daryl anxiously chewed on his bottom lip and knelt down beside you, gently putting a hand on your back.

His touch seemed to bring another swell of emotion in you and you gasped in a shaky breath and tried not to fall to pieces again.

Daryl’s blue eyes whirred over you and studied all the injuries you’d sustained that day, but none was hurting you more deeply than the loss of one the people you cared the most dearly about. You were exhausted and defeated and Daryl knew it was going to be his job to get you back on your feet. And he was going to do it.

He wrapped his arm around you and spoke gently. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You simply stared straight ahead at the grave, still seemingly lost in the veil of your grief.

“Y/N. Hey. Look at me,” Daryl urged you. “Look at me.”

You finally turned your eyes back to him and they seemed dark compared to the light he was used to seeing in them. Daryl gently clasped your face and you closed your eyes at the contact, falling against him the next moment like you had nothing more to give. Daryl wrapped you against him tightly and smoothed his hands lightly over your back. “I know. M’sorry. M’so sorry.” He left a kiss in your hair and held you for a long time. Finally, you pulled back and looked up at him, your eyes still glistening a little. “C’mon. Let me patch ya up.”

You finally nodded and Daryl helped you to your feet. He kept an arm looped around you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, and you followed him back to the familiar trailer you had shared before. Daryl sat you down on the couch and went to his pack and dug out the first aid kit. He returned and sank down on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, his lips pulled in between his teeth.

He grabbed the pair of tweezers and gently turned your face so he could see where some glass was still embedded in your forehead and cheekbone, apparently from your head hitting the side window and shattered debris when the vehicle finally came to rest. He plucked a several pieces out and you barely flinched. He found a few more bits of glass in your shoulder and arm as well as the palms of your hands. You sat frozen as he tended to you, a faraway look in your eyes. Daryl grabbed a few alcohol swabs and opened them, dabbing at the cuts and scrapes on your cheekbone and forehead. He gently clasped your chin and examined the other side of your face. Your expression was vague and disconnected and it was worrying Daryl immensely.

He shifted his attention back to your arms, cleaning off the dried blood and wounds the best he could, some of which began bleeding freely again. There were angry red marks on your wrists from the chemicals in the air bag.

“Hey,” he said, moving your hair away from your face. “Ya wanna take a shower? Should look the rest of ya over too,” he said gently.

For the first time since he’d sat you down you looked right at him and seemed to really see him. Your expression was still desperate, but you nodded.

Daryl nudged his nose up, returning it. “Alright. C’mon,” he said, standing up and helping you to your feet. You winced a little as you moved again. Your whole body felt like it was bruised and stiffening. Daryl left you standing in the doorway of the little bathroom as he ran the water and tested the temperature. “Alright,” he said, stepping out. “I’ll be right out here if ya need me.” He started to slip past you but your hand floated to his chest and landed lightly there, freezing him instantly.

He easily read the request in your eyes. You didn’t want to be alone. You needed him.

His arms circled around you again and he nodded. “Alright. S’okay.” You collapsed against him again. You shut your eyes and focused on the steady sound of his heart beating. “I’ve got ya,” he said softly. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He pressed a kiss to your hair.

You allowed Daryl to gently move you into the bathroom. He shut the door softly behind you and his hands landed lightly on your hips. He studied the bruising and cuts on your face in the brighter light and this time felt a hot swell of rage. Thank God you were alright. It was too damn close… “Let’s take a look at ya, alright?” he said gently. He hesitated before grasping the hem of your dirty and bloodstained shirt and pulled it up over your head. You couldn’t stop the sharp intake of air between your teeth as you struggled to raise your left arm. As you were free from the fabric, Daryl saw the dark bruising from the seatbelt that started at your shoulder and cut across your chest.

He clasped your face again lightly before sweeping your hair back. “How’s yer neck? Sore?”

You nodded. “A little.”

The first words you’d spoken since you’d told him you would take care of Eric… Daryl was quite sure it was more than a little.

You undid the holster with your pistol still in it that was strapped to your thigh and you pulled your knife in its sheath away from your jeans. Daryl’s eyes took in the bumps and bruises on your bare skin, the cuts and abrasions on your arms, as you undid the clasp of your bra and let it fall carelessly to the floor.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt and Daryl helped you slip it off him. The range of movement in your shoulder was limited by the swollen and stiff muscles around the joint and you winced a little with every movement. Your eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his broad chest and shoulders and you pressed your hands to him immediately, like you wanted to be certain he was real in front of you, grounding, safe. Daryl’s arms gently wrapped you against him, skin to skin. When you broke apart again, you leaned back against the counter and Daryl unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans. He helped you slip out of them, still feeling a little nervous as all of you was bared to him, but your hands found his button and fly and soon he was all skin too, and he stepped into the shower beneath the warmth of cascading water and beckoned you in with a simple tilt of his head.

You were drawn to him and the comfort and safety he gave you like a magnetic. You shut your eyes and let the stream of hot water wash over you. It stung all your wounds but you didn’t care. The sharp sensation was better than the numbness you’d been feeling since— Daryl gently smoothed his hands over your wet skin, his fingers light over every little bruise and cut. He washed the remaining dirt and blood away and you gave into the sensation of being cared for, pushing away the emptiness and nausea that was overwhelming you. Daryl swept your wet hair to one side and kissed your shoulder and your neck so lightly and tenderly it raised goosebumps on your skin despite the warm cloak of the water. He traced his fingers down your spine, letting them wander over the graceful curve of your back before he looped his arm around you from behind, holding you securely against him. You leaned your head back against his chest and tried to convince your muscles to release the tense grip they had on your skeleton.

Daryl thought he felt you soften beneath his hands finally, and the next moment you turned, the water running in rivulets over your collarbone and down your chest, and you looked up at him. He loved the way the water droplets clung to your eyelashes.

“Thank God you’re alright,” you said softly, tears in your eyes again. Your smoothed your hands over his strong chest, your fingers tracing the scars on his skin. “Thank God,” you said again, looping your arms around him and leaning your head on his chest.

“Thank God you are. When I first saw your SUV, I—” Daryl’s hands smoothed over the curves and angles of you again. “S’alright,” he drawled quietly. “We’re alright.”

The pattering of the shower reminded you of the calming sound of rain and you did your best to fill yourself up with this strong man, replacing the empty hole that seemed to have taken hold in your chest since your eyes first landed on Eric’s pale face and Aaron’s anguish.

A short time later, your towel still wrapped around you, Daryl finished patching you up with a gauze pad here and a bandage there. His eyes kept catching on the deep bruise from your seatbelt that cut across your chest. When he was satisfied you were taken care of, you grabbed the kit before he could put it away and tended to some abrasions and wounds he had sustained himself. You lightly rested a hand against his cheek, leaning into him.

“You’ll tell me how today went?” you asked.

Daryl nudged his nose up in a couple nods. “Mhm. Tomorrow. Ya need rest.”

“So do you,” you said, running a wavy strand of his brown hair through your fingers. Your eyes flickered between his for a moment and then shut as you leaned in and met his lips with yours.

Daryl pulled you more tightly into him and tangled his fingers in your hair, kissing you back softly but with a neediness you felt straight to your core. You ran your thumb along the edge of his strong jaw and kissed him with a warmth Daryl felt spread to his chest instantly and bloom outwards.

“C’mon,” he said gently, tilting his head toward the bed. “I ain’t lettin’ ya go all night,” he said earnestly, smoothing your hair away from your face again.

There was a tinge of sadness in your eyes again. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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katzkinder · 3 years

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London Bridge Is Falling Down

Envy Pair version of my Counting Sheep series! Himiko is my headcanon for the name of Mikuni's mother. Since Mikuni's name contains the character for "kingdom," I thought this name belonging to an ancient queen suited his mother well.

Mikuni is annoying.

That’s something Jeje has always known, ever since Mikuni was a child, ever since the first time he saw him, bounding around his mother’s skirts and throwing himself into Lily’s arms to be held and cuddled and fawned over while Jeje had slunk back to the cellars. Himiko had been so bright, back then, the rot of Envy not yet showing in a visible way, that tiny baby that would grow into his brother’s Eve gurgling happily in her arms.

Jeje was the one who had found him. Himiko had wept when she saw him, all the anger and hate leaving her at once, vanishing as if it never existed when she laid her eyes on the fragile little bundle, swaddled in soft fabrics with little gloves on his impossibly tiny hands. She had sobbed all the harder when she took the crying child from him, her hands shaking while she cradled him close, useless apologies spilling from her pretty lips. The body of the babe’s mother had rapidly been growing cold on the carpet, and little Misono… Would remember none of it.

(Jeje remembered all of it, though. He doesn’t think a single moment will ever fade from his mind, no matter how many eons pass)

As Mikuni had grown, with Jeje watching over him as a silent, imposing, guardian angel, always behind the boy’s mother while she had read bedtime stories to him, always so aware of those bright, bright, too bright eyes, Jeje had also become aware of a number of other things, and those things remained true into adulthood. Mikuni has all of his mother’s gorgeous looks (and some from his father, but admitting as such is just asking to be choked), her stubborn brightness, her sharp tongue and wit, but more than any of that...

Mikuni is annoying.

...Because he never listens to what’s good for him. Just like his mother before him, he had taken Jeje despite his warnings, and some bitter, sick part of Jeje had wanted him to. The same part of him that had given in to Himiko herself.

But, well, he’d always known Mikuni never listened, too.

He wonders if Lily knows, though he doubts that he’s aware, of those golden afternoons when Mikuni would sneak down to his hiding place and find him lurking near the boilers, the excited, terrified whispers of Lily’s children, his human children, chasing after the young heir as he confidently hopped down, step by step, into the “monster’s” lair.

They had talked. About nothing. About everything. Well, actually, Mikuni had talked, seemingly not caring that Jeje never said much back, incredible and beautiful and… Well, there was a reason everyone called Mikuni brilliant.

Jeje knew better, though.

***

The most annoying thing about Mikuni, in his opinion, is not how loud he is. It’s not his contrariness, or his capriciousness, or his constant, gnawing curiosity causing him to make mischief.

The most annoying thing about Mikuni was how badly he wanted people to think he was naturally good at everything.

See, Mikuni was smart. Jeje would give him that. But he was also very stupid. It wasn’t as if he lacked common sense, though sometimes Jeje wondered, but it was like Mikuni wanted people to resent him.

More than anyone Jeje had ever met, his Eve was a hard worker. Someone who hated owing others a single damn thing. It was that useless pride and sense of responsibility for things that couldn’t possibly be Mikuni’s fault, things Jeje suspected, no matter how much he denied it, Mikuni had learned, had internalized, from his father and from Lily, that was why Jeje refused to call Mikuni brilliant like everyone else.

...But he did shine. Like a candle in a darkened room. Like a beacon. Warm, and inviting, someone to warm himself beside, even knowing that that flame would burn him up, just like a moth.

The question was... Who would that flame melt into nothing first?

Jeje would be damned twice over if he let it be his Eve.

Turning away from way he had been watching the other man work late hours, hunched over Nod’s ledgers and planners and Mikuni’s own personal notebooks, where his pen scratched across the surfaces of each calculating profits, expenses, bills, new products and designs and promotions and planning trips, Jeje silently makes his way to their kitchen.

Burning the midnight oil just means you won’t have any left when you truly need it.

A snort, reaching for their cabinets. Of course, that’s what Mikuni had him for.

***

He’s gotten very good at brewing tea. Jeje isn’t much of a chef at all, but living with Mikuni for so long, it was practically guaranteed he’d learn to at least make a semi-decent cup, and thank god he had. He would have truly killed Mikuni by now if he hadn’t, he swears, the man is just as persnickety about his tea as Lily is with his coffee.

...He’s also gained a new appreciation for the stuff, but maybe that comes with the territory of spending hours upon hours listening to Mikuni’s one sided argument about the best ways to drink it. It’s hard not to be impressed with all the little details that goes into brewing what’s considered a perfect cup (by Mikuni’s standards, anyway), and even harder still to not feel a fondness for something that draws such genuine passion out of his once charge, now equal.

...It’s such an odd thought. He knows what people think. That Mikuni has always had a stranglehold on him. That Mikuni has always been in charge. That Mikuni has always been someone… Grown up.

Again. Jeje knows better.

He sets the temperature on their electric kettle, one purchased on one of their many visits to the British Isles, sits at their kitchen table, and waits. Thinks.

Mikuni has been grown up for a long time now. And he will continue to grow, and people will continue to think, no matter Jeje’s efforts, that he is a no good, conniving schemer who would sacrifice them all on a wish and a prayer and something like a maybe.

And, well, perhaps they aren’t wrong. Perhaps Jeje is a fool. But if he’s a fool, he’s a court jester, and as court jester he will make absolutely certain this time that the king does not make his mistakes without someone there to make fun of him for it, even if only behind closed doors, even if only between the two of them.

To everyone else, he is a dictator’s executioner, and that’s fine with him. Everyone else doesn’t matter.

His eyes drift to Mikuni’s favorite cup, one made of glass and painted with delicate, swooping strokes of gold, with lilies and a taupe lacquer surrounding all but a window through which one could admire the lovely colors of their favored drink. He takes it into his hands, so much larger than this tiny cup, and finds himself smiling as he turns the joint birthday gift from the Lust pair over and around, admires those intricate, fancy details that speak of quality and knowing down to the letter exactly what Mikuni’s tastes are.

Well.

Almost everyone.

***

The teapot has been warmed, the kettle filled with mineral water and piping hot, and by the time Jeje finishes steeping the loose leaf tea, their little kitchen clock, kitschy and cute and shaped like a cartoon chicken hatching from an egg, reads 2:17 in the morning.

Jeje picks up the cup, the container of melatonin supplements Mikuni has taken since he was twenty at his Servamp’s behest, and carefully carries both back to where he knows the other man will still be completely absorbed in his work.

True to form, Mikuni is still at it. The predictability of his late night, sleepless habits, of his need to do something with his time, makes Jeje’s frown deepen, ever so slightly.

He wishes Mikuni would just rest. Close his eyes, not do anything, just lie there and let Jeje guard him, just be still, be quiet, like did when he was a child.

… He knows better than to think a mind as stubborn and that moves as fast as his Eve’s could ever achieve that, but he can dream. He can also just sicc the Lust pair on him.

That’ll put him to bed real fast.

“What’re you grinning about over there?”

He startles, not having expected Mikuni to acknowledge his presence, and nearly sloshes hot chamomile with lavender onto the pretty little matching saucer that accompanied the cup. It’s a miracle it didn’t fall over completely. Jeje lets out a breath, so quiet it’s inaudible, and curses himself for forgetting that Mikuni can see him right now.

Then again, even if he was wearing his mask, Mikuni would have seen right through him.

He always does.

His Eve is watching him still, waiting for him to move, and then his eyes flick down to what Jeje has in his hands. His lips twist.

Jeje ignores it and continues to make his way over to where Mikuni had been peacefully working. They don’t speak a word to one another, and no sooner than Jeje sets his cargo down, he’s going back the way he came, knowing it’s useless to try and ply Mikuni with words or favors.

The man is annoying in his stubbornness, too.

He hears a sniff behind him, the scratch of pen on paper once more, but it isn’t long before that little noise stops again. A sigh. Jeje chances peering around the doorframe, smiling, just a tad, as a clearly frustrated Mikuni slaps his pen down onto the counter and picks up his cup, no doubt tempted by the smell of his favorite night time blend.

A swallow. Two.

Mikuni unscrews the lid on the melatonin gummies. Pops a couple into his mouth. Chews, and swallows. The tension leaves his shoulders. He allows himself to savor the warmth in his hands.

Jeje leaves him be and heads upstairs to their room, knowing Mikuni now won’t be far behind.

“Jeje,” Mikuni calls after him, voice soft in that way it sometimes, ever so rarely gets, so quiet Jeje almost misses it. “... You still really suck at this.”

Mikuni is annoying.

#kat's katerwauling #servamp #jekuni #servamp jeje #mikuni alicein #pawprints #it's done!#it's late but it's done!

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

The White Room

The Better Love Series || Join My Tags

a sequel to Shit Hits the Fan

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse.

summary: Bill Stechner makes his move. You never even saw it coming.

words: 6.1k

warnings: 18+, plot, a little angst, a little fluff.

notes: unbeta’d. this is a big one. notes at the end.

<< Shit Hits the Fan || These Hands are Magic >>

MASTERLIST

You take the embassy steps two at a time, wishing you’d have been notified about the change in your schedule just half an hour earlier.

You’d gotten a page just as you were headed out the door of the apartment. Stechner has decided to pull you from Centra Spike’s night flight over Medellín. He wants you at headquarters this evening instead. He didn’t say why.

Part of you isn’t sorry. Escobar has been getting desperate lately, and between the outbreaks of violence in Medellín and the continued bombing campaign in Bogotá, you’ve been burning the candle at both ends. Javi, too. He’s been spending more and more time at the base in Medellín, and you’ve been spending more and more time in the skies, pulling random shifts through all hours of the day and night.

It hasn’t put a strain on your relationship, exactly. In fact, in some ways, the little moments that you steal with Javi when your schedules just happen to mesh are all the more precious because of it. You’re both exhausted and a little cranky, but there’s been an underlying desperation to your recent interactions that’s only served to stoke the flame that flickers between you.

It’s a bittersweet feeling. You cherish the time you get together, but on the other hand, it seems like even when Javi’s right there next to you, you miss him so much that your chest aches.

Which is why you’re miffed that Bill couldn’t have shuffled you around a little sooner. Javi’s been in Medellín for the past two days. He’d caught an early flight back to Bogotá just as you’d been finishing up another late shift flyover. You’d just happened to run into him at the embassy airstrip, a perfect coincidence. Your eyes had met over the tarmac, and like a pair of magnets, you’d crashed into one another. Javi had wrapped you into a fierce hug, and you’d pulled him into a heated kiss, and the two of you had spent a good five minutes canoodling in a hidden corridor near the water fountains, kissing and whispering and grappling for position as he’d pinned you against the wall. He’d breathed you in, and you’d reveled in the taste of him on your lips, each of you pressing frantically against the body of the other as if it had been weeks and not mere days since you’d been together.

“I’ve got to go,” Javi had apologized into your mouth, breathing the words between a series of soft, desperate kisses. “Fucking… fucking early meeting with Martinez.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you’d reassured him, feeling very much like it wasn’t okay. You hardly get enough of him as it is. This tiny little taste had only deepened your aching need, and you’d felt your heart splitting in two as he’d pulled away from you, a small little grimace of frustration twisting his face.

“I’ll see you soon,” you’d called as he’d hurried away, and he’d responded with a tight lipped smile and another dark look of longing.

Now, you round the corridor toward the DEA office, walking as quickly as you can without drawing attention to yourself. Javi is working late again. If you hurry, you’ll have twenty five uninterrupted minutes with him before your night shift starts.

“Ears!” You stop in your tracks, a little shudder of resentment flashing down your spine at Bill’s overeager greeting. “Just the lady I’ve been waiting to see.”

You school your face into a neutral expression of polite interest. Most days, you like Bill just fine, despite the fact that you really don’t trust him for shit.

Today, damn him straight to hell.

“What’s up?” you ask, quirking your lips into an intrigued little grin. There’s a certain informality and blasé banter that Bill’s grown to expect from your encounters, and he’s sharp enough to sense that something’s off if you don’t perform.

“Oh, loads and loads,” Bill says, leaning casually against the corridor wall with his arms folded.

You bite back a sigh. You really, really don’t have the patience to dance around him today. “Oh, really?”

Bill arches a questioning brow at you, and you remind yourself to be convincing, dammit. Usually, this isn’t an issue. Most days, you like your job, and your boss, just fine.

Most days.

“You’re bored, aren’t you, Ears?” Bill continues, pitching his voice deep, those probing eyes piercing straight through you.

“I -” you start. Bored isn’t how you’d describe it, lately.

Tired, more like.

“No, no,” Bill’s expression is patient, endearing. “Don’t deny it. I’ve been watching you. I know that hungry look when I see it. You want more. You came to Colombia to do something important with your life, I can tell.”

Six months ago, hell, even three months ago, Bill’s words would have been true. Now, the very thought of more is enough to send you crawling into bed and sleeping for a week.

‘Isn’t tracking down Pablo Escobar pretty fucking important?’ you’re half tempted to ask. You hold your tongue.

Obviously, it’s not to Bill Stechner.

“What do you have for me?” you say instead, hoping you sound intrigued, carefully not confirming or denying Bill’s suspicions.

“Real work,” Bill says with a sharp smile. Something cold jolts down your spine at the his use of the word ‘real.’

As if everything until now has been a sham.

“Follow me,” he beckons, and you have no choice but to obey.

Bill leads you past the DEA offices. You catch a glimpse of the top of Javi’s head from the corner of your eye. He’s hunched over his desk, pouring over an open manilla file. You can barely see the deep furrow in his brow. He doesn’t notice you pass by, and you don’t pause to acknowledge him.

Something throbs in your chest at that.

You follow Bill through a few more winding corridors, down into the basement, past Centra Spike’s room, right up to an unassuming little bookcase built into a nondescript wall in the middle of nowhere.

Bill pauses here, turning to look at you with shining eyes.

You meet his stare, giving away nothing.

With an enthusiasm that borders on theatrical, Bill huddles over a little keypad that’s tucked away at the edge of the bookcase. He punches in a series of numbers, glancing over to confirm that you’re still watching.

You definitely are.

Bill steps back, and like something from an Indiana Jones film, the entire fucking bookcase slides aside, reveling a reinforced steel door built into the wall.

“Whoa,” you can’t help but breathe.

Bill’s eyes glitter. He’s eating this up, impressing you.

And truly, you’re impressed. That little spark of interest that had died in the past months of your burnout has flared with a vengeance.

This is the shit that you joined the CIA for, and Bill Stechner knows it.

“Welcome to the white room, Ears,” Bill announces lowly. It’s the soft, knowing voice of a man sharing a deeply guarded secret. He opens the steel door with a flourish, and it swings slowly aside, heavy and creaking, as if its weight alone could announce the gravity of what you’re about to see.

Carefully, you step inside the room, ducking a little to avoid knocking your head against the low hanging doorway, crawling past the steel corridor entrance before you can straighten.

You blink, astounded at what you’re seeing.

Of course, you’ve heard whispers of CIA’s fabled “White Room,” a repository of classified files tucked away somewhere in the embassy basement. Even Javi’s mentioned it a couple of times, always with a hint of resentment, like he’d give his left arm for even a glimpse inside. Rumor is, Steve Murphy’s been in here before, but just once, and he was heavily supervised the entire time. It’s a fucking goldmine of intel, stacks upon stacks of carefully organized file folders, all at the fingertips of the few individuals who are important enough to be need-to-know.

“Okay,” you whisper beneath your breath, taking it all in. Reality is a little different than you’d pictured. The entrance is impressive, sure, but what you’re staring at is even more so. Box after carefully labelled box is packed atop one another, stacked six deep on a never-ending series of steel shelves.

You could spend an eternity here learning all of the secrets of Colombia. The implications are mind-boggling, and distantly, you wonder how many other well-hidden rooms the CIA has tucked away across a spread of foreign countries, a never-ending fountain of secrets related to god-knows-what.

Your brain stutters at the thought.

You realize suddenly that Bill is watching you carefully from the corner of his eye, observing your reaction as if he’s surreptitiously taking notes on every thought that flits across you brain. Again, you school your expression, reverting to that practiced, dead-eyed stare of careful neutrality.

“Cool,” you say, a little breathlessly, knowing that Bill’s eager to wow you, and not seeing any reason not to acknowledge the fact that, yeah, you’re pretty fucking wowed. You turn to face him, ignoring the temptation to sweep your gaze over the many, many labeled files at your eye level. “So, what are we doing here?”

Bill laughs. “I’ll show you.” He leads you past the shelves, and now that you’re behind him, you can’t stop your eyes from tracking over the labels at your eye level. You’re appalled by what you see.

Shelves upon shelves devoted to Escobar, and even more to the Cali Cartel, all broken down into sections of the individual godfathers. Rodriguez, Herrera, Bejarano, Moncado are all names that catch your eye. There are folders on each major sicario that you recognize from Javi’s info board: Mosquera, Lucumí, Vásquez, Gaviria... the list goes on. Even more files files are labeled Castaño. There’s a whole series of boxes on M-19, and a little past that, an entire shelf devoted solely to FARC.

It’s more than your mind can possible comprehend in one quick sweep, and hell, that’s just what you could catch at eye level.

It occurs to you that this is what Steve and Javi are always bitching about. Sure, you’re aware of the ever present pissing contest between the DEA and the CIA, but it’s always been peripheral information to you. Steve in particular is pretty vocal about his frustration with the ‘fucking CIA.’ “Goddamn file’s so redacted that it might as well be scrap,” you can just hear him muttering.

Christ, if this is the kind of intel that the CIA has open access too, you can kind of see his point.

Bill stops at a table in the center of the room, indicating it with a sweep of his hand. Reluctantly, you sit, a little annoyed that you’ve got your back to him now, but not feeling comfortable enough to twist around to track what he’s doing. Your instincts are screaming at you that this is a test. A big one. So you wait demurely in your tiny plastic chair, your hands folded primly in your lap, listening intently as Bill shuffles for something behind you.

After a long moment, Bill leans his hip heavily against the table, just a hair too close to your shoulder for you to be totally comfortable. You don’t have time to think on that, though, because he’s sliding a black and white photograph under your nose for you to view.

The man that leers up at you has a pinched face beneath a deep brow. His nose is long and lopsided, as if it’s been broken at least once. His thinning, limp hair hangs low over his eyes, giving him a mysterious, almost rebellious look. His mouth is wide, crooked teeth exposed in an open-mouthed grimace. He’s angling toward the camera, obviously unaware of its existence, leaning forward with a machine gun cradled to his chest.

“Feo,” you say instantly, your mouth working before your brain can catch up. You recognize him from the evidence board in the DEA office, and even more from your conversations with Javi.

Feo is a low level sicario, one that’s just now caught the attention of Search Bloc, mostly due to the recent chatter that Centra Spike has picked up. You’ve yet to get a positive ID on his voice, but he’s been mentioned in several conversations lately, always in reference to ‘drops.’

Javi’s been working deep in the night to decipher these conversations, eager to learn what ‘drops’ Escobar and his sicarios are so desperate to come by.

“Feo,” Bill drawls, a hint of something sharp licking at his tone. You glance up at him, curious. “That’s an unfortunate nickname.”

He’s staring down at you with eyes that are too aware. Probing, assessing.

Fuck.

“I’ve seen him on the DEA board,” you explain, grateful that you can provide an answer so quickly. You don’t like the way Bill is looking at you, like he’s daring you to confess a sin.

“I didn’t realize there were many photos of him floating around,” Bill says casually. But you aren’t stupid. You read the threat in his statement, loud and clear.

“It’s a new one,” you reply automatically, feeling as if you’re scrambling to claw yourself out of a hole.

But this is also true. Feo has been an ongoing mystery to Search Bloc, one that they haven’t taken seriously until recently. You wonder what it is about this man that’s got Bill so on edge.

Bill hums. “Good eye.” He hunches over the photograph, so close that you can feel his body heat against your neck.

“This is Raul Manriquez.” Bill taps the forehead of the man in the photograph, then turns to leer at you. “Apparently, he’s known to his friends as Feo.”

He’s watching you for a sign. You refuse to give it.

“So,” you ask after a beat. Bill folds his arms across his chest, waiting for you to continue. He’s not giving any signs either, the dickwad. “What does the CIA want with Raul Manriquez?”

Bill has never behaved this way with you before. There’s a certain weight to the way he regards you that hints at paranoia. He’s deeply, almost obsessively interested in this man, and it doesn’t make sense.

Feo is a sicario, sure. But sicarios are far, far below Bill’s pay grade. The thought is laughable, even.

Something drops in your stomach. If Feo is more than a sicario, as it seems he must be, then it is far, far above your pay grade to be this involved.

Bill pulls out a chair beside you and sits heavily. He leans on his elbow, swinging his legs so that his knees brush your thighs.

You echo him, carefully positioning yourself so that you’re facing one another, but no longer touching.

“We have intel to suggest that Raul Manriquez is connected with a Russian weapons ring,” Bill starts. You notice for the first time that he looks tired, too, his eyes a little bloodshot, heavy bags dropping darkly beneath them.

Something clicks in your brain. “He’s Pablo’s weapons guy,” you breathe. The pieces fall together with startling clarity. The drops that the sicarios had mentioned. The fact that Feo seems to stay at the periphery of things, not nearly as involved with the day-to-day bullshit that other sicarios seem to thrive on. “He’s running guns.”

“Among other things,” Bill drawls, seeming thoroughly bored by the turn in the conversation.

You ignore that. Your thoughts are spinning wildly, forging connections, solving problems. Escobar’s got to get his weapons from somewhere. In the back of your mind, you’ve always sort of known this, but the significance of it has stayed firmly out of sight, swamped by other things that, at the time, had seemed far more important.

But if you could catch Feo… If you could choke off Pablo’s lethality directly at the source…

“We could end this,” you whisper, sitting up to look Bill directly in the eye. Your voice rises. “Bill, if we neutralize Feo, Escobar’s lost his access to his guns.” Something swoops in your heart, and you feel brighter, more energized than you have in weeks. “We can end this war!”

“Oh, the fucking drug war.” Bill scoffs, waving his hand in a casual gesture of lazy dismissal. He looks frustrated, disappointed. “Ears, broaden you horizons a little, sister. Escobar is on the run. When he’s gone,” Bill leans in, the glint in his eye damned near dangerous. “And he will be gone, Ears, trust me.” He huffs a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pitches away to balance on the far feet of his chair, rocking back and forth in a way that reminds you of a restless kid in a elementary school classroom. His eyes are sharp, possessive as they pin yours. “What then?”

You stare at him flatly, a little miffed to have nearly a year of your life’s work brushed aside as if it’s just petty bullshit.

You shake that emotion away, blinking hard, reminding yourself of where you are, of who your boss is. With the lines as blurred as they are in Colombia, and your unique position dancing between Centra Spike, the DEA, and the CIA, and Search Bloc, it’s easy to forget that ultimately, it’s Bill Stechner who owns you.

For the first time, that thought deeply unsettles you.

Bill falls forward heavily on his elbows, looking at you with a furrowed brow, and you remind yourself for the umpteenth time that this meeting is a performance, one that you’ve utterly and completely bombed until now.

You brain spins, processing the little bits and pieces of information that you’ve been given. Bill sees Escobar’s fall as in inevitability, inconsequential, even. He’s concerned about Feo in the context that he’s connected to the weapons trade in Colombia.

Quickly, you consider what you know about Bill Stechner. A CIA big wig with a shady-ass military background. A man who’s mind lives in the future.

A future without Escobar. He’s made that much clear.

“You’re looking to fill a power vacuum,” you announce suddenly, knowing instinctively that you’re not far off the mark. Bill Stechner is a man who is always thinking ahead, studying the political chessboard to analyze his next move, and the one after that, too.

And that truth bomb jars free even more thoughts that have been floating untethered in the back of your mind. When he’s not skulking around his office, Bill is gone for weeks at a time, supposedly off in depths of the amazonian jungle, brushing shoulders with his right winged military buddies.

Commie hunting.

The pieces fall perfectly into place, painting a sobering picture, and all the while, Bill watches, a sharp little grin playing at his lips as you connect the dots.

“Bill,” you say, refusing to accept any bullshit. You thump your finger hard against Feo’s leering smirk, pinning Bill with a dark stare. “Is this guy connected with FARC?”

Both of Bill’s brows arch skyward, and he leans back, looking at you with a new light in his eyes. You get the impression that once again, you’ve impressed him.

You’re not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

“I don’t know, Ears,” Bill admits, glancing away to his hands, which are suddenly curling into fists in his lap. You can tell it really grinds his gears, the uncertainty. “That’s what I want to find out.”

You consider him carefully, keeping your face expressionless. This is the most open response you’ve ever gotten from Bill, and you file away that information along with everything else you’ve learned today.

It’s a lot.

“What do you need from me?”

It’s a valid question. Part of you, the part that is equally intrigued and enraptured by Bill Stechner and the CIA as a whole, genuinely wants to help.

The rest of you is just desperate to get out of this room.

Bill’s lips slide into a knowing smirk. “Well, Ears,” he drawls, eyeing you in a way that makes something sink in your gut. “I’m glad you asked.”

“I’m listening.” You deliberately leave off the ‘sir,’ that you’re tempted to tack on to the end of that statement. Damn your army background.

“This is the moment that we’ve put you in place for,” Bill confesses, hunching forward on his elbows. Again, you get the impression that he’s trying to reel you in, seducing you with a show of honesty.

You brace yourself.

“The DEA is interested in this man, too,” Bill starts, shooting you a pointed look that says ‘I know you already know this.’ You keep your face carefully blank, so Bill continues. “I know that they’ve been working to track his location.”

Something cold coils in your heart. “Are you asking me to spy on Search Bloc?” you ask point blank.

Bill shakes his head. “No, no, no, Ears,” he chides with an expression of extreme patience, as if you’re a child to him. “That would be counterproductive. We’re all on the same team, after all.” He pins you with a dead-eyed stare that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m asking you to fully engage in your position with the CIA.” Bill stresses the last point, again reminding you of who you are, who you answer to. “You’re a liaison.” He hums a little, all casual disinterest, disarming you, reinforcing the bonds of loyalty that he’s forged with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “So, liaise.”

You realize with a starling, icy jolt of clarity that Bill Stechner has tolerated your relationship with Javier Peña for this very reason, that he’s garnered your favor - accepting your transfer request, giving you a raise, buying you drinks, playing your buddy - all in preparation for using you as his own personal mole in the ranks of Search Bloc.

And you’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Your throat works hard to swallow against a suddenly dry mouth. “I understand, sir.”

For the first time, Bill doesn’t correct your formality. You hardly notice the shift, though. You’re still reeling from the implications of what he’s asking of you, of how he’s exploited you, taken advantage of all of your vulnerabilities. Suddenly, you feel as if you’re choking, like a noose is tightening, tightening around your neck. You have to stop yourself from reaching to massage your throat, clenching your hands into tight firsts into your lap instead.

Bill watches it all in cool amusement. “Atta girl,” he praises, and you swear you taste bile. He stands, and you copy him absently, feeling detached and awkward, walking on legs that require all of your attention to keep from trembling.

Bill claps a heavy hand on your shoulder. His eyes flash with something like pride, and you decide in that moment that you hate him, this motherfucker, almost as much as you hate yourself for falling for his bullshit.

Goddammit, you’re so fucking stupid.

“Good talk,” he says, and you nod in a way that you hope is contemplative without being telling.

You follow Bill out of the room on wooden legs, your mind spinning with the implications of your conversation. He nods to you as the bookshelf slides shut behind you, and you nod back, relieved to see that he turns to head the opposite direction from the DEA office.

You glance down at your watch. You’ve got ten minutes if you hurry. With all your heart, you hope that Javi is still working.

You need to see him.

You push past his glass door, swinging it open hard enough that it bangs ominously against the wall. Javi is still slumped over his desk in the exact same position as before, studying a jumbled series of papers, a half-spent cigarette dangling from his lips.

Your breath catches at the sight of him.

His head snaps up at your noisy arrival, dark eyes narrowed at the intrusion. His expression softens when he sees that it’s you.

“Ears.” His voice is a sigh, a release of that same tension that you feel leaking from you own bones, and you dart forward, heedless of who might be watching beyond the glass walls.

“Hey,” you say, shoving aside an opened manilla folder to create a bare space for you to lean against. Javi doesn’t seem to mind that in the least, so you flop up onto his desk, pressing your thigh against his elbow, enjoying the feeling of just sharing the same space.

Javi glances at you, and your something lurches in your chest as you take him in. He looks haggard, exhausted, dark bags gathered beneath his bloodshot eyes like he hasn’t had good night’s sleep in far too long.

“Another little chat with Stechner?” he grouses, peering up at you with narrow gazed suspicion.

Your heart sinks, and you have to blink hard against the onslaught of his ire. Javi’s always been grouchy when he’s tired, and there’s nothing that drives him into a funk faster than any mention of Bill Stechner. It’s as if he has a sixth sense in that regard, like he can smell Bill on your skin.

And that’s a gross thought.

Until now, Javi’s attitude had irked you, and you’d written it off as petty, just another brand of that delightfully obnoxious possessiveness that he’s continuously displayed since your apartment was bombed.

But dammit, you’re the moron here, not Javi. He’d been right not to trust Bill.

You shut your eyes tightly. You wonder if Javi should even trust you, given your most recent assignment.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, not knowing how to put your many worries into words, and Javi must read your conflicted mood, because he lets the subject drop. He huffs, his attention falling back to the open file on his desk, his long fingers working little tapping patterns into its intricate woodgrain.

You follow his gaze, noticing that he’s been pouring over the same photograph that Bill had shown you in the white room. Feo’s ugly mug leers back at you, a knowing, secretive smirk playing at his upturned lips, like he’s mocking you, the motherfucker.

A flood of emotions swamp you. You’ve watched Javi squinting down at this same photo for days, his mind spinning as he attempts to tease out connections, completely stumped as to how this unassuming, ugly man fits into the bigger picture of Pablo Escobar and his sicarios.

And now you know, but there’s not a damn thing you can say about it. Bill’s going to be watching you. Hell, he’d admitted as much today. Verbatim. If he thinks that his little spy is sharing classified CIA intel with her DEA boyfriend…

Well, honestly, you’re not sure what would happen. You just know that it would be bad news for you, and probably even worse for Javi.

You release a deep, broken sigh, exhaling though your nose. You wonder how you’re going to balance it all, working for Bill without betraying Javi.

Well, you absolutely refuse to do that. Fuck Bill Stechner for even asking.

But now, watching Javi huddled over his messy desk, squinting in the dim light because he refuses to wear his fucking glasses, frazzled and careworn and a little cranky, something pulls at your chest.

Refusing to share this intel feels a lot like a betrayal already, and suddenly, you’re desperate to confess it all to him, to crawl into Javi’s lap and spill your guts and cry and beg for his forgiveness for blowing off his concerns about Stechner, for even entertaining the thought of withholding information from him.

Just as you feel like you’re ready to burst, Javi sighs deeply, flopping the file shut. He grinds out his cigarette and turns to glance at you, his eyes dark with need.

Your breath catches.

Then, without a word, Javi pitches forward to rest his head against your thigh. He nuzzles there for a moment, and you find yourself carding your fingers through his hair, helpless against the temptation to touch him, comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a long moment.

“Shh,” you whisper. Guilt gnaws at you. You’re the one who should be sorry.

But Javi huffs a hot little breath against your leg, and you brush aside all thoughts of who should trust who, of loyalty and ethics and treason and chain of command. Right now, your entire universe is resting his head in your lap, and you’re determined to enjoy this moment, fallout be damned.

“Baby,” he murmurs into the rough denim of your jeans, and your heart flutters. You bring your opposite hand to rest at the back of his neck, savoring the softness of his skin there, winding your fingers through the curls that brush against his collar.

Javi shudders at your touch, and you remember belatedly that you’re stroking at his number one erogenous zone, teasing him mercilessly without meaning him to.

Reluctantly, you pull away, resting your palm at the slope of his shoulder instead. “Whoops.”

Javi snorts, craning his neck just enough to arch his only visible eyebrow in your direction. The rest of his face is squished into your thigh.

It’s fucking adorable, and it reminds you all over again how little you deserve him, this precious, perfect man.

“What’s wrong?” Javi asks, like he’s sensed the direction of your thoughts. He twists further to frown up at you. One hand comes up to rest at the juncture of your hip, his thumb pressing deeply into your skin.

It’s a comfort.

“Nothing,” you mutter, because you can hardly say ‘everything.’ You busy yourself with working little circles at the base of Javi’s ear, hoping it’s enough to distract him from his line of questioning.

It’s not. Javier Peña has a mind like a steel trap, and he notices everything. “Bull,” he breathes, shutting his eyes despite his best efforts. “You’re worried ‘bout something.”

God, he looks wrecked.

“I just…” You struggle for the right words to to offer him, come up empty. “God, I hate this.”

That one dark eyes flutters open again, soft with concern.

“I miss you,” you blurt before he can dig any further. And oh, god, that’s not a lie. You miss Javi so much it fucking burns, even with him nuzzled right here in your lap.

Javi draws a deep breath, rolling over to expose the entire left side of his face. His opposite arm comes up to wrap around your waist so that he’s almost hugging you, his fingers digging gently into your flank. “What time is your shift over, baby?” he mumbles, his one visible eye glinting, nearly feverish with need.

“Mmm,” you hum, your pulse hammering away in response to the how he’s looking at you. “I can probably be home by eight,” you say sadly.

And really, that’s pushing it. It all depends on what you hear over the frequencies, and how quickly you can vet it. Anybody’s guess at this point in the game.

Javi blusters a deep sigh that prickles hotly at your inner thigh. “Dammit,” he groans, clenching his eyes shut in frustration.

“What’s your morning like?” In the craziness of the past few days, you’ve completely forgotten his schedule.

“Early,” Javi mutters darkly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Fuck.”

“Hardly,” he pouts against your jeans.

And god, you can’t blame him. Resentment wells hot in you. You just want a break, dammit, just a single fucking day to spend with the man you love.

Is that so much to ask?

Suddenly desperate for more contact, you bend down to drop a gentle kiss at his temple.

Javi inhales sharply as your lips meet his skin, and you lay there like that, contorting over him in a way that makes your sides ache and probably displays half of your bare back to anybody who happens to walk past the glass walls of the DEA office right now.

You don’t fucking care. You need this.

“Can I meet you for lunch tomorrow?” you ask as you finally pull away. You haven’t bothered glancing at your watch, but instinct is telling you that you’re already running late for your shift, and your back is killing you.

Javi sits up, slumping against his office chair with his legs splayed sideways. He’s all wild hair and furrowed brow, and if you weren’t at work, you’d be tempted to crawl into his lap and kiss that contemplative look right off his face.

“That might work,” he says slowly, licking his upper lip a little in that way that means he’s thinking hard. Something coils deep in your belly, and you have to shake your thoughts away from those lips and that tongue, and what all they’re capable of.

Javi cocks a brow at you, tilting his head a little. “What are you thinking?”

Fuck it, it’s late. You slide off his desk, planting yourself in his lap with your legs spread across his, grinding subtly against his thighs. His belt buckle digs into your belly, but you don’t give a shit. You tilt his face to yours, reveling for half a second in his confused, awestruck expression before you plant your lips on his for a deep, gentle kiss. Javi moans a little at the contact, plaint and responsive against your advances, his hands coming to graze at your back reverently.

“I was thinking I’d ride,” you whisper against the stubble at his lower jaw just as you lean in to suck at it.

Javi twitches against you, a tiny jolt of his hips, like he’s tempted to take you right here in his rickety office chair, damn the glass walls.

“I need to see your face,” you continue, pulling his hands up to rest at your ribs as you rock gently against him, a subtle preview of tomorrow’s menu.

Javi shudders beautifully beneath you. “What, this ol’ thing?’ he teases, nuzzling against your breastbone. You can tell that he’s pleased by the thought.

“This pretty thing,” you correct, working your way back to his lips.

Javi bites back a groan as you kiss him. “Was asking about food,” he murmurs against your mouth. “But this is better.”

“Don’t worry about food,” you say, falling forward to nuzzle against his neck. “I’ll take care of it. And it will be perfect.”

Javi snorts. “Better be takeout, then.” He gathers you against his body with strong arms, cradling you close. You breathe him in, reveling in the distant smell of coffee and stale cigarette, all mixed in with a hint of musky sweat and something smoky and dark that is uniquely Javier Peña.

“God, baby, I’m looking forward to it,” he confesses against the hollow of your throat, and you throw your head back, shut your eyes and let him ravage you there, just for a moment.

Javi pulls away far too soon, and you shudder at the loss of him, your body damn near trembling with need.

He rolls back in his chair, glancing up at you with an apology in his eyes. “It’s eight oh five,” he tells you somberly, and you wince, disentangling yourself from him, stumbling out of his chair and straightening your shirt and threading your fingers through your wild hair in an effort to smooth it down.

“How do I look?” you ask after a moment, backing up enough to give him the full effect of you.

Javi’s eyes are burning as he takes you in, damn near shimmering with want and exhaustion and pent up emotion, and you curse Bill Stechner once again for butting his big nose into your relationship, for complicating things that should be so fucking simple.

“Perfect,” Javi says lowly, his lips pursed into a thin line, his eyes glittering with some thought that you can’t name. “Fucking perfect.”

Something wrenches in your chest, and you catch your breath, feeling tears prickle at your eyes. You suck them down, frustrated at how often life in Colombia seems to draw your emotions to the forefront.

Nobody needs that.

You lean forward, unable to resist dropping one last, chaste kiss to Javi’s forehead. “Go to bed, Javi,” you whisper against his skin. You pull away, a gentle, teasing smile spreading across your face. “Seriously, baby. It’s just getting stupid now.”

You wink at him, and Javi huffs a little laugh. “Get out of here, Ears,” he grouses, waving a lazy hand at you, but his smile is gentle and soft, and you know that he’s recognized the reference for what it is.

Feeling lighter than you have in days, you shoot him one last cheeky wave. Javi blows a little kiss at you in response, and your heart stutters at the gesture.

God, he’s such a sap.

You damn near dance to the Centra Spike office, slipping into your headphones a full ten minutes later than you really should. Nobody bats an eyelash, though, and you busy yourself with the normal nightshift bullshit, sipping your coffee and switching to the proper frequencies, the promise of tomorrow glowing in your heart.

♠

notes/confessions:

I struggled so hard with this. I still don’t love it, but I’m sick of looking at it, so here ya go. Enjoy.

Okay, I know I have thrown some massive plot things at you this week. I know it’s complicated, and I know it’s a lot. Feel free to ask me questions. I’ve tried to make things as clear as possible, but I’m only human, Narcos is complicated af anyway, and Better Love is even worse, probably.

Look for updates to slow back down again, because a) I actually do have a job, and b) we’re getting close to the point where I’m going to have to start posting If I Fall, and I want to have my chapters outlined a little better and maybe even a few deep before I do that. Look for a few little fluffy one-shots scattered between then and now, but guys... for the most part, the pieces are in place, and we are in the home stretch - of the setup, that is.

Holy fucking shit.

Tags: @jedi-mando, @perropascal, @hotspacepilots, @mostly-megan, @starlight-starwrites, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty, @lv7867, @pascalisthepunkest, @sarahjkl82-blog, @corrupt-fvcker, @artsymaddie, @leonieb, @justanotherblonde23, @princess-and-pedro

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me, @mandoandgrogu, @hybrid-in-progress, @va-guardianhathaway, @speakerforthedead0, @feminist-violinist, @herefortheart, @dontmindifidontt, @blo0dangel

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #pedro pascal #narcos #narcos fanfic #Javier Peña fanfic #pedro fandom #pedro fanfic #reader insert #fluff #narcos netflix #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #better love #fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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athenadione · 3 years

Text

pizza and feverish confessions

No one:

Me: DID SOMEONE SAY WHUMP

Okay so it’s only light whump, with an emphasis on comfort. Will I go to the grave believing that Damian is a big softie when it comes to sick Raven? Absolutely.

Words: 3,909

Rated: G it’s all appropriate... this time ;)

Pairing: DamiRae

Click Here to read on A03

It starts out with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the back of her head. A little dizzying, but not enough to disrupt her equilibrium, so she brushes the feeling aside and chalks it up to a flare of her empathy. Throwing up a few mental shields to keep the plethora of auras at bay, she continues walking down the street with the rest of her teammates, nearing Pizza Corner.

A popular hotspot for locals, they have to request seating ahead of time so that the employees can prepare for a visit from the Titans. It’s always a daunting task to go out in public. The employees have to barricade a spot near the back of the restaurant for them to eat in peace, and constantly combat the flow of customers that walk in all for the chance to meet them. Obviously, they don’t do it often. The sheer amount of work it takes for them to dine-in never takes less than an hour. But today Gar insisted, and Kori can be a sucker for cute, green kittens; So naturally, they made a reservation.

The restaurant is already buzzing with activity by the time they turn the corner, still about a block away. Hosts and waitresses are shuffling people out and the crowd is growing considerably, all looking for a chance to get an autograph or picture with a Titan. They’re used to all the chanting and the yelling, but today it bothers her a bit. Already she can feel a tension headache blooming just behind her eyes, and she resists the urge to rub at her temples with her fingers. Maybe she stayed up reading too late last night.

She says nothing about her ailment and continues walking, appearing unaffected to everyone that doesn’t know what to look for in her face- a light grimace tugging at the corners of her mouth, and eyes that flutter shut a moment longer than necessary.

A few employees jog out to escort them the rest of the way, and Kori thanks them warmly, resting a hand on one of the men’s shoulders. The way the man looks back at Kori can make any woman mad with envy. Complete, undivided attention and adoration. Really, she can imagine literal red hearts leaping outwards from the pupils of his eyes accompanied by the loud sound of an ahooga horn. It nearly makes her snort, but instead she arches a delicate brow. With a reminder to herself to watch less Cartoon Network, she allows herself to be ushered into the building by another employee.

When she feels the brush of a well defined chest against the length of her arm after stepping inside it takes her a moment to realize it’s Damian. He must have stayed close behind her from the way he’s angled his body, shielding her from view. She remembers a time when his body wouldn’t even be able to take up half the space of the door. Now, at twenty two, he can easily provide coverage from the crowd- which she’s certainly grateful for. One would think after nearly a decade of superhero experience she’d be used to the publicity. Reluctantly, she admits that she’ll probably always be a little uneasy when it comes to large crowds.

“Beast Boy, stop flirting and get in here!” Jaime is seen tugging on the Changeling’s arm, practically dragging him in the diner. Gar comes begrudgingly with promises to the horde of females surrounding him to come back later for pictures. The foray of giggles that is heard a few seconds after leads Raven to believe that he’s said something else that’s borderline inappropriate, and from Damian’s eye roll she knows that he heard exactly what it was.

“Come on Beetle, I was this close to getting that blonde chick’s phone number!” Gar laments, rather dramatically Raven thinks, and continues his protests all the way to the door.

“Hurry up you two, we’re ready to be seated.” Kori says, shooting Gar a glance, the warning to behave clear in her eyes. Raven admits that she’s impressed when Gar doesn’t immediately shrink back like he used to.

“Sorry Star.” He mumbles, letting Jaime pull him past both her and Damian to follow behind Kori. Raven watches them a moment, willing the dull throb in her head to ebb, but it doesn’t cease. A light frown crosses her features when she realizes that she’ll likely need to meditate an extra hour today for the pain to subside. And perhaps take a few ibuprofen.

Behind her, Damian steps around her and lowers his gaze to meet her eyes. “Raven, are you okay?” He asks, touching her arm lightly. “You have a headache?”

Raven blinks, the only evidence of her surprise that Damian had been able to read her so well. But then she remembers that they’ve been teammates for years, and of course he would be able to tell, just as she can tell that the lilt in his tone is concern, not annoyance.

“Yeah.” She breathes and closes her eyes again. “I’m okay, I just need to meditate when we get back to the tower.”

When she opens her eyes again she sees him press his lips together and narrow his eyes like he doesn’t believe her and he’s definitely going to argue with her...but to her relief he says nothing, just gestures to the large booth where the others are already seated.

“Come on, the sooner we eat the sooner we can leave.”

She nods lightly, aware of how the movement heightens the pain of her headache, and turns to walk to where Kori is waving for them. Then Damian places a hand to her lower back and begins to guide her through the clearest pathway to the booth, unaware of the light blush heating her cheeks. Even after all this time she still hasn't gotten the courage to admit to herself what the pang in her chest is when he does little things like that.

Shoving back emotions that she refuses to interpret, she focuses her attention on the booth ahead of them, giving Kori a shrug when she sends her a curious look.

“Man they always have the best veggie pizzas. I wish I could eat here everyday.” Gar states to no one in particular. Jaime takes offense, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “How can anyone come here and eat vegetarian pizza? That should be considered felonious.”

“For once, I’d have to agree with Beast Boy.” Damian tells them both, stepping up to the booth first, then he reaches out with an open hand for her to take it. His hand is cool, contradicting the heat that she’s feeling from her headache. He gestures for her to step into the booth first and she scoots beside Jaime. Then he follows behind, effectively closing her in.

“Are you serious? Did everyone hear that?” Gar’s eyes widen in excitement, and he jumps in his seat, nearly sloshing his drink. “I want this in writing.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Damian quips back, eyes scanning the menu. The pout that Gar sends him makes Raven smile, mildly amused at the way his canines protrude over his upper lip.

Any plea that may have come from Gar’s mouth is silenced when the wait staff swoop in to get their orders. As quickly as they left, they come back with her and Damian’s drinks, and they are already set to make their pizza. Fast and succinct, the waist staff pride themselves on their service, and they deserve a considerable tip for the effort they’ve already given to allow them all to eat here. She makes a mental note to mention that to Kori when there’s a light itching in the back of her throat, and she takes a few sips of her water to combat it.

Conversations between her teammates continue, and Raven’s content to remain silent and listen to their banter, leaning back into the cool upholstery of the booth. The haziness in her mind grows, accompanied by a lightheadedness that makes her breathe deep, repeating her mantra to focus. In one corner, she finds a tear in the mahogany leather. Eyes beginning to glaze over, the longer she stares at it, the more black dots begin to swim along her vision.

At some point she vaguely recognizes Dick’s voice across the restaurant, joining them in his Nightwing suit. The joy she feels bubbling from Kori’s aura is enough to bring her back to the present, vision now clear, and she sees Dick slide in beside the Tamaranean. Everyone shifts to make room and Raven’s thigh brushes Damian’s when it’s her turn to scoot over.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Dick asks the entirety of the table. There’s a series of replies, each ranging from a curt “Fine,” to “I’d be better if I had my pizza right about now,” to a bemoaned “Thanks a lot Nightwing! It was already hard enough getting phone numbers with Robin around, now it’ll be impossible!”

Raven just nods in greeting, knowing that Dick won’t consider her silence as rude. Something she’s thankful for. Dick takes it all in stride as he always does, and he easily fits in with their group dynamic, bantering back and forth with Gar and Jaime all the while shooting the occasional tease to Kori. He even manages to make Damian smile once or twice- a considerable feat to accomplish.

Eventually they all settle down again and her eyes begin to feel bleary once more. This time a light shiver follows all the way up her spine, and she barely contains the shudder that threatens to wrack through her body. It does cause her to lightly brush against Damian’s thigh again though, and she’s very aware of his keen, inquiring eyes on her. Looking up, she sees the question in his gaze.

And she wants to put the concern she feels in his aura at ease, but at this point the ache in her head has pretty much developed into a migraine, and any jarring movement sends her head spinning, so she just gives him a small smile, if a bit forced. And as much as she’d rather go home and lay down in the dark, everyone’s having a good time, and they don’t get to go on public outings often together. She doesn’t want to ruin it by cutting their trip short. Besides, she’s been through much worse.

Even so, when their pizza finally arrives Raven only picks at hers, taking a few small bites for show, but her migraine is starting to make her feel nauseous, and the itch in her throat is scratchy, making it uncomfortable to swallow.

After a while, a heat begins to sizzle over her skin even as she’s bundled in her thickest cloak. Beside her, Jaime is arguing with Gar over which pizza is the best on the menu. It escalates to a point where Gar begins to point out how many slices of each kind of pizza everyone’s been eating until he gets to her own plate.

“What’s wrong Rae, you don’t like your pizza? You love pepperoni.” Gar pipes up from across the table, a piece of veggie pizza in one hand and a crumpled napkin in another. His brows are drawn together in disapproval when she follows his eyes to her plate. Only one slice of the two that she had taken from the pepperoni and cheese pie in the middle of the table is half eaten.

Aware of everyone’s eyes on her, she feigns nonchalance as she fights back another shiver. “Yeah, I do. It’s good.” She swallows, then takes another sip of her water to moisten her throat, looking back down at her plate. “I guess I just don’t have much of an appetite today.”

Beside her, Damian narrows his eyes and turns in the booth to observe her blatantly, ignoring Dick and Kori’s curious glances. Feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense stare, Raven wraps her fingers inside her cloak, pulling it tighter around her body. His eyes sweep her figure pensively, then rest back onto her face, taking in the glazed expression on her face.

After a few more moments he crosses his arms and gives her a reprimanding glare. “You’re getting sick.” He deadpans.

Immediately words of denial bubble up her throat, still conscious of everyone’s attention. “I am not. I’m fine.” She says, and as punishment the pain in her headache blossoms tenfold right at the base of her skull.

Despite the clouding in her mind she can still feel the brush of Damian’s aura, a tinge of both worry and frustration lapping at her empathy. “Tch. You’re a horrible liar and this is ridiculous.” He vaguely motions at the table they’re sitting at. “You shouldn’t be forcing yourself through lunch when you’re feeling unwell.”

The others voice similar echoes of concern with promises that she shouldn’t feel guilty for staying, and Raven sighs because this is what she has been trying to avoid. She waves off their concerns. “I’m okay, really. Let’s just enjoy the rest of lunch okay? I’m fine.” She repeats.

“I think we’re all ready to go back anyway, right guys?” Kori asks before Damian can argue with her further, looking at Jaime and Gar. Together they nod and begin to shuffle as one when Kori and Dick step out- Dick leaving the group entirely with the check in his hand.

Guilt swells in Raven’s chest, knowing how much the team had looked forward to being together on a relatively calm day like this, which is so very rare. “Wait, Star.” She winces as the raspiness grows in her voice. “You said you wanted to go to the mall first, we still have plenty of time.” Kori’s been wanting to go for weeks now.

Scooting out of the booth to follow her teammates takes more effort than she’d like to admit, but Damian hovers close by, taking her elbow and helping her step down. His gloved hand around her arm is much colder this time, causing a shudder that she can’t contain anymore.

Standing is not a good idea, Raven thinks. Her legs wobble and she locks her knees to stop them from shaking, and gods why is it suddenly so hot in here? She completely misses the first half of Kori’s response.

“...and besides, the dress I want to buy will still be there the next time I go.”

The world tilts on its axis, or rather Raven tilts, taking the world with her when she takes a step. The sudden lightheadedness she feels is so overwhelming she doesn’t even notice that Damian still hasn’t let go of her arm.

Someone within the vicinity of her incapacitated hearing begins to speak. Is it Gar? His voice sounds so far away now and her movements feel sluggish. There’s a light ringing in her ears that increases in tune with the pounding of her head, and through it all she feels that she’s broken out in a light sweat.

“Raven?” She looks through bleary eyes to see Damian’s face contorted with alarm. It makes her want to reach out and cup his face because he’s normally so stoic, and the worry creases above his brows don’t suit him at all. What would he do if she reached up on her tip-toes to kiss them until they receded?

She never gets the chance to find out, because the black specks dancing at the edge of her peripherals fill her vision all too quickly, and before she’s able to take another step forward her knees buckle, falling into Damian’s arms as swiftly as she falls into unconsciousness.

“Oh my god, Raven!”

She’s not fully conscious when she catches hints of low whispers near her, nearly drowned out by the beep of a machine next to her ears. Groaning softly, her senses are overcome with the aching in her leg muscles, and how hot her skin feels against the sheets she’s tucked underneath. A shiver wracks her body and she involuntarily curls into herself on the bed she’s in. Cords follow her body, attached to the pulse oximeter that she briefly notices is on her finger, along with an I.V. in her arm.

Faintly, she hears the sound of the t.v. playing in the background. She thinks it’s Scooby Doo. Either someone had turned it on for her when she woke, or Gar’s been in this room recently. Nonetheless, it’s enough to make her realize with mild amusement that she reminded herself to watch less Cartoon Network, not more.

But that amusement is short-lived when there’s a dip in the bed, the movement making her moan as the aching in her legs heightens, and she opens her eyes hazily.

It takes her a few seconds to focus on the figure beside her. “Dami…?” She croaks and immediately regrets speaking from the sharp pain in the back of her throat. “Ah..hurts.”

Luckily Damian isn’t one for small talk and he just rubs her upper arm lightly. “I know, don’t speak.” He says gently, “You have strep throat and the flu. Your fever got worse overnight.”

Damian presses something cold and wet to her forehead, and she sighs in reprieve as it soothes her heated flesh. Her eyes flutter shut once more and she’s already drifting off to sleep, barely hearing his next words. “Get some rest habibti. I’m here.” The darkness takes her under, and this time she welcomes it.

The next time she wakes she thinks she must be delirious.

Damian is mere inches away from her, pressing his lips to her temple in a light kiss, and whispering something to her in his native tongue.

If she wasn’t so sick then this would be heaven- waking up to his soft kisses. And maybe it still is in her own mind, because she’s honestly not sure if this is real.

A wave of nausea disrupts that train of thought and it courses through her stomach. She shoots upwards into a sitting position, head spinning. And she must’ve done this before because a small trash can is placed directly under her mouth as soon as she sits up, and she grasps at it weakly, vomiting up bile. Hands gather her hair gently at her nape, holding it back for her as she continues retching. Then she’s just dry heaving for a few minutes after there’s nothing left to throw up, and her stomach twinges achingly.

Someone starts rubbing soothing circles at her back and cooing into her ear, and she finally has the energy to glance back, recognizing those familiar emerald orbs that look back down at her in sympathy. When it’s clear that she’s finished he takes the trash can and places it next to her bed, within reaching distance. Gratefully taking the hand towel from his outstretched hand to wipe her mouth, she wonders if she should feel mortified at the fact that he’s seeing her in this state, but another shiver wracking through her body halts that train of thought too.

“Raven?” She must’ve spaced out at some point because she’s now leaning back against the fortress of pillows that have been fluffed for her, and Damian is hovering above her.

He reaches out an ungloved hand and tucks a stray hair behind her ear, and she wishes she had the courage to ask him to keep stroking her hair like that. “How are you feeling?” He asks her.

She just shakes her head, not trusting her mouth to speak. Also, her throat feels raw after vomiting. The lingering taste of bile makes her grimace.

“Try to sit up for me, you need to hydrate.” He calls out softly and she wonders how she didn’t notice the glass of water in his hand before. Bracing shaky palms into the mattress, she manages to pull herself up enough to earn a hum of praise. A straw makes its way to her mouth and she accepts it without argument, knowing from the set of his jaw that if she tried to she would certainly lose. The few sips she’s able to stand helps ebb the burning sensation in her throat, and Damian encourages her to take a few more. Then, she’s shaking her head and pushing away the glass. He relents, murmuring his approval. Soft, low tones. “Good. That’s good, Raven.” A hand threads through her hair again and she leans into his touch, taking the small comfort he’s offering despite how out of character it is for him to be so...intimate.

The soft, rhythmic brush of his fingers through her hair distracts her from the ache in her legs, and the dull throb of her headache. It helps tether her to consciousness enough to open her eyes more clearly and see the gentleness in his gaze as he watches her.

When she opens her mouth to speak her tongue feels like cotton, but she continues anyway. “You...don’t have to stay.” Her voice sounds like she’s been screaming in terror for hours until finally succumbing to an unbearable torture, and she winces at how pathetic it must sound to him too.

He just shushes her and continues threading his hand through her hair. “I’ll leave if you insist, but I’d rather stay...if that’s alright.”

All she can do is nod. They fall into a comfortable silence, which Raven cherishes. Damian’s always seemed to know when silence is needed, and he gives it to her often. Having him here, helping her while she’s in such a vulnerable state sends another sensation through her chest, filling her with a different kind of warmth. Not the kind of feverish, sweaty, and boiling heat that’s bogged down her mind the past couple of days (It’s been a few days right? Truthfully she doesn’t really know). But it’s a warmth that slowly spreads throughout her entire being, pouring over into her soul that leaves a light tingling in its wake. It’s stronger than anything she’s ever felt before and it swells in her throat until it formulates into words, spilling out of her mouth before she can stop it.

“I love you.”

Another shiver reverberates through her body, and the combined ache of her muscles and persistent fever takes her back under- so much so that she doesn’t even realize the significance of what she just said. She just knows that it makes Damian give her a smile that she’s never seen before. One that softens every feature in his face, and lights his eyes in such a way that mesmerizes her through the fogginess of her affliction.

“I know.” He says in a hushed timbre, leaning down to press his lips to her hairline- an act that makes her sigh in content, despite her dazed state. “I love you too.”

He stays with her, fingers playing languidly with the strands of her hair as he murmurs into her ear- a mixture of both their common language and arabic, and she clings to the gentle undertone of his words, relishing in this new, welcoming warmth that’s now unfurling all the way down to her toes. She continues to listen to his voice as it lulls her back gently into unconsciousness.

And she knows that he’ll be there when she wakes up again, just as surely as she now knows in her heart that she loves him.

And he loves her back.

#damirae #damian wayne #raven #teen titans #fanfic #oneshot #whump #light whump #hurt and comfort #hurt and comfort feels #fluff #full text #sickfic

132 notes · View notes

ah-ga-seven · 4 years

Text

Till’ The End of Summer - Chapter 6

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other; even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 7K. (She’s a bit longer.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smuttish content.

Idol Cameos: Ateez Wooyoung.

Warnings: sexy stuff.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, pls don’t come for me ;)

Soobin felt lazier than usual. Being the homebody that he is, he decided against any physical or social activities for the night. Tae, Gyu, and Hueningkai were out and about doing god knows what and Mia went home for the week to spend time with her family.

He had hoped to spend some time with you but you blew him off earlier today, as did Yeonjun.

Soobin wasn’t quite sure what was going on with Yeonjun but aside from the fact that he was only home to sleep and shower for the past week, it seemed like Yeonjun was genuinely happy.

He was upbeat and smiley whenever he did see him. It’s not like this was unlike Yeonjun’s usual behavior but the level of intensity had increased and Soobin couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Soobin’s tall figure was taking up all of the space on the couch as he watched a movie, cuddled up in blankets and surrounded by pillows while the only source of light came from the TV. The heavy rain from outside was acting as a form of ASMR, making Soobin’s eyelids grow heavier and heavier by the minute.

He was about to doze off before he heard the front door open. Soobin perked his head up, watching a drenched Yeonjun close the door behind him, turning on the lights, not realizing that Soobin was on the couch.

Soobin swore he heard Yeonjun sniff which made him sit up immediately, his face full of worry as Yeonjun passed through the living room to get to his bedroom with a blank expression on his face. He didn’t even notice Soobin yet, his mind too occupied with thoughts he wished he didn’t have.

“Hyung?” Soobin cooed, his eyes following Yeonjun’s moping state through the living room.

Yeonjun’s head snapped into Soobin's direction in shock and his eyes grow in size a little, feeling like he got caught.

Soobin indifferently bit his lip, getting up from the couch. He couldn’t see the difference between either the raindrops or teardrops on Yeonjun’s cheeks, so he had to get closer to confirm.

“Yeonjun hyung…” Soobin's voice was soft as he carefully approached, realizing that he was indeed crying.

Yeonjun felt like he was glued to the floor, frozen in place and unable to move, but as Soobin got closer to him, he breaks.

Soobin facial expression shifted from worry to shock in a heartbeat as he wrapped the older one into a tight hug, letting him weep on his shoulder.

The boys have been through a lot together, and this is definitely not the first time Soobin has seen Yeonjun cry, but it was never as heartbreaking and unbearable to watch as this. Yeonjun’s sobs were drenched with pain and sorrow. The noises being muffled as he buried his face on Soobin’s shoulder.

“H-hyung what's going on, you’re making me worried,” Soobin says as he lightly pats Yeonjun’s back in order to calm him down. He had no idea what was going on but knew that whatever it might be, it’s not to be taken lightly.

Yeonjun let go of Soobin, throwing his head back as he tries to sniff his tears back into his head. Soobin cautiously lingered around him, in case his emotions would erupt again. He rubbed his back in up and down motions. Waiting for Yeonjun to calm down enough so he could start explaining what was going on.

Yeonjun collects himself quickly, leaning against the kitchen counter as he buries his face in his hands.

He was frustrated with himself. He was frustrated with his tears and frustrated with the fact that Soobin had to see him this way. Vulnerability isn’t something Yeonjun loves to display. Being the oldest of the group and having to take care of himself from a young age made that difficult for him.

But given the distraught look on Soobin’s face, Yeonjun knew he couldn’t just let this go.

They sat at the dinner table together for hours. Talking about anything and everything that resonated with Yeonjun’s childhood. Yeonjun truly poured his whole heart out, sniffing through the tears that were a result of his bottled-up emotions. Of course, Soobin knew of Yeonjun’s estranged relationship with his parents but Yeonjun never told him or the other boys why that is. Neither did Soobin know It bothered him so much due to the fact that Yeonjun never talks about it, or seems upset.

Soobin couldn’t help but shed a tear or two himself. Knowing that one of his closest friends was going through something like this all by himself was heartbreaking. Though Soobin couldn’t be happier that Yeonjun opened up to him, he wished he knew about this sooner.

All the times that Soobin couldn’t figure out why Yeonjun acted the way he did in some situations became clear as day to him. Even though it isn’t his fault at all, Soobin couldn’t help but blame himself for not being there for Yeonjun more often.

“I wished you would have told me sooner…” Soobin dabbed his wet eyes with the long sleeves of his shirt as he looked the older one in his eyes.

Yeonjun just nodded, lost in thought while staring into the distance.

“It’s not something I want to be reminded of, the reason why I decided to live on campus is to be away from it all. This school, the team; it’s a way to forget.”

“What made you want to talk about it now?” Soobin asks cautiously. He didn’t want to make Yeonjun feel like he was pushing him to speak up more. But curiosity was getting the better of him.

If Yeonjun didn’t feel the need to open up all this time, what changed?

Yeonjun’s eyes dart to Soobin’s equally dark ones.

Well shit.

The most important detail that Yeonjun didn’t talk about was you. His brain was running extra hard to come up with the perfect excuse, but he couldn’t think of one fast enough.

“You know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking so many questions.”

Yeonjun’s shoulders fell in relief. Not wanting to lie to Soobin in a moment like this.

“It goes without saying that I won’t tell anyone about this.”

“I know you won’t,” Yeonjun cracks a smile. “Not even to Mia.”

“Not even to Mia,” Soobin nods.

“That’s so fucking sad,” Mia whines.

“I know,” Soobin huffs, adjusting the phone so he could hear his girlfriend better. “I told him I wouldn’t tell anyone though.”

“Well, I’m basically a part of you so he should’ve known better.”

“But baby, I’m serious. You can’t tell y/n because he will never trust me again if this somehow comes back around to him. Promise me you won’t tell her.”

“I promise,” Mia says, her voice laced with sincerity.

“Besides it’s not like she cares about him anymore. She hasn’t even mentioned his name since the festival two weeks ago.”

“I’m glad that’s over before it began. Yeonjun needs to learn how to love himself before he can love anyone else. I really don’t want y/n to be collateral damage to Yeonjuns fucked up mental state,” Soobin says getting comfortable on his bed.

“Wait…was that too harsh of me to say?” Soobin asks biting his fingernail.

Mia chuckled in response. “You just want the best for both of them, It’s understandable.”

“Ugh I wish you were here with me,” he pouts, earning a giggle from Mia. “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

Yeonjun hadn’t texted you the usual I’m home text and it worried you. It was already past 2 AM but you didn’t want to bother him or seem clingy by checking up on him this late.

His Instagram account showed a last seen of 25 minutes ago, meaning he was probably fine, so you decided against contacting him.

You sighed, putting your phone away, ready to close your eyes before you hear your phone buzz on your nightstand. Your eyes shot open wide and you frantically reach for your phone., getting blinded by the brightness of your screen in your dark surroundings.

[Yeonjun, 2:23 AM]: I’m sorry, I forgot to text you. Something came up…

You stare at your screen, unsure of what to write back to him, you thought about what to say for a few minutes, typing and deleting whatever came up in your mind for 4 minutes straight. You knew it was ridiculous that you were this insecure but you were cautious not to say the wrong thing, given the way he rushed out of your apartment earlier today.

It seemed like Yeonjun had gotten enough of waiting, so he decided to call you instead.

You’re startled at the sound of your ringtone, accepting the call without thinking twice.

“Hi.” His voice was timid and quiet. He sounded sleepy and his voice was a lot cuter than usual.

“Hey…” you greet him with the same tone of voice, a yawn escaping your lips in the process.

The sound made Yeonjun smile to himself, everything you did was adorable to him and he realized that he missed your presence already.

“Is it really stupid and clingy to say that I miss you,” you say shyly, turning yourself on your side so you were more comfortable under your sheets.

Yeonjun smiled at your comment, feeling the exact same way. There was nothing more that he wanted than to hold you close to him right now.

“No, it’s not.” He sighs, stretching his body and putting his arm under his neck for support as he stared at the ceiling.

“If it was up to me, I’d leave and come over again but Soobin basically has me on dog-watch.”

“Huh, why?”

“It’s a long story,” Yeonjun says biting his lip, hoping not to throw you off by being mysterious. He just didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“What if I sneak in?” you nervously suggest as you sit up.

“What?”

“I’ll Uber to you and sneak in… I have Soobin’s spare key in case he lost his own since he always loses his shit. I could literally come in without anyone noticing…”

“I- you’d do that?” Yeonjun says wide-eyed. He was intrigued by your balsiness, and a mischievous grin crept upon his face.

“So that means we’ll be spending the night together?” He bluntly states trying to get you flustered but you huff in response. “You’ll take the floor,” you joke, which earned a sincere laugh from Yeonjun.

“Bet,” he says rolling his eyes.

His mood shifted to a much brighter one just by talking to you. It was the effect that you had on him. Your funniness and energy worked contagiously, lifting him out of his slump from before. He buried his thoughts about the compatibility of your relationship in the back of his head as he waited for you to respond to him.

The other end of the line stayed silent for a few more seconds and he cocked his eyebrow. “Y/n?”

“I’m putting on my shoes,” you state as the shuffling noises on your end of the line continue.

Yeonjun couldn’t believe his ears, he thought you were kidding. He should’ve known by now that you’re actually crazy. If the other guys came home at the same time, you’d be busted for sure.

He swallowed harshly, sitting up in his bed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m on my way.”

You tried to be as silent as humanly possible as you twisted the key in their front door.

You kept looking over your shoulder, paranoid as fuck that the others could come home at any second. You really didn’t know why you were doing this at the dead of night when you had just seen Yeonjun a few hours ago, but the way he left didn’t sit right with you.

You wanted to be there for him by being with him, and assure him that when he needed you, that you were there for him. Even if he didn’t ask for it.

Soobin should be sound asleep since he’s a grandpa, and since it’s past 2 AM, you weren’t too worried, but still. You had to be cautious not to make too much noise which could potentially wake him.

You enter their pitch-black apartment, taking off your shoes at the front door while carrying them with you so the heels of your shoes wouldn’t make any noise on their hard-wooden floor.

The darkness made it hard to see, but luckily the way to Yeonjun's room was a straight line from the front door.

You tiptoed your way over, your heart basically pounding in your throat as you slowly twist the door handle to Yeonjun’s bedroom.

Yeonjun was laying on his bed, his arm supporting his head on top of his pillow. He was on his phone but as soon as he heard his door open, and saw you, his eyes widened.

You were dressed in all black, with your hoodie popped looking like you were about to rob him.

When you closed the door behind you and made eye-contact, both of you erupted in silent laughs and giggles.

He got up, wrapping you into his arms as he continued to laugh in your hair quietly.

“I can’t believe you,” he chuckles as he let go of you, taking a hold of your shoulders to look you in the eyes.

His eyes were playful and they had a certain amused glisten to them. You melted at the sight of his happy facial expression and sigh.

“I can’t believe me either,” you giggle.

You take a moment to look around Yeonjun’s room. Their dorm is basically your second home, but you never had a reason to go inside of his room before, until now.

His room was neat, but messy at the same time. Racks filled with clothing and shoes plastered his left wall. The walls were painted in a broken white, while the one where his bed was situated had a dark blue color, making the room look moody yet sophisticated. It wasn’t too big of a space but he made use of it efficiently.

You situate yourself on his bed, taking a hold of the picture frame on Yeonjun’s nightstand.

You melted at the fact that he had a picture of himself and the boys next to his bed and you couldn’t withhold your adoring noises. “awhhhh, this is so cute of you to do,” you pout up at him teasingly, shaking the frame in front of his face.

He looked at you through hooded eyes, yanking it from your grasp.

“I’m not cute,” he huffs. “Total manly man.”

You laugh at his antics as he basically throws himself at you, pinning you down on his bed as he hovers over you, poking your sides in attempt to make you laugh.

You try to be quiet for Soobin’s sake but it was of no use as Yeonjun continued his attack. He muffled your giggles by putting his hand over your mouth as you playfully kicked around and slapped his chest to get him off, he complied when he noticed your lack of being able to breathe, and threw his hands up as a sign of truce.

He chuckles again as he drops himself down next to you. You sit up, slapping his chest in insincere annoyance as you catch your breath. He whines, rubbing the sore spot with his large hand, acting like he got shot.

“What if someone heard!?” you nag, but Yeonjun just rolls his eyes at you; pulling you down with him so you’re situated on his chest.

He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles his face in your hair, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist as well. The two of you just lay there, breathing in each other's scents and enveloping yourselves in each other's warmth for a few minutes before you find yourselves lost in conversation.

The two of you talked about anything and everything. You noticed how he tried to keep the topics light and airy, nothing too serious or deep. So you just went with it, realizing he was probably doing it on purpose because of the conversation back in your apartment.

After a while you get up from his bed, stretching your limbs, and walking over to his clothing racks to inspect his coats and shirts. Your eye falls on a leopard print fur coat that was neatly hanging between the less flashy items of clothing. You chuckle while cocking your eyebrow, taking it off the hanger and wrapping it around yourself.

“I didn’t know you had a pet.”

“You don’t like it?” he flashed you a toothy smile and leaned back to see how the coat engulfed you in its largeness.

“It’s probably something only you can pull off,” you say in pout as you twirl around in the coat, checking yourself out in the mirror. It was way too large and you knew you looked ridiculous, but you didn’t care. Way too amused with the way it looked on you.

You hear the most dramatic sigh behind you which made you frown and turn around to see Yeonjun looking at you with adoring eyes.

“Why are you literally the most adorable thing,” he says pulling you towards him roughly by the hem of the fur coat.

You gulp at his sudden dominance and look at him sheepishly.

“It’s 3.30 AM,” he states out of the blue as he looks at you mischievously.

You give him a questioning look and lean into him. “So?”

“So…you’re not leaving, are you?”

“No.”

“So, you’re sleeping with me.”

“….I..well yeah if you don’t mind,” you say tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He scoffed. “If I don’t mind?” he repeats, but then his eyes grow big in realisation, and he starts rambling.

“Wait. You staying over doesn’t mean you need to have sex with me, you know that right. Because I would never push you into anything, you’re not ready for. And I don’t even know how experienced you are, and I’m not saying that you have to be, I’m just-”

“Yeonjun,” you interrupt, shushing him by putting your index finger to his lips.

He looks at you wide-eyed and you chuckle in response. “Shut up.”

“I mean it y/n. Let’s take something serious for once,' he whines tightening the hold he had on your waist.

“No, let’s not,” you tease him as you straddle him, seductively staring at his lips before you inch closer to his face, softly placing your lips onto his plump ones.

It was cute to you how worried he was, but the fact of the matter is that you’re not that innocent yourself. You want him, and you don’t really care about the status of your relationship to take this step.

You’ve been lusting over him since the start of college and now that you have him in the palm of your hands you weren’t just going to waste the perfect opportunity to act on your desires.

You kiss him softly, but the softness disappeared as he melted into the kiss, taking the lead as his hands traveled down to your ass, using it as leverage.

Something in him wanted to take things slow with you, he wanted to take the brand-newness of your relationship as serious as possible, but he also couldn’t deny that he had been storing away his horniness when around you. Also, the friction of having you straddling him like this didn’t support his philosophy of taking things slowly at all.

You moan into his mouth and the sound has his mind running wild.

He let himself fall flat to the bed, pulling you with him as you straddled him in a different position.

He tugged at your chin, pulling you in closer while claiming your mouth again, hungrily making his way down your neck with wet open-mouthed kisses as he tugged at your hair in order to give himself full access to the exposed skin of your neck.

You let out a breathy moan as he finds your sweet spot, making him grin smugly against your skin.

“Enjoying yourself darling?” He teases, which you just nod to in response. Too dazed to give him the real assurance he was looking for.

You were lost for words at how good he was, and how quickly his flustered demeanor shifted to a lust-filled one.

Your whole body tingled in ecstasy as he wrapped his free hand around your neck while his lips found their way back to yours. His other hand now back on your waist, riding up the hem of your hoodie to dig his nails into your skin.

You moan into his mouth once again, and that just about drives Yeonjun over the edge.

He basically rips the fur coat off of your frame and swiftly turns you around so your back is now to the bed with him hovering over you.

He pulls up your hoodie, exposing your bra and he buries his face in between your breasts, kissing his way up to your lips again.

"So god damn beautiful," he compliments in between wet kisses, making you moan in response.

He quickly resumes his assault to your mouth and neck, and unknowingly you tug at the waistband of his joggers out of instinct.

He looks down at your hand basically hovering over his crotch and gives you a look of pure mischief. “Someone's needy,” he breathes, giving you a coy smile.

At that, you both hear the front door to their apartment open and he pushes himself off of you immediately, leaving you dazed and entirely too horny to not be annoyed at the interruption.

“Shit.” Yeonjun huffs as he runs his hand through his hair. “You need to hide.”

“What? Why?” you say pulling down your hoodie again as you look at him with big eyes.

“My light is on, meaning I’m awake, meaning that Hyuka will probably come into my room to hug me goodnight. It’s a thing he does.” Yeonjun explains as quickly as possible.

Your face contorts from confusion to pure uwu but before you could say anything you already hear a knock on Yeonjun’s door.

“Yeonjun hyung, are you sleeping?” Hueningkai’s voice was clear as day and you look at Yeonjun with wide eyes. Not sure where you should be hiding.

He points at his bed and realise you could easily fit under it. You disappear under his bed at the speed of light and Yeonjun makes his way to his door, nervously looking back to see if you were visible before he opened it with a dramatic swing.

“Hyung, it’s late why aren’t you sleeping” Hyuka says walking into his room, making himself fall onto Yeonjun’s bed with full force.

You covered your mouth to suppress a yelp as the bed dipped almost to the point where it hit you.

Yeonjun’s eyes grow in size and he pulls Hueningkai off the mattress as fast as he could.

“There was a spider, don’t go on there,” he blurts out, not being able to come up with a better lie.

“Oh, should I grab it for you? Did it go under your bed?” Hyuka almost dropped to his knees to look under the bed before Yeonjun grabbed him, stopping him from moving any further.

“No, it’s okay, hyung will take care of it, go sleep. I’m teaching you how to drive tomorrow remember?”

“Oh right, I almost forgot,” Hyuka says scratching the back of his head while laughing nervously.

“Why am I kind of scared.”

“Don’t be, if you wreck my car you will have nothing to be scared of, ever again. In your life. Cause it will be over.” Yeonjun jokes, and you put your hand over your mouth to muffle your giggles.

Their relationship was so cute.

Hueningkai laughed a softer version of his obnoxious but adorable laugh and flew into Yeonjun's arms while rubbing his belly. “Okayyyy, got it. Goodnight and good luck with your spider problem.”

Yeonjun smiled, leading the younger one out of his room. “Goodnight honeybee.”

He closed the door behind him and locked it this time. He walked over to the bed and dropped to the floor, bending his neck to look at you.

“You could just sleep there if you want,” he jokes, flashing his pearly whites at you.

You glare at him. “I can’t believe I had to hide under your bed.”

He let out a small chuckle and reached out his hand for you to help you get out from under the bed.

You’re surprised by his strength as he was able to pull you out entirely with just one arm. You drop yourself on to his bed, this time exhausted from the subsiding rush of adrenaline.

You yawn covering your face, and Yeonjun notices.

"Are you tired?" he asks patting your head. You slowly nod in response, blinking a couple of times to re-adjust your blurry vision.

Yeonjun smiled at you fondly. "Let's continue what we were doing some other time." he winks and you just grimace at his words, nodding in agreement.

He pulls to covers from underneath you and turns off the light on his nightstand.

“Move,” he whispers and you comply with a giddy smile, making space for him on the bed.

He pulled to covers over both of you, spooning you as he holds your hand tightly, resting your intertwined hands to your chest. The butterflies in your stomach ran wild, this moment is something you fantasized about multiple times, but now that it was happening you weren't sure how to get yourself to calm down.

As if he sensed your rising heartbeat, he kissed your temple. Snuggling his face in your neck while giving you another kiss on your jaw.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck as he speaks.

“Goodnight,” you reply timidly, already dozing off in his hold.

You felt safe, sound, warm, and you hoped he felt the same. You hoped you could give him what he longed for all this time because there was nothing more you want than for him to feel like he could be himself around you.

You wanted to say so much, do so much, but tiredness got the better of you as your eyelids grow heavy, drifting off into nothingness as his hold lulled you to sleep.

Yeonjun had been staring at your sleeping form for the past 10 minutes. He stared at your features. Studying your face. You moved a little making a piece of your hair drape in front of your eyes, which made your nose scrunch up in response.

Yeonjun suppressed a chuckle and moved the piece of hair out of your face so he could adore you some more.

It was 11 AM and he already heard Soobin and Taehyun's voices from the living room.

He had no idea how to get you out without them noticing and he also didn’t have the heart to wake you up.

After a few seconds, the comfortable silence was interrupted by loud knocks on Yeonjun’s bedroom door.

“HYUNG, BREAKFAST IS READY.” Taehyun yelled at the top of his lungs, startling Yeonjun and waking you up in a panic at the loud noises.

Your eyes shoot open in shock, but Yeonjun held on to your waist firmly to keep you from jolting upwards, reminding you of his presence.

“It’s ok” he whispered patting your head, and you relax in an instance.

“NOT HUNGRY,” he yelled back; making you cringe at the loud noise.

You’re not a morning person, which Yeonjun figured as you turned back around to close your eyes.

He let out a sigh shaking your shoulder. “Five more minutes,” you huff, pulling his arm from your shoulder and back around your waist to signal to him that you wanted him to hold you.

Yeonjun however, wasn’t having it.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for half an hour,” he says unamused, untangling himself from you and ripping the sheets off of you.

You shot him an angry look, burying your face in his pillow and he couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute and moody you were in the morning.

“We need to figure out how to get you out of the apartment unnoticed.” he says with his arms crossed, looking at you expectantly.

And suddenly, you’re wide awake. Well shit, you didn’t think that far ahead yet.

You sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“I could jump out the window”

“This is the 9th floor, you’d die.”

“Problem solved,” you joke.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes at you as he sits back down on his bed.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks caressing your cheek.

You nod sheepishly as you lean into his touch, resting your cheek in his hand. “You?”

“The best sleep I’ve had in a while.” He admits, making you melt.

Yeonjun’s phone buzzed and he looked over, taking it off the charger as he read the message.

“Soobin and Tae are heading out,” he says in surprise. “They’re getting coffee and asked me if I wanted one.”

He shows you the messages. You found your luck hard to believe and squint your eyes reading over the messages a second time.

“If Gyu and Hyuka are still asleep then that’s my chance to escape,” you say excitedly clapping your hands together as realization hits.

You didn’t know why but this whole keeping your relationship a secret thing was kind of fun. It was thrilling that you could get caught at any moment and that the rest of your friends were so oblivious, but you really wanted to know when your luck was going to run out because that's one confrontation that you weren't ready for.

After waiting in Yeonjun's room for a few minutes after Soobin and Tae had left, you finally open the door to Yeonjun’s bedroom.

Both of you silently run to the front door, he turns you around and kisses your lips once more before he opens the front door and shoos you away playfully.

“See you tonight.” He says as he waves at you.

Right, game night. You almost forgot.

You were pretty nervous about it given the fact that this is the first time you’d hang out with all 5 of the boys and Mia since the whole ordeal at the festival. Your stomach turned at the thought of having to act nonchalantly around Yeonjun throughout the night. Not knowing how well you’d be able to do that.

Before you walk off. you pull Yeonjun in for another quick kiss and he smiles into it. “Quick, quick, quick,” he says pushing you off of him, and you both laugh as you start running off.

Hyuka had his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

Yeonjun was situated in the passengers’ seat as Beomgyu was seated behind them in the middle backseat, leaning over to see what Hyuka was doing.

“Ok so, what happens if I press the brake and gas at the same time?” Hyuka says mischievously staring at Yeonjun to tease him.

“The car takes a screenshot,” Beomgyu comments

“FOR REAL!?”

“Get the fuck out of my car, both of you” Yeonjun sighs rubbing his forehead.

“Ahh, ok, ok, ok. We’ll behave. Sorry” Hueningkai laughs and carefully backs out of the parking spot.

Yeonjun's phone started to buzz and he checked his messages while Hyuka was driving carefully. His eyes lit up seeing your name on his phone, smiling giddily at your message.

[Y/N: 3:23 PM]: Can't wait to ignore your whole existence tonight, make sure to get my Oscar ready, I will put these actresses out of a job...

He was about to reply to you but Beomgyu interrupted. "Hyung could you please pay attention to what Hyuka is doing because I feel uneasy."

Hueningkai scoffed at Beomgyu's lack of confidence in him and Yeonjun snapped out of it, correcting Hyuka's driving by tugging at the steering wheel lightly.

"Right, sorry."

"Hyung, by the way. you and y/n are good right?" Beomgyu asked with big eyes.

The sudden mention of your name startled Yeonjun, but he cleared his throat, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"Yeah, we are. Why do you ask?"

"Well, cause she's coming over tonight too and it'd be awkward if you two were still awkward around each other."

Yeonjun's shoulders fell as he relaxed. Sighing as he looked back at Beomgyu and Hyuka's expecting eyes. "We're totally fine." Yeonjun assures, giving them a sincere smile.

Beomgyu nodded in response and so did Hueningkai.

"I'm glad." he adds.

Yeonjun was surprised, Hueningkai did better than expected so they decided to leave the parking grounds for a short while to practice roundabouts and parallel parking.

It didn’t take long before they all had enough of risking their lives, so Yeonjun decided to drive back to their dorm and prepare for game night. They had a few more guests coming than usual, but Yeonjun had no idea since he spent all his time with you and didn’t plan the whole thing with the other guys.

“You did well,” he says patting Hyuka on his back as they walk into their building, his compliment earned a heartfelt smile from Hueningkai. “Watch out hyung, once I get my license you won’t know what’s coming for you,” he boasts.

“Don’t get cocky already, there’s a written exam that you need to pass first,” Beomgyu says rolling his eyes as they step out of the elevator, on their way to their front door.

“Oh…right.” Hyuka says sulking.

Yeonjun laughs at the banter of his little brothers, opening the front door to see the place fully decorated.

“Eh…Tae? What’s going on.” Yeonjun asks as they make eye contact while Taehyun was using all the force in his lungs to blow up some balloons.

Beomgyu and Hyuka brushed past Yeonjun, on their way to their shared room in an attempt to avoid helping out with decorations.

“So….game night turned into a bit of a bigger get together,” he explains apologetically.

Yeonjun chuckles, grabbing a few balloons to help out. “I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not mad right? I mean you’re barely home so we didn’t even know if you’d be here tonight. By the way, where have you been all week?”

“Uh, with Wooyoung.” Yeonjun lies latching his mouth onto the balloon, blowing it up to avoid more conversation.

“MIA!” you run into her arms. Not seeing her for a whole week was the longest you’d gone without seeing her since you met her, so it felt like a whole year. She left for home to spend time with her family and well, you were too occupied with Yeonjun to really talk to her.

Mia giggles in your embrace. Both of you decided to meet at the boys’ dorm to enter together like you always do.

“I missed you,” she says wrapping her arm around your waist as you both walk towards the elevator.

As you press the button, you spot the same guy with long black hair who you were introduced to by Yeonjun at Johnny’s party, walking towards you.

“Hey,” you greet him with a smile, and he shifts his focus from his phone to you at the sound of your voice.

“Hey.” He gave you a warm smile back while going in for a hug.

You were surprised since you’ve only spoken to each other for half a minute but you figured he was just a hugger.

“Wooyoung? Right?”

He nods excitedly. “Yes.”

Mia smiled at him too and introduced herself. “Do you live here?” she asks genuinely interested.

“No, I’m going to Yeonjun’s”

“Oh…huh, so are we,” you say shooting Mia a confused look, which she shrugged at.

“Oooo nice!” he exclaims making both you and Mia laughs in response to his enthusiasm.

The three of you make small talk about your only connection, school. The more you spoke to him, the more you got the friendship between him and Yeonjun. Wooyoung seemed super loud and outgoing, matching Yeonjun's personality effortlessly.

You finally reach the front door and knock a few times.

Soobin opened the door for you guys but you were completely disregarded by him as he attacked Mia with hugs and kisses. You hear a few I love you’s and I missed you’s and you can’t help but beam at them.

You were feeling less salty about their PDA because of the fact that you have Yeonjun now, but you know…they don’t know that.

Yeonjun was seated at the large kitchen table behind Taehyun, who was playing that odd biting dog game that they play with Beomgyu and Hyuka. Yeonjun’s eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile before he saw you standing in the doorway with Wooyoung.

It looked like the two of you came here together and he didn’t like how that looked to the rest of the people here.

You saw how his face fell and your eyes travel to Wooyoung who was still standing next to you with his hand on your waist. You didn’t think much of it given his touchy nature but you couldn’t really go up to Yeonjun either to ease his mind, because everyone would question why.

You sigh, nonchalantly untangling yourself from his hold to make your way to Mia who was standing on the balcony with Soobin.

Wooyoung made his way to Yeonjun and they hugged, Yeonjun’s eyes following your figure like a hawk before he shifted his attention back to his friend.

You breathe in the cool air on the balcony and lean on the railing, standing next to Mia and Soobin who were lost in a conversation about her family visit.

You honestly wanted to be alone with Yeonjun if you could. Not feeling the need to be sociable with all of the people here, especially if you had to act distant towards Yeonjun in the meantime.

You didn’t know how many glances you could steal from him before someone noticed, and it upset you a little, but you also know that YOU are the reason you’re in this situation in the first place.

When your thoughts start running wild, muting out your surroundings, your phone starts to vibrate in your pocket, snapping you back to reality. You retrieve it and look at your messages.

[Yeonjun 8.32 PM]: I hate this :(

You chuckle, glancing over to him. He looked at his phone with a pout and you melted at the sight, but you quickly averted your attention back to your phone before anyone noticed that you were starting at him.

[Y/N 8.32 PM]: Me too. Also, I ran into Wooyoung downstairs, it’s just a coincidence.

[Yeonjun 8.32 PM]: Hah, did I say anything?

[Y/N 8.32 PM]: No, but your face did.

You peak over your shoulder to look at Yeonjun whose eyes had now found yours. He gave you a kittenish angry look and you couldn’t help but giggle, which caught Soobin and Mia’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” Soobin says nudging you.

“Oh, the game…the game is funny,” you say absentmindedly.

Soobin looked over his shoulder and saw the boys basically screaming at each other out of competitiveness and he giggled too. “Yeah, they’re crazy.”

Mia’s eyes travel to the front door as she sees new people entering.

“Baby, who are they?” she asks with a smile, leaning her head on his upper arm.

“Oh, they’re Yeonjun’s friends. I invited them to cheer him up a little.”

Your eyes dart to Soobin. “Cheer him up for what?” you ask genuinely confused.

“Ahh….i-it’s nothing.” Soobin stuttered. “He’s just been dealing with some stuff lately so I thought I’d invite some more people over.”

You squint his eyes at Soobin. What did Yeonjun not tell you?

Your eyes scan the group of 4 who had joined the get-together, you see two guys and two girls, one of them clinging on to Yeonjun’s arm the minute she saw him.

You cock your eyebrow at the sight, trying not to stare too long.

The three of you make your way back in to the apartment and decide to join the rest of the group at the dinner table. They were now playing charades and you couldn’t help but laugh at Wooyoung’s ridiculous competitive nature, which was only fueled by Yeonjun’s desire to win against Taehyun, Hueningkai, and Beomgyu.

Your eyes darted to the mystery girl who was basically drooling over Yeonjun. You noticed her giggling with her friend every time he did something remotely funny or adorable and you can’t help but roll your eyes when she keeps playfully nudging him or smacking his arm as she laughed.

“I wanna be on Junnie’s team!” she screeched as she sat down on his lap.

The action made your eyes widen, and you can tell Yeonjun’s whole body stiffened, his eyes darting to yours in apology.

Neither of you could control this situation, but that didn’t mean he had to keep her on his lap.

“Let’s do truth or dare instead,” Wooyoung suggests wiggling his eyebrows, earning a bunch of either excited hums or disagreeing groans from everyone.

"What are we, 12 years old?" you sigh, scooting your seat closer to the table.

"Why, you got something to hide?" Wooyoung challenges you as he gives you a mischievous smile, raising his eyebrow at you in amusement.

You huff in response, stealing a quick glance from Yeonjun's stoic expression.

"No."

Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Ok, Ok. Me first then,” he says shifting his attention to you.

“Y/n, truth, or dare?’ He asks grinning at you from ear to ear.

You stiffen. “Ehm, truth,” you blurt out, earning groans from Beomgyu and Soobin.

“You’re so tame.” Beomgyu states and you shot him a venomous look in return, which he brushed off by laughing at you.

“Okay, truth…hmm. Do you like anyone in this room?” He asks folding his arms over his chest, leaning back into his chair.

“Yes,” you say out loud without thinking. If you could kick yourself you would have. What the fuck were you thinking?

Your statement earned surprised looks from everyone, including Mia and Soobin, who were now looking at each other with question marks in their eyes.

Yeonjun uncomfortably shifted in his seat, with the screechy blonde girl still situated on his lap.

“Who?” Mia asked raising her brows at you.

“I already answered my question.” You shrug, but you knew you’d be a target from now on.

Mia was determined to find out who it was and as her turn came around, she had an idea and decided to act on it. Thinking of the situation as innocent and funny.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” She asks giving him a knowing smirk.

“Truth.” you exhale loudly, already done with playing the stupid game.

“Who is it?” she asks leaning in a little closer.

Fuck.

Your eyes dart to Yeonjun who subtly tried to shake his head for you to notice, and you did.

“Ehm, I-it’s Wooyoung,” you say pointing at him before your brain could even compute the damage that you had just done.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows raise in surprise, just like Yeonjun’s and the rest of the people there.

"Since WHEN!?" Soobin exclaims in disbelief. Which earned a slap from Mia to his upper arm. "Shut up." she huffs noticing how uncomfortable you were.

Suddenly she felt bad for pushing you so far, she thought you were just kidding, but given the distress in your eyes she knew something else was up.

Hueningkai started laughing hysterically as his turn rolled around. “Wooyoung hyung, truth, or dare.”

“Dare.” he practically yells, giving Hyuka an amused smile.

“I dare you to kiss y/n.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at the juvenile attempt of your friends to embarrass you, but he couldn’t deny that you were hot, and well. You literally just confessed that you had an eye for him too. Everyone started "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing" at the situation but you couldn't move or respond quick enough to what followed.

Your eyes grow big and you see Yeonjun clench his fists as Wooyoung pulled you towards him, lacing his fingers through your hair as his lips made contact with yours.

Chapter 7.

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tsukihimeyfan · 4 years

Text

Sorting the main cast of AtLA into Hogwarts Houses

I know I’m late to the party because I’ve seen many different people tackle this before, but I feel like it is my civic duty as both a Potterhead and an AtLA stan to put in my two cents, since every single time I’ve seen it talked about people either misinterpret what each House values in their members or pick a House by taking into account only one aspect of their personalities. I want to make it clear that these are my own opinions, which I’m basing on the definitions we’ve gotten of the main traits of each House over the years and the “core values” of each AtLA character, and that I’m in no way am I trying to insult anyone who thinks differently. That being said, here goes nothing!

Let’s start with the easy ones. Namely, the Fire Siblings:

1) Azula is 100%, undoubtedly, definitely, incontrovertibly Slytherin. Just doing a quick rundown of the qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his handpicked students, as stated by the Sorting Hat, Albus Dumbledore and Pottermore: Cunning? Check. Resourcefulness? Check. A disregard for rules? Check. Using any means to achieve her ends? Check. Shrewdness? Check. Ambition? Check. Self-preservation? Check. Pride? Check. An argument could even be made that, as a member of the Fire Nation Royal Family, Azula also kind of meets the “blood purity” criteria. I’m sure most of us agree on this. Even if she does exhibit a lot of loyalty to her father as well as courage and intelligence, there is just no contest. Azula is one of the most Slytherin characters I’ve ever seen outside of the Harry Potter universe.

2) In the same way, Zuko is irrefutably a Hufflepuff. Hear me out! I know that he’s very brave and daring, but when we think of Zuko, what is his most essential trait, what do people tell us again

and again

about Zuko’s character?

He’s a hard worker. And what’s the House of the hard-working?

"You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, And unafraid of toil.”

You guessed it. Hufflepuff. Of course, that’s not the only trait valued by this House that he exhibits. Who is more loyal in the series than the child who got half his face burned off and still did his best to earn the love and respect of the one responsible? Who never faltered in his loyalty even when he was sent away on an impossible mission? Who spouted angry words most of the time yet was willing to let his ticket home go temporarily in favor of ensuring the safety of his Uncle and his crew? That’s right, our boy Zuko. That very loyalty to his father is what unfortunately bound him for the longest time, until he was forced to face what a monster he was and let go of it in favor of more important things, namely his own morals and his loyalty to his Uncle.

He also has an incredibly strong sense of justice, as proven by the above statements, as well as this moment:

and he can be incredibly patient when he needs to be, as seen during The Blue Spirit and the Southern Raiders episodes.

Hufflepuffs are also said to be fair (which he clearly is), dedicated (need I say more?), honest (which Mr. shouts-his-feelings-at-the-top-of-his-lungs and can’t-lie-without-being-obvious-or-glancing-away-and-has-been-found-out-every-time-he-tried of course is) and modest (this one he starts without but by the time he joins the Gaang there isn’t anyone more modest or humble)

As “an idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor” , Zuko is the Hufflepuffiest Hufflepuff to ever Hufflepuff and I will die on this hill

3) Another easy one is our girl Suki, whom I’d say is a Gryffindor through and through, even if she is very loyal to her friends.

The rest of the Gaang under the cut.

The other members of Team Avatar are a bit trickier because they all exhibit a pretty even mix of traits from more than one House, but still if we just concentrate on their defining characteristics we can get to an answer.

4) I’d argue that Sokka belongs in Ravenclaw, even though he is of course quite brave and extremely loyal to his loved ones, not only because he’s a strategist and an inventor, but also because, as best stated by Master Piandao:

Ravenclaws most value wit, learning, intelligence, creativity and wisdom (this last one is a bit iffy but I’m sure he’ll get there when he’s older), as well as priding themselves on being original in their ideas and methods. That’s Sokka to a T.

5) Katara gave me a hard time. She’s unbelievably loyal to her friends and family, she’s compassionate, patient, fair, hard working and dedicated, with a REALLY strong sense of justice, so a case can be made for Hufflepuff easily. However she can also be quite cunning when she wants to (most obviously during The Waterbending Scroll, City of Walls and Secrets, The Painted Lady, and The Runaway), she has a lot of ambition (if you count every variation of “I will make the world a better place by force if I have to”), she disregards the rules when it suits her (again The Waterbending Scroll as well as The Runaway) and she can be proud at times, so we could argue she’s a Slytherin. She’s also undoubtedly very intelligent and even quite wise for her age. It took me a while to decide but then I pondered; at her very core, what are the statements that define her? What words just scream “that’s it, that’s Katara”? They are, of course, these two phrases:

The first sounded incredibly Gryffindor to me, and the second is half Gryffindor half Hufflepuff, so it had to be between those two. As such, I decided to look into Gryffindor first. Katara is, of course, astoundingly courageous, but what else? I had to actually look up definitions for the Gryffindor traits besides courage because they all just kinda meant “brave” to me initially 😅, but what I found was:

*Nerve: “one's steadiness and courage in a demanding situation”. Yep. Who’s the most level-headed, steady and reliable person whenever the Gaang is in any kind of pinch? That’s right. Katara

*Daring: “adventurous or audaciously bold“. Yep. I’d say she ties with Toph for boldest in the Gaang

*Determination: “firmness of purpose”. Yep, absolutely. See the above image from the Painted Lady. ‘Nuff said.

*Chivalry: can mean 2 things, one is “sum of the ideal qualifications of a knight, including courtesy, generosity, valor, and dexterity in arms”. All of that is true of her (her “arms” being her waterbending), but I found it interesting that to be chivalrous can also mean “gracious and honorable toward an enemy, especially a defeated one, and toward the weak or poor”. I’d argue that this fits her even more. Once again, just take a look at The Painted Lady episode.

*Courage and bravery: they can mean the same thing, namely “the ability to do something that frightens you” and of course that fits Katara, but the word courage in particular has another meaning, which is “strength in the face of pain or grief”...

I’d say she’s pretty good at that. I think that settles it, Katara is a Gryffindor.

Turns out that when it came to the water tribe siblings Bato was right all along

6) For Toph I was split between Gryffindor (thinking of her brash, bold nature) and Slytherin for a while, but after looking into Katara and researching all those definitions I think I have to give it to Slytherin. Of course, Toph doesn’t seem to be very ambitious unless you count “being recognized as the greatest earthbender in the world”, but she is quite cunning. She knows exactly how to use her “poor helpless blind girl” persona to get what she wants, as seen both on The Blind Bandit and The Runaway. She’s also an extremely good actress, being able to play the “reserved and obedient little girl” to her parents for years, and being easily able to pick it back up when it suits her.

She’s also stubborn, proud, and 100% willing to use any means, regardless of laws or rules, to get what she wants.

As for self preservation? Remember that her response when asked to teach Aang, which was crucial to save the world but would’ve compromised her secret, was this:

Slytherins can also “hesitate before acting, so as to weigh all possible outcomes before deciding exactly what should be done “ and my first instinct was to say that it didn’t fit Toph at all, but what is Toph if not a person who “waits and listens before striking”? Slytherins tend to favor Neutral Jing it seems.

Almost forgot that as a daughter of the Beifong family she’s sort of nobility and she technically also meets the “blood purity” criteria.

7) Finally, we get to my boy Aang. He was really difficult. He’s loyal, patient, fair, kind, modest (usually) and just but I can’t really call him a hard worker most of the time.

He’s brave, adventurous, determined and chivalrous but he does tend to get discouraged during demanding or stressful situations (his friends always make it better though)

He’s creative, very wise for his age, and quite smart (except when he’s playing around with Sokka in which case they share one brain cell 😂)

He can even be cunning when he needs to be. If he ever went to Hogwarts, he’d definitely be a Hat Staller like Harry. I heard someone say once that they considered Aang a Gryffindor because he liked to show off a lot, but that’s not really a Gryffindor trait (think of Neville Longbottom, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter and Minerva McGonagall. I think any one of them would sooner Stupefy themselves than go show off their skills in front of a crowd for no reason other than to brag).

Once again, we must pin down what it is that defines him, what his core is. After much thought, I decided it’s this:

It’s his compassion, which he learned from his people, and his desire to value and protect all life. It’s his loyalty to the ideologies of the Air Nomads of which he is the last remaining bastion. It’s his strong moral code, his sense of right and wrong, his wish to make friends and to believe the best of everyone. That’s his center. That is what makes him Avatar Aang. In light of that, I think we can consider Aang, first and foremost, a Hufflepuff.

In the end, Team Avatar is made up of one Ravenclaw, one Slytherin, one Gryffindor (two after Suki joins), and two Hufflepuffs

Ironic, that the House least valued in the Harry Potter universe is the one that houses arguably the most pivotal characters of Avatar the Last Airbender: Zuko and Aang. Fitting, that even in this they parallel each other.

This is already long enough so I don’t think I’ll do Mai, Ty Lee, or Iroh. Maybe some other time.

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cdt12345 · 3 years

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We've been friends many years but I've never thought to ask; Top 10 gay OTPs?

1.) Ian & Mickey (Gallavich) - Shameless us

What can I say about these two that we haven’t already said about them?! They are my absolute all-time favorite couple ever! Gay or straight. They perfectly complement each other, they love each other on a level I feel like I’ve never seen before (and I have watched a lot of tv/movies), they’re like a comedy duo, they support each other, understand each other better than anyone else ever will, they fell in love as kids, they bring out the best in each other, and they’re each other's best friend. I’m a sucker for opposites attract, who are also best friends. Gallavich really fits that bill. I wish they didn’t have to struggle so much to get their happiness, but I’m happy they finally got it. When they got married, it felt like the biggest victory ever! We went through those years of struggle with them, rooted for them, mourned for them when John Wells let Noel go after season 5. So much has tried to keep these two apart, even real-life circumstances tried to keep them apart. The chemistry between these two characters and between Cameron and Noel was so powerful, they were brought back to the show. That kind of thing doesn’t happen very often. When an actor leaves a show, they don’t usually come back as a series regular, let alone two actors who have already left the show. It felt like a miracle! I will never forget getting the news that Noel was coming back from you @luckyshazmrsmonaghansblog I was crying with happiness bc we wanted this for so long and I never believed we would get to see both Cameron and Noel back on the show. Or that they would get their happy ending outside of a jail cell. Especially after Cameron left the show in season 9. With their return we got a wedding, an entire season of them as a married couple, we got to see them dance with each other twice, we got them singing together, we got to see them start a lucrative business together, we got to see them free and happier than we’ve ever seen them before, and we got to see Terry get what he deserved after putting them through hell. We are only halfway through season 11, but I already feel so fulfilled with this extra time with gallavich that we were never supposed to have. JW tried to take that away from us. I will never understand why, but he failed. I am not surprised this is the one I wrote the most about. I can go on and on about gallavich!

2.) David and Patrick - Schitt’s Creek

This was everything I ever wanted to see onscreen, where there was zero homophobia. The pansexual character didn’t need to have a big coming out or tell everyone in the town of his sexual orientation, except his best friend. The gay character had a coming out with parents who loved and accepted him for who he is and was only upset that he felt he couldn’t tell them sooner. I dreamt of a day where I could see this kind of representation onscreen. The casual treatment of their sexuality was so refreshing and something I’ve been waiting for. There is no darkness or huge struggle they had to overcome to be together or a sad ending for them. They were allowed to be together without the major conflicts most LGBTQ characters have to go through. Once David made the first move Patrick was comfortable allowing himself to fall for David and start a relationship with him. He was so sure of his feelings for David after that first kiss, he never looked back and I loved that. They had such an adorable love story. Truly one I have been waiting to see for so long between two LGBTQ characters. They made me smile every time they were on screen. They are another of my OTPs that are exact opposites who complement each other perfectly. Patrick was welcomed into David’s family and blended in with them so well, even when he and David had very different upbringings. Patrick serenading David with Tina Turner and then Mariah Carey at their wedding is one of the most romantic things I have ever seen!

3.) Holt and Kevin - Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Captain Holt and Kevin are strange men on their own but together they are the perfect pair. They get each other in a way no one else does. The best part is their adorable fur baby, Cheddar! They seriously make the cutest family! I was so nervous when they went through a rough patch for a while because I didn’t want them to split up. Thankfully, they made it through and are still going strong!

4.) Will and Vince - Will & Grace

On the show's first run, Will and Vince were in a serious relationship and Vince was Will’s longest relationship on the show. They broke up a few times but were together by the series finale. The two reunite during the funeral of Will's father. There was a time jump on the series finale. Though I didn’t love everything about the last episode, I did love the fact that Will and Vince had been together for 20 years and raised a son together, who was conceived through in vitro fertilization with a surrogate. After the time jump, nearly twenty years later, their son goes to college and meets Grace's daughter, whom he would eventually marry. Though I wasn’t happy with the fact that Will and Grace didn’t stay close over the years, it did allow for their kids to one day meet, fall in love, and get married. I did like that outcome out of the finale. My family and I used to watch the original show, but we refused to accept or watch the 2017 revival because they completely changed everything from the original series finale. The second I found out they were changing everything; I knew I couldn’t watch it. They even wiped the existence of their kids from the first series finale. The revival was an attempt to cash in on the reboot craze and I wasn’t happy about that already, but even more so when they were going to break up one of my OTPs for easy money. Bobby Cannavale, who played Vince, has become even more famous since starring in Will & Grace. So, I already figured he wouldn’t be back for the show as a regular, but I know he did guest star. I won’t accept the revival and to me, Will and Vince stayed together, and their son married Grace’s daughter. THE END!

5.) Albert and Armand - The Birdcage

Miss Albert and Armand were the earliest gay couple I remember ever watching onscreen when I was eight years old. I have watched this movie more than I can count over the years. It is a family favorite that we quote often. Their son is planning to marry a girl whose father is in politics and is very conservative. They have to hide the fact that he has two gay fathers for one night, but everything goes awry, and comedy ensues. Nathan Lane and Robin Williams give a wonderful performance without resorting to using the stereotypes that are often used on gay characters, especially back then. It’s a classic!

6.) Stefon and Seth - Saturday Night Live

Okay, hear me out on this one! They’re not the most conventional OTPs on my list, but I really do love them so much! Stefon started doing a correspondent segment on Weekend Update on SNL. The first time Stefon came on, he flirted with Seth Meyers. The second he did I was like ooh they would make a cute couple! Stefon the wild party guy and Seth the serious news anchor. It was a match made in heaven for me. Before Seth Meyers left SNL to do Late Night with Seth Meyers, Bill Hader came back to play Stefon for Seth’s last episode. I didn’t expect what happened next to happen at all! They gave Seth and Stefon the ending that I haven’t even gotten from some actual scripted shows. I never expected Stefon and Seth to have this big ending, but I could not be happier that they did. I’m posting the link to the six-minute skit/ending and I hope it works. It’s worth watching. Though the video says it’s Stefon’s farewell it was really Seth’s farewell episode.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rj-wYWMdWNk

7.) Mr. Simmons and Peter - Hey Arnold!

Anyone who grew up watching this show already knew that Mr. Simmons, Arnold’s teacher, was probably gay. It was hinted at in the Thanksgiving episode. Arnold and Helga visit Mr. Simmons on Thanksgiving at his house and his family and “friend” Peter are there. Mr. Simmons mother says she didn’t know Peter was coming to dinner and Peter responds with the infamous line “There’s a lot of things you don’t know.” When Mr. Simmons mom tries to get him to take a woman friend to the ballet, he says he loves the ballet and Peter gives him a disapproving look and Mr. Simmons immediately declines. Those were enough hints for us fans to decide Peter was his boyfriend. Years later, the show's creator Craig Bartlett finally confirmed Mr. Simmons is gay and had them together in the 2017 Hey Arnold: The Jungle Movie. It was so exciting to finally get the confirmation years later, even though I was already certain of it for many years. I was happy that the cartoon no longer had to settle with vague hints about it.

8.) Callie and Arizona - Grey’s Anatomy

I was very happy to see a lesbian couple on prime time tv and I really liked both characters. I was excited to root for them but sadly as most couples on this show, their relationship took a turn, and I wasn’t thrilled about it. I was disappointed that it came to an end. By then I was already getting tired of watching the show. It was starting to feel like a chore to watch it every week. I tried to stick it out because I don’t like to give up on shows in the middle of it, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’m glad I did though because the shocking events with Derek Shepard, is something I’m glad I wasn’t around for. Anyway, I heard things between Callie and Arizona got even worse, so I was even happier I left when I did.

9.) Sherwin and Jonathan - In a Heartbeat

This was one of the cutest things I have ever seen! I wish this got the full-length movie treatment instead of a short film. But it was still a step in the right direction for the LGBTQ community. Gay characters in cartoons always bring me such joy and that was the focus of this short. A boy with a crush on another boy with a cute ending. What is not to love?!

10.) Mitch and Cam - Modern Family

Another show I had to give up on in the middle of the series. The show began to be less funny and more annoying to me. Another reason, that really has nothing to do with the show itself, that used to annoy me was that this show repeatedly beat out Parks and Recreation during award season. Parks and Recreation is a superior show when compared to Modern Family. This show won almost every year for years and it got really annoying especially when the quality of the show started slipping and they kept winning. After a few years, they finally stopped winning all the time. But before all that, I was a fan of Cam and Mitch. They were a great couple who I loved watching on the show. They were the best part of the show most of the time. But sadly, my annoyance of the show no longer being as funny as it used to be, was enough for me to stop watching.

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

The redhead

Ok, so. This story has been cooking on my head for such a long time now and Im gonna be clear with you: I´m aware this first installment and maybe the next won´t be of many people´s liking, so if you don´t like seeing the whumping of minors, I advice you to stay away from this series.

There won´t be any noncon here, but there will be lots of other hurt/comfort tropes and many creepy whumping from multiple whumpers to a pair of whumpees, one adult and one a minor.

I´m also gonna say this is the backstory of one of Albus´s story characters.

I remember sending you an ask @deluxewhump about some ideas for this story and you wanted to be tagged, But, I can´t find them and well. Wanted to give a heads up of what it could contain.

Taglist: @whumptywhumpdump @grizzlie70

CW// Pet whump, whumping of a minor, modern slavery, human trafficking, collars, dehumanization, it as a pronoun, implied death, creepy whumper, conditioning, captivity whump and angst. (ask to tag if I missed something)

House looked like an ordinary orphanage from outside. It had big halls with bunk beds and slim metal closets next to them. Shoes tossed under the beds along with any trinket the children wanted to hide from curious or severe eyes. Beds neatly made early and kids off to the classes on other rooms. There was no need for them to learn to read or write however, so there were no books that weren’t for coloring.

Many of the lessons were taken outside, along buckets and brooms they swiped dutifully, or inside kitchens learning to identify tools and vegetables and memorizing the measurements needed of each ingredient on what recipe. Children did everything under the scrutinizing eyes of teachers who were so, so difficult to appease, but yet again, tried hard to earn their comfort and approval.

So they could graduate and leave.

The very best left early and the not so good would leave bordering their 12. There were only a few that left on their mid teens, and so, the ginger kid wearing the sandy jumper of House’s uniform, coloring with a green crayon the feathers of a toucan, had decided he didnt wanna be like that a long time ago.

He would graduate and leave house and go with a loving family that would take him, that would really love him, just like the teachers told them they would sometime soon.

It was his dream. As it was every child´s wish in House. So, he did as he was told. He cast his big green eyes down when talked to, kept quiet until he was spoken to, paid attention to class and did his tasks before the day ended. He took all the punishments while training, too. Even if he tried to keep it to a minimum, there would always be something that pissed the Teachers off.

For example, dumping the trash. Having to go to the back of the one store building, close to the one beyond the thick brick wall, with its narrow barred windows -just like House´s windows were- from where phantasmagoric sobbing and pained screaming would come through, was the most loathed chore at House. Whenever he was on duty, the little boy shook like a leaf with the heavy plastic bags dragging behind, before throwing them and run back to the building.

One time, the kid saw a pair of thin hands wrapping around the window bars and saw a woman peeking from it, hands shaking with the effort when she panted a wheezy, “help me”

The little boy had never screamed so hard in his short life.

The teachers had been mad at him, but not enough for a crate training reinforcement. He was relieved, to a point, when they punished him to clean the bathrooms alone for a week instead.

As he swiped the floor in the middle of the night, he promised himself he would get out soon. Sooner than his brothers and sisters who wouldn´t dare to defend him, saying outloud how scary the other building was and how some of them couldn´t sleep because they heard the people trapped there scream and beg all night long.

Of course they wouldn’t. Excepting a few who unknowingly shared blood, nobody shared anything but the wish to get out. If you tried to fight the Teachers, it would just delay it further. Every kid knew not to get on their bad side. It was also part of their training to see them as their preliminary Masters. A drill, of how it would be once out.

So when one finally received their collar and graduated to go to the family who had chose them, only the brave ones would wave goodbye. Jealousy taking the better of some, meanwhile others would only feel fear.

He wouldnt be like that either.

The brother he had gotten the most close to, the one who actually did protect him from the other kids bullying, had graduated months ago. Taller than normal for any kid from House -the little boy had heard the teachers say once- the brown kid and black curls with a smile sitting on his face at all times, had been his best friend.

They didn’t have names and they weren´t given one until they graduated. The Teachers used nicknames like “ginger” or “mole” or “mousy”, but that hadn´t stopped them from calling each other a secret name. A name they used only for each other and secretly, considered their true names.

“Are you happy for me, Robin? That I will finally go” Hawk asked him once, while playing on a sunday. The Kid´s free day to go anywhere they wished inside the estate´s perimeter. Close to the brick fence, a river flowed through iron bars, not letting anyone in or out.

Robin shook his head, red hair bouncing at the motion. Hawk giggled with that weightless sound, throwing away the stick on his hand they had used to play as if they were two princes in duel a few minutes earlier.

Robin stopped walking when Hawk put his hand over the wall, looking at it with conflict on his face.

“I heard the Teachers say my new Master will take me over seas” Hawk admitted. Robin didn´t understand the reason for such a long face. That only meant he would see the sea! Wasn´t that cool enough? However, the small kid kept listening. “They said he specifically requested me. But…” he punched the wall suddenly, making Robin jump in reflex “They said because I was problematic, I would be getting extra training in something called WRU”

Robin didn’t know what WRU was yet. They barely knew what was beyond the brick walls surrounding House, but it couldn’t be much worse than House, could it?

“I´m sorry. You always ended up on fights because of me…” Robin started clenching the stick on his hands tight as Hawk turned to him.

“C´mon. We´ve been over this, Birdie. It´s not your fault” he said, watching the small readhead lift his glassy eyes up “Besides, you know what to do now if they pick on you, right?”

“But I´m not as strong as you!” The boy argued before feeling the big hand of his brother ruffling his hair.

“Maybe just not yet” he said with that innate warmth of him. Like the times the other kids gathered around him late at night, hearing him talk about what one of the Teachers, one that was so close and nice to him, they had thought he would take Hawk home, had taught him after class. About all the different animals that existed, about science, about the world outside of the thick walls.

It dawned on him then, no kid would have those stories anymore, nor would he laugh first thing in the morning seeing the nest his hair was.

The child jumped to hug the older boy at the waist. “But, but, even if you go, you won’t forget us, right? If I graduate soon and our Masters meet, even if I´m already an adult, you will recognize me right?” Robin asked him, feeling the other boy’s fingers card through his short hair before squeezing him tight.

“I promise I won’t, Robin”

“I will keep the name you gave me” Robin said urgently, clenching hard so Hawk wouldn’t let go just yet. Hawk sighed quietly before burying his face on the boy’s shoulder.

“They’re ours”

“Ours alone” Robin finished.

The next day, Hawk’s new Master came for him in a black suburban with polarized windows and a few scary looking men by his side. Hawk bowed to him before the teacher ordered him to, as a perfect obedient Pet from House did before graduating. The other boys were lined up in their Sandy uniform, maybe in hopes the man would take another boy or girl, but he was completely entranced by Hawk’s face. He had lifted his chin to have a better look at it and then ruffled his hair with a big smile.

Then, the man gently buckled the new collar around Hawk´s neck, clipping the leather leash with the outmost gentleness. The man only tugged on it to test if the boy would walk forward, and when he did, he passed his hand through his hair.

Robin couldn’t hear it, but Hawk glowed at the praise his new Master gave him before giving the Teachers the ceremonial thick envelope. While the transaction happened, Hawk sneaked a look back at Robin and smiled.

“Bye, Robin” he mouthed, before feeling a pull from his neck that told him to follow his Master to the black van.

Right before the car trunk’s door closed, Robin waved goodbye with tears in his eyes the other kids didn’t stop teasing him about for weeks.

Four months after Hawk’s graduation, a few weeks after his twelfth birthday, Robin was standing in front of the building again. Now, it was his turn to graduate. His new Master was an older man that came out from a car you could smell the stench of gasoline from miles away.

“Skip the formalities. Where is it?” The man asked one of the Teachers standing next to him after the boy bowed. The woman in white clothes simply pushed him forward. Robin looked down at his shoes, so old looking against the shiny, cared for shoes of his would-be Master. The man wasn’t gentle when he fisted on the ginger’s head and forcefully lifted his face for him to see. He was better trained than to let out the pained groan bobbling up on his chest. The man hummed, pleased with his silence. “Yeah. You will do. How much for it?” The man said letting him go and quickly taking out the thick envelope from his jacket.

“I see you didn’t bring your own equipment for your new Pet, Sir. Would you want me to add the collar and leash to the sum?” The Teacher asked to the man, who grunted, too annoyed, like it was a waste of his time to ask.

“Yeah, sure, whatever” the man said without looking at Robin “It´s not for me anyways”

The small boy gripped on his uniform tight. The distress of not knowing how his real owner looked like suddenly settling in with fear when suddenly his not-Master asked the Teacher for a transport crate.

“Of course, sir. We will prepare him right away” the woman said with a wide grin as two other teachers pushed Robin to the garage. The boy´s heart leaped, but he gulped down the fear and allowed himself to get dragged. As he walked through the mocking and confused stares of the other children, he heard the woman continue to speak “If you would be so kind to accompany us to the office so we take the information needed for his shipping”

The man cursed under his breath, “Make it quick. Hearst is already pissed at me for messing up his pair”

Robin didn´t hear her reply.

The next thing the boy knew was that he had wrapped around his neck the price leather collar- the one the Teachers would only put on when they had earned a people´s meal from good results on training- with a large paper tag on it. He couldn´t know it said the name and address of his new Master, but he was static as he crawled into the plastic crate with the blue blanket on the corner he quickly wrapped around himself as he was rolled to the man´s stinky car. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would be able to catch a sight from the sea. Or maybe, from the sky above, if they went on a plane.

The car´s doors closed and he was drived out of House´s property, through the bricked fence and so, as his world, that had been confined to the same three square kilometers, suddenly grew infinitely big, filled with infinite things to see.

The man´s laughter on the driver´s seat abruptly stopped his awe.

“Enjoying the view, Pet?”

“Y-Yes, sir. Very much, thank you�� Robin quickly replied.

“Well, you better burn the image to your memory, because with Hearst, you won´t be seeing anything but a kitchen and dirty restrooms” the man laughed.

“Yes, sir!” Robin said before looking out through the bars on his crate. To catch the green land and the sea expanding beyond. The man rasped his throat, muttering something under his breath.

Although he could hear him say “That´s why you wanted him young?” Robin didn´t understand and put his whole mind into catching every last detail he could get of outside.

Robin held to the image of the small houses with red ceilings surrounded by a vast blanket of green even as he was processed to go back on the cargo at the airport. They took him out of his crate to check the tag hanging from his collar and stick some papers into his uniform before pushing him back inside.

Two workers in blue jumpers, loaded him with the rest of the pets. There were some cute dogs Robin had never seen but in his coloring books and even some older Pets with the same tags hanging from their necks. All of them, including him, were wrapped around a fuzzy blanket inside their crates.

Robin was dissapointed when he found out there were no windows inside the cargo, but the feeling of being lifted off the ground, of flying, even if he slammed himself against the metal door of his cage, was completely worth it.

During the long ride, he wondered if Hawk had gone on an airplane too. What he would´ve said of that weightless feeling as he curled tighter into his blankets. The sound of paper getting scrunched was muffled with the engine and the other pets conversations between them, but Robin closed his eyes and hoped, prayed, his new Master´s family allowed him to see even once more, the world he had dreamed of seeing.

And if his wildest dreams as he was rolled off the plane, abruptly awake when his cage was thrown around and rolled by Not-Master outside where it snowed, he hoped he could see Hawk once more.

“That´s our new addition, Charles?” a man´s voice said as he stopped rolling. They seemed to be on the parking lot now. Next to a black shiny car.

“It was a nightmare, but told you I would get a replacement for Shirley. It even has red hair” The man said patting the plastic cage´s ceiling.

The man didn´t reply immediately, but Robin had crawled slightly closer to the door, to catch some of the man´s incredule face.

The man’s low, almost amused, laughter hit him like a soft salty breeze, warm and gentle. “Well, let´s see Isaac’s new partner, Let´s see what you got us” the man said before he knelt before Robin´s crate.

The wished he could say his Master had looked kind, gentle even, that first time they locked eyes. But in reality, Robin couldn’t help but think his new Master’s eyes were so much like a cat’s. A pair of narrow, clever honey colored eyes stared at his wide greens for a moment, before he copened the door and pulled him out with a swift pull on his arm. Robin´s face scrunched at his Master´s grip, cracking a smile on the man´s as he let go “How old are you, boy?” The man asked him.

He bowed instinctively before answering, “Twelve, Sir, Master”

“I see” The man´s smile hung on his face as he said “Not old enough to be on the front then” His new Master then turned to the man “Thanks for fetching me a new one. The kids are very sad without Shirley but the worst must be Isaac. He just refuses to work now”

The man grunted as he saw Hearst open the trunk of his car. “I already apologized, Will”

“What´s one more “I´m sorry, Mr. Hearst”? My slave hasn´t even eaten because of what you did to his partner” he said before turning back on Robin, expecting “Do I have to put you in myself, boy? C´mon, up you go” he said snapping his fingers in front of his face. Robin´s body moved before he was aware he had crawled inside, then laid down on his side as the man put his hand back on the door “Watch your head” he said before closing it, letting Robin in complete darkness.

It took a moment of hearing only his breathing to for him to finally sense the car moving. He was with his Master now… but he was shaking like a leaf. He didn´t stopped shaking, knowing deep on his bones, this Master would be the severe type.

It wouldn´t take him long to know he was right.

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buckysmischief · 4 years

Text

running in the dark - 2

Bucky Barnes x reader

Alex Summers x reader

Word Count: 2,224

Warning(s): language, drinking & smoking

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“Good morning, gorgeous.” The smell of pancakes and syrup filled your senses, pulling you out of a deep sleep.

Without opening your eyes you eventually spoke up, “Pancakes and pet names won’t fix anything, Alex. How’d you get in anyway?”

“Wanda slammed the door in my face-”

“-as she should.”

“-so I climbed in through the window.” He confessed.”And I’m not sure there is a way to make up for my actions last night, but I overreacted and I’m sorry. There’s no excuse, I’m just a dumbass.”

In all the time you’ve known Alex, he’s hardly apologized, but in no way did that mean he was sincere. “Look you can say whatever you want but actions mean more to me. Be the boyfriend I deserve or just leave. I’m too tired to keep fighting for something you don’t seem to take seriously at all.”

He’s never been the best boyfriend, but he definitely wasn’t the worst - not that that’s saying much. If he wasn’t willing to put in the work, though, then you could live without him.

“I’ll be better, for us. I promise.” You could tell by the look on his face he meant it, or at least wanted to, even his tone was different than the other times.

“Okay, but you really gotta show me this time, and give me those pancakes before I accidentally push you off the bed.”

After you stuffed your face, you let him cuddle with you. It could have been your full stomach, or being wrapped up in your boyfriend, but eventually you fell back asleep.

This was the side of Alex that you wish everyone else could see, the side where he was soft, gentle, and caring. Of course you didn’t want everyone knowing first hand just how comfortable his embrace felt, that was just for you.

You had known him since high school but were never in the same circles, your paths never even crossed unless you were in detention at the same time. God forbid anyone tried to talk in there though, the teacher was a bitch and would add days just because she could. It wasn’t until a few years ago that you met him and started dating.

Well, you ran into each other at a club, talked for a few hours, and ended up half naked in his bed the next morning. Things were very casual in the beginning, well as casual as exclusive fuck buddies could be. About a year and a half ago you both decided to make things official. That’s when things started getting rocky.

He became more jealous, a lot worse than he was the night before, that was something he needed to work on again. A part of you really wanted this to work out, you’d definitely needed to convince your friends to give him another chance but that was for another day.

Much sooner than you would have liked, Alex was pulling you out of your sleep, “Hey princess, you gotta get up. Wanda’s been blowing up your phone.”

��Ugh, I must be late.” you groaned and rolled out of bed, throwing on a pair of leggings and an on band tee.

“For what? I thought you were off today?”

“You remember Leslie, Pietro’s girlfriend? She’s moving in today, and so is Bucky I guess. I told them I’d help unpack and stuff.” You were lowkey expecting him to freak out, but he looked absolutely calm.

“I know I’m probably not welcome, but I can help if y’all need it.” He knew if he was ever going to make it work with you, he needed to have a better relationship with your friends. He’s trying.

“As much as I’d love that,” you say, giving him a kiss, “I think it would be better to plan something ahead of time.”

“We can go to Topgolf, maybe a cookout on the beach?” A part of you was almost suspicious at how different he was acting, you made a mental note to talk to him about it later.

“A cookout would probably be best,” another ding came from your phone, Wanda was outside waiting. “Come on, you can come back over later if you want.”

He stopped you before reaching the front door, pulling you into a kiss with enough passion to leave you breathless and weak in the knees. “Text me when you get home, I love you.”

“I love you too, have a good day babe.”

You could feel Wanda’s eyes on you from the car, silently judging you. “I’m not going to tell you what I’m thinking.” She said, pulling out the driveway.

“Small blessings.” You laughed.

“BUT, that’s because I’ve said it 100 times and I don’t feel like wasting my breath anymore.” She was thinking you were an idiot who deserves better and blah blah blah, and she’s right, but you learned a long time ago that if you couldn’t get over this crush for Bucky then you’d spend the rest of your life settling for anyone who wasn’t him.

That didn’t mean your feelings for Alex were fake or anything - they’re real - they just didn’t compare to how Bucky had made you feel almost your whole life. It didn’t help that all of those feelings came back the second you saw him standing in your living room.

“So how long is Bucky staying with P?”

“Until he finds a place nearby,” she replied, not mentioning the subject change, “he didn’t really have much though so we're really just helping Leslie.”

“So what you’re saying is the boys are going to do all the heavy lifting while the three of us just organize it all?”

“Exactly.”

As Wanda parked next to the curb you could see the boys unloading the U-Haul while Leslie directed them safely in the house.

Her and Pietro have been together for awhile now, no one knows how long exactly because they’re assholes and won’t tell. They said they’ll reveal it on their wedding day, but everyone knows neither of them are the marrying type. You know what kind of people treat their friends and family that way? People that belong together apparently.

“Thank God you’re finally here!” Leslie shouted as she ran from the front patio to hug them both. “What held you up?”

“Someone had an early moring visitor.” Wanda’s voice didn’t show a hint of irritation, but her mean sideeye did.

“Someone’s just mad no one climbed through their window and brought them breakfast.” Truth be told, that comment was kind of mean. Sam, Wanda’s boyfriend, was currently stationed on the other side of the country and she didn’t get to see him a lot. And yes, if he was here she probably would have gotten an entire breakfast platter made for her. But just because you understand her dislike of Alex doesn’t that mean she has to remind you in subtle ways whenever she feels like it.

“Speaking of food,” Pietro interrupts, “is it almost lunchtime? I’m starving.”

“Who are you, Scooby-Doo? You just ate 30 minutes ago.” Leslie laughs.

“I’ll pickup some wings and pizza,” you offer, walking inside the house, “Where’s Bucky? He’s coming with me.”

“Is he?”

“He owes me eight years, he doesn’t have a choice.”

You eventually found him in the back yard, sitting in the sand. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Never,” he smiled, “you can sit next to me you know. I don’t bite.”

“Eight year old me would beg to differ, but I’m good. About to pick up some food, wanna come with?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Nope, come on.”

Wanda called in the order to the pizza place near the boardwalk, so by the time Bucky pulled up there shouldn’t be a long wait. You decided to walk to the ABC store across the street and grab a few bottles of rum and vodka. If they thought there wasn’t going to be some kind of special housewarming party, they were wrong.

Once you got back to the car, Bucky was walking out with three boxes of pizza and three boxes of wings, “I would have asked you if you needed help but I wanted to see if those muscles were just for show.”

“You got the essentials so I’ll let it pass.” He wouldn’t have made you carry anything anyways, not because he was that nice, he just knew you’d drop at least two boxes.

“Oh, the essentials? Those are getting dropped off later.”

“You’re a mess.” He knew exactly what you were referring to and left it alone at that.

When you both got back to Pietro’s, more of Leslie’s things were inside and ready to be put away, but that could wait until after lunch… and maybe a few drinks.

As the day went on, the five of you successfully got everything organized and as a reward to yourselves, you were going to have a bonfire on the beach. A part of you wanted to invite Alex, but you’d see him later. Right now was about hanging out with your friends - and catching up with Bucky.

Pietro brought out two sheets to sit on while Bucky got the fire started, Wanda and Leslie got the drinks and you grabbed some snacks.

And the weed.

“I bought enough to share!” You shook the jar, letting everyone know if they wanted it then they could take it.

Wanda laughed out, “You know Pietro will.”

“That’s because he’s the only one with good taste.” You winked to Leslie.

It immediately - and rightfully - went to her head, “Isn’t that the truth.”

When the sheets were laid out, Wanda, Leslie and Pietro sat on the bigger one with you and Bucky on the slightly smaller one.

At one point in the evening, you tuned the others out and gave your full attention to Bucky. He was filling you in on all the things he didn’t know you already knew thanks to Pietro not knowing how to keep his mouth shut. The only thing you didn’t know was why exactly he pushed you away, just that it had something to do with his ex. Why not find out now?

“So, why didn’t Natasha like me?” It was better to just come right out and ask, no point in holding back now.

Bucky knew he couldn’t tell you the whole truth, but he wasn’t going to lie either. “Nat was - is, definitely still is crazy. I think it was your third break up with Beck, you called in the middle of the night crying and she freaked out after. Said you were “disrespecting” her and a bunch of other ridiculous things.”

“If you knew they were ridiculous then why did it work?” You asked softly, not wanting the others to overhear.

He wanted to tell you that it worked because it seemed like his only escape from you, that maybe a clean break from you was what he needed to really get over you for good. But here he was, all these years later and still hopelessly in love with you.

Again, he chose to tell you half of the truth. “She told me she was pregnant, but I found out she was lying four months later. First thing I wanted to do was call you and apologize, maybe cry a bit, but I was too embarrassed that I did what I did to you..”

“Buck..”

“No, please don’t. I shouldn’t have just cut you out, you didn’t deserve that.”

There wasn’t really anything to say to that, there wasn’t anything you wanted to say to that. Knowing didn’t make you feel better like you thought it would, truth be told it made you feel worse for reasons you couldn’t even admit to yourself. Instead you hit the blunt and silently offered it to him, slightly shocked when he took it.

On the other side of the fire, the twins were wrapped up in their own conversation while Leslie was silently watching you and Bucky through the flames.

“Hey guys,” she whispered to the twins, “did Yn and Bucky ever date?”

“Ew, gross.”

“No, why?”

If a stranger were to walk past and see the way you two were looking at each other, they would probably think you are dating. “Are you both blind? Actually, that’s offensive to the blind, even they would know what I’m talking about.”

Pietro looked over to see you both laughing and other than you sitting a little close to Bucky, he didn’t see what his girlfriend was talking about, but Wanda did.

Around nine you texted Alex for a ride since everyone was too drunk to drive, Wanda chose to just sleep on her brother's couch instead. Once you were in his car he put your seatbelt on for you, “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“I just missed you.”

“Can I spend the night? I missed you too.” You said, trying to get as close to him as you could.

“Anything you want baby.” He was keeping his eyes on the road, but you didn’t miss the smile on his face.

“Then can we go to Cookout? I’d kill for a milkshake.”

“Already headed in that direction.” It wasn’t a guarantee he was going to change in the long run, but right now he was putting in effort and that’s all that mattered.

perm tags (46/50): @stuckonjbbarnes @valkyriesryde @hopesbarnes @superavengerpotterstar @estillion14 @sleepingspacedragon @geeksareunique @imsoft-barnes @murdermornings @distractedgemini @screaming-fridge @readeity @whatinthyworld @my-drowning-in-time @buggy-blogs @hey-its-grey @pinknerdpanda @brokenthelovely @theannoyingnightmarecollector @death-unbecomes-you @rhymesmenagerie @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @https-bucky @also-fangirlinsweden @goalexis123 @missmeganrachel @sunflowersandcherry @miraclesoflove @matsumama @reann-loves-sebstan @thinkoutsidethebex @thefridgeismybestie @niall2017 @maddope @imagine-all-the-imagines @thummbelina @m3ga1nsp1r3d @romaniansweetheart @thebadassbitchqueen @king-sebb @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @bonkyboinkybucky @slaytherinthoughts @kingkassam @anti-the-glitch-bitch @poppunkdork

series tags (2/25): @rebekahdawkins @writerwrites

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #alex summers x reader #alex summers imagine #angst #fluff #mutual pining #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #bucky barnes #alex summers #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #marvel #running in the dark

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kerikaaria · 4 years

Text

If I Never Met You: Chapter 39

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader - Revealed this chapter!

Genre: (PG13) Fluff

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40

A/N - Sorry for the extended wait on this one. I had more things to do than I expected when it came to arranging things for my shop and had other things I needed to take care of in my personal life. But yeah, the wait is finally over!

Also, apologies that it's a little shorter than my usual chapters. I'll do my best to make the next ones a bit longer, but I really didn't have anything else to add for this one that would flow with it.

You sat in the living room, Taehyung having helped you out of bed, feeling strangely nervous with the woman smiling at you from across the small table.

“How are you doing, dear?” she asked.

“I-I’m fine, eomeoni,” you replied.

“You’re not hurt or anything?” You could feel her eyes roaming over your body, trying to check for injuries.

“No. Only some minor bruises and scrapes, nothing serious,” you assured her. “They did an x-ray and everything so we know my legs are fine.”

“Good, I’m glad those brats didn’t cause you any extra trouble than they already have,” she said, standing up. “I’m assuming you haven’t eaten yet?”

“Oh. No, I guess I haven’t.”

She walked to your kitchen, opening up one of the bags that she had brought with her. “I brought plenty of side dishes, and I can cook up some rice and meat. Shouldn’t take too long to get some dinner ready.”

“Thank you,” you said with a soft smile.

“How long are you planning on staying?” Taehyung asked.

“Probably about two weeks, if that’s alright with Y/n,” she replied.

“Two weeks?” Tae repeated. “That’s a long time. You sure you don’t need to go back home sooner?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were unhappy to see me.”

“No, that’s not it,” Tae said. “I am just surprised, is all. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Because I wanted to surprise you,” she replied. “Is it too much for a mother to expect her son to be happy to see her?”

“I am happy!” Taehyung replied, shuffling quickly into the kitchen to hug his mother. He had her arms restrained in his grip, stopping her from getting out ingredients to cook with while he smothered her. “I missed you,” he singsonged, elongating the last syllable for emphasis. “I love you, eomma!” Tae loudly smacked a kiss to her cheek, making her laugh.

“Okay, okay,” she said, patting his arm in an effort to get him to loosen his grip. “Let me make you food.”

Tae made a whining noise. “You didn’t say it back.”

Mrs. Kim sighed, chuckling. “I love you too, Taehyung. Now can I have my arms back please?”

Tae smiled widely as he let her get back to what she was doing, and walked back into the living room to keep out of the way.

The whole exchange had you smiling, unable to not be endeared by the cute sight. But as she resumed getting ingredients ready you couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure you want to stay for that long, eomeoni?”

“I’ll only stay that long if it’s okay with you, sweetheart,” she said. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but I figured it might be nice for you to have a mother’s touch around here while you’re healing. And of course the company.” She turned to you to smile sweetly.

While you couldn’t help but to feel nervous with the knowledge that the mother of the boy you’d been crushing on for longer than you’d like to admit was going to be staying with you that long, you also couldn’t deny that that did sound nice.

“If you want me to leave sooner, that’s perfectly okay,” Mrs. Kim said when you took a moment to respond. “I won’t be offended.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assured her. “You’re not wrong. It does get a bit lonely sometimes.”

You could practically hear the frown on Tae’s face, it was so deep. “I’m sorry, noona. I wish we could spend more time with you.”

“Stop apologizing,” you said. “You guys have a job to do. Don’t feel bad for something that you can’t help.”

As Mrs. Kim made dinner, which was smelling more and more delicious by the minute, she caught up with Taehyung. She told him stories about his siblings—how well his sister was doing in school, the crazy stories his brother had come up with recently—and other things he’d missed from home since the last time they saw each other.

Despite it not being long at all since the last time you saw your own mother, you couldn’t help but miss your family as you heard them talk. But more than that, you smiled as you listened, Mrs. Kim’s frequent looks in your direction as she talked a queue that she was okay with you being included in the conversation. You knew that Taehyung, as well as the other members, missed their families a lot so it was really nice to see him get to spend some time with his mother.

As if summoned by the presence of food, not one moment after Taehyung’s mother announced that dinner was ready was your door opened and the rest of the boys walked in.

“You said your mom is here?” Jimin asked Taehyung.

“Yup, she just finished making dinner,” he confirmed.

“Eomeoni!” Jin called brightly, walking into the kitchen. “Let me help you with that.” He took one of the plates of food from her to carry back to the table.

“Thank you, Seokjin,” she said. “I was just about to ask Taehyung to call you guys over to eat. Good timing.”

The others all greeted her as they helped set up the table before sitting down to eat.

Dinner was, just as you assumed by the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen, really delicious. Taehyung particularly looked incredibly happy to be eating his mother’s cooking again, and the table was filled with praise from everyone about how amazing it was.

“I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about a mother’s cooking,” Hoseok said as he cleaned the last bits of rice from his bowl. “So delicious.”

“You can say that again,” Namjoon agreed. “I don’t think I’ve felt this satisfied after a meal since the last time noona cooked for us.”

Your brows furrowed, going over the interaction in your head again. “I’m not a mother, though. If that’s the standard you’re talking about, then why my cooking...?”

“We already covered this, noona,” Jungkook said. “You and Sejin-hyung are our parents.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Not to mention, you’re surprisingly good at making Korean food,” Jin added. “Even better than me, really.”

“Well thank you, but I’m sure that you can agree I am absolutely nowhere near this level,” you said. “Thank you so much for dinner, eomeoni. It was really delicious.”

“You’re all very welcome,” Mrs. Kim responded, starting to stack dishes.

“Leave that to me,” Taehyung said, taking them from her hands and taking them into the kitchen. “Those who cook don’t do the dishes.”

“Well, that’s new,” his mom said, sounding surprised. “Thank you, Taehyung.”

After Taehyung and Jimin did the dishes together, you ushered everyone back to their own house. They had a bunch of fan sign events the next few days, so you didn’t want them staying up too late when they needed all the energy they could get.

Before leaving, Namjoon realized Tae’s mother would need to know how to get you in and out of your chair if she were to be helping you, so he helped show her how to do it properly, and someone else had thought to bring some blankets and pillows for her as well while you were busy with that.

Once that was all done and everyone else left, you couldn’t help but feel nervous with the fact that it was just the two of you left in your house. You had yet to be alone with her, and while you weren’t entirely sure why you felt nervous you had an inkling it had something to do with the fact that you had more than platonic feelings toward her son.

She quickly eased those nerves when she broke the silence between you. “I haven’t gotten a chance to thank you yet.”

You looked at her curiously. “Thank me? For what?”

“For what you did for my son,” she clarified. “He’s been telling me so much about you ever since you became their manager, so I already knew you were a good person. But not everyone would have done what you did that day.”

The compliment in that statement left you feeling shy. “It was really nothing,” you said, voice quiet. “Part of my job is to make sure nothing happens to them. That they’re safe.”

Mrs. Kim hummed. “That may be true, but I’m sure that doesn’t usually include jumping in the middle of danger for them. You’re not a security guard. And even then, most people wouldn’t go that far. The natural reaction to something like that is to either freeze from shock, or protect yourself. And there’s no shame in that. But it really speaks volumes about who you are as a person that you only considered his well-being in a split moment like that.”

You had no idea what you could say to that. You understood what she was saying, and it was true that your own personal safety wasn’t even in the smallest corner of your mind until you were already hurt. But how do you take a compliment, a praise, like that casually?

When you stayed silent, she reached out to place her hand on top of where yours rested in your lap. “Taehyung has had nothing but great things to say about you ever since you met. That boy could just look at someone and then suddenly they’re friends. But even then, I can tell who he really considers important, who he is closest to. You’re definitely one of those people for him. And I’m really glad to know that his group has you, seeing the testament to what you’re willing to do for them. But at the same time, I do hope you don’t forget to take care of yourself and your own safety first from now on, too. Okay?”

Still feeling as though your vocal chords suddenly froze up and stopped working, the only thing you could do was nod in response.

Taehyung’s mother smiled brightly—that smile was most definitely genetic—at your confirmation that you’d be more careful, patting your hand before helping you get into bed for the night.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40

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iceshard1011 · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders Characters: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Additional Tags: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Separation Anxiety, Misunderstandings, Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), Non-Graphic Violence, Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Conflict, Protective Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Hurt Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Hurt Morality | Patton Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Imagery, animalistic tendancies, Abandonment Issues, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, all from Remus Summary:

This wasn’t what Janus had wanted. To be fair, it was nothing like he had expected, either.

3k word fic below :)

Remus was not a dog, thank you very much. At the least, he was a snarling werewolf with a snout of a crocodile, bulging eyes, an appetite for carrion and a constant erection, because how much cooler did that sound?

So, no. No matter how he acted, or what the others teased him for, or what the internet labelled him as, he was not a dog.

(“Remus, I swear to god, if this stain on the carpet is from you—”)

Most of the time.

(“What are you chewing? No, stop that. Come back. Remus! Spit it out! Don’t eat it faster—”)

Kind of.

(“Remus, please, it’s three in the morning. Stop screaming and go to sleep.”)

Alright, listen. Remus had… some animalistic traits. Besides being par for the course as his position as a side hidden from Thomas, for the most part, he loved it. It was fun tearing through rooms, deformed jaws salivating, hackles raised, and hearing responding screams (accompanied by Dee’s tired sighs, because not much Remus did ever ruffled his scales).

For the parts that he could control, Remus loved how much of an animal he was. Sharp teeth made Patton shudder, and the tentacles that could shoot from his back were great for latching on and making sure his target couldn’t free themselves.

It was the stupid, grating feeling that came with comparing him to mutts. He didn’t care for the excitement or over-energy or desire to chew interesting looking things on the ground. It was the— the restlessness and the pining and the fear—

He. Hated. It.

Remus could do with drooling but drooling from the sheer overwhelming anxiety pissed off. The way the silver streak in his hair grew, eating up the brown in a minor and selected performance of stress-aging could go fuck itself. The pacing, and the urge to destroy anything in sight, and the instinct to make unnecessary noise weren’t uncommon behaviours for Remus. The depression and anxiety and the damned abandonment issues could leave him alone forever, thanks, just like everyone else he didn’t care about.

That was that problem. He did care. He cared so much he felt like his goddamn chest was being carved out and cracked open and exposed for burning ice and frigid coals to be shovelled in. Ironically, in theory, it sounded a lot more enjoyable than it really was.

It had been a long day. A long, slow, painful day. Initially, Remus had passed time through tearing up the couch — the entire couch — and eating the stuffing. Then he’d replaced the couch he’d just demolished with an albeit far soggier, more stained version that Janus would definitely have replaced when he returned — if he returned — no, shut up, shut up, he is coming back, he always comes back—

Next, Remus had rummaged through his room, then Janus’. After stealing one of Janus’ favourite, fluffiest blankets (knowing full well he’d get a mouthful for it later, if— when Janus found out) he had curled up on the kitchen floor, because it always smelt like Janus and food in there and it calmed Remus’ dramatic heart whining like a newborn lion cub calling for its mother right before a rival male bit into its neck.

That had not helped.

Staying still had allowed for his mind to race too much, bring up too many scenarios, convince himself that it had already been days when in reality it couldn’t have been more than an hour at most.

He hadn’t felt like eating anything, even after a few experimental minutes gnawing at a leg of the table.

Eventually, he had settled for pacing continuously around the hallways and rooms. He had half hoped that he would grow too tired to stay awake, or his legs would become an aching distraction.

When Remus checked the time, he realised with a horrified jolt that the clock on the wall was reading six o’clock. Dee would be back by now. Dee would be back by three. Dee should be home making dinner and throwing the leftovers to Remus and telling him not to eat the dirty bowls.

He was three hours late. He wasn't coming back.

Remus lost the energy that had been bustling in his bones all day. He sunk to the ground against the couch and chewed subconsciously on the end of the stolen blanket. It tasted better than Dee’s boring cooking, but it somehow didn’t help comfort him in the least.

He buried his face into the blanket, wishing the soft bristles were harsh and spiked enough to scratch and gouge his eyes to the point of blindness.

A curse that hadn’t been spoken by Remus made his head shoot upwards. Janus was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing tired-looking eyes. “Those morons don’t stop talking.”

He was caught off-guard when Remus leapt from his spot at the base of the couch across the room in one clean jump to latch onto his shoulders and swing his legs around his waist. Janus staggered, because he wasn’t short, but certainly slightly below average, and Remus was Thomas’ tallest side, and between how much he ate and fought monsters, he weighed a ton.

Janus cleared his throat pointedly. Remus didn’t so much as look at him.

“Remus,” he said. “I need to make dinner. That will be so incredibly easy with you behaving like this.”

Remus shook his head, his face rubbing back and forth against Janus’ chest. “Not hungry.”

Janus frowned. That was both a lie and completely true. Odd.

Nevertheless, he allowed Remus to act the way he wished and awkwardly went about fixing himself something to eat.

Janus didn’t expect repetitions of scenarios like being clung to by Remus. He figured it was a one-off — he had returned late, and Remus had been panicking. Janus seldom strayed from his plans. Coming back at six rather than three o’clock had not been his intention, and if not for the light sides and the way they seemed to be far too eager to discuss seemingly random matters with him, he would have been back much sooner.

In fact, that was what continued to happen. He didn’t allow himself to get distracted and left the mindscape strictly when he was supposed to in order to return on time.

For some reason, this didn’t seem to be helping.

At first, it wasn’t much. Remus being a bit more affectionate, a bit clingier. Janus had never minded much of Remus’ shenanigans, partially because Remus actually listened to him when he told him to do things. He didn’t ask much of Remus, and he dealt with his chaotic nature far better than anyone else ever had, so perhaps Remus felt like that was worthy of being listened to.

It didn’t mean he always listened. It certainly didn’t mean he always did as Janus asked.

“Remus, let go of me. I need to work” and “Remus, don’t chew on my cape, that’s my good one” and “Don’t you even think about tearing up my pillow while I’m gone” all came to mind.

Janus suppressed a sigh. He knew Remus sensed his frustration, because he tensed, but he didn’t stop trying to eat Janus’ shoe. He was getting slobber all over the carpet, and it was soaking into the bottom of Janus’ pant leg. It had been easy to ignore at first, but Remus hadn’t stopped, and it was beginning to grate on Janus’ nerves.

Now, it had reached the point where Janus couldn’t concentrate on the book he was reading, and it was thinning his strong patience. He pulled his legs in from where they were stretched out and interlocked at the ankles — or at least he tried to.

He didn’t count on Remus to grip his ankle tighter and growl possessively. As if it was his leg.

“Stop it,” Janus snapped, yanking his foot away. Remus bared his teeth, growling quietly to himself. Janus tucked his ankles in close and continued to try and read, though his mood was soured, and he still couldn’t concentrate.

It wasn’t the only time Remus’ behaviour had both caught Janus off guard and made him bitterly uncomfortable.

Once, he had scurried back from the Imagination, a goddamn hydra-chimera on his tail. It had gotten as far as pouncing on an unsuspecting Janus exiting the kitchen before Remus had torn it to shreds with his own teeth.

Usually, Janus paid no mind to Remus’ aggressively gory tendencies.

This time, lying vulnerable below a dying creature, being splattered with its blood and guts, was enough to unsettle him. Just a tad.

Another time, Remus had walked into the kitchen where Janus was trying to get a cup of coffee, had looked him dead in the eye, and sprayed him with a foul-smelling grey goop that had both stained Janus’ comfy clothes and stuck in his hair for days after.

Janus let it slide, though he wasn’t impressed. That turned out to be a mistake.

The next time Remus threw an unknown substance on him, it burned. It stung like acid, and at first Janus figured merely cleaning it off would clear it away but it didn’t, and it was slicing through his arm and a part of his cheek and his scales were screaming and melting off his face and at this point he had started to scream because goddamn it hurt, why was it hurting so much? And Remus wasn’t much help and even he didn’t know what to do or how to fix any of it and the pair of them were stuck with each other panicking.

In the end, Janus had locked himself in the bathroom and soaked in the bathtub, ignoring Remus’ plaintive pleas to be let in. Janus had figured if he were desperate enough, he'd simply break the door down, but he hadn’t.

The pain had faded, over time, leaving Janus exhausted, pale and shaking, saturated with bathwater and sweat and tears. When he’d emerged from the bathroom, Remus had been curled on the ground by the door. He’d tried to speak, but Janus had practically fled before he could. He had avoided Remus for days after that.

Janus, for as much as he shared the one brain cell with Logan, should have realised after that that something was going on. Something far more serious.

He didn’t.

Initially, Janus hadn’t seen a problem with bringing Remus into the conversation. Thomas knew his other creativity existed, and the other sides had already been subjected to Janus’ presence several times over. Really, he hadn’t thought that bringing Remus with him into the mindscape would be so bad.

He was rarely wrong.

This time he was so, so terribly wrong.

He had expected Remus to rise and take a swipe at an unsuspecting Roman.

He hadn’t counted on Roman noticing Patton and Virgil’s tensed reactions and ducking to avoid the morning star swinging over his head.

Janus had been too busy being amused. Being amused over Remus’ pouting, and mildly disgusted at Patton’s excited gushing over Roman’s evasive manoeuvre. He’d been too busy catching Virgil and Logan’s shared eyerolls.

But then Patton had clung to Roman’s arm, and Remus’ grip on his morning star had tightened. Logan and Virgil shared an exasperatedly fond eyeroll and Remus’ lip started to curl. And maybe Janus was smiling too much because that was the last thing he remembered happening before everything went horribly, horribly wrong.

Janus did not often consider himself to be particularly clueless or unresourceful. He could adapt and flex to situations, and bend scenarios to his advantage. It was part of the way he presented himself. There was truly little that could ever take him off guard. He had lived with Hissing Teenage Angst and Chaos Incarnate.

Remus suddenly lunging forward, a snarl on his face and bloodlust in his eyes shouldn’t have been one of them.

Remus connecting his weapon with Patton’s chest certainly was.

In reality, Janus wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He remembered his feet being frozen to the ground. There was shouting, and blurs of colour.

The only moment Janus remembered in full before he caught up with everything was when Virgil, face pale and practically drowning in eyeshadow, looked up at him with wide, petrified eyes and screamed something. Janus hadn’t heard what he’d said, but it shook him enough to jolt into action.

Remus threw Roman into the television and launched for Logan.

The sound of Janus’ snapping fingers cut through the ruckus.

Remus froze, and when Janus waved his hand, he disappeared soundlessly, tucked into the quietest corner of the Subconsciousness. Janus hadn’t been quick enough, though, and the room was still but in no way silent.

Patton’s breaths were loud and harsh, and he was trembling in Virgil’s hold even as the anxious side murmured reassurances and tried to get his panicking friend to calm down. Logan, on the other hand, looked furious. If Janus weren’t so stuck in place, he was certain he’d be shrinking under the cold-eyed glare. He opened and closed his mouth.

“I didn’t—” Janus started.

“You’re leaving,” Logan said, and Janus’ voice left him.

“It wasn’t Janus though,” Patton protested with a small cough, and was then quietened by Virgil. “And— and I want Remus back.”

“You cannot be serious,” Roman hissed, only a little nastily. Janus could see the frantic fear in his gaze; he wasn’t being harsh on purpose. He never was.

“He’s obviously hurting,” Patton said, and Janus got a sudden surge of anger flooding the apathy; what could have possibly possessed Remus to attack the moral side? Patton winced and shifted, pulling away from where Virgil was experimentally poking at his side. “Blocking him out isn’t going to help.”

“That is a stupid idea.” Janus jerked and looked over at Logan, startled. The logical side had turned his furious gaze to the light sides curled on the ground. “You want the crazy maniac back in here? What, so he can attack Virgil next?”

The anxious side flinched, looking wildly uncomfortable. Patton frowned disapprovingly which Janus found hysterically amusing.

“We wouldn’t leave you alone,” Patton pointed out to Logan.

“I wouldn’t be so barbaric,” Logan snapped back.

“He’s rambunctious but not cruel,” interjected Janus, stepping forward. He met the logical side’s furious gaze steadily and coldly. “He is not your concern.”

“He just attacked Patton,” Logan said, close to seething. “That is concerning enough for me.”

“I will take care of it,” Janus assured. He nodded Logan to his friends. “You worry about your own family. Patton's ribs could be broken.”

Logan’s clenched fists shook, and he shoved unnecessarily roughly past Janus, but he did drop the conversation, instead now focusing on what he could fix. Janus just had to do the same thing.

With a deep breath like he was preparing to plunge into frigid ocean depths, he sunk to the Subconscious. Remus wasn’t in the living room. In fact, even more worryingly, there was no sign he had been there in the first place. That was… slightly disconcerting.

There was evidence of Remus’ presence, however, the nearer Janus got to his bedroom. Dents in the walls, pools of questionable substances that Janus dutifully avoided, an abandoned summoned fish flopping uselessly on the carpet. Janus gave that a wide berth, too, not entirely trusting it not to snap and grow an unhinged jaw in an attempt to swallow him whole.

He didn’t bother to call through Remus’ bedroom door. Chances where he would be refused entry or attacked once revealing his presence.

Though, he figured when he walked in and found the creative side, neither outcomes would have been incredibly likely.

Remus was curled into the smallest ball he could make himself, so much so that a few of his limbs looked bent and snapped awkwardly to fit himself as tight as possible. He looked paler than usual. Janus couldn’t see any familiar glints of Remus in his gaze. He swallowed the sick feeling rising in his throat.

“That was exciting,” he remarked, moving to shut the door and sit on the unmade bed. Remus didn’t respond. “Patton is alright, by the way. The others will probably fuss over him far too much.”

Remus made an odd keening noise, sounding like a mix between a beached whale and a dying dog. When Janus sidled a sidelong look in his direction, he could see the creative side blinking over at him, something unreadable and alien in his eyes. He didn’t look like he was contemplating more murder.

He looked petrified.

Janus regarded his gloved fingers. “So.” He leaned his elbows to his knees and looked darkly at Remus. His voice was just as dangerous. “What was that?”

Remus opened his mouth, looking to respond, and only make another peculiar whining noise. Janus narrowed his eyes and Remus snarled at himself.

“I don’t— It wasn't—” Remus growled and shook his whole body without moving from his ball. His hip clicked and popped, and Janus arched an eyebrow. “I don’t remember… doing anything. Until— until I was… Until you silenced me.”

Janus bit back the guilt that met that statement. It was necessary, he wanted to defend. You deserved it, he wanted to lie. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted.

Remus scoffed, but he was nodding like that made perfect sense. “I wouldn’t either,” he confessed brokenly, and Janus had to blink a few times to see clearly.

“Anything on your mind?”

Remus grated his teeth together so hard one creaked under the pressure. “You leave,” he started, slowly, after a long pause. “You leave all the time. And… you come back, but not every time, and you always look like you like them more, and…”

“You were jealous,” Janus said, with a hint of disgust in his words. Remus hissed through his teeth, glaring at the ground. He looked frustrated, but at himself. He shook his head, but Janus didn’t think he was disagreeing.

“You can’t leave,” Remus said, looking up. One eye was bloodshot to the point that the tears on the right side of his face were red-tinged. “You said you wouldn’t leave.”

“That was years ago,” Janus said, and Remus made a noise like he was trying to gnaw on a chainsaw. He buried his face into his arms. The vertebrae running up his neck strained at the pressure and popped out of place. Janus stood and moved to crouch beside the creative side. He prompted Remus’ head to tilt up and fixed him with a softer but no less serious look. “And I will continue to stand by it, for however long it’s relevant.” Remus whined at him. Janus opened his arms. “Come here.”

When Remus fell into Janus’ arms, the embrace was accompanied by a wet-sounding squelch, and Janus’ left sleeve grew dark and heavy. He chose not to look at it. Remus’ body shifted in his arms, fixing and mending itself. Remus didn’t make any noise throughout the horrifically painful sounding process. Janus supposed he was used to it, and then felt further disgusted at that idea.

When Remus stilled, his breath warm against the scales of Janus’ neck, the deceitful side rubbed his back and leaned away in order to meet his gaze.

“Patton is okay,” he reaffirmed, and Remus seemed to be decently comforted now. “But really, let’s try and not make this a habit, hmm?” Remus nodded, pushing his face back into Janus’ shoulder.

The pair would sit there for a little while longer, quiet and peaceful, as odd as that would be for the embodiment of chaos. Then Janus would leave Remus to clean up his room and himself and return to the light sides. They would already be mostly recovered, even if Logan were still slightly pissy. Patton would ask for Remus, and the next day, Janus would lead the dark creative side back into the mindscape, even if he would sulk behind Janus’ back like a stray puppy.

Patton, limping only slightly, would brighten immediately and slide them warm mugs of coffee. Remus would gnaw on the mug handle, and Janus would coax Roman into casual banter. Logan would separate himself from the conversation with a newspaper, and Virgil would be quieter than usual… but it was better than what Janus would have expected.

Remus would be more softly spoken for a few more days after that, but then the pair would be invited to a few more movie nights, a few more dinners. Patton wouldn’t be uncomfortable around Remus, and Roman would begin asking for help in storytelling. Remus would ask Logan to infodump, and he and Virgil would share music tastes.

Then, a few months down the track, when Janus finds a green door appearing next to the red one upstairs, Janus wouldn’t call himself proud, because that was too dramatic, but… he was always a liar, anyway.

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whereisten · 4 years

Text

The Wedding Singer - Part 4

The Wedding Singer (feat. Taeyong and Yuta)

Summary: You are an up-and-coming singer and songwriter who is thriving in the wedding singer business. When you find yourself singing for your former best friend Samantha Perez and not-so-former crush Yuta Nakamoto, shit really hits the fan.

Genre: fluff, drama, romance

Multi-part Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 4

Word Count: 3.9k

To many people, Yuta Nakamoto was a shining star. Always happy, always collected, always blessed. He was studious and athletic. He gave off a happy-go-lucky aura while he mastered a physics lab in the first try or a mind-boggling task in PE. It was hard to detect any flaws on the surface.

Which he worked so hard to conserve for a long, long time. When he was fifteen, his parents divorced and his mother abandoned his family, leaving him, his sisters, and his father dumbfounded. The finances of the house were thrown off-balance, which meant Yuta would have to work harder to secure a basketball scholarship to a university. Ideally, somewhere close enough to home to look after his sisters. But he never told anyone the truths of his household. He told everyone that his mother was traveling the world for her job. It wasn’t a lie but it was better than admitting to the truth: she went to start anew back in Osaka, remarried, and had twins with her younger boyfriend.

Yuta and his older sister Akira both took on part-time jobs so their younger sister Haine could perfect her piano skills. Their dad made enough to keep their home and their utilities afloat. But the things that were once guaranteed for them became luxuries they had to strive for. Akira delayed her college applications to get a part-time job to support her younger siblings and Yuta felt helpless.

But once senior year came around for Yuta, he just couldn’t take it anymore. He may have gotten the college scholarship and scouts were very keen to be in contact with him for postgraduate opportunities. But he had his family at the forefront of his mind.

Then, came Samantha.

Samantha was never shy about how she felt about Yuta. Yuta denied her advances a few times throughout their high school career. He didn’t have time for a relationship. Hook-ups, sure. But those were fleeting. And that was what made them ideal. Samantha thought she could convince him to change his mind but he made it clear from the start that he was strictly casual, never anything more than that.

However, he carefully harbored a huge crush on you. You were innocent and kind, blowing everyone away with your poetry in AP English and your motivation to join every club on campus. You were so bubbly and adorable, he could almost scream. You’d blossomed so much since middle school, becoming more secure with yourself that you finally let people around see the real you. You were sassy and when you rolled your eyes at something that annoyed you, Yuta would chuckle to himself. You had a fire inside of you that Yuta couldn’t wait to see you let shine through. He admired you from time to time in high school but he didn’t act on it until it was too late.

And when you weren’t interested, he thought, he realized that he needed to get back to dealing with his own issues. He shouldn’t daydream so much. There was too much at stake. And time was running out.

Samantha came up to Yuta after graduation and he was prepared to run in the other direction until she said,

“I have a proposition for you, Yuta. And I think you’re gonna want to hear it,” she said.

Her proposition was that she would help alleviate all of his family’s troubles. She wouldn’t stop there, though. She would put him in touch with top basketball teams before they graduated. Originally, Yuta was going to go to his second choice, the University of Miami because of his scholarship and so he could be close to his family. However, Samantha pulled several strings to fund his tuition to the University of Florida, his dream school. And she scored him a basketball scholarship he thought he lost out on. Samantha’s family would fund Akira and Haine’s college tuitions, wherever they wished to go. Yuta’s father could retire early, if they played their cards right.

“What’s the catch?” Yuta gaped, finding it hard to believe that this girl he only casually knew could be so generous.

“You would be mine,” she proclaimed shamelessly.

Yuta didn’t want his family to struggle anymore. He wanted his family to have a new beginning. And Samantha was dangling right in front of him in a neat little bow. He could make everyone happy.

He wasn’t keen on falling in love, really. Seeing as how his mother up and left, he had a hard time believing that he could find something like that. With Samantha, there was a physical attraction but there was no warmth. It was a relationship in which both parties would benefit. Yuta’s family’s future would be secured and Samantha could have...him.

Yuta’s professional life was on the rise. He was in the Miami Heat, earning several titles and awards. He scored several sponsorships and was recently offered his first movie role. Samantha’s father was one of the heads of Miami: basically, royalty. He opened doors for Yuta. Mr. Perez was more than obliged when he realized how happy Yuta made Samantha. Yuta refused to be a total sell-out, though. He worked twice as hard to prove that he deserved the jobs he was given.

When Yuta was officially in the limelight, that’s when his mother came back.

She claimed to be remorseful for all of the heartache she caused and she wanted to be in her children’s lives again.

The Nakamoto children saw right through her charade. At least, Mariya Hirai (formerly Nakamoto) had the decency to leave her husband and his half-siblings at the hotel the first day she met up with her children from her first marriage.

Mariya only resurfaced because she thought she too could bask in the glow of her son’s success.

After all, she did raise him (up until the age of fifteen when she ditched him).

And Samantha helped Yuta, then, proving that he could rely on her as his partner. She and Yuta told Mariya and her family to leave because the rest of Yuta’s family refused to acknowledge her.

Mariya begged for mercy. Her new family was in financial struggles. Samantha was about to tell her to fuck off and remind her of the irony: how Mariya left her family broken and struggling while she thought she could start over without them. Yuta, swallowing his pride, told them that he would help Mirai and his family. The Hirai family just had to leave and never come back.

And that worked surprisingly well.

Samantha had seen Yuta through his ups and downs and she wished she’d only helped him sooner. Yuta confided in her more so it gave Samantha hope that one day, he could truly open his heart to her: only her. Her father nudged Yuta to propose to Samantha. He knew it was his duty to Sam, her family, and especially, to his own.

He had everyone convinced that he was truly happy. And most of him was. Professionally, he was at the top of his game. His family was happy. His father remarried and retired. Akira was a successful biochemist. Haine was composing for Pixar movies. His family was safe and healthy.

But he was not in love with Samantha. He didn’t think he ever would be.

And well, he would just have to suck it up.

The engagement was highly profiled in all of the tabloids and social media. The Nakamoto-Perez wedding was the most anticipated event of the year. The idea of being committed to Samantha wasn’t that scary. He’d already been with her for almost eight years. The marriage was inevitable.

And then came the wedding singer.

Yuta was right about you. You glowed with charisma, grace, and confidence. He had no idea you were shitting bricks at seeing her ex-friend and that you also had a crush on him. You two were utter fools. But you couldn’t turn back the past.

And when you sang, Yuta’s heart simultaneously soared and shattered.

Seeing you again reminded him of the fact that he was entering a loveless marriage. He guarded his heart for so long. He and Samantha were aware of their partnership. He denied true love because he didn’t want to suffer at the hands of it. Not after what happened with his parents.

But seeing you at the rehearsals, at the coffee shop, and at Holy Hell nightclub...he started getting ideas into his head.

About you. About what his life would’ve been like if you two had confessed to each other at the right time.

For his own happiness should’ve meant more to him.

But he knew better. You were spoken for by his good friend...His best man, Taeyong Lee. And he couldn’t hurt either of you. You didn’t deserve it.

So Yuta helped you in ways he could. He invited the Epic Records executive to come see you. It was the least he could after you helped him with his wedding vows.

And Samantha was so insistent on putting you down: it killed Yuta, honestly. And when Sam reminded him so pointedly that he had trapped himself with her for life...something inside him snapped.

For once, he released his inhibitions and didn’t think. He didn’t restrain himself. And then came his next regret.

Yuta drank at Sooyoung’s wedding reception. He drowned his sorrows as he watched you and Taeyong enjoy the night together on the dance floor. How Yuta wished he could turn back time.

Perhaps there could’ve been another way to save his family and their future: without having to surrender his own happiness.

Yuta saw that Taeyong left you alone in the photo booth. Why would he do that? He should never want to leave your side. He should treasure you and kiss you every chance he got. What made Taeyong think he deserved to be with you?

Stumbling, Yuta made his way over to the photobooth. The curtain was half open so he saw your gorgeous hair run down past your chest and he licked his lips. Your lips were so soft…He had to know what they felt like. Just this once.

He opened the curtain completely. Seeing you make eye contact with him drove him crazy and he ran his hands through his hair. He smiled fondly at you, “Hey.”

You looked so concerned he wanted to hold you tight. “Yuta, are you okay? I-”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He moved in and held your face as he kissed you, his tongue begging for entrance into your mouth.

You two heard the flashes from the camera. You panicked and pushed him away. He saw you cower in fear.

“Get off of me,” you said, harshly. You pushed

past him out of the booth.

“Y/n, come back! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Yuta said, pathetically.

Yuta should’ve known better. He let you and Taeyong down. He let Sam down. Even if he didn’t love her, he owed her his honesty and fidelity, at the very least.

He left the photo booth, feeling more sober all of a sudden.

Taeyong surprised him when he scared him from behind. Yuta jumped. “You are wasted,” Taeyong said, laughing, “You alright?”

Yuta nodded, working as hard as possible to look Taeyong in the eye but it was hard to meet those eyes. Taeyong was the kind of person who was very easy to confide in. If Taeyong knew Yuta had stabbed him in the back and made a move on his girl in one fell swoop, Yuta’s days would be numbered.

And he never wanted to bring Taeyong into his mess.

Taeyong patted Yuta in the back. “Sam’s gotta take you home. Listen, have you seen y/n? She’s not in the photo booth.”

Yuta thought about telling him right then and there. Just rip the bandage off, he deliberated. “Taeyong, I-”

“She went to the ladies’ room,” Samantha piped in as she walked up, scrolling through her phone. “She looked a little ill. I think you should check up on her.”

Taeyong’s eyes grew in concern. “Thanks Sam.” He ran off to find his girl.

Poor y/n, Yuta realized, what have I done?

“Idiot,” Samantha said without looking up at you.

Yuta frowned. “What?”

She held up a photostrip. “You left this behind.”

Yuta was confused and he took the photostrip. It was of you and him. He turned pale.

“Sam, I-” Yuta began.

She sighed. “I knew this would happen one day. I just figured it would be with someone worth crying over. But her? Yuta, you’ve disappointed me.”

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Samantha. I...I will do anything. Please don’t-”

“All is forgiven, my prince…” Samantha said as she wrapped her arms around him. “You’re mine. Always. Mistakes happen. But we will always have each other.”

Sam’s words may have sounded comforting to anyone else but it unsettled Yuta to the core.

;;

You ran to the girls’ room after leaving Yuta in the photo booth. What the hell just happened? You rinsed your mouth out at the sink and wiped your mouth repeatedly. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Taeyong was all you could think about. How would you be able to tell him this? It wasn’t your fault. What was Yuta thinking? How-

You heard a knock outside of the room. “Y/n? Baby, are you okay?” Taeyong’s normally soft voice was alarmed.

You fought back a sob and cleared your throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll come out in a minute.”

“Sam said you looked sick. What do you need? What can I do?” He asked. You wouldn’t be surprised if he entered at any second.

The sound of his voice was so comforting but you were scared. What would he do when you told him?

You took a couple of breaths and cleared your nose up. “I’m coming out. Hold on.”

You walked out of the room slowly to see Taeyong at the door. He was so...There weren’t enough words to describe how this man made you feel.

“Hey…” He said carefully. “What’s wrong?” He saw how red your eyes were. You looked stunned.

You shook your head and tried so hard to meet his eyes. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t even your fault but you felt ashamed.

“Taeyong, the thing is-” you began as you met his eyes, knowing you had to suck it up, tell him, and prepare for the worst if it came down to it.

Samantha interrupted, “I may have been a little harsh with her, earlier…”

Taeyong looked at Samantha in confusion. “What?”

“Y/n and I used to be good friends...And I...was feeling incredibly envious of her tonight so I...insulted her deeply. I said that she didn’t deserve you and that if it weren’t for you, she would be nothing.”

“What the hell?” Taeyong glared at his step-sister. “How could you?”

You had no idea what was going on. Why was Sam saying these things? She thought Taeyong would be the last person to hear about the insults Samantha threw at you. It was almost as if…

She was covering for you.

But...why?

“I was fucking jealous, Taeyong. This girl comes into our lives only months ago and now she’s everywhere...I...miss spending time with you and Yuta. Just the three of us.” She glares at you. Finally, something real. “Without her.” Very convincing.

That was the most sincere she’s been. The most effective way to tell a lie is to feature a little of the truth in it.

“Sam...I can’t let you treat y/n like that. It needs to stop. I love y/n. You have to respect that,” Taeyong said as he wrapped an arm around you.

Samantha sighed as she rolled her eyes. “I know that. I’m sorry. To both of you.” She met your gaze, then. “I’m so sorry for giving you a hard time.”

Taeyong squeezed you tightly. You started, about to tell Taeyong the truth. “Wait a minute. I-”

“Taeyong, I need to speak to y/n about something urgent. It’s business-related,” Samantha requested.

Taeyong nodded, eyeing her. “Be nice.”

She sighed. “I’ll be perfectly pleasant.”

Taeyong whispered in your ear. “I’ll bring the car around to take you home.”

Samantha said immediately after. “Let’s go.” She grabbed your arm and pulled you to the lobby of the hotel.

You sat together on the loveseat. “Samantha, what’s going on?”

“I know you and Yuta kissed-”

“He kissed ME. I did not...What?!” You paled just like Yuta had.

She continued as she admired her nails. “It doesn’t matter. The wedding was almost jeopardized because of this. I don’t need you running your mouth to Taeyong about what happened.”

You gaped. “What?”

Samantha’s sharp eyes met yours, then. “Yuta and I are getting married. Nothing. No one. Not you. Not even Yuta is going to get in the way of our happiness.”

“Why would you want to marry Yuta when he just cheated on you?” You asked. Had Sam lost her mind?

“He was bound to cheat on me eventually...But he would still be mine,” she said, calmly. Not even a flinch.

“Sam…” You said, feeling a sudden ache in your chest.

“No. No. None of that ‘Sam’. Don’t give me that look of PITY.”

“You don’t have to do this. We may have our differences for God knows what reason but...I don’t want you to marry someone who would hurt you like this…”

“That’s none of your concern, y/n. Take your sympathy and shove it up your glorified asshole.”

You lifted your brows. “Fine. I won’t feel sorry for you. Now I’m wondering...You hate me. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get rid of me. Why not tell Taeyong about the kiss? You couldn’t have done it for me.” The last sentence was meant to get a laugh.

“Get real. I didn’t do it for you, y/n. I’m doing this for Yuta. You think my family would let me marry Yuta if they found out about his...indiscretion?” She asked you.

“Huh?”

Samantha explained her arrangement with Yuta that began at high school graduation. You knew what was at stake. Yuta’s future. Yuta’s family. It explained why Yuta was reluctant about marrying Sam but he wasn’t doing anything to stop it. Now, you were pinned up against a wall.

“If Taeyong finds out about this...not only will my entire family know….All of Yuta’s opportunities will go down the drain. His name will be dragged through the mud. His family’s name will be destroyed. His father’s livelihood will be compromised. My family is just that good, y/n.”

You couldn’t say anything.

“I have to protect him. I love him, y/n. I gave him everything. I would hate for all of that to get taken away from him because of one little mistake. Which is why I beg you to keep your mouth shut.”

You couldn’t imagine lying to Taeyong but you also didn’t expect the reality of Sam and Yuta’s relationship to come to light at this moment. If you say something, Yuta’s life could be ruined.

“I know Yuta doesn’t love me, y/n…”

Sam’s voice cracked. “But one day, he could...We owe it to ourselves to try.”

You remembered when you asked Yuta why he was marrying Samantha if he didn’t love her. He told you, “I think I could love her...someday.”

This was insane. You were stuck. But...part of you already knew what you had to do.

;;

Taeyong drove you home and you were mostly quiet, deliberating over how you were going to tell him.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay the night?” Taeyong asked as he turned into your driveway. “I can take care of you. I’ll even brush your teeth for you.” He pouted, knowing how much his facial expressions softened you up.

Damn it, he was making this so hard.

“Taeyong,” you started slowly.

“Yes?” He said as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” you started, “I...can’t do this...anymore…”

He smiled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“We need to break up,” you said.

Taeyong felt his world crashing down. “y/n, stop messing with me. You’re being mean.”

You sighed, releasing the words you rehearsed in your mind before you met up with him to take you home and on the car ride over. “I..can’t leave Miami...My singing career is my priority and I owe so much to you. You’ve made me so happy...But I can’t take advantage of you anymore. It’s not right.”

He laughed humorlessly. “What are you saying? You have never taken advantage of me.”

“I need to figure out my next step on my own. And so do you. Your dreams are in LA. And for now, I’m meant to be here in Miami. I can’t hold you back.”

Taeyong’s eyes began to water at your dismissive tone. “You’re not holding me back. We can do long distance. I respect that you want to stay here but we can make it work. I travel all the time, anyway. We can still be together,” he pleaded, hopeful.

“No, Taeyong,” you said as you looked down at your lap.

He scoffed. “You can’t be serious. You love me. I love you. What happened, y/n? I don’t understand.”

You couldn’t help the tears that fell. You couldn’t tell Taeyong that Yuta kissed you to protect Yuta’s family. You couldn’t continue in a relationship with Taeyong if you had to keep this betrayal bottled up. And maybe Samantha was right all along. Even if you didn’t sign with any of the labels Taeyong invited that night, you would’ve relied on him one way or another. Taeyong would insist because he was so good to you. No matter how small the favor, it would have bothered you, though. You didn’t want to believe that you had taken advantage of him or that one day you would.

And to hide the fact that Yuta kissed you? Taeyong had every right to know the truth...Since your hands were tied, you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t keep being with this incredible man if you couldn’t be honest with him. It would make you rot from the inside out. Taeyong deserved complete honesty. And you couldn’t even give that to him.

You had to let him go. And you had to push him away. You didn’t deserve him.

“Taeyong, music is the most important thing to me. And I will be forever thankful for everything you’ve done for me. But I can’t keep this up anymore. I’m not signing with any of the labels...It wouldn’t be fair to you. I have to work my way up on my own. And that means staying in Miami for now.”

“y/n, please look me in the eyes,” he took a hold of your hands. “I can wait for you.”

“Don’t,” you said, harshly. You were shaking.

“You can’t do this to me. To us. Please,” Taeyong begged.

You sobbed, then. “I’m sorry.” You said as you let go and left Taeyong in his car, shattered.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and slammed it shut. You couldn’t risk turning around and taking it all back. One look into Taeyong’s puppy dog eyes and you surely would’ve gone down on your knees and begged him to take you back. You’ve done enough damage. You hated yourself, then. You hurt him deeply. But it was the only way for him to let you go. You just hoped that he could find happiness when he left for LA. Meet a nice girl who didn’t take advantage of him and who could give him everything he deserves.

Someone Yuta wouldn’t kiss so she wouldn’t be at a crossroads.

Someone Samantha couldn’t blackmail.

To hope for Taeyong’s forgiveness would be selfish but you prayed for it.

And you prayed that the Nakamoto-Perez wedding would go by quickly so you can never see any of these people again.

-To Be Continued in Part 5-

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